Crash

Having spent some three hundred odd dollars fixing up my bike I decided to join some friends out on a mountain biking trip around Makara Peak (which is essentially in my back garden). I'd taken said bike out on a test run the night before to make sure everything was in order, I'd fixed up the breaks, sorted out the wheels, even got the granny-gears working; I was ready.

The plan was to do an easy-ish route since we were not super experienced and out of practice.

We met up at the car park and set off on the route; things started off with a gentle-ish up hill and once we were all up at the top we set off one-by-one on the downhill.

There wasn't even any injuries on the back of my head

Some five hours later I'm in a hospital ward asking my friends the same questions I've apparently been repeating all night long:

"So was I in a crash?"

Was I in a crash?

Apparently I'd taken an unscheduled shortcut down the mountain after smashing face first into a track marker pole. I can't remember the accident and nobody really saw it, they just heard crashing and swearing. What seems to have occurred is that I lost control, hit the post at full speed then rolled down a ravine hitting rocks on the way down. I remember that I got myself up the slope but don't actually remember doing so.

The next couple of hours involved me being wheeled from specialist to specialist - I got my very own wheelchair - having CT scans and getting stitches and bits of bark removed from my face. They kept me in overnight, which was a new experience for me, for observation and more work in the morning.

The next day consisted of more of the same with me seeing dentists, radiographers, and eye specialists. Eventually I was discharged at around seven pm with appointments to see specialists the next day. Since all my clothes were covered in blood I was allowed to keep my hospital jammies and left in these.

The specialists at the plastics department showed me the results of my CT scans and explained that I have a 'Le Fort II' type fractual in my skull.

For those of you without medical training this basically means that one half of the front part of my skull has been pushed up and rotataed out of position - so if you can imagine the teeth on the top-right hand side of my face are about half and inch higher up than those on the left; so when I said the other day that I'd lost three teeth it was actually only two but the gap is large enough for three to four teeth.

I also have some hairline fractures in my upper jaw where my teeth have been snapped off.

I'll need surgery involving metal plates to get it all fixed properly and some root canals for my teeth.

I'd like to thank everybody for being so supportive and helpful towards me through out this especially:

John & Cath for staying with me in the ER and coordinating everything with my flatmates/work etc. Really appreciate it guys.

Tom for looking after my bike and comming in to visit the next day.

Krys for organinsing a lift home for me and contacting my folks.

Mike & Kim for comming to pick me up and getting me home.

Ange, Matt, and Andy for the Irn-Bru, magazines and support.

Vlad & Maria for the excellent fruit juice.

The staff at Wellington & Hutt Valley hospital who were kinder and more helpful than I could have possibly expected.

And everybody else for their messages and kind wishes.

Apologies to anyone who I've missed or not responded to (my phone is blocked due to unpaid bills). I'll try and keep people posted about what's going on and I'll let you know what happens on Monday - my next appointment.

For now I'm going to sleep some more and watch the A-Team which is the only thing on tele.

Failed Mount Mathews Attempt

Given that this weekend was forecast to be the first sunny weekend of the year I decided I was going to hire a car and get some tramping on. Since I decided this at about Friday lunchtime there wasn't much time to plan so I chose to do a days tramp rather than try and overnight it - since all the huts would be booked.

I have two books of tramps - weekend tramps, and day walks. All the tracks in the day walks looked either too short or too boring - I wanted to climb up something rather than just walk out to a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere.

I decided on Mt Mathews after initially dismissing it as too ambitious - it's described as a hard 10 hours/2 days track; however I know people who have been running in that area (I was going to be one of them before this stupid injury in my leg) and 10 hours is not unprecedented for a hike. There were three concerns I had about doing this track:

• Time - it's a ten hour hike and the park gates are only open for twelve hours.
• Leg - my leg's been much better of late but I haven't really pushed it much either.
• Preparation - given that Mt Mathews was chosen as the track at about 10pm on Friday I didn't have a map of the area - this didn't worry me too much as DOC parks are normally super well signed posted.

Mt Mathews From My Front Door

I set off early and was on the track by about 8:00 ish. You start off on a forested track that goes on for about an hour and half until you reach the Orongorongo river. From here you can either follow a ridge track that goes up above the river or simply walk up the river bed. All the advice I'd heard was just walk up the river, so that's what I did. Half an hour upstream I got to a bit where I needed to cross but being wary of unseeable depths I decided to double back and cross further down where I could actually fathom how deep the river was. About half an hour later the same thing happened with the net result being that I eventually headed back down the the start of the forest trail and onto the ridge track.

