No turkey

My Christmas destination wasn't chosen for the guaranteed sunshine, the champagne brunches or the cultural experience - although those did help sway my decision. It was to see my friends. I'm a strong believer in staying with locals to get a true flavour of a city or country but the challenge is ensuring their schedule fits yours.

First I headed to Dubai to see my heavily pregnant pentathlon friend before it was too late and thankfully she still had the energy to show me the sights. I enjoyed the glitz and glamour of the UAE but welcomed the change when I arrived in neighbouring Oman in time for Christmas.

I ensured I kept to one of my Christmas day traditions and got out for some exercise. Usually a run wakes me whilst increasing my appetite before a hearty meal. This year I felt the buzz but the heat had suppressed my appetite - thankfully I didn't have to worry about roast turkey with all the trimmings. To spare anyone the worry of cooking or indeed washing up we headed to a hotel for a Christmas buffet. All the traditional cuisine was on offer yet I found myself choosing the local and incredibly fresh seafood over the imported options of turkey and lamb.

I was not only astounded by the fine quality of local produce on offer but also the wide variety of nationalities who had come together to celebrate the occasion with their families, irrespective of their religious background. There were western expatriates, Asians and Omanis all making the most of the splendid food, weather and hospitality. Whilst the setting and weather may have been very different to what I am used to; the family atmosphere was reassuringly familiar.

Happy Christmas

Happy Christmas. I hope by now you're sitting back and relaxing with a glass of your favourite tipple ready to tuck into a festive feast. The closest I've got to a traditional Christmas is sitting in Santa's sleigh underneath a giant fake tree in an air conditioned hotel lobby. I'm not seeking any sympathy as that giant hotel was next to the beach restaurant where I'd just enjoyed a delicious champagne brunch and that was only a warm up.

I love Christmas at home, seeing my friends, family, great food and beautiful walks on Dartmoor but I also love variety. Last year I decided I fancied a foreign holiday, so here I am - still seeing my friends, eating amazing food and I only had to swap walks on the moor for walks on the beach.

My first stop was a country that doesn't do anything by halves. Dubai is home to the Burj Al-Arab (the worlds first only 7 star hotel), the Burj Al-Khalifa (the worlds tallest building at 829m) but of the most interest to me, the world's largest shopping mall. On my first evening visiting my friends I was taken for dinner underneath a building that is almost three times the height of the Eiffel Tower. That in itself isn't enough for the people of Dubai; whilst dining we were treated to a water fountain show set to music, similar to a fireworks display, every thirty minutes.

I only appreciated the impressive buildings from the outside and didn't even venture into the shops. Fortunately I completed my present buying before I left home as otherwise I would probably still be lost in the worlds largest mall.

Personality or popularity?

Last year Andy Murray won the trophy. He thanked the nation for all of their support and he spoke in his usual understated manor as he accepted the 2013 Sports Personality Award. I wouldn't for one moment question his achievements as a tennis player but I was left wondering what part of his personality had contributed to his win? In Andy's case it was clear he was going to take the award after securing that elusive Wimbledon title and he had my vote purely due to his sporting results.

I've been honoured to be on the panel for a smaller sports personality award and the debate comes up time and time again: which is more important, the personality or the results? Is it the background story, the press coverage they've had or the popularity of their sport that sways the vote? I've always argued that it should only be the results for that particular year that do the talking but it is hard to ignore the other influencing factors. With a public vote the personality is naturally a stronger factor so instead should we have a sportsperson of the year award where the results are somehow fairly compared?

This year it was the more popular sports that took the top slots. Formula One driver Lewis Hamilton won the SPOTY title followed by golfer Rory Mclllroy in second. It was, however, refreshing and brilliant to see the lovely Jo Pavey take third place. It's great to see the smaller sport of athletics represented, have a girl in the top three and most importantly to have a down to earth Devonian prove that sheer determination does pay off.

Too cold for a bikini?

I was supposed to be commentating on a beach in Brazil last weekend but instead I found myself in the UK plunging into a pool of iced water. Special Olympics USA originally came up with the concept to help raise awareness of their charitable work assisting intellectually handicapped people through sport; the big difference being the Americans 'plunged' over the summer not on one of the coldest days of the year. I decided it would be cheating if I wore a wetsuit, and thought Christmas attire a little too predictable, so I opted for the other extreme - Hawaiian fancy dress. ‘Character building’ is certainly one way to describe it but more importantly I hope it raised money and awareness of sport for all and it's ability to enhance lives.

Despite dressing in a bikini and sunglasses on Saturday, I've embraced the festive spirit earlier than usual this year. There are a few specific things that mark the start of Christmas time for me but fear not, Black Friday is not one of them. It began last week when I had my first mulled wine, visited the Christmas market and wrote some cards. This was promptly followed by my friend's annual Christmas jumper party which confirms the countdown has officially started.

I’m reliably informed that as a nation we are behind on our shopping this year and I have to confess that I fall into this category. I have been so distracted by the all the festive cheer that I’ve failed to make a start on my own Christmas shopping. This wouldn’t normally be an issue but I’m spending Christmas abroad this year which gives me just over a week to get things sorted. Luckily I’ve never been one to shy away from shopping.

Polar plunge

From thirty two degrees to just two degrees in under twelve hours; it was a chilly welcome home. On my return from Thailand I headed straight into London wearing a summer dress which was not the brightest idea even after purchasing the thickest tights I could find. It was ironic that I'd been invited onto Simon Mayo's Radio Two drive time show to talk about an upcoming event called the Polar Plunge.

I expect most of you heard about the 'ice bucket challenge'. It saturated the world of social media for the latter months of the summer. You couldn't  escape the videos of people throwing a bucket of water over themselves and then publicly challenging their friends. I have to admit I resisted the peer pressure even after being challenged twice; I felt it had lost it's connection to the original concept, become rather pointless and was just too easy. That said, I'm now getting involved in a bigger and better version of this challenge. Allow me to introduce... the Polar Plunge.

The Polar Plunge is the brainchild of the Special Olympics, a charity which helps the intellectually handicapped to compete in sport. Forget a tepid bucket of water; this is on an altogether different scale and involves a container with twenty tons of icy water in which you have to submerge yourself. As if that weren't enough there is another catch - fancy dress is compulsory. As an ambassador I'm struggling to think of ways to excuse myself from this challenge. I wonder if dressing as a deep sea diver or polar explorer would be considered cheating?

Tasty blood

It would have been all too easy to start this week's column by bragging about how fantastic the weather is here in Phuket. Whilst it has certainly been good, I have to confess the first day of the inaugural Beach Modern Pentathlon event was rained off.

As you might have guessed, the Asian Beach Games is composed entirely of sports which can be played on the beach; a slight problem when November marks the tail end of the monsoon season. It only seems to rain in the north of the island for an hour or so in the late afternoon. Unfortunately this is exactly when and where the event I'm here to commentate on was scheduled. After a sensible reshuffle we made the most of the guaranteed sunshine the next morning which resulted in a successful debut for Beach Pentathlon (shoot-run-swim). Maybe next year they can bring fencing and riding to the beach as well?

I decided to make the most of the long flight by extending my stay in Thailand. As soon as duties were over in the north I headed to the south of the island in search of sunshine but more importantly to distance myself from the rainforest and its mosquitoes. I love the food, the people, the climate and the beautiful clear seas but sadly the mosquitoes love me. I'll be coming home with a nice glow, that will probably fade in a few days at this time of year, so the only evidence of my holiday will be the bites all over my body. Believe or not, I actually don't mind the thought of returning to Dartmoor - there aren't any mosquitoes.

