I ain’t no quitter, but…

I did something drastic this week – I quit volleyball. This wasn’t a rash decision mind, it took a lot of thinking and pondering to make my mind up but as soon as I said it outloud to a friend of mine, I knew it was the right thing to do.

I’ve been playing National League volleyball for a fair while now, and for the last four or five seasons for Leicester – a team of top girls with a good dollop of sporting talent and tactics between them. But I live in Milton Keynes so this means a good two-and-a-half hours in the car for every training session, one per week, plus jaunts to Leeds, Cardiff and Norwich etc for matches. I honestly spend more time in the car than I do on court and during the tail end of last season it was starting to take its toll.

I thought I’d be all refreshed after the summer break and raring to go again. But no. Plus when I got pulled over by a police car with flashing lights on the M1 a few weeks ago for speeding – I was doing 94mph apparently and had no idea they were chasing my ass – it was the last straw. I’m so keen to get home after Wednesday night training and rest my weary head that I break the law to get there and end up sitting in the back of a cop car in my shorts and volleyball hoodie, getting a lecture from the transport police, three points and a £60 fine. Far from ideal, I’d say.

Officer: “Do you have your driving licence or any identification on you madam?”

Me: “Er, no, sorry. I’ve just come from volleyball training so all I have on my is a pair of sweaty knee pads.”

Officer: “Hmm, knee pads eh. Well… I suppose we could identify you by your DNA.”

So, I played my last games on Sunday, at the home venue in Leicester. My team mates, unaware that I was on the brink of quitting, served up a storm on the court and we beat Sheffield 3-1 and Birmingham University in a very close five setter 3-2. What a way to leave the sport! With a double! I can’t ask much more than that although two days later and my muscles won’t let me forget what I put them through.

I also play netball on Monday and Tuesday nights – but locally thankfully, not 50 miles up the motorway – so now I can concentrate on just the one sport. Three nights of prancing around in shorts and trainers is too much, two is bearable, and I have a gym membership that needs using too. Very unlikely that after three nights on the trot I’m going to spend my free Thursdays pounding the cross trainer! Uh uh.

I’ve broken the news to my team mates now and feel terrible for abandoning them and giving them one less person to take the piss out of. I never thought quitting a sport I have been so committed to over the years would ever be an option for me, but I feel great relief at inheriting an extra night in the week and a helluva lot of Sundays.

This spare time will be used wisely, mind. I have a neglected novel that needs editing until it’s fit for an agent’s eyes; a group of fellow writers I need to brainstorm with; books piling up on my bedside table that need reading; friends to catch up with on the blower and a man who likes to spend time with me when I’m not tired and grumpy. I have a bike that’s covered in cobwebs and in desperate need of riding; a catalogue of restaurants I want to eat in; and movies I want to watch and sometimes…well, sometimes I want to do nothing.

Who knows, maybe I’ll be back at the net next season but for now, I’m looking forward to the break.

Focus on fitness

Volleyball and netball season has drawn to a close and now my writing course has ended I find myself with a fair bit of time on my hands. With no more volleyball or netball training/matches until August (save for the summer netball tournament if it goes ahead) what on earth will I do with myself? Well, crack on with the next fitness campaign, of course..

My buddy reccommended a personal trainer to me and this little bundle of fitness – her name is Jade – has put together a six-week training plan tailored to my needs and aims.It rocks, in a “no pain, no gain” kind of way!

What do I want to achieve?

• To look like Kelly Brook in six weeks. Actually, just to look and feel fitter will be fine
• To notice a difference in my shape, noticeably the muffin top which volleyball and netball seem to neglect
• To give me a focus over the summer
• To maintain/increase fitness levels ahead of the new sports season
• To make sure I look hot on the beach in July

So, Jade has taken the above into account and meticulously put together a programme of activity, which includes five days of exercise per week, with two rest days. Activities include swimming, biking, running and a series of weights and evil lunge type exercises to boot. Jade talked me through the programme to make sure I was happy and inside I was chuckling to myself ‘cos she kept referring to me as an athlete. She knows all about my volleyballing and netballing activities and has therefore labelled me of athletic ability. I like it!

I started my programme today with a half hour sesh of weights and lunges, plus the plank and a bit of wobbling around on a fitness ball, followed by 50 minutes in the pool where I managed 88 lengths. I was knackered. I’m not used to weights and lunges and I felt a bit sick after doing some backward crunch things. And while 50 minutes in the pool did drag a bit – and I looked like a wrinkled prune when I got out – I felt bloody good, if a little tired, afterwards. That’s the feeling of achievement my friends!

