onionbagblog

A big old run to start Sunday morning. There were blue skies up above and I had miles in my legs, or make that kms in my legs. I’m a metric continental type of guy.

I did look an absolute running dick though. Not only did I have the compression long socks on, I also had my stupid sweatband. As ever I feel the need to explain with the disclaimer that this is there for practical purposes and not vanity. It keeps the AirPods in place and acts as a useful covering strap for my oversized ears.

Like a fool I chose to head out on the same route where I first experienced the injury that has taken me the longest ever to recover from. It’s not the most adventurous route but it is relatively quiet and is on flat pavement. I am no fan of cross country running.

The route involves heading through the town towards the University and then down towards The Hythe for a quick turn around. Then we do it all again for the reverse route.

Trying to distract me from being a hypochondriac with more injury concerns was the ever excellent KLate Junction in my AirPods. It’s such a magical listening especially first thing in the morning. I do love the paradox of Late Junction in the morning.

On the return leg for the University a game of cricket was already starting. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m. yet. SHOUT OUT to the committed two teams who were pitching up in all white.

This was very much a run all about distance rather than pace. I was reminded of this closer to home when the renowned Wivenhoe Flyer sped past me without blinking.

Run to live, live to run.

To Brightlingsea!… On Saturday afternoon for Open Gardens. Having snubbed Wivenhoe Open Gardens, we thought we would show our faces down the road where no other fucker would recognise us

But OF COURSE we turned a corner and bumped into a friendly face. OH HAI.

I say Brightlingsea Open Gardens: we only visited one garden. This was Moverons. It’s a very classy remote Brightlingsea farmhouse that overlooks the estuary. Local folk rave about it. It’s only open a few days of the year to the public.

I’ve always wanted to visit Moverons and so Open Gardens seemed like the ideal opportunity.

We cycled over, making this short journey on a combination of a mechanical hybrid and a mini-wheeler electric. Yeah like a dickhead I once again wanted to try and prove the point that the iScooter U4 isn’t the waste of money that I actually know it probably is.

My cycling partner, on her non-electric, arrived at Moverons well ahead of me. This wasn’t a good start.

We had a very friendly welcome on the gate, as well as some polite suggestions as to where we could park the bikes. I was secretly hoping that someone might want to nick the iScooter U4 and I could do an insurance job.

Moverons is fascinating as well as being a little weird. It’s a working farm that has some spectacular gardens. The gardens are all pretty much self-contained with a few passageways joining them all up. I couldn’t help think it would be an ideal location for some form of outdoor summer Shakespeare.

Maps were available, but we took the anarchic choice of doing some random wandering. Immediately I was drawn towards the radiant lavenders. They didn’t appear to grow in any particular direction. The Estuary Wild’s sun had a 360 on them. They were stunning. A mental note was made to draw inspiration for future garden plans back at base.

We then entered the courtyard with what appeared to have an upside-down tree. It was growing 180 degrees in the wrong direction. It looked a little freaky.

What Moverons is unique in doing is creating tidy courtyard gardens, and then some more wild woodland areas in which you are free to roam. It would have been rude not to.

It was here that we realised what the main attraction was. A number of local artists have created some pretty impressive metallic sculptures that are dotted around the gardens. These were all animal-themed and were extremely high quality. The sculptures blended in wonderfully with the green background as the rustic metal changed colour under different light circumstances.

We spent a lot longer than I first imagined at Moverons. I would certainly want to go back for a second visit. We did have plans for a nearby village fate on the way home. We ran out of time.

The iScooter U4 was a little more promising on the way home. I worked out that if you are in third assist and pedal ever so slightly, with so much of a light touch that you aren’t actually rotating the wheel, then the maximum third assist power kicks in. You are in effect freewheeling with a very light touch on the pedals but you have the power assist.

It’s an odd ride, for sure.

I took the iScooter U4 out for its proper real test today as part of a combined trip to Home Bargains, Lidl, and then a swim. LIVE the dream, Jace.

Having been mildly impressed with the new bicycle yesterday, I’m now on a bit of a downer with it. Put simply it’s a bit pants. You pay for what you get, etc.

Power assist one and power assist two are completely useless. They are capped at 10 and 15 km per hour. I can actually cycle faster with the motor turned off.