Beach games

My rugby bonanza continued this week with an atmospheric charity match at the Rec in Bath in support of the Royal British Legion. Watching the Combined Services against the Barbarians on the day of remembrance reminded me just how sport can raise its head above political agendas and unite nations. We've all heard the spine tingling story from the First World War: the football match held in no mans land during the Christmas ceasefire that epitomises the power of sport. The match last week was another chance to watch a fantastic game of rugby whilst raising awareness of what happened one hundred years ago and how we owe our lives as we know them to those brave men.

It was probably wise that I had a full dose of rugby as I'm now in a country with no interest in the oval ball. I've been invited to Thailand for the Asian Beach Games. There are a huge variety of sports on offer here and unsurprisingly the only balls involved are round: basketball, volleyball, petanque (boules), sepaktakraw (I promise I haven't made that one up) and I could go on. You have probably guessed that I don't qualify for any of these sports, or in fact for the continent; I'm out here to add colour to the event in the form of commentary.

The fact I've not heard of some of these could sound worrying, however, I do know a lot about modern pentathlon and am a fan of the beach which should stand me in good stead for the Beach Modern Pentathlon. With a name like that I'm considering coming out of retirement although sadly it doesn't include my favourite event, horse riding. This is the first year "my" sport has been included in the Asian Beach Games - I'll let you know if it was a success next week.

It could have been an overdose

I like to call myself a rugby fan so thought it is high time I actually headed to a game. I can't believe we are over two months into the season and I've only just managed to watch my first live match. This hiatus hasn't been intentional - there have been no home games that have coincided with my actually being at home. I had some catching up to do and at last the dates played into my hands; in eight days I've seen matches at the Rec in Bath, Sandy Park in Exeter and watched most of the recent autumn internationals on big screens.

I arrived early to Exeter in order to catch the England game at Sandy Park but after an unbearably tense match I began to worry I'd signed myself up for a rugby overdose. If the tension of a top level international clash was too much to bare how was I going to cope with a local derby? Quite simply the combination of live rugby and local rivalry. It was a sellout crowd at the home of Exeter Chiefs where they welcomed Bath, a club they still hadn't beaten at their Sandy Park ground. After an exciting eighty minutes it proved hard work and determination does pay off with the Chiefs securing their second victory over their old rivals in as many seasons.

I just wish I had re engaged with the rugby season a couple of weeks earlier. I was invited to an Olympic pub quiz and presumed the questions would be general knowledge or sport based. It transpired the main sponsor of the event was the Rugby World Cup 2015 and half of the questions were related to the noble game.

Weatherman

I’m conscious it often sounds like I’m obsessed with the weather. I blame this on my upbringing on the moor and the fact that weather is the most British of preoccupations - after all what else would we chat to strangers about? My fascination might well have predisposed me to a career in meteorology but this wasn't to be.
A good understanding of weather systems is essential in sailing as demonstrated on my recent trip to Croatia. We arrived at the beginning of the week to temperatures in the high twenties and bright blue skies which was brilliant unless you were competing in a regatta as there was next to no wind. The racing could not be postponed as this was the National Championships so we set off across the millpond relying on the current to take us in the direction of the finish. A couple of boats had to turn on their engines to avoid running aground on one of the many islands and were subsequently disqualified. Thankfully we made it safely but slowly to the finish line.
The next day there was a decent breeze and good sailing conditions before the arrival of the notorious Bora, bringing with it ferocious winds for which the region is renowned. All movements in and out of the marinas were cancelled and boats had to have extra tethering to secure them in place. Racing was most certainly cancelled. I couldn't believe that just a few days earlier we had been praying for wind.
It seems Hungarians also enjoy talking about the weather. On my way to the airport in Budapest the taxi driver insisted we spoke about nothing else in a quest to improve his English - we got on splendidly.

An English Monoglot

Over the last few weeks I've been made to feel an ignorant English monoglot. After the Biathle World Championships I travelled with a group of six which consisted of an Egyptian, Portuguese, Frenchman, Serbian and one fellow English lady; they all spoke from two to five languages fluently. Thankfully for me the common language was English although three spoke excellent spanish which proved helpful for exploring Guatemala.

I know it is no excuse but at school I was not aware of the usefulness of a second language. I studied French and German to GCSE level and used these languages as an excuse to go skiing in France and on an exchange to Germany. The only problem was as soon as I opened my mouth in an attempt to speak the local language I'd be replied to in English. On returning from Guatemala I am more determined to learn a language and think I might have to start from scratch and try spanish. It will also give me the perfect excuse to visit South America.

I travelled straight from Central America to Croatia for the Hungarian National Sailing Championships. It will come as no surprise that again there was an eclectic mix of languages. I was crewing for a Hungarian friend on a Salona 38 yacht alongside one other Brit, an Algerian and two more Hungarians; one of which confusingly spoke English with a French accent. Thankfully english was the common language and this was all fine until we encountered the high pressure moments of racing when communications became our limiting factor. It is fair to say I learnt a few new Hungarian words although I'm not sure they will ever be appropriate for everyday use.

Rain forest

It turns out that last week I had spoken too soon when mentioning how I escaped the UK's deteriorating weather; apparently October is rainy season in Guatemala too. I was fortunate to arrive in Guatemala City and be greeted by glorious sunshine and temperatures in the mid twenties. This was my first trip to Central America, I'd been invited out to commentate on the Biathle World Championships, and I thought it would be rude not to stay a couple of days longer to explore a little of this colourful country.

One thing that amazed me was how the temperatures can change so dramatically between neighbouring regions. We left the city in pleasant t-shirt weather to head to the competition venue on the Pacific coast and got off the bus just over an hour later to be hit by a wave of intense heat. I know the weather can change when driving from Princetown to Tavistock but this was on another level. I spent the next few days dreaming of the cooler weather at home and suffering, as we Brits do, in the humid conditions.  

My wish came true as I flew north to the famous national park of Tikal which is a UNESCO world heritage site. The fact it is in a rainforest should have given some indication of the type of weather I might expect to encounter and by the end of the day our entire group were soaked through to the skin. None of this mattered though as we were guided though the jungle to see the spectacular temples which the Mayan people had built over two thousand years ago - I can assure you it was  worth getting wet for.

Let it rain

I still can't believe the wonderful September we've had and I'm grateful I've been at home to enjoy most of it for a change. I know the forecasts had mentioned our Indian summer was coming to A close; I just wasn't expecting it to be quite so abrupt. It could have easily have triggered a case Monday blues as the rain came down and I started to question my morning plans thanks to the weather.

I needed a taxi to the train station - there were none for an hour as the rain had obviously given everyone the same idea so I had to run with my luggage one mile through the saturated streets. I'm sure I looked a little out of place wearing sandals in these conditions however there was method to my madness. My toes are still struggling in normal shoes after running a half marathon and I was on my way to warmer climes.

I needn't have rushed as the trains were severely delayed with several cancelled to London which was worrying as I had a flight to catch. After a delay that kept extending I joined several other wet miserable Monday morning passengers but only until Reading when all trains then terminated. Thankfully for me there was a bus available that allowed me to make my flight. It turned into a very positive Monday as I took off over the UK bound for Central America.

Guatemala knows the meaning of rain far better than we do, the only difference is the temperature. I'm back from a visit to the rainforest in the north of the country where it certainly lived up to its name - I only wish I'd brought my welly boots with me.