Coupled with a decent diet and a whole load of discipline I’m hoping I stick to this programme and see the benefits come mid-June. Jade also said you need to eat every three hours or the body thinks it’s starving and I know this is something I can stick to. Sadly, you can’t snack on cakes and biccies, boo.

Tomorrow’s fitness agenda comprises a half hour run which will be a challenge – I’m a crap runner and usually give up after 10 minutes – so it will be interesting to see where I get the stamina from. Wish me luck!

Bring on the end of the season

Well, we managed to balls up our last National League volleyball games of the season yesterday, ending on a proper downer – losing 3-1 to Dulwich and 3-0 to Northampton. Yes, we won more matches than last season and yes, we finished higher up the table. But it was still a pants way to finish, particularly as they were home games.

As is always the way, I think Leicester will be glad to see the close of the 2008/2009 season. It’s not ‘cos we don’t want to play anymore but come April everyone feels due a break and a chance to enjoy the lighter nights without a sporting commitment or two each week.

I for one am tired of volleyball now and looking forward to the summer break. I’m on a particular downer because we’ve lost a  few regional games as well this season – we won the Northampton league last year – so won’t retain our title. We also won the end of season tournament but this year I don’t have enough players available to even field a team.

Being fixture secretary of this league has bled me of any enthusiasm I had for the league – it’s like pulling teeth – and I’ve struggled to get the full swell of players I’m used to, so we’ve compromised on quality.

Not sure we’ll enter a regional team at all next year – as with all sports clubs, money is an issue, and with a shortage of players it’s going to be tougher than usual to organise a team. I don’t want to be fixture secretary next year either and I can’t see anyone jumping in to fill the vacancy. It’s a job without perks.

I’m also stepping down as social secretary too. It’s hard to organise socials when I live 40 miles away from Leicester and it’s just not a job I enjoy anymore. I recently made a list of my weekly commitments and I’m keen to cut down on those things I no longer enjoy.

That means no more sports organisation roles, just playing, and no more studying,  more time spent writing my book.

That said, we still have three more regional games to play before the season’s out so maybe we can aim to win all three? Hmmm, I still only have five available for Sunday’s game and I need six. At this rate I’ll have to ask my coach to shave his legs and squeeze into some hotpants.

25 things you don’t know about me (and probably don’t care either)

The baton has been passed to me by Ellie Lovell to create this list of 25 things you don’t know about me, not that you probably care! Here goes

1)    I interviewed Prime Minister Tony Blair in a hotel room in Newport, Shropshire, when I was 21. I asked him about the recent petrol crisis and what advice he’d give to young voters like me. He didn’t get my vote.

2)    I am a control freak. This means that I’m highly organised, possibly even anal. I like to be prepared for things and I don’t like surprises, so I plan ahead for every eventuality. My control freakishness is mellowing as I get older and I’m much more open to being spontaneous these days.

3)    There’s nothing I love more than making people laugh. This sometimes means I say inappropriate things at inappropriate times but if it makes people smile it’s worth it. You can’t beat laughing, it’s one of my favourite things.

4)    I have spent a night on board HMS Ocean off the coast of Portugal with a bunch of Royal Marines. It was a tough job but someone had to do it! I had about five hours sleep in two days and I stupidly wore high heels – not good for walking on a beach – but it was a great experience. I even got to fly in one of those Squirrel helicopter things.

5)    I love reading and I read a lot. However, the books I read are pretty much limited to crime novels. I’d love to read other stuff but just can’t get into books without blood, murder, mystery and intrigue to get me turning the pages. In another life I would be Perry Mason, Detective Columbo, Poirot or Miss Marple.

6)    I failed my double award GCSE in Science at school. It was sent off to be remarked and I missed out by two points and was the only one in my year to fail it. If I’d taken a lower paper I would have passed. I will forever blame my teacher Mrs Miller for this.

7)    I have an extra vertebrae in my lower back. Most people have four and I have five.

8)    I’m a real believer in old fashioned pleases and thank yous. There’s no excuse for bad manners and rude people just make me cross.

9)     When I was little I wanted to be the female equivalent of Linford Christie, then I wanted to be an author, then I wanted to be a journalist. At least one of those things came true.