With an hour or so wasted I made my way along the track which had suffered a fair bit in recent downpours - I had to leave the track in a few places where land slides had blocked it. I continued along the track for about an hour - crossing the wobbliest bridge on earth in the process - until I met some other trampers going the other way. We chatted a bit and when I mentioned that I was going to go up Mt Mathews one guy said "I would have just gone up the river bed; after all you're going to have to get your feet wet at somepoint." (feet and calfs we're already wet at this point btw). Taking that advice I made my way down to the river and started up stream again.

Tackling the river

Soon enough I came to a point where I needed to cross and I did so very carefully. After about the twentieth crossing I was quite confidently plunging waist deep into the icy cold river.

Now I mentioned earlier that I didn't have a map, this became a problem because the track wasn't really marked at all. From track descriptions I was expecting the route to be marked with poles but so far I hadn't seen any. At the end of the poled route the track up the south saddle of Mt Mathews was supposed to begin. I was pretty sure that Mt Mathews was on my right but the fact that I hadn't even started the polled route formed doubts in my mind leading to the creation of competing factions i n my head:

Faction 1: Of course that's Mt Mathews on your right, it's the biggest mountain in the area.

Faction 2: Duh, Mt Mathews is clearly that smaller looking mountain up ahead,

it's all a trick of perspective.

Faction 1: But that hut we just passed was called the Papatahi hut, and Papatahi's one

of the hills further along.

Faction 2: Oh yeah, like I'd trust you to remember the name of an unrelated hill. We've

not even started the polled route yet.

Faction 1: Okay then, let's do it your way, after all you were right about fire being hot.

So I headed on until it was clear that I'd gone too far - mostly when I was able to look over my shoulder and 'Hey! There's Mt Mathews there behind me!'. So I did what any red blooded male would do in that situation - I had a sulk about the stupid track not being sign posted, how dare they expect me to bring a map into a mountain range.

By this time I'd already covered over 15km and my gammy was starting to tire, getting up Mt Mathews and back before the park closed would be a stretch (though I had brought my sleeping back in case I got back too late and had to sleep in the car). I took the decision then and there to abandon the tramp and just head back.

I made my way back down stream ploughing through the river and soon was back at the start of the forested track. As the uphill of the track started my decision to bail was vindicated as my leg started complaining quite bitterly about having to go uphill; by the time I got back to the car it was pretty darn sore.

Pretty disappointed I didn't manage the climb but from reading accounts on the internet I'm not the first person to abandon this hike. On the plus side I had a nice 30km stroll for 7 and a bit hours in unspoilt sunshine.

My Bed Sheets Are Super Crap

Most of you reading this will have likely been a young man at some point, either in this life or a previous one, and like most young men will have at one point incurred a washing backlog of biblical proportions.

I have recently done just that, though I have plenty of clean clothes, I apparently didn't have any clean sheets. This is a good thing to find out a ten o'clock on a Sunday night were previously during the day you've removed the existing sheets on your bed for a spot of uncharacteristic cleaning.

A temporary solution involving a sleeping bag ensued to get me through the night alive. More perminent measures were, of course, needed so natuarally I decided to buy new sheets rather than wash the ones I had - last time I washed sheets they stayed out on the line for a month and eventually developed mold.

So of to the Bed, Bath & Beyond shop I trot at lunch time. Not sure what the beyond part refers to me but it all sounds a little too 'small ad' for me: "Clarty 28yrs old M would like to meet F 20-30yrs for bed, bath, and beyond"

Anyway using my dual but contrasting senses of 'taste' and 'can't really be arsed' I avoided all the flowery pink sets and went for a conservative grey/white number. After all, like I've always said, there's no room for excitement in the bedroom.

Pretty weak eh?

But haha, turn it over and look what you get:

Jesus Christ that's bad! I paid money for that! Real actual money - well NZ dollars but close enough.

Also what's the deal with sheet sets not containing the bottom sheet? It's pretty much the main sheet, you know the one people will actually be lying on. Without it you've not really got a set, the auction value is lessened unless the whole ensemble is present.

I mean you would by cutlery set only to find that it didn't contain forks, or a car that came without an engine and you'd have to buy a separate engine only there are no matching engines in the shop so you settle for something that's close but find out later that it is in fact a completely different colour!

You wouldn't buy a bathroom set that consisted of a sink, two taps, a cistern but no toilet bowl would you?

Where would you piss?

In the corner of the room like an animal?

Is that what you want Bed Bath & Beyond?