Food marathon

I am often caught scouring local press for food festivals to attend or sporting events to enter; the thought of combining the two had never seemed an option. You can imagine my delight when I discovered the Delicious Drakes Trail, a fifteen mile run that incorporated more food stops than it did miles. The event also supported the local charity CHICKS not that I needed any more of a reason to sign up.

My biggest concern was my fitness and by that I mean the ability of my feet to run or shuffle (with a belly full of food) the whole distance. The previous week I ran a half marathon for fun - I use the term 'run' loosely. I've only just returned to running after a year of being addicted to cycling so to complete the off road course was an achievement, it turns out my legs were not the limiting factor, it was my toes. I have been hobbling around ever since in opened sandals thanks to the prolonged Indian summer. I was beginning to wonder why the pain wasn't improving - I'll save you the details in case you're enjoying your breakfast - let's just say it turned out I had to relieve some pressure.

I managed to tape up my feet and complete the wonderfully scenic trail. I think it was the incentive of the next set of culinary delights that kept me going. I must admit I have never eaten a cream tea, followed by a steak and ale pie, washed down with cider topped up with a roast dinner then a paella - and that was all within four miles.

All I can say is: you don't know until you try, let's hope this becomes an annual event.

Off to the circus

I’m a sucker for any live performance whether it is sport, music or theatre. Recently I’ve caught a few glimpses of the BBC programme Tumble which has reignited my love of gymnastic and acrobatic performances. Before you panic - no I haven’t taken to the sprung floor; gymnastics is a sport I love to watch but am content to stay a safe distance away from.  As a youngster I was quite flexible but the idea of pursuing a career in gymnastics was promptly put to bed when my sister and I were given a trampoline. I could spend all day bouncing up and down going from my feet to my bottom but I just couldn’t master the somersault. I eventually gave up after flying off the end and landing in an unforgiving garden shrub.
Last week I had the chance to watch top class gymnasts in action when the Moscow State Circus toured the UK. My childhood memories of the circus consist of a cringe-worthy clown, a few token animals and a lot of filling between performances; either the circus has changed or I’ve grown less sceptical in my old age. I was blown away with the performances of the Russian cast. My mouth was wide open throughout the whole show. The first act was suspended by only her neck whilst spinning around and contorting her body in flowing positions that would challenge most of us on the floor yet this was over ten metres off the ground.
I did note that safety for the performers is now vastly improved with most acts making use of a secure wire but all this seems to have done is caused the gymnasts to push themselves to another level. These athletes were delivering Olympic level performances; I just hope they receive that level of appreciation from anyone lucky enough to watch them.

Staying united

I expect you saw or heard parts of the referendum debate and maybe considered for a moment what the impacts would be on us, even if we are located hundreds of miles away from the issue. It could have been easy to disregard this looming decision and ignore the economical and political impacts that potentially would have affected us as well as Scotland.  It turned out that the Scots themselves struggled to decide which way to go as there was a strong argument for either side proven by the close results from many of the councils.
Sport was one aspect that would certainly have seen a significant affect. It opened up some interesting debates but whichever way I looked at it I couldn’t see the benefit for Scotland going it alone. Some of the team sports already play regularly for their separate nations, with rugby, football, hockey and netball being prime examples so the change might not have been so dramatic for them.
From my perspective it would be the Olympic sports such as athletics, swimming, and cycling that would see the biggest challenges. At the recent Commonwealth Games Scotland proved they could enter a competitive team however if you look at where the majority of those athletes train or receive their funding from it becomes a little more complicated. An athlete’s main goal in their career is to perform at their very optimum once every four years at the Olympic Games; in order to do this most choose to train at the top class venues based in England. If given the choice to represent Scotland or Great Britain in Rio 2016 I know what most of the athletes would choose. Luckily this debate is now closed and we can concentrate on winning more medals in two years time.

Gone in a flash

They came, they cycled, they conquered, and in a blink of an eye they were gone. The Tour of Britain filled our country's roads with bicycles, support cars, top class athletes and thousands and thousands of spectators. I love the affect that sport can have on our communities - the Tour is a prime example of this as it brought so many people out of their homes to watch and support the cyclists, even if only to see them for a few seconds.

I was fortunate enough to see the race from three different venues and experience the excitement that grips the crowd from the first police motorbike that comes into sight until the last team car passes through. The cyclists themselves commented on the British fans and how it feels as though they are riding on the continent. The most significant difference they do notice, however, are our hills. The finishing two kilometres of stage four up to the Bristol downs sorted out the leaders - apparently the riders are used to long gradual mountains not our short sharp hills. Hearing this does make me feel better when I am struggling to reach the summit of one of Dartmoor's hills, even if we can't call them mountains.

It sounds as though we've succeeded in getting the crowds out to support this race; the question now is can we translate that into people getting active? I know I am desperate to get back on my bike after watching this spectacle and the weather is still hanging on for us. So dust off your bike and have a go - you never know you might just catch the bug too.

Half way point

My week can best be surmised by: five different beds and two flights to Poland. I was honoured to be asked along to Warsaw as part of the commentary team for the Modern Pentathlon World Championships however it was a late invite and I already had work commitments in place mid week. There was a solution as the two days I had committed to at home happened to coincide with the only two days of qualifiers. It did involve a lot of travelling but I made it out to the championships twice and in time for the important medal events.

We are half way through the Olympic cycle and it is only two years until we can expect the next sporting spectacle in Rio de Janeiro. Now is the time when they need to up their game, qualifiers in Modern Pentathlon begin in less than ten months so if young athletes are not on the scene yet it will be more likely Tokyo in 2020 for them. The British team proved that they mean business at this crucial point in the cycle as they returned home with a title in the Women's individual, a silver in the women's team and a silver in the mixed gender relay; a significant medal haul and at an important time.

It's been a whirlwind week and for me the challenge has been maintaining my voice. Air conditioning on the flights combined with that in the hotels, long days and obviously a lot of talking has taken its toll. I admit that I'm not completely neutral when commentating on our British successes but it's hard to contain the emotion. I did survive the week and what a pleasure it was to be there to witness more history being made. I hope Britain can do it again in two years time.

Scared of the dark

I do love a BBQ and I always enjoy a cycle; it's a perfect evening when I can combine the two. Last weekend it was not the rain that was the limiting factor but a different natural element put a dampener on my evening.

My Saturday was filling up fast and frustratingly exercise was the one part that had to be sacrificed so I saw the perfect opportunity when invited to a friend’s house to enjoy some alfresco dining. The party was eighteen miles by bicycle but not a Devon ride; it's a flat route with just one slight incline to finish and mostly off-road following the old railway along the river from Bath to Bristol. It seemed the perfect solution, I arrived in good time, got in my exercise and wasn't even too hot or dishevelled. The problem arose when I came to head home.

In the back of my mind I knew the evenings were beginning to close so I should keep an eye on the time. Stupidly I'm in denial that the longest day is far behind us and that actually it is time to dig out some of my more suitable cycling kit - including my lights. The beginning of my ride home through Bristol was easy and with street lamps just turning on I had no worries. That was until I hit the tree covered cycle path. Petrified is one way to describe my emotions. The problem being the slower I went the darker it would be by the end; I had no choice but to grind to a halt every now and then when the path seemed to disappear or as a tree looked as though it was leaning over and touching me. It is hard to describe the relief I felt once I hit the street lighting at the other end. I am digging out some lights right now.

Win at all costs

Amadea versus Wave Warrior, I can tell you who would win. If you had been on the Hoe or anywhere with a view of Plymouth Sound you couldn't have missed the anchored Phoenix cruise ship Amadea standing at 192 metres long. I can tell you it is even more imposing close up as I looked over from my father’s fifteen foot dinghy and that was from half a mile away, as close as we dared get.