The top power assist level 3, however, is a different matter. Hit that mode and VROOM, you’re flying! You’re actually flying a little too fast. My legs couldn’t keep up with the speed at which the motor was being rotated.

The route into the gym was half decent irrespective of the bicycle. Whitehall Road has been resurfaced in the past week and now rides like a dream; that’s a dream apart from the usual dickhead motorists who seem to treat this particular stretch of Sunny Colch as a close-pass paradise.

It was also particularly windy. Rowing had already been cancelled for the morning. I was pleased to have power assist three to take me up Whitehall Road, despite he pace it chose to transport me.

I rocked up at the gym. It’s been closed for the past few days with a complete refit of the main gym space. It looks pretty impressive. I skipped it all and headed straight for the pool.

This was my first swim after a week away. I felt strong. Once again the spin dryer in the gents had been removed for repairs. Fancy gym equipment, same old shitty spin dryer.

I really need to get my head around the iScooter U4. I’m pondering a return.

I woke up early on Saturday morning, fighting fit and all set for a return to ParkRun. I was getting my arse in gear and had the last-minute thought of: Hey! Let’s check the Colchester ParkRun Facebook page to make sure everything is tickety-boo.

Arse, Sunny Colch ParkRun is not taking place this morning. There’s the annual nonsense of people firing off big cannons in celebration of some old duffer. Not my King, etc. It’s not even his proper birthday. Cheers, Charlie.

It felt like the perfect early June morning outside. There is no such thing as a perfect early June morning these days. I’ve got it lodged in my memory from some long-distant late 70s past of how a June morning should feel: fresh but bright with blue skies. Betcha it pisses it down by midday.

The mean streets of CO7 were relatively quiet. I did clock Mr B, who was also out pounding the pavements. I think he was on route to the allotment. Good effort fella.

I felt as though I had the legs and the fitness to press on a little further than the usual 5 km recovery route. I really want to get back into the swing of running 10 km all the way around the estuary circuit, but I live in fear of another calf ping! moment. Instead I tagged on an extra couple of km or so. Build it up slowly, Jase.

And so a decent run. I really wish I could have completed a ParkRun once again. In the end I went a little more than the ParkRun 5 km, clocking in 6.9 km at under 5 min/km. Happy with that.

Run to live, live to run.

An album that sounds like it was put together to specifically win a Brit award. There’s no quirk or magic carried forward from The Eurythmics. Where’s Dave, etc? Sure, it’s classy. But it’s also mainstream slush. I’m not a mainstream slush type of guy. It’s not exactly going to start a class war, is it? Why has an enduring appeal; Broken Glass is half decent background radio music. But that’s about it. Lisa Stansfield does the pop soul thing with far more passion.

⭐ ⭐

And so I finally got round to road testing the new iScooter U4 that arrived on Wednesday. Having spent a couple of hours setting it up with the various extra build that was required, I was a little unsure that my mechanical skills would allow me a safe passage.

It pissed it down in the Estuary Wilds yesterday. It wasn’t exactly great conditions for road testing a new electric bike. I had bright sunshine early in the evening on Friday. This was perfect to go rolling out. Chapeau!

First thoughts: Woh! This is a bloody heavy beast of a bike. I kinda knew that anyway. The specs say 26 kg. The Raleigh electrics with their big wheels are only slightly heavier at 27 kg. Side by side they look like a boxing mismatch between a heavyweight and a featherweight, except the featherweight is something of a lard arse.

I experimented with the various assist modes as I made my way out of town, past the university and down to the Hythe. My first thoughts are that assist mode 1 and 2 are pants. I couldn’t feel any extra boost. I’m not entirely convinced that there isn’t an issue with the bike.

But switch up to assist mode 3 and shit the bed! Here’s where the real pace kicks in. The only issue is that it’s a single-speed bike and it’s difficult to keep up with a pedalling pace when you reach the top speed, which is capped at 25 km/h.

I did fit the throttle to the bike. This opens up a whole new world. I climbed up Boundary Road without pedalling in throttle mode only.

It always takes a while to get used to any new bicycle set-up. The iScooter U4 may be something of a steep learning curve.

From the test ride my observations are that this is basically a slightly inferior moped. Once you get over the shame of using the throttle and not pedalling, it could actually be a very decent run around for trips in and out of town.