10)    One of the most embarrassing moments of my life was doing the high jump on sports day when I was in the second year of high school. The teacher made me take my skirt off so it wouldn’t knock the bar, so I had to do it in a T shirt and gym knickers. The boy of my dreams, Seth his name was and he was in the 4th year, was watching and I wanted to curl up and die. I was jumping over a pole in my pants for Christ’s sake! No boy needed to see that. I actually won the event though and he came up to me and said well done afterwards. I wanted to marry him.

11)    I have twice been a finalist for the Headline of the Year category in the Midlands Media Awards when I worked as a newspaper sub-editor.

12)    My biggest fear is loneliness, closely followed by heights, closely followed by going bald.

13)    I had a huge crush on Jean Claude Van Damme when I was younger and as a result now own a lot of his films. The crush ended when I found out he was short.

14)    I have never smoked a cigarette.

15)     I live on my own and I totally love it. I think I’ve become institutionalised and pitty the man who ever decides to spend the rest of his life with me.

16)    I cannot touch my toes, I’m not even close. I am the least flexible person I know.

17)    I probably wouldn’t survive the week without playing competitive sport. I play volleyball and netball and not only does it keep me fit, it gets rid of all those tensions and frustrations. It’s a very good stress reliever. And the social side of sport is an added bonus.

18)    I had my nose pierced when I was 16 and wore a silver hoop in it. My mum said I looked like a pig.

19)    I’m not a very deep person, what you see is what you get with me. I generally say what I mean and I don’t do hidden meanings. Sometimes I feel like I’m not as intelligent or as clued up about things as I should be and I sometimes find it hard to get as excited about things as other people do.

20)    I have no idea why this is the case but a lot of people tell me their problems or come to me for advice about things. It’s nice to think that folk see me as approachable.

21)    I have always wanted to write a book and am determined to do so by the time I’m 30. 10 months to go then!

22)    I have mixed emotions about my childhood and while it wasn’t unhappy it was a tad turbulent at times. When my parents divorced I said I would never get ever get married if divorce was a possibility. That’s not a choice I’ve had to make yet but I do hope to be married one day. Now I am very close to my family and love them all very much, they’re great.

23)    The most stressful time of my life was when I moved house, moved county, moved job and got dumped all at once. I had a house to sell so was paying mortgage and rent at the same time, started a stressful job as a newspaper editor in a town I’d only ever visited once, and my boyfriend dumped me a week before the move. It was a miserable, miserable time.

24 )   I once witnessed a jewellery store robbery from the window of my flat. I ran the story as an exclusive in my newspaper the next day, quoting myself as an anonymous witness, and only then did I call Crimestoppers.

25)   My dream job would be an FBI agent. Freeze!

Apparently I’m supposed to ask 25 people to do the same and compile their lists,  so if you’re reading this, that means you!

Touch rugby: my debut

Phew. I’ve been delaying it and delaying it (holiday, work, assignment to finish etc) but today I finally made my debut on the touch rugby field. Okay, so I only played one half – a grand total of eight minutes – but at least I know what’s what now and my fear of the unknown has gone.

I had a few concerns before stepping onto the field: making a dick of myself in front of lots of sweaty men in shorts by screaming when I caught the ball, or worse dropping the ball; letting the team down, and being responsible for the other team scoring a try or two.

The trouble with me is that I don’t like playing sport unless I’m half decent at it. I’m not half decent at touch rugby, far from it, but after a few incidents of treating the rugby ball like a hot potato and chucking it in any direction as soon as it entered my hands, I settled down a bit and started to understand the logic of the game.

I think it’ll take some getting used to – in netball you can’t run with the ball, so this game feels a bit unnatural, but I’m looking forward to the next match and hope to play a full 16 minutes. I particularly look forward to Guy’s wicked attempts at a try – and he would’ve made it too, if it wasn’t for his slippy trainers and spectacular nose-dive into the grass. Nice work!

Plus I want to score a try too, just so I know what it feels like. I’m a way off that but Captain Kath hands out jars of home-made chutters for the scorers. Good incentive!

Sporting overdose?

Hmmm. I’m beginning to wonder if there’s such a thing as too much sport and exercise? I’ve had a sport-themed week this week and I have to say, I’m struggling to keep my little eyes open as I write. And it’s only 3.30pm!

Monday was an hour an a half of netball training during which the coach warned us that the intensity would only increase from here on in. I practically slipped off the car seat on the way home, I was so sweaty; probably because I paired up with a 14-year-old whipper snapper for one of the drills and she ran rings around me. I hate the youth!