I was fulfilling my sailing fix that day as a couple of hours later I was back out on the water in something more substantial, the racing yacht Wave Warrior. Having come straight from a dinghy the yacht seemed so big and stable. This time we were on the water with more of a purpose - it was Summer Series race night. The sailing conditions were perfect and we had two races back to back; the first one just a single lap in towards the land then back out and around the Breakwater.

The rules of the water state that sail boats have right of way over motor powered vessels, however, this does not include ships as large as Amadea. The cruise ship pulled up her anchor and began her journey out to the Channel in perfect time for us to avoid her and hindered some of our competitors behind us; that was until we rounded our mark and both headed for the west side of the breakwater. The mindset 'win at all costs' was almost taken one step too far by our skipper, and Wave Warriors' owner Angus McPhie, as we were on course for a very close shave with a twenty-eight thousand tonne ship. We had a ten second horn blast, five short blasts followed by a desperate final blast plus a warning from the pilot ship which managed to push us in the wrong direction - under sail with a spinnaker flying there are only certain angles you can make. As crew we had faith in Angus but I knew we were pushing our luck. I looked up to see the bow wave of the massive ship and all we could do was hope.

Thankfully the wind didn't drop - we made it through by the skin of our teeth and were not the next day’s headlines.

Being British

It's no wonder that foreigners laugh at our "Britishness" - on Saturday night my friends and I had to have a little chuckle ourselves. The British love nothing more than to barbecue and on the whole this summer has been perfect with long warm evenings, that is until now. It's only August and we should still be able to enjoy alfresco dining even if it means turning a blind eye to the falling temperatures and occasional showers.

My hosts and I were determined to stick to our principles even if it did mean that we were dressed in our ski jackets, scarves and had to pull our hoods up a couple of times. I know that I couldn't begin to explain such eating arrangements to any of my foreign friends who live in hot climates but our stubborn pride means we will enjoy our food more outside even if it does require an extra glass of something to keep us warm and smiling.

I'm not sure how many more barbecue opportunities there are going to be this year, we have been so spoilt I can't believe it can last into September. I have become so accustomed to wearing shorts or skirts, never taking a jacket with me and generally being able to travel light that autumn may come as something of an unpleasant surprise. I had my first warning sign of how soft I have become on Sunday morning. I'd set my alarm for an early cycle and woke to see horizontal rain out of my window. I am slightly ashamed to admit it but I decided that my bicycle would prefer to stay dry and clean so pressed that alluring cancel button. The winter is going to be a shock.

The season

After the baby boom of the last two years the wedding invites have slowed down considerably. When they do come it seems to be all at once with back to back weddings over the last two weekends, although both held in incredibly different settings.

Last week I headed up to Oxford for a very British wedding. The service was held in the majestic Christchurch Cathedral with the reception in the garden just behind, courtesy of the Dean of the College. I've been to Oxford a few times but this was my first in the famous College grounds. I mentioned there was a film like feel about the place which made more sense when I was told that the famous Hogwarts dining hall from the Harry Potter films is the actual dining hall at Christchurch College. I refrained from visiting it as I still imagine the scenes from the books at my old school whenever I read them and didn't want to shatter this illusion. Irrelevant of any Harry Potter resemblances the wedding was magical partly thanks to the amazing summer we are having backed up with croquet and lawn bowls to play whilst sipping champagne.

The second wedding was a much more local affair, held in a pretty Devon village. After the marriage with a singing vicar referencing Tina Turner there was a short rural walk back to the garden marquee for the reception. There may not have been the impressive buildings of Oxford University surrounding us but the stunning view of luscious green Devon countryside went one better. Thankfully there's no sign of an end to this fantastic weather which made for another wonderful day to enjoy with friends.

No excuses

It probably comes as no surprise that after five weeks at sea I missed my own bed and dry land but just four days after getting home I was already back on a boat and missing my bed (again). It isn't as tough as it sounds - I didn't leave many home comforts behind when I went camping for the weekend in North Devon.

Every now and then I do have to mention the weather, after five weeks on a boat it is a constant topic of conversation so I can't wait any longer without commenting on this amazing summer. I was certain that the process of digging out my tent would summon the rain and I must confess I was a little worried when I was woken on the beach by the sound of thunder getting closer. I packed up, ran back to the campsite and waited nervously to see if my ancient tent would keep the downpour at bay. Thankfully it turned out to be very localised and must have just missed the campsite.

In this amazing weather there is no excuse for me to not to commute by bicycle; the only limiting factor being my lack of fitness after nearly two months doing very little exercise on a boat. I might have been a bit ambitious last week when I fitted in three hilly, twenty mile rides but I had no choice by the final one as I had to get home. The best thing at this time of year is I'm not alone on my bike and I found a fellow commuter to keep me company on the long slog out of Plymouth and up to the Moor. It is amazing how much quicker a hard ride can seem when you have some company and I'd like to extend my thanks to the kind gentleman for cycling at my slow pace and helping me home.

I'm back

It is so good to be back on dry land, in a real bed and using a flushing loo; the list goes on. A week later I think I have just about adjusted to normal life although I did have some form of what I am labelling 'land sickness' - the land wasn't moving but I was regularly feeling queazy for no apparent reason. The turning point seemed to be Wednesday and subconsciously I must have been missing the ocean as I was back out on a boat in Plymouth Sound.

Keen to put my newly acquired knowledge gleamed from the Clipper transatlantic race into practise I rejoined "Wave Warrior", the thirty seven foot yacht I have crewed on a few times in the past, for one of the summer series races. I distinctly remember the first time I sailed on this boat it seemed huge. Perspective is a funny thing and after living on a 'seventy footer' I was seriously questioning if this was even the same boat. I couldn't comprehend how much smaller it was, so much so I hardly even recognised it.

I know that Devon is a small world, sailing is too, combine the two and I shouldn't have been surprised at this coincidence. One of the crew on "Wave Warrior" was talking about coming up the Thames last Saturday, then I heard him mention St Katherine's Dock (where the Clipper boats moored up) and sailing a seventy foot yacht around the world - it turns out he had just sailed one of the Clipper boats back from London to their home in Gosport. I then had to be careful what I talked about and there was no room for exaggeration as I shared my transatlantic experiences with the rest of the crew.

Happy Hour

The morning before our grand departure from North Cove Marina in downtown New York we had our third and final briefing. With all of the sixteen crew plus our skipper it was our final chance to contemplate what might be ahead of us; not that anything would have changed my mind by this stage. That was, until I heard about “growlers”, “The Perfect Storm” and the “Titanic”.

Admittedly it sounded as though the skipper was just trying to make us laugh. I did manage a small nervous smile but mainly because I had no idea what he was talking about. From my teenage years I have fond memories watching Kate Winslet and Leonardo Dicaprio in Titanic, with the wind flowing through their hair and Celine Dion crooning in the background adding to the romance of the blockbuster film. I was, however, too swept up in the Titanic's romance story to fully comprehend the details of that fatal night other than I knew an iceberg somewhere in the Atlantic had been the cause. It therefore came as quite a surprise when our planned route passed just north of the mark where the infamous cruise liner sank one hundred years ago.

This apparently tied in with the warning of growlers. It turns out they are not a type of angry sea animal but small pieces of ice that have broken free. When I say small, I mean the size of an average car and definitely substantial enough to cause some serious damage to a seventy foot racing yacht – or so we were told.

