Property Investments, Landlording, CrossFit, Nutrition & Safety

Well I went to the Northern Masters Olympic Weightlifting in Keighley, Yorkshire at the weekend, along with several other members of Crossfit Manchester. I’ll get the video edited and uploaded sometime next week (I haven’t got round to getting it off the camcorder yet). Long story short my lifts were:

Snatch: 65, 70, 75F
C & J: 90, 100F, 105F

Given my lack of preparation for this competition, I didn’t feel comfortable starting higher than 65 on the Snatch, and I was pleased to get the 70, as that’s the first time this year I’ve snatched 70kg.

The 90kg Clean and Jerk was simple enough and I went up a big 10kg, cleaned the 100 but didn’t get the jerk (same as last time at the Yorkshire Open Weightlifting Competition). I was going to have another crack at the 100 but was convinced to go for death or glory at 105, aiming for the 175 total I needed for to qualify for the British Weight Lifting Association 2009 British Championships. I didn’t even get the clean up. :S

However it’s not all doom and gloom. Bill Barton, the guy who runs the BWLA Masters (held at Lilleshall, Shropshire) knew what I was trying to do, and told me to put my application for the British Masters Championships in anyway! Woot!

I have to say, there’s a part of me that feels like a cheat if I get to go and lift in the British Masters without meeting the qualifying totals, however I am very sure that with the extra month of practice, I’ll be able to lift the 175 total actually on the day, and then I’ll feel much better about it all. So the race is still on for that elusive 75kg Snatch and 100kg Clean&Jerk!

The other Crossfit members acquitted themselves well, as ever. Bev was particularly spectacular, not only winning the best female lifter overall award, but lifting only 4kg off the British Record for clean and jerk. Very impressive.

Oh and interestingly, I met 2 people there who had visited this blog! Les and Michael, if you come back, do please comment! 🙂

This was such an amazing video, I watched it 3 times in a row!

This spoof advert for PowerThirst had be rolling around laughing (1 use of bad language):

And here’s the updated “In a rocket” version:

Warning: Rant follows….

Last week I had a relatively heated email “discussion” with my friends, which started as a result of the story last week on the Octuplets that were born on IVF. This so called “good news” story has started to turn bad when it was revealed that she was a single mother, who already had 6 kids under the age of 8 and lives with her own beleaguered mother (who has now threatened to move out). Even before the woman’s existing kids were revealed, I was appalled at how the story was being portrayed as a marvellous thing.

I have found myself in recent years thinking more and more about the cause of the world’s problems, and have come to the inescapable conclusion that the biggest threat to the human race is ourselves. Specifically our unfettered and seemingly limitless population growth. Certainly it has to be wrong to spend money on IVF treatment when there are starving orphans in the world already, no?   At the end of the day, the planet is only so big and has a finite ability to produce raw materials. It’s a simple logical jump therefore to realise that the planet can only cope with a finite number of people.  The big questions this conclusion raises are:

1) What is the optimum population the world can support?
2) What is the optimum population our country can support?

I used the word “optimum” rather than “maximum” deliberately to imply a quality of life component. Who wants to live but in squalor? What alarms me as a voter, is that I don’t ever remember someone in government ever mentioning what the right population size of the country is though? The obvious implications of this discussion are 2 extremely un-politically correct conversations:

1) How many kids should people have?
2) How much immigration should be allowed?

These are 2 massively emotive subjects. People get extremely animated when you mention the suggestion that they should put a limit on their procreation, as I found when I discussed this with my friends. Personally I’m coming to the view that anyone that has more than 2 kids is being at best selfish and at worst are behaving in a blatantly socially unacceptable way. It’s no surprise that this is an extremely unpopular view. God forbid I suggest as well that immigration is curbed. It occurs to me however that any conversation about population and immigration control is pointless, until you first determine what the ideal population of the country should be?

I was pleasantly surprised this weekend however, when I read on the news that Jonathon Porritt, who is chairman of the UK government’s Sustainable Development Commission, has said:

“I am unapologetic about asking people to connect up their own responsibility for their total environmental footprint and how they decide to procreate and how many children they think are appropriate,… I think we will work our way towards a position that says that having more than two children is irresponsible. It is the ghost at the table. We have all these big issues that everybody is looking at and then you don’t really hear anyone say the “p” word.”

It’s great to finally hear someone in gov’t actually having the guts to say it. We simply cannot continue to allow population to grow out of control. The first step must be to stabilize the population, and then direct it towards the considered optimal level. But what are those levels?

The great thing about the internet is that there is always someone out there who thinks the same as you, even if that is that Elvis is living on a B52 bomber on the moon! Well in this case, it’s not something so way out there, it’s the Population Matters organisation (formerly called the Optimum Population Trust), a UK based lobbying group who are greatly concerned, as I am, about over population and population growth. It was this graph that really got my attention:

One of the arguments for a continued high birth and immigration rate are down to demographics. It’s argued that we need younger people and workers coming into the population, in order to help pay for an increasingly ageing population. I consider this to be a shockingly naive opinion, that attempts to manage the country’s finances by turning population management into the world’s biggest pyramid selling scheme. Basically a policy that can only succeed by providing an ever increasingly large number of new workers to support those at the top of the pyramid. The only sustainable approach is that the elderly become self sustaining.