On Tuesday I biked to and from a bellydancing class (yes, that’s right folks, I said bellydancing) which my work buddy roped me into. It’s actually good fun, although incredibly embarrassing and certainly not for the self conscious, and although not a cardio workout it does wonders for your core stability. Am starting to wonder if my core is a bit rotten!

Wednesday was two hours of volleyball training. For some reason training was rammed with newcomers this week and all those hot bodies in one room did warm the air a little. It was a physical session but my coaches noted my “improved fitness”. What they didn’t note is that I struggled to get out of bed the following day.

Yesterday I biked into work and then joined some work buddies at a Body Blast class. While it sounds painful, it wasn’t as hard as we were expecting and I was a tad disappointed. We did lots of lunges, crunches and core strengthening exercises and lots of weights too, but the instructor needed to push us harder. We wanted to feel the burn! Great 90s dance tunes to workout too though; I was half tempted to boogie my way through the class.

And today, Friday. I biked into work today but that’ll be it as far as exercise goes. All this exercise is making me feel great – I’ve been super productive and wide awake, although this is a problem when it comes to bedtime. I’m always in bed by midnight at the very latest usually but this week I haven’t jumped into bed until as late as 1am ‘cos I’m so pumped. I’m hoping this is just a temporary side effect ‘cos I’m truly knackered today and a little bit achy.

Oh well, I’m sure my good work will be undone this Bank Holiday weekend as I attend my mate’s hen weekend. I was charged with food shopping for the 10 of us and there’s a lot of cake, crisps and wine sat in the boot of my car, waiting to make the journey to Nottingham with me this evening. Oh well.

So sick of other people’s diets

I must have reached the age where us girlies start fretting about our weight. Well, I think girls of any age fret about their weight but lately it seems like some kind of epidemic has taken hold. All I hear is “I’ve started a healthy eating regime”, “I’m on a diet”, “I need to lose weight” or ”I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been”. Bla bla bla bla.

Honestly, who cares? Yes, I would love to shed a stone but if it means starving myself, avoiding any kind of occasion where there might be cake and pretending to be satisfied after scoffing a rabbit food lunch, then I’m just not interested.

Maybe I’m unsympathetic to diets because they just don’t work for me. I’ve tried a few out, just like every other gal on the planet, but for me it’s more a scientific experiment than an attempt to shed poundage. I did the Carol Vorderman detox diet some years ago and wrote a weekly column for the newspaper I was working for. It was pure hell and the column inches were the only thing that got me through it. I felt shite, had a permanent headache and wanted to chew my own hand off at the end of the month. I did feel wonderful after four weeks, sleeping like a baby and bouncing around with energy. But I’d only lost a couple of pounds.

I did lose a bit when I did the five day tree syrup diet. Basically had to substitute food with a gloopy drink for five days and although I had a nice flat tummy at the end of it, I was utterly miserable. I like eating food, I like the taste of eating food and I want to carry on eating food. I don’t want to swap my size 12 for a size zero if it means no more rare steaks, chocolate brioche or cheesecake.

I understand some people want/need to lose weight but most of the people I know who say they’re going on diets actually don’t look any different afterwards. If I’m going to the effort to eat celery for a fortnight I want to look damn good by day 14!

Nope, diets are not for me. That said, if I didn’t play sport I would be the size of a house. For me, exercise is a fun way of ensuring I can eat like food it’s going out of fashion. Okay, so I can’t shake off the love handles, but if we all had figures like pencils life wouldn’t be very interesting would it?

Doughnut anyone?

A sign of age?

Okay, so I am still the right side of 30 but I am seriously noticing the difference between 18 and 28. I played a lot of sport when I was 18 and I play a lot of sport now, the difference being I could walk off a netball court 10 years ago feeling a bit hot and sweaty but generally fine. Now I walk off court looking like a sweat-soaked beetroot, pain in at least two joints and usually needing a walking stick to get out of bed the following morning.

Yesterday, for example, I played in an all day charity volleyball tournament. By the end of the day I was shattered – not helped by the huge amount of cake I consumed (cake stall funds were all for charity and I had to do my bit) – and in a bit of pain. My dodgy ankle was swollen and aching when I removed my trainers, I somehow strained the back of my knee a few weeks back and volleyball only served to aggravate it, and my wrist and my back hurt too.