These facts hardly seemed significant especially when on day four I was still in my shorts, but then overnight it changed. Suddenly I had on all of my layers and sat shivering on deck whilst scanning the chilly waters for potentially dangerous growlers. I am pleased to say we have passed through the danger zone and left the sites of the two aforementioned film tragedies in our wake.

On a lighter note the skipper mentioned in his brief that every day we would be rewarded with a “happy hour” at one of the watch changeovers. He continued to explain that it rarely lasts an hour and actually isn't even always that happy. I must admit the point of it was lost on me until yesterday. We combined a birthday, the improving weather and most importantly a win through the first Scoring Gate as an excuse to be happy for a whole hour.

It took us just over a week to reach this celebratory milestone yet this shouldn't cause you concern - we are in good spirits far too regularly to celebrate it daily.

Decorating the Deck

I learnt through sport to always take the rough with the smooth but that did not help me to prepare for the real Atlantic. The Caribbean weather and spirit is now but a distant memory. I had started to worry as after each day of mirror flat sea came another beautiful sunrise with more perfect cruising conditions – the longer this lasted the more shocking the contrast was going to be and sure enough, it was too good to be true. After four days of topping up my tan, reading my book and being cooked for there was a dramatic change; reality hit.

Along came the Atlantic I had heard about - the temperatures suddenly dropped overnight as the wind and sea state began to build. This was what I was expecting and had signed up for; it is supposed to be a race after all. With the change in conditions came a change in pace. Suddenly there was work to be done and I had a chance to make myself useful.

Unfortunately my body had other ideas and pulled a pretty good get out of work card in the form of seasickness. I was determined not to be defeated but I had a fight on my hands. After any small amount of exertion, whether that was helping to change a sail or even just putting on my wet weather gear, I had to hang my head over the side. Sadly I did not always make it and have to admit I succeeded in decorating the deck a couple of times. Once looking at the horizon with the fresh air on my face all would seem fine again, as would lying in my bunk, but it was the effort getting from one to the other that I cannot describe.

During my time hugging the toilet basin something occurred to me. I had always wondered why the “bathroom” on a boat was known as “the heads”? My personal conclusion: it is down to the fact that your head is likely to spend as much time there as any other part of your body when at sea – I am open to any other suggestions.

I had just started to recover and managed my first small meal. I thought at last I could make myself useful. Alas the one small task that was asked of me only succeeded in adding to the previous decoration albeit in a slightly different way. I tripped on deck and spilt sausage grease all over the ropes. I thought I had made a good job of cleaning it up with the help of a few waves until the skipper muttered something. Apparently he had presumed it was the result of some more seasickness but then felt the grease on his fingers. The rest of my watch kindly covered for me but I had to confess.

Thankfully we are only just half way so I still have time to redeem myself.

The Calm Before the Storm

Heather Fell is currently competing in Race 14 from New York to Londonderry of the Clipper Round the World Yacht Race as part of Team Jamaica Get Alright.

The nerves have suddenly kicked in. Due to problems with my visa, just getting out to join the Clipper Race has been such a rollercoaster ride that I feel exhausted and drained of all emotion. I arrived in New York only thirty six hours ago and felt nothing. I was dropped at North Cove Marina to meet the Clipper team and felt so unappreciative when they asked how excited I was; I was numb. I put it down to jet lag but in hindsight I realise it was nerves. As an athlete I would yawn continuously and always sleep on the bus on the way to the venues. I think it must be a coping strategy. After an afternoon nap and two undisturbed sleeps the reality of the task ahead is finally dawning on me and about time too as we are one hour away from leaving land and won’t see it again for another two and a half weeks.

I am doing my best to commit to paper how I feel. Right now it is excitement - I just want to get going and find out what is in store. I've heard enough and it varies from "it'll be the best experience of you life" through to "you've no idea what you've let yourself in for". It’s time to find out for myself.

Everyone else seems to be doing jobs right now. I've offered to help and hate being a spare part so thought I'd get out of the way and have a moment to myself. There’s a hubbub of activity on all the surrounding boats and the skippers are all away at the final briefing. I get the feeling Jamaica - Get All Right (the boat I'm on) is laid back. We have had meetings the last two mornings and, afraid of doing anything wrong, I've been sat ready on the dot waiting to go as the crew arrive in dribs and drabs over the course of the next thirty minutes. I'm certainly not complaining as it’s allowed me a moment to reflect on what has happened the past few weeks. I genuinely can’t believe that I’m about to sail across the Atlantic!

Cottonwool doesn't always help

As an athlete I never liked to wrap myself in cotton wool. When people suggested something I wanted to do might be dangerous, I would remind them that being on our roads is far riskier - for example commuting by bicycle.

The last two years have seen a dramatic increase in people cycling in the UK and not just for pleasure. Ever increasing numbers are opting to commute by bicycle and I take my hat off to them braving the weather and traffic on a daily basis.

At the end of a sportive I took part in a few weeks ago, the route took us over Tower Bridge and through the centre of London. Admittedly I was tired from peddling all day but I was surprised by the amount of concentration required to keep alert and respond to the traffic, pedestrians and numerous junctions. For me it was the most challenging part of the ride and made cycling up a hill in the pouring rain on Dartmoor seem far more appealing.

I've always felt rather safe cycling in the Westcountry until I had a recent reality check. My friend and I needed to cycle along a relatively busy road on the bank holiday. It can be unnerving as the cars overtake although the majority give you a wide berth. We were in a nice rhythm when I suddenly heard my friend shout - he'd felt the wind from a vans wing mirror rush past his ear. A very considerate driver stopped, having taken the vehicles details, to check we were okay. It was only then that I realised how near a miss it had been.

Thankfully these drivers are in the minority but it served as an important reminder that we should all be more mindful of fellow road users. I hope we continue to get more people riding bicycles.

Love our small world

Bumping into people I know is one of the things I love about being at home in Devon. I may live on a farm with the nearest neighbours a good few hundred metres away but I still know them better than my next door neighbours from my time in London or Bath. It has always baffled me that the more dense the population the less people I seem to know and that is part of the reason I get excited if I bump into someone in an unexpected place.

A few weeks ago I was in Lausanne, Switzerland representing the BOA athletes commission for just two days. As I was checking out on the last morning a girl tentatively came and asked me if I was Heather, and then apologetically asked if I remembered her. I was racking my brains but early in the morning in a foreign country I was struggling to find any connections. Feeling slightly embarrassed I had to admit that I didn't recognise her but she soon put me out of my misery when she introduced herself. It all came flooding back although I think I can be excused as she was a close neighbour of my grandparents who I haven't seen for over twenty years. She is from Chagford and moving to Australia; what were the chances of bumping into her in a hotel lobby in Switzerland?

A less dramatic coincidence happened just a few days after when I was on my way home from Belfast. I'd been trying to arrange a meeting with someone in London but coordinating our diaries was proving difficult. After I had a flight cancelled I ended up flying the next day and found myself in Belfast airport at the same time. It is a small world.

A bonus day

It isn't very often that a weekend away becomes longer than you expected. Last weekend I was in Northern Ireland to watch the cycling spectacle that is the Giro D’Italia with friends and this is exactly what happened to me.

I arrived at the airport on Sunday night for the last return flight to Bristol only to discover it was delayed by nearly three hours which would have left me with no transport connection home. My heart sank at this news and I had visions of camping out at Bristol airport waiting for the buses to start running again the next morning.

Cursing a certain 'orange' airline I headed to the help desk, not sure exactly what I was hoping for as I didn't imagine they'd provide hotels or taxis in this type of situation. Running out of ideas I suggested I could travel on a different flight and was quietly impressed when this was met with a polite reply of:  "Yes, of course Madame".

