Well as I told you last time, I am on my end of season break, so I’m not exactly the fine figure of fitness that I normally aspire to be. I have been munching through Big Macs like no-one’s business, putting away more than a few pints of golden nectar (though being such an occasional drinker for the rest of year means that I’m not exactly knocking them back like an old timer), all of which has resulted in me having managed to lay down a couple of kilos of jiggle on my belly that definitely weren’t there before.

At the moment one of best friends (Ed Hunt – the victim of ‘The Withered Willy’ sabotage that I mentioned a few of weeks ago) from my school-boy oik days is staying at my house. We have cranked nostalgia up to 150%, and are indulging in any and everything that we used to get up to back in the day. This has revolved around dusting off a prehistoric (!) PlayStation 2 to play some of the semi-pixellated classics from our ‘yoof’ (Tony Hawks Pro Skater!), listening to the kind of embarrassing tunes that we only admitted to each other that we liked (not least: Uptown Girl by Westlife). We topped this all off with some midnight Super Noodles, which is in remembrance of one night when we cooked some in my parents’ kitchen at some ungodly hour past our curfew, only to hear my Mum rattling around checking the cat was OK, at which point we scarpered, in fear of reprimand, and thinking that we had got away with it we were surprised to be called down by my Mum about 60 seconds later, at which point she pointed out that we had left the evidence of our crime in the form of two steaming plates of smelly noodles on the kitchen table. Oops.

Tomorrow we are planning on going to Brighton to watch the mighty mighty Seagulls play Oldham. To be honest, I have never watched them play before, but with a brand-spanking new stadium almost complete, I think it would be wise for me to watch them at least once at the dilapidated Withdean Stadium, so when they do transfer to the new stadium, I can pretend I’m one of the old faithful because I can say ‘I was there at the Withdean before all of this new stadium...I’ve been there since the beginning’ etc.

And apart from that, well, the next major event on my horizon is the wedding of Mr William of Clarke to his lovely Clare Adomeit. As long as he makes it back alive from his epic stag-do in Thailand (which I had to decline because I’m just not man enough for that level of partying!), I think it’s going to be an awesome day.

Righto, I haven’t eaten anything with a dangerously high salt content in about 60 minutes so I should really eat a plate of chips before I get the shivers.

Afternoon all,

It’s been a couple of weeks since my last blog, for which I should apologise. Last Friday was the day before the Grand Series final in Budapest, and unfortunately I couldn’t get on the internet at our hotel (and in deliberations as to whether I should race the following day) so decided it was best to leave blogging until I could get online. By the time I got home, I needed a couple of days to digest the previous few days before I spilled anything online. I try to be as honest as possible on this blog, but being honest on the World Wide Web for 700-odd words every week is something that should not always be taken lightly!

Anyway, so as my last blog entries have explained, training hasn’t been great of late, but in Spain I was pleased to put together a few high quality sessions, even though the reps were short. After a good day on Saturday where I ran and swam well, I had an easy day on Sunday and then woke up Monday feeling pretty grim and under the weather. I took the day off, and then did some easy stuff on Tuesday, though felt as if I had just smoked a packet of cigarettes when I did my run. We travelled on Wednesday, and by the time I had got to Budapest I was feeling a little better having taken the pills and potions proffered by the team doctor. Although my coach thought it may be best for me to not race, I wanted to at least have a crack. As it turned out, I had a great swim, feeling comfortable sitting in a break with 4 other guys (Gomez, Ali Brownlee and a couple others) but despite smashing the first 3-4km of the bike, we got caught by a fast moving group of chasers, and unfortunately by this time the last week had caught up with me, so I continued for a couple of weeks despite going backwards very quickly, and called it a day soon after. All in all it was nice to swim well, but I probably should have been less proud/stubborn and not actually started in the first place.

The couple of nights after the race were great fun spending some down time with the guys. On Saturday I had a night out with the boys, as the girls didn’t race ‘til Sunday. After a stumble back across the square on Sunday morning (the term “walk-of-shame” would be harsh!), I spent the rest of day with Ali and Dave McNamee exploring the restorative effects of a McDonalds combined with a day at the Roman baths. We met a few interesting people, including an angry Hungarian man who seemed to take offense at the fact that foreigners were allowed in the plunge pool (pretty random I know), and one absolute visionary who had taken goggles to the baths, with definite aspirations to bob around taking in the various...um...underwater sights! Good lad!