And last week, when I played netball against a team of 14-year-olds, I seriously felt old. They were young, agile, fit, as tall as me, and ran rings around us. Yes, we were more experienced, but that doesn’t mean much when your opponents are three stone lighter and don’t yet know the meaning of calorie counting and high BMIs.

Even when I was off court (we rotated players every now and then) sweat was still pouring off me and I could feel my red face physically warming up the room. This never used to happen! I must be getting older.

I’m now sat at my desk at work and my shoulders ache. Moving from my chair is a struggle as I seize up if I sit still for too long. Maybe I’m just not as fit as I should be, or maybe the fact I’m heavier than I used to be means I’m putting more strain on my body and this is its way of complaining?

But I take comfort in the fact I’m not alone. Yesterday’s tournament was filled with people limping off court, clutching their backs, wearing ankle and knee supports and generally looking pooped. So I’m in good company!

Balls to it!

I’ve been a bad sport today. I didn’t go to the cricket practise session at lunch time and was secretly pleased I missed it.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, volunteering to play in a lunch hour cricket league at work, and joining with my fellow comms workers to create a six-a-side team.

Then reality hit. It’s a bit cold today, cricket balls are hard, I’m not very good with small balls (catching them I mean), and I’m wearing inappropriate footwear for running around on a field.

So when a work call came through and ran into my lunch hour I was actually relieved. They’d all gone without me and I wasn’t sure where they were practising. They wouldn’t miss me would they?

Well, on return from my trip to M&S I found a map of the university campus I work at sitting on my desk with the cricket field highlighted in green. My excuse of not knowing where it is won’t wash a second time!

Anyway, all sport is good so volunteering was fine. But I somehow got pushed into being wicket keeper which I think means wearing gloves and a helmut. There goes my glam image.

I don’t even know what a wicket keeper is and was told it’s like a batstop in rounders. Batstop? I always thought it was backstop! Eek, this is not going to be a good display of my sporting skills.

I also have a fear of small balls after a rounders ball smacked me in the face at school. The sun was in my eyes and as I went to catch it the ball disappeared from sight and bounced off my face. I’d only had my brace taken off the week before and was a little concerned about my teeth falling out of my mouth.

So, looks like I’m stuck with this cricket business, despite missing practise today. People are already dropping out – bad knees, a dead dog (this girl doesn’t even have a dog) and hair getting wet when it rains. Looks like they need me, even if I am super crap. Oh, balls to it!

Tired eyes and aching bones

My eyes are so tired and dry and I’m blinking so much that people probably think I’ve got some kind of nervous twitch. I haven’t, I’m just fookin’ knackered.

The reason for my sore peepers? Dehydration’s probably got something to do with it – I don’t drink enough water – but I’ve been overdoing it on the sport front lately and it’s taking it’s toll.

They say exercise is good for you, and I’d be the first to endorse that fact usually, but today I think I need a bit of a rest. Last week I spent five out of seven nights playing sport – korfball, netball and volleyball – and last night I had korfball training and netball training back to back. I resembled somthing along the lines of a beetroot with a sweat problem when I got home!

So, not only have I got tired eyes, but my bones are aching too, particularly my shoulders, and my calves are twinging at regular intervals - probably not a good idea to be wearing killer heels to work then, eh?

Despite the utter relief that I’m not playing in tonight’s netball match (‘cos I’m not insured/affiliated to the league yet) and my desperate need for a night in front of the box, I do think sport is a truly great thing.

Not only does it allow me to eat pretty much what ever I want (diets don’t work for me, and I can easily polish off a tub of ice cream in one sitting), it keeps me fit and gives me a great social life. My sporting chums are much-os fun-os.

I’ve never been a fan of the gym, I haven’t got the motivation to attend, although I have on a couple of occasions invested in an annual membership only to give up after a couple of inspired months. Lessons learned there.

Sport, on the other hand, gets me motivated from the off. I play because a) it’s a chance to catch up with mates and get the latest gossip, b) it’s a fun way of keeping fit, c) if I don’t keep playing/training I might get a bit rusty, which leads to d) if i play/train crap then I may lose my place on the team or sacrifice some of my court time to better players. I’m hoping at some point there’ll be an e) – fit male players to dribble over - but at the moment this is not the case.

So, tonight’s sporting activity will include changing channels on the TV and trying out new seating positions on the sofa. And if I’m feeling really energetic, I might run a bath.