Definitely not the response I was expecting and I wasn't even charged a fee. This was great news although perhaps not for my friends. I'd been dropped off at the airport, said my goodbyes and waved them off; it was slightly awkward when I had to call them just 30 minutes later and ask not only to be picked up but to stay one more night. I'm very lucky to have such accommodating friends who so kindly hosted me for another twenty-four hours and I got to enjoy an extra day in surprisingly sunny Belfast.

Fancied a dip

Swimming has always been a significant part of my sporting life. I can't remember learning to swim and rarely had more than a day out of the water - that was until retiring from modern pentathlon. Admittedly I've never been a morning person, so I knew the sessions at the crack of dawn wouldn't be missed, but I genuinely thought I was addicted to my regular chlorine fix. With no event to train for I've naturally swayed away from swimming and found more sociable and flexible sports to keep me fit. I recently had two very different excuses to make my return to the pool.

At an international sports conference, where I was representing the modern pentathlon governing body, there was an opportunity to attend a swim clinic by a current world record holder. I was sold a slightly dampened down agenda and convinced myself it was going to be a fun affair even if it did involve the obligatory early morning start. It turned into rather a hard session but despite the shock to the system I thoroughly enjoyed it. So much so I couldn't turn down my next invite for a dip, this time at the other end of the performance spectrum.

I've always been a strong advocate for children learning to swim - it is such a valuable skill even if just for safety. Having taught the primary school age group in the past I know how important confidence in the water is. So what better time to learn than
 before you can even crawl? The session with my eleven month old niece was not as strenuous as the aforementioned but I was equally impressed with her swimming skills. She's already mastered opening her eyes underwater, something I still struggle with. It might not officially count as swimming but she's off to a good start.

Shock to the system

I've had a few shocks to the system in the last couple of weeks. Initially it was adjusting to British weather. This is to be expected after a holiday but beyond that the majority were self inflicted.

Only twelve hours after I arrived home I was on the start line for a charity cycle ride. This shouldn't have posed a problem as I like to think I'm still relatively fit; even if I'd just had five weeks of doing very little exercise. It was a two day event cycling a total of one hundred miles. With fresh legs, I set off cautiously to ensure I'd reach the destination with some energy to spare for my return the following day and am pleased to report I made it. It wasn't until the following morning that I realised, despite my level of fitness, I didn't  have a bottom "conditioned" for cycling, even if I had a little more padding than before I went away. It's not often that I appreciate an incline but the killer hills on the second day actually came as a little respite for my derrière as I stood up to pedal.

The second change probably doesn't come as a shock to any of my friends although it still surprises my body. The arrival of Easter Sunday doesn't just mean Christ and chocolate eggs to me; it is time to eat all the food I've forbidden myself over lent. I know this isn't the point of Easter or the forty days prior, but it has become a tradition for me. This year I even added cake to the list as my birthday actually fell before Ash Wednesday. I keep hoping that as I grew older I'll no longer have the urge to nip into the sweet shop but until that happens those forty days help me to prove I can resist temptation when I really have to.

Being British

It is so good to be home at last; I mean actually back in Devon. One advantage of going away at this time of year is returning to see such a change. The days are so much longer, the hedgerows are starting to blossom and it's noticeably warmer than when I left. All of this, combined with my friends reiterating that summer must be on its way, got me a little excited. After five weeks in temperatures far higher than we will ever experience on our hottest summer day, I stepped off the plane into the sunshine I was instantly reminded - it is still only April.

Despite knowing it's Easter I'm British and will therefore make the most of any sunshine, pretending that it is actually warm enough to sit outside and eat an ice-cream. I attended a local point to point in the south hams where picnics are as important as the racing itself, I was pleased to see that even those dressed in shorts were stubbornly refusing to admit they regretted their choice of clothing. Thankfully I'd dressed appropriately so was happy to stay to the bitter end and catch the final race. It was probably the most exciting, certainly the shortest, and definitely the only 'ground shaker' of the day - the spectacle that is Clydesdale racing. These horses are designed for pulling carts not galloping; their feet are the size of dinner plates and the feather they carry around each leg does not aid aerodynamics but they certainly got everyone's interest as they thundered past.

It couldn't have been any further from my last racing experience just a month ago in Hong Kong but you really can't beat a point to point on a bank holiday weekend.

Welcome home

I have small feet and therefore leave a small footprint but last week I left a very large one of a different kind. In just seven days I managed to clock up a total of seven flights which equals a significant carbon footprint and I dread to think how many miles I'll need to cycle to compensate for this.

Many of my friends think I live a 'rock and roll' lifestyle with all my travel. I won't deny that I love discovering new countries but the reality is often far from glamourous. One particular moment, or should I say several hours, was on the third and final flight of one journey where I was sat amongst a large family including three toddlers. I sympathise with parents travelling with young children. I find it challenging enough just organising myself but after a nine hour relay of continuous screaming from all three I began to loose this sympathy. I am not a parent and probably shouldn't comment however, not one attempt was made to comfort or reprimand these unruly children. With no apologies forthcoming, the situation became increasingly awkward as the rest of the cabin started to show their frustrations when unable to sleep through the racket.

After these past few weeks abroad I actually began to miss my own culture. I'm not saying that we, the British, are always polite but we do have a certain way of doing things. Whether it is our habit of frequently apologising to each other, forming queues or inclination towards modesty I'm not sure - but I know I've missed home. Sometimes I admire the audacity of foreigners as they walk to the front of the queue or ask for exactly what they want; I just hope for the sake of my friends and family that I haven't brought too many of these traits home with me.

Exploring the culture

I always embrace the chance to try something new and love to sample other cultures. During my last month of travelling I grabbed many of these opportunities. It might be difficult to describe anything on board a cruise ship as cultural but that didn't stop me from getting stuck into the activities on offer, even if many of them were aimed at an older generation. Being the youngest passenger - with the exception of the crew - there were some presumptions made as to my role on the ship. Once fellow passengers discovered I was on board for work many thought I'd be performing in some capacity. I suppose speaking is a type of entertainment but it soon became obvious to most what I wouldn't be doing when they witnessed me on the dance floor.

On a sea day, when the ship doesn't dock, there are many activities on offer including ballroom dancing lessons, and I was in at the deep end with the square tango first on the menu. The polite instructors soon broke it to me that four lessons would not be sufficient to teach the skills required for such a technical dance. The next day it was the waltz, and I had no idea such a simple looking elegant dance could be so challenging. After that, I lowered my expectations and joined the line dancing. If all of that seemed a little too physical there were still the 'sports' of deck shuffleboard and deck quoits which even though aimed at the more sedentary suited me far better.

Once I left the cruise I needed something a little more physically taxing and certainly found that in Thailand. Their national sport of Muay Thai is probably one of the most full-body exerting activities I've ever done, although yet again I am a long way off being professional after just two lessons.  

Needed a bigger engine

Complaining is one of our great national pastimes with both the weather and public transport featuring high on our list of favourite topics. As a nation we always compliment other countries for running such efficient transport networks and Hong Kong was a fine example; its buses and trains consistently punctual, immaculately clean, spacious and air conditioned.

As I journey west through Asia, the attitude to travel seems to become more relaxed but this hadn't posed any problems having successfully travelled around Thailand by plane, bus, long boat and ferry. It wasn't until visiting one of the quieter, outlying islands that a different mode of transport was required - the tuk tuk. My friend and I had planned to hire a moped but it was soon apparent that the luggage wouldn't fit.