For me to piss in the corner of my room like an animal?

Is it?

IS IT?

Chasing Ghosts

If you've got no real friends like me there's no longer any need to worry - technology's got your back. This evening I went running with a virtual partner who lives somewhere in the Venn diagram collision between my mind and my new running watch.

The virtual partner - or the Saint as I've taken to calling him as the stick figure reminded me of the logo from the old TV show - is a mode where you compete against a fictional stick man who runs at a perfect pace without ever tiring/throwing up/stopping for pies.

I didn't really care much for this feature when buying the watch and paid no mind to it when I set out for this evening's run (http://connect.garmin.com/activity/42958278 to check out my awesome running stats/map). The watch display shows your position relative to the Saint so you get a fair idea as to how goodly/badly you're doing. Still it seemed like a novelty feature to me as I started the ascent up Aro Valley.

I cycle through the displays periodically to check my overall time, pace, and to make sure my heart isn't about to explode or rip out my chest John Hurst style. In between the pace and the heart rate screen is the race screen, so every time I checked my heart rate I also got an update as to how the race 'Andy vs the Saint' was progressing.

Now given that he runs at a steady pace up hills while I sag a splutter (all the while cursing that second desert I had at breakfast) the Saint had pulled ahead of me as I reach the top of the Aro Valley. Normally at this point I'd use traffic at the mini-roundabout as an excuse to stop and catch a few breaths but not today. Today as I reached the top my only though was "Right! I'm gonna catch that wee bastard".

And catch him I did. By the time I reach Karori I was already ahead and he eat my dust all the way down through Kelburn. I could have walked along the Terrace and back down Lambton Quay and still have beaten him.

So thanks to the virtual partner I managed to turn what was going to be a fairly sedate run into an all out grudge match.

Andy 1; Andy's imaginary friend 0.

Also check out my top speed in the run - 45.6 km/h! I'm pretty sure that didn't actually happen (though I did finish with a sprint), but if it did then - ayyy!

Snikers (Formally known as Marathon)

It's Sunday, 4:30 am, and your alarm is about to go off but it never will. That's because you're already awake to catch it, you've been awake all night. It's absolutely pissing down outside.

Get some breakfast then back to bed for an hour.

Taxi down to the stadium.

Normally by now there would be butterflies and all sorts of burrowing insects in your stomach by now but today your fairly excited. Probably because you've been training for almost six months for this day - four months following a dedicated plan, two months to get up to level required to start the training plan.

Everyone else here is the same; nobody seems nervous, most seem quite eager to get going - a fact demonstrated by the heckling aimed at the race announcer telling him to get on with it (good natured mind, nothing vicious). There's one guy dressed as a sunflower but everyone else looks serious and ready.

Foghorn: BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

And it's all go into the wind and rain. Massively tempting at the start to gun it but you've got a plan and your fancy pants wrist watch will get angry and start beeping if you go too fast.

The first hour is mostly uneventful, groups start to form and eventually you're part of a small pack of like-paced guys and gals. I stayed in one such group for a bit until it transpired that - despite being the least aerodynamic of the bunch - I was the most able to maintain my pace in the wind, and so a smaller group was formed consisting of me and two slipstreamers who used my ample frame as shelter (bastards).

Hour two and the eventual race winners are already on the way back and pass you along Scorching Bay way. You on the other hand are sticking to the game plan and proving that the old adage 'slow and steady wins the race' is 100% wrong.

Hour three and the only hill of the race is climbed and you've just about to reach the halfway turnaround - which you'll be five minutes late for according to your schedule but you don't really care too much.

A bit of tiredness in the old legs, but not much, still enough to worry about what the next two hours will bring. The wind starts to seriously piss me off near Shelly Bay and I slow to a walk for a minute as running against it is wasting too much energy for little gain.

Hour four. Pain. Lots and lots of pain.

I'm pretty much on my own now, there are no more groups and I'm passing alot of burn outs and struggling athletes (the road signs along the course warn drivers: 'Caution Athletes' check it out I'm an athlete!).

Some more pain, and joy of joys, at the half marathon turn around there's a gelatinous glot of obeses sea cows collectively known as the Half Marathon Walkers. I wouldn't hate these guys so much if they didn't get in my way quite so obtrusively. I'm having to zig zag past these (mostly massive) people who are all lycra-ed up and carrying sports drinks just to walk 12 miles. By now I'm in a lot of pain and having to dodge, duck, and jump obstacles is not making me happy.

I'm still keeping to my pace mind, but it's hurting. At five KMs to go I'm really struggling and so decide to take ten seconds out of every remaining KM to walk and rest.