A pair of panniers also arrived this morning. They have been fitted and fit perfectly. I think I need to view this bike as purely an A to B for short distances with panniers packed up with cheapo Lidl booze.

I was later than I usually like to be for a bit of a Weird Wid Waddle on Friday afternoon. Usually if it’s past midday then I can’t be arsed to run. Various other commitments kept me away from pounding the mean streets of C07 a little earlier.

It wasn’t quite Mad Dog’s and Englishman weather, but the Estuary Wild’s rays were starting to heat up. I was a little restricted in trying to pick up the pace and clock a new PB. I wasn’t wearing my fancy Lidl carbon trainers.

It all felt good with regards to my on-off injury. I think the ridiculous high compression running socks are actually working. I’m threatening a return to park run in the morning.

To the Table of Dreams!… on Friday lunchtime. This was an afternoon for playing with the extra heavy wind ball. The only problem was that the wind ball got lost somewhere around the back of a Lambeth estate sometime last weekend whilst we were on the piss at the cricket.

New balls please.

Thankfully we managed to rustle up a spare wind ball; it was most definitely needed.

I was also PONCING around wearing a pair of new cycling specs. I don’t think there is such an item as table tennis specs. As ever I looked the absolute bollocks.

Something I kept quiet in the fashion stakes was my iPhone stashed away down the side of my Y-fronts. I forgot my Apple Watch so I couldn’t strava the session. My shorts had no pockets. I really can’t stand playing table tennis to be honest; I only play so I can strava it. The iPhone down the pants it was, needs must.

Some of the scoring went a little wonky. We lost track as to who should be serving and when we were changing serves. There was one particular epic game that went to 16-14, with two clear points needed ahead of the usual 11 points that gets you over the line.

Rather worryingly a drone circled overhead throughout the game. I fear it was some local snooper wanting to dob me in for stashing an iPhone down my Y-fronts.

I walked away having lost 3-1. There’s no shame in that. There’s no shame in putting an iPhone down your pants.

And so Forest have turned down a second bid from Manchester City for Elliot Anderson worth 120 million pounds. That surprised me on two fronts:

First, the absolute fuck off size of the bid. Blimey. So we’re turning down 120 million pounds? That’s phenomenal but I’m here for it.

The second surprise was that we even had the balls to say no once again. At the end of the day we always win, etc.

I can’t see the Anderson outcome being the same as MGW last season. I think most Forest fans are resigned to losing the England star, and probably sooner rather than later.

But still, 120 million pounds, shit, that’s crazy money. It shows the scale at which Forest have shifted in the past five years from being Championship fodder to producing and fighting to hold on to world-class players.

It’s a win-win situation for Forest. I really can’t see us keeping Anderson, especially after what is expected to be a dazzling World Cup for him. If we do have to say farewell to the Geordie Maradona then we will certainly get a large payday coming out of it.

If by some miracle the Big Fat Greek manages to keep Anderson at the World Famous, then next season just got a whole lot more interesting.

I still expect a deal to be done with Man City before England’s first competitive game of the World Cup. Man City and the player himself won’t want this hanging over the rest of the tournament.

But the question is how high do Man City go in order to get their man?

A very wet run in the Weird Wiv rain on Thursday morning. I do like my alliteration. Maybe I could fiddle with Strava and make it a very wet run in the Weird Wiv rain on Wednesday.

I was free at 11:00 am. The drizzle started at 11:05 am. By the time I’d got my arse in gear at 11:10 am, the drizzle had become something a little more substantial. The very clever weather app, that is often quite stupid, tells me the situation wasn’t going to improve. Just bloody do it, etc.

Once I was out there it was so-so. I’m trying to make the most of running whilst fitness and ink commitments allow me. I’m anticipating a two-month layoff due to more vanity ink-induced body modifications coming up. The two-month break will actually be quite useful in terms of my on-off hypochondriac calf injury.

I headed toward the top of the town and then back down towards the quayside. It was most grey out along the estuary. No one else was making the most of the light drizzle.

I had a few lace malfunctions for the final stretch. Arse. That really pissed me off. I never like stopping whilst I’m out running.

Run to live, live to run, but not whilst the vanity ink is healing.