After the girls race, we had the long awaited end of season party on Sunday evening. I couldn’t possibly divulge some of the gossip that emanated from that night of nights (I think I would hunted down if I did), but suffice to say that 220 could have had a field day! After a rather delicate journey home on Monday, I have been enjoying the simple life since then, as I am on my end of season break, which has involved rather more fast food and beer than I care to admit to, but I’m not being too hard on myself as it’s been over 12 months since my last break from training. I am also going to use this time to have a bit of a think about the last couple of years and what I need to change, because despite consistently hitting the best sessions of my life, the magic just hasn’t been there in racing for a while.

Anyway, I’m off to Wales tomorrow for some meetings with British Triathlon, so I’d better go pack my bags.

Hola, that’s Spanish, for “How do?”...and that’s it, that’s my sum knowledge of one of the most widely spoken languages in the world, despite learning it for GCSE, despite visiting this country regularly for races and training camps, pretty much the only phrase/word that I know comes from some bizarre sketch about ex-Spice Girl Mel B in a shady late night Channel 4 comedy from a few years back.

But despite this minor drawback, I am very much enjoying my current sojourn in the land of the castanets and the paella. I am here with the GB team ahead of the World Champs Series Grand Final in Budapest next weekend. The sun is shining, the atmosphere is chilled out, and despite recent form, I have actually managed to string together a couple of half-decent sessions without collapsing in a pathetic heap soon after. Highlights before today have included a cheeky 2:06 for a 200m (swim) rep in the middle of a session on the first day and a ‘motorpacing’ (drafting off a moped) session where Head Coach Joel needed to only lose concentration for a split second and tickle the throttle on an uphill a fraction too much to leave me in an indescribable world of pain sucking in moped fumes and desperately mouthing obscenities at him in his wingmirrors until he slowed down...followed by a 2km hard run off the bike, where Joel got payback by having to don my incredibly gross and sweaty bike helmet to ride on my bike alongside me to make sure I was going quickly enough! Us guys (blokes? lads?) also had a very relaxing evening yesterday with a couple of cold ones (gasp!) by the side of the massive lake that we are staying next to, which itself summed up the camp for me, relaxed and enjoyable, and hopefully a formula for success for all of us.

Today was probably my most productive day so far, and when I say productive I mean in a tanning sense: the weather was hot with a capital ‘H’...which would make it, um.. ‘Hot’. This started off with a track session in Girona, which was supposed to be a short visit, but got rather protracted by the fact that the Sat Nav seemed to have it in for Kev (nutritionist and driver for the day). I wouldn’t have minded, but the extra journey time gave Todd (ahem, ‘Fat-Leckie’) more than enough time to regale tales to Kev, Emma (physio) and Joce (psych) of various Freeman misdemeanours and regrettable encounters of years gone by that he clearly ‘forgot’ were supposed to be securely hushed up according to the Bro Code article 4.5b. I will get him back, when he’s least expecting it - in fact, what better platform than a modern-day soapbox to the world that I have right here...but that would be too easy...too obvious...but don’t you worry ‘Poor-Man’s- Jago’ (see last week’s column), revenge is a-coming! Annnnnyway, while we were at the track, Todd and I tucked into some 400m reps, and I clocked myself at hitting rather more 61 sec reps than was really necessary which made my poor lil’ lungs hurt, but I was pleased with the times. When we finally got back, breakfast was shut (11:30 – duh), but some warm milk and smuggled Coco-Pops fuelled me through an easy spin on the bike that was ULTIMATE tanning time, followed by a gratuitous dip in the hotel pool, flexing our non-existent pecks for the various Spanish hotties crowded around the pool (in other words, some old guy picking leaves out of the filter, and a small planet of a battleaxe who was more intent on berating her grandson for getting the merest splash of poolwater within 5 metres of her ample self). We finished off the day with a swim in the translucent azul lake, with a main set of 5x300m (well, 5 x 240-280 strokes). I was hurting but it was nice to swim in some open water where light was actually able to permeate the necessary 50cm to allow me to see my own hand enter the water. Not bad.

Blimey, well I’ve garbled on a bit about...well...triathlon and training and stuff. Makes a change! I think I need a lie down...a lie down as an excuse to devour more Harry Potter books (that’s what I’ve really been up to for the last few weeks). And as readers of my blog I can only trust and hope that you have set aside the ENTIRE weekend of the 19th November to queue up for, watch, and then recover from the excitement of the next cinema instalment of said franchise. If not...well, you disappoint me so much that I cannot even talk to you right now!

Buda in 1 week. Eek!