I keep going, and about half a KM away from the stadium the end looks near, then a sign appears saying 'Two KMs to go'. What! Are we going to have to do laps? Half a KM later another sign proclaiming one KM to go.

Finally I can see the finishing line, the short pedestrian ramp up to the stadium entrance is absolute agony but I do it. Resiting the temptation to slow to a halt I force myself onwards. Now at the final 50m or so I perform my end race ritual - Sprint Finish!!

I almost cry after passing the finish line. I get some water and the best testing apple that has ever been or ever will be and I'm done.

4 Hours and 15 minutes my time. My watch claims I ran 27.9 miles which may be true, or it may be false.

A chronological summery?

1. Excitement
2. Boredom
3. Blood
4. Pain
5. Tears
6. Apple.

The Wedding Crasher

I'm not what you'd call a world class photographer, nor am I by any means a good photographer. What I am is a bloke who takes as many photos as he can in the hope that some turn out okay: a good picture is worth a thousand turds as they say.

I have a flickr account, but it rarely gets many hits, the photos never win awards, people rarely comment, and my photos are seldom favorited (Yes favourited is a verb!).

So when someone does favorite a photo I tend to notice. When the same person favorites several my curiosity will be piqued.

It turns out that a few days ago an apparent stranger favorited 2 photos from a wedding I attended sometime in the past.

'Perhaps me knows this person' I mused, 'and perchance they might have other photaes of the same event which could prove amusing or otherwise.'

So with a clickety-click of my mouse I grab the reins of the technological horse that is the internet and gallop down the virtual road to the profile page of said individual.

No photos.

Okay maybe they don't like sharing with strangers, that normal. While I'm here I'll maybe look at what other photos they've favorited. Oh golly there's alot of them. There's 43 pages of them. Let's see 43 times 36 photos on a page makes 1548 photos favorited. Yep 1541 favorite photos flickr says.

But is there a common theme? Lets have a look. Well the first photo shows two bridesmaids posing for a photo; the second photo shows some bridesmaids dancing; the third photo is some bridesmaids dancing; number four is a bride dancing which seems to be a departure from the established bridesmaids theme. Five and six show a bride dancing; actually so do photos seven, eight, and nine. Bridesmaids, bridesmaids, bridesmaids, bride, bride, bride-bride-bride, bridesmaid-bride-bride-bridesmaid-bridemaidbridesmaidbridebridebridesmaid.

Ah-ha the next photo shows neither a bride nor a bridesmaid, just two random girls at a wedding reception, clearly there is no pattern here.

Next page: girls at weddings

Next page: girls at weddings

Next page: girls at weddings

Christ this guy attends alot of weddings!

Next page: girls at weddings

Next page: girls at weddings

And you get the idea.

What's that flickr? You say this person is also subscribed to 16 groups? We'll let's see what they are and what they say about their personality:

1. Weddings - maybe a romantic a heart?
2. Belt or skirt?!?! - interested in fashion taxonomy
3. 34D Boobs - a physicist who supports the theory of 11 dimensional supergravity and actively mocks those who suggest other multidimensional theories calling them 'boobs'
4. Hot Girls Drinking - supporter of proactive hydration to prevent hyperthermia which can be fatal to girls
5. kokoshung wedding dress - no idea, am afraid to google it
6. Ladies wears in black&white -again fashion taxonomist
7. Sweet but seductive lingerie - [Flickr note: 0 photos, 62 members!]
8. 2008 Prom Dresses
9. 2009 Prom Dresses - One better than the last group
10. PLAYBOY, MAXIM AND FHM MAGAZINE FROM EVERY COUNTRY! - from every country mind, no racism here
11. Anime Girls Collection - aspiring cartoonist?
12. Candid brastraps
13. GROUPS of beautiful women - not groups but GROUPS
14. Videos on Flickr - but videos of what? I must know!!
15. Loads of breasts - [Flickr note: 8 photos, 3739 members] = 467 members per photo, regardless of your definition of loads I doubt we'll reach a one to one correspondence betwixt breast and member
16. s-e-x-y

Overall these groups paint a picture of a well rounded and adjusted individual. The fact that they've managed to amass such a collection of pictures is impressive considering how scarce pictures of women actually are on the internet.

And while I'm flattered that you thought my pictures were artfully framed, exquisitely lighted, and well composed enough for you to add to your collection I'm afraid that I must block you nygiants8080 from viewing my account as they feature my friend's (if you're reading this tomorrow then happy birthday btw):

1. Little sister
2. Wife

Tomorrow I expect alot more hits on my blog, tomorrow I expect alot more disappointed surfers.