The tuk tuk in question was a moped and glorified side car with the capacity to carry two passengers and luggage - the only problem being this far exceeded the capability of the tiny engine. I know this feeling myself when cycling up some of the hills at home but somehow I always make it. Unfortunately no amount of will power was going to propel our make shift taxi up the third and final slope we encountered on our way across the island. Halfway up we came to a holt. My friend and I hopped out to push, but it was a little too late.

We eventually 'summited' the incline but the engine had overheated and would not restart. Thankfully Thailand is a safe and friendly country so it wasn't long before we were picked up by a passing truck and had to leave our tuk tuk, and it's driver, to cool down.                                                                                        

Missing home?

I'm aware I should never complain about being abroad as any opportunity to explore more of the world should never be passed but there is always a fear of missing something at home. I left the UK when the sun was shining and worried I was about to miss an early glimpse of summer that would be over once I returned. Other than the imagined perfect weather I also get a little frustrated at missing significant sporting events of which, in my opinion, there have been two so far. The first event I didn't even manage to find the results of until days afterwards - congratulations to the Exeter Chiefs for winning the LV Cup in front of a sell out home crowd. The second event was the Cheltenham Festival although I managed to substitute this with an evening of racing at Happy Valley Stadium, Hong Kong. The humid flood lit track set amongst a backdrop of high rise buildings and a colourful crowd made for an altogether unique experience.

My reason for visiting Hong Kong was not to find Westcountry cider (see 20.03.14) or to watch horse racing but to catch a boat. This might seem something of an understatement as I was in town to board The Adonia, P&O's seven hundred capacity cruise ship. Now I know I'm retired from sport but I would still class myself as too young to be going cruising and as it turned out the majority of the other passengers felt the same. I had to explain on several occasions that the purpose of my trip was work, not pleasure, although I wasn't completely convinced myself. Aside from a bit of after dinner speaking, I was lucky enough to enjoy some lovely weather and a once in a lifetime cruising experience.

Westcountry Girl

I am always proud of my Westcountry heritage and given any chance to represent this wonderful part of the UK, I will. Recently I had the honour of attending St James's Palace to present the Duke of Edinburgh (DofE) Gold award winners from the South West with their certificates. I remember starting the scheme and obtaining my bronze award before attempting the gold but soon realised the time and effort required for this would not fit around my swimming and sport commitments. Whilst presenting each certificate to these mature and polite young people it reminded me of the importance of life skills and achievements outside of pure academia.

On a slightly less serious note I had another proud Westcountry moment last week. I was in Hong Kong which admittedly used to be owned by Great Britain but other than the odd colonial building and significant amount of ex patriots there is little sign of this shared heritage; that was until I found a slightly quirky kiosk next to the ferry terminals. Whilst abroad I avoid all things British (and American) on principle and try to immerse myself in the local food and culture as much as possible, although there can be the odd exception. It was a sign for cider that caught my eye and on closer inspection I discovered this kiosk was selling Somerset cider and Devon crisps - I just couldn't resist.  

Shaking off the monkey

The monkey has been shaken off their back at last and history made - on Sunday afternoon Exeter Chiefs beat local rivals Bath for the first time in 36 years finally putting an end to a frustrating statistic. The Chiefs took the leap up into the premiership four years ago and haven't looked back since proving they belong amongst the top flight of English teams but one scalp had always eluded them. So many nail bitingly close encounters came and went including a twelve all draw at home last season and another close game away at the beginning of this season. Even though Bath have been on incredible form I knew this statistic had to change soon and I was determined not to miss it; so much so I changed my airline tickets to ensure I could attend this latest game.

It all seemed like painful déjà vu when less than thirty seconds after the whistle Bath had gone over for a try and at half time still had more points on the board. After another forty minutes of the closest and most exciting rugby I've seen this season Exeter Chiefs finally did it whilst also booking themselves a place in the LV cup final at home.

It made for a fantastic start to this trip and I managed to dash home to squeeze in a bit more rugby before heading to the airport. Another significant result saw England put things right against Wales and keep themselves in contention to win the Six Nations.

The only problem I have now is how to watch the finals of these respective tournaments from somewhere in the China Sea; a dilemma I shouldn't complain about but I'll explain more next week.

Pay phone

Can you remember the last time you used a pay phone? I certainly couldn't. I have to admit I didn't even realise they still existed - so many are kept purely for aesthetics and some phone boxes have even been transformed into secondhand book swaps. I am probably showing my age now but I honestly don't know how we survived before mobile phones. It used to be a joke that learning to use a mobile could pose a challenge and embarrassingly it took me a moment or two to familiarise myself with the pay phone. Thankfully there must still be some need for them and it saved me on my travels back from Lanzarote last week.

On my journey out I managed to leave my iPad on the airplane, unfortunately not realising for twenty-four hours. After the first unsuccessful trip back to the airport I was beginning to worry, my iPad has nearly become as essential as my phone. Luckily I was not staying far from the airport and it was a fairly straightforward cycle back again the next day, on my third day in a row at Arrecife airport I left with my iPad in hand.

I hoped this time I had learnt my lesson, double and triple checking my room when I left the hotel and my seat as I disembarked the plane. On a seemingly far smaller scale I did manage to leave my phone charger somewhere en route. My phone is on its last legs and can't last long without any juice. This shouldn't have been a problem until I realised half way home that I had no flat keys. Thanks to the good old traditional pay phone and a friend who had my flat mates number all was sorted just before she went to sleep and saved me from a night sleeping on my doorstep.

A little wind

It's not just us in the UK who are experiencing this unseasonably miserable weather - many parts of Europe have been suffering too. Bad weather is always compared to the average for the area and on the scale of things our January might have been the wettest on record but if, for example, you compare that to what America faced with its snow storms then it puts things into perspective. On a scale insignificant to the aforementioned Lanzarote has apparently also been suffering. Having come here for sailing and cycling I haven't been overly concerned that I didn’t experience perfect sunbathing conditions everyday. As a Brit I've been more than impressed with blue skies and just the very odd spattering of rain. The locals however don't agree and are constantly complaining about the cold; to put this into perspective the temperature is in the late teens to early twenties degrees Celsius.

One weather problem Lanzarote could complain about if it so chose is the wind. I've honestly never experienced anything like it. On a boat this is actually a positive and as long as you're adequately prepared it guarantees exciting sailing. With the knowledge that the wind never disappears we were able to make a significant trip further down the island and after half a day of sailing we reached our new destination feeling satisfied at the distance covered down wind. A couple of days later we found coming home took a little more effort as we sailed into the wind for five hours however this did make it feel more of an achievement. It wasn't until the next day when I hired a bike and cycled over the mountain to the seaside town where we'd been staying that I discovered it only takes fifty minutes to peddle; although someone did point out it's not the destination, it's the journey that counts.

Never in doubt

A few hopes came and went but I had faith; Lizzy Yarnold had still yet to compete. It might sound strange but I used to train alongside the sliding athletes when I was in Bath. Thanks to the excellent support services and a push track the national training centre for British Bobsleigh and Bobskeleton is at the University. The amount of hours spent training for Modern Pentathlon is hard to beat but the intensity that the sliding athletes work at is impressive. They are only in the country for half of the year in which they have to fit in incredible amounts of strength and power work before heading out for their concentrated winter season in the mountains. Lizzy has a solid work ethic, surprisingly level head for her years and this season she has consistently been topping the podium on the World Cup circuit.