What do you think?  Am I evil to say that the number of human lives should not increased without restraint or thought for sustainability?  This also brings in potentially even more difficult issues of how much money and resources should be spent on extending the life of the elderly, at the expense of the young…? But perhaps that’s a discussion for another time!  Either way, I’m interested in your opinion…

Being the hardened internet denizen that I am, it’s not often I find traditional written jokes funny anymore. But the simplicity of these made me laugh:

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —

My wife sat down on the couch next to me as I was flipping channels.
She asked, ‘What’s on TV?’

I said, ‘Dust.’

And then the fight started…

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —

My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, ‘I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds.’

I bought her a weighing scale.

And then the fight started…

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —-

When I got home last night, my wife demanded that I take her someplace expensive… so, I took her to a gas station.

And then the fight started…

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —–

After retiring, I went to the Social Security office to apply for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver’s license to verify my age. I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.

The woman said, ‘Unbutton your shirt’. So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair. She said, ‘That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me’ and she processed my Social Security application.

When I got home, I excitedly told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.

She said, ‘You should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten disability, too.’

And then the fight started…

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —-

My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.

My wife asked, ‘Do you know her?’

‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘She’s my old girlfriend.
I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.’

‘My God!’ says my wife, ‘who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?’

And then the fight started…

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —–

I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.

“I’ll have the strip steak, medium rare, please.”

He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?”

“Naaah, she can order for herself.”

And then the fight started…

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —–

I tried to talk my wife into buying a case of Miller Light for $14.95.

Instead, she bought a jar of cold cream for $7.95.

I told her the beer would make her look better at night than the cold cream.

And then the fight started….

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——–

My wife asked me if a certain dress made her butt look big. I told her not as much as the dress she wore yesterday

and then the fight started…..

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——–

A man and a woman were asleep like two innocent babies. Suddenly, at 3 o’clock in the morning, a loud noise came from outside.

The woman, bewildered, jumped up from the bed and yelled at the man ‘Holy crap. That must be my husband!’

So the man jumped out of the bed; scared and naked jumped out the window. He smashed himself on the ground, ran through a thorn bush and to his car as fast as he could go.

A few minutes later he returned and went up to the bedroom and screamed at the woman, ‘I AM your husband!’

The woman yelled back, ‘Yeah, then why were you running?’

And then the fight started…..

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— –

Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, grabbed the dog, and slipped quietly into the garage.

I hooked up the boat up to the truck, and proceeded to back out into a torrential downpour.

The wind was blowing 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, turned on the radio, and discovered that the weather would be bad all day.

I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed.

I cuddled up to my wife’s back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, ‘The weather out there is terrible.’

My loving wife of 10 years replied, ‘Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that?’

And then the fight started …

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— –

I asked my wife, “Where do you want to go for our anniversary? ”

It warmed my heart to see her face melt in sweet
appreciation. “Somewhere I haven’t been in a long time!” she said.

So I suggested, “How about the kitchen?”

And that’s when the fight started….

———— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— ——— —-

When our lawn mower broke and wouldn’t run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first: the truck, the car, e-mail, fishing, always something more important to me.

Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point.

When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors.

I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a few minutes. When I came out again I handed her a toothbrush. ‘When you finish cutting the grass,’ I said, ‘you might as well sweep the driveway.’

and then the fight started..

My now usual early Monday morning commute started well. My back has been feeling much better over the weekend. I’d been able to get down the gym for the first time in a week, and had a personal training session with my weightlifting coach on Sunday where I’d lifted up to a very pleasing 50kg Snatches and 75kg Clean and Jerks, without any significant pain. Yes I could “feel” my back, but it was just a dull ache, and I wasn’t limited by it.

I’d also managed 2 undisturbed night’s sleep in a row, whereas previously I’d woken up every night last week with sporadic back pains. I have been trying the tennis ball technique to DIY massage, as recommended by several commentators (thank you!) and whilst a generally unpleasant experience, I’m sure it helps.

So I woke up 5 mins before the alarm this morning at 5:40 feeling quite refreshed and awake. I’ve done this trip several times now, and the routine is settling in so it was no drama to get up and be ready to go, 5 minutes before the taxi turned up to take me to the train station, at 6:15.

Everything was going swimmingly: the taxi was on time; there were no dramas on the 10 min ride to Stockport train station; there was no queue at the coffee stall; there were plenty of free Metro papers there; there was room to sit down in the waiting room; it wasn’t as cold as the forecast last night predicted and the train was on time. Excellent! I was in a good mood, well as good as you can be at 06:30 on a Monday morning about to embark on a 200 mile, 4 hour commute to work.

The 6:39 train was suitably quiet when it arrived, in fact there were only 3 people already ensconced in the carriage I got into. Booking my tickets last week, I always reserve a seat anyway, even though it’s slightly unnecessary, for the trip down anyway (the trip back on Friday is a lot busier). I like to book a seat as I have a preference for a rear facing table seat on the aisle. Rear facing as I consider that to be safer if the train crashes; a table seat so I can work on the laptop (e.g. write a blog post, like I’m doing with this one) and an aisle seat so I can get to my bag and coat freely without having to struggle past someone.

Imagine my annoyance then, when I discover that of the 3 people already sat in the carriage, one of them is in my seat! There are nearly 60 seats on the carriage, 16 of which are table seats. 15 table seats are free and the one occupied is the seat