20 Reasons Why I'm Awesome

Mile 1 - I start out on already tired legs but hey at least the sun's out. Leading up to the run I've done a hilly eight miles on Tuesday, a quick four miles on Wednesday, another eight on Thursday as fast as I can (including up Aro Valley), and climbing on Friday (plus once round the pool table on a unicycle). The aim of all this is to leave me with tired legs in order to simulate the fatigue having done more miles than I actually have -ie: though I may only do 20 toady it should feel like the full 26-and-a-bit.

Mile 2- I wonder if anyone ever buys the clothes that are on sale at the entrance to Mt Pleasant Road just off Raroa Rd. Seems to me that if I were going to attempt to sell clothes I'd do it in a place that was (a) populated, (b) not an industrial area.

Mile 3 - Mile the third takes me from Hell's Pizza to what looks to be the worst flat in the world in Newtown - the thin triangular (Flatiron-esque) building near the cross-roads. I realise while waiting for the lights to change that I've put too much salt and sugar in my improvised energy drink rendering it unfit for human consumption.

Mile 4 - By the end of mile 4 I'm on the road down to Kilbirnie and there should be no more hills to climb from here on.

Mile 5 - Onepu Rd to Lyall Parade, after this mile I'll be in unfamilliar territory. Let the exploration commence.

Mile 6 - It makes me smile how close to the runway I am, back in the UK I'd probably get arrested for being this close, but over here everything's more relaxed and less stupid.

Mile 7 - The pavement ends and I find my self running along the costal walkway. Looks like a nice pleasant place to walk but not so good as part of a long distance run. There's sand in my shoes now. Along the road there are signs warning motorists of crossing penguins and as a result I spy quite a few penguin shaped rocks/bits of driftwood.

Mile 8 - Breaker Bay's a bit breezy isn't it? Both flavours of Inter-Islander are alongside me for company.

Mile 9 - I start at the top of a slight hill and descend down the last bit of uneven terrain on this run. I mistakenly beleive I am near the tip of the peninsula when in actual fact I'm only in Seatoun and therefore not even halfway to the tip. This mistake will make the 6 miles seem like an eternity,

Mile 10 - A pass a car with a personalized numberplate which reads 'Madsta' and the car's a Mazda! Get it! Madsta - Mazda. What a card the owner must be. A bet they have a good chuckle to themselves every time they go to open the door. You could probably say that the owner is a bit a mad-ster themselves, you never know what mad thing they're going to do next. They probably had to close the registration office when it was registered as the staff would all be too busy trying to contain their sides to continue work. Oh Madsta you mad thing you.

Mile 11 - I am overtaken by what appears to be three fetuses in running shorts who basically barge past without so much as a by-you-leave.

Mile 12 - Man this road goes on for a long time. The only things out here are me, the road, and a tonne of wind.

Mile 13 - I finally reach the tip of the peninsula and to celebrate I allow myself a brief pause to stop and put on my third layer as protection from the wind.

Mile 14 - The sight of the sunset over the city has given me a second wind and I push onwards.

Mile 15 - The thing is with second winds is that they don't last long. I'm feeling disheartened at this point as I've mistaken Point Jerningham for Gretta Point and I feel like I've still got ages left to go.

Mile 16 - Shelly Bay and I'm almost back in familiar territory. I now realise how close I am to the end - a realisation that my legs seem to pick up on as they start getting very noisy about how tired they are. To stave off stopping for a rest I start doing the old self-deception trick whereby I promise myself a rest at the next lamppost/roundabout/junction etc then totally renege on this promise once I get there - I'm always amazed that this actually works.

Mile 17 - Oi cyclist! Get off the pavement! I am now fully in the 1000 yard start mode whereby my only concern is getting myself to the finish, I care not about pedestrians or cyclists on the pavement; if they won't move for me why should I move for them, I reckon I'll come out best in a collision.

Mile 18 - Ha! Just overtaken another runner. How slow do you have to be to be overtaken by a fat man who's eighteen miles past his prime?

Mile 19 - By Jove's beard it's windy. On the plus side I've claimed another scalp on my route; on the other hand I'm now reduced to making grunting noises in order keep moving.

Mile 20 - Stick a fork in me - I'm done. One minute faster than planned too. I now get to look forward to cold shower to wash the blood of my chest, some burger fuel, a hot shower once I get home, some internet shenanigans, then bed,