In winter sports consistency does not guarantee an Olympic medal; the women's ski jump and men's half pipe are just two examples when the out and out favourites finished an agonising forth place. Frustratingly I was travelling on the first day of the women's Bobskeleton competition and had to rely on updates from the internet so I knew that Lizzy already had a substantial lead. Unfortunately I then had to wait two days for the final result as I had no internet connection - what a wonderful result for TeamGB.

I do not dare utter another word of my frustration at missing the Winter Olympics as I am currently somewhere far warmer and drier than home - where might that be I hear you say? Well I have headed south for ten days of cycling, sailing and maybe a little bit of much needed sunshine.

Life balance

Now I'm no longer a full time athlete I like to keep a balance in my life between sport, work and socialising; this past weekend was sport, sport and more sport. I've spent over four hours riding horses, another four hours on a bicycle, an hour running and the rest has been filled with spectating. Any sports fan would have been sorted for entertainment and the only problem was prioritising what to watch.

I opted for live rugby on Saturday; going first to a premiership game then dashing home to catch England obliterating Scotland and retaining the Calcutta Cup. My usual poor taste of Saturday night television was overruled thanks to the great coverage of the Winter Olympics and after just one day there were already so many events to catch up on.

I had to escape for some exercise on Sunday and tear myself away from the Sochi updates. It's far too easy to get sucked into watching all of the live coverage especially when it starts so early in the morning. I knew we had some potential medal hopes in the new Olympic snow events but I wasn't expecting to return from my cycle to discover we'd actually won a medal, the first snow sport medal for Britain in ninety years. I hope by the time you are reading this TeamGB have more silver wear to add to the collection, I'm thoroughly excited about many of the events to come.

Almost a triathlon

Last weekend almost turned into unintentional triathlon training. There was plenty of cycling, an encouraging amount of running and enough water to go swimming. I've been mixing cycling in with my return to running in order to reduce the amount of impact on my legs. Park run is a nationwide initiative set up a couple of years ago to encourage people of all abilities to run 5k. These events are free and organised by volunteers in local parks every Saturday morning - the perfect start to your weekend. In order to incorporate a cycle I 'commuted' the thirty four mile round trip keeping the time window fairly slim to ensure I arrived warm for the start but I failed to account for a puncture en route. Consequently I ended up practising a triathlon speed transition into my running kit and sprinted to the start line. I arrived in the nick of time, if slightly out of breath, and set off. All was going well until the first corner where I was confronted by what appeared to be a lake. I hadn't bargained on a swim and was hoping to keep my feet dry for the cycle home. After my initial unsuccessful attempt to tiptoe around the edge I realised there was no choice but to take the plunge. Maybe next time I'll enter a real triathlon and pack my swimsuit.

Half of our country might be sitting under water right now but we are not alone in wanting some better weather. Sochi, the host city for the upcoming Winter Olympics, has been hoping for some cooler temperatures and much needed snow. Fortunately they have plenty of Rubles to help ship in the white stuff. Russia has received some criticism for their last minute preparation; something that I'm certain our athletes won't be suffering from. Good luck to all of Team GB in the coming two weeks.

The power of sport

There have been in depth discussions on our economical state at the start of this new year, the usual topics of unemployment have been top of the debates. I know there's a far wider problem but I'm delighted to see the impact of sport on some local young job seekers. Last November I became an athlete mentor for the Dame Kelly Holmes Trust working on the "Get on Track" Plymouth programme, with the aim of helping young unemployed people find work using sport. The impact of sport can be seen everyday, it was specifically the values such as teamwork and problem solving that brought out confidence in these young people. A couple of months after the completion of the six week programme there was a celebration event where I had the chance to get an update on the participants progress, the most obvious change was in their self confidence, even for those who are still searching for that elusive job. It just proves how powerful sport can be.

I'm at last getting back into running, it seems that my stress fracture has healed so I can start to up the miles. I'm someone who always needs a target so I'm working out what a realistic goal could be for this year. For those of you a bit further ahead in your run training there's the perfect opportunity on your doorstep, Tavistock has it's very own half marathon. The thirteen mile event is still a few months away so there's time to focus your training and get those entries in; just the motivation you might be seeking right now.

Surviving January

A fellow athlete made a interesting comment on my retirement announcement last week. He asked why we as sportspeople retire yet all we are really doing is changing vocation? Things made more sense viewed from this perspective - all that remains is to find a career to transition into. As daunting as my "new" life may seem there are some immediate advantages: from the removal of the 5 o'clock starts for training to considerably cheaper car insurance (having professional athlete as your job description places you in the same bracket as premiership footballers).

January is known to be the most depressing month of the year but you'll be pleased to hear we've passed the "worst" week. Everywhere does seem to be quiet; the roads, the shops, the restaurants, all except the gym. Earlier in the week I missed the window of daylight and the even smaller window of dry weather to fit in my exercise, as a result I decided try a gym class. This was the first time since university that I attended a circuit training session and didn't think that 50 minutes of activity in a sports hall would have any great affect - how wrong I was. Over the next few days I could still feel the effects simply walking.

To make it through the middle of January I had a helping hand. It was a pleasure to attend the Plymouth Sports Awards and remember the great performances of last year especially when it is during the cold winter months that so much effort is being put into training. To raise my spirits a little further, I followed it up with a trip to a comedy night and am pleased to report I should make it to the end of the month with a smile on my face.  

Retirement

Last week I officially announced my retirement. I've had mixed emotions, it was always going to be a tough decision to make but there was also a feeling of relief. Sport at a professional level must come to an end whether that decision is in you hands, due to injury or simply because of selection. As well as my personal retirement from Modern Pentathlon I have had the opportunity to speak to other sportsmen in different fields about their experiences, this was interesting and it gave me some more valuable presenting experience.
I have been playing mixed roles the last few days, swapping from being the interviewer to being the interviewee. During a week long BBC journalism course where I was being trained to ask the  questions I had to keep nipping out to answer them, seeing both sides of the industry really must be the quickest way to learn. The downside to my multi role week has been the lack of spare time, maybe it's just been a good introduction to the real world. After working five intense days my brain certainly had been truly exercised, unfortunately my body hadn't. I can't remember the last time I had a week with no exercise, I am retired from Pentathlon but not from sport. Thankfully the weather was on my side, a few hours riding my bike over Dartmoor really was the perfect setting for some quality thinking and reflection.

Dry January?

It was brought to my attention earlier this week that there is a national campaign for a dry January; disappointingly this only seems to apply to the consumption of alcohol and not the weather. There is a longstanding British tradition of making compulsory new year resolutions but why do we do it? Is it simply the peer pressure? I've resisted announcing any specific resolutions as I feel there are so many things I need to work towards the list would be too long. Perhaps that is just a get out clause and one that I've been quite grateful for so far as thanks to the ridiculously wet start to the year my first goal is proving difficult to achieve. It seems like more than nine months ago I first started riding a road bike and I managed to exceed my target of covering six thousand miles. Having reached that distance relatively comfortably, it seems natural to try and better that this year;  I do have an extra three months available. Alas I've not started strongly: if the roads are not submerged by flood water then they are covered in debris and far more appropriate for mountain bikes.
I can empathise with anyone who has new fitness goals for their resolutions. I am always a strong advocate of getting outside to exercise as this not only saves on gym membership but the feel good factor from fresh air and daylight is superb. I also find having a specific target helps whether that is to complete a certain event or try a new sport - mine is to return to full running fitness. Last week I took part in the Plym Valley Parkrun, a sociable 5k free event and the buzz I got from it really has given me that drive to recover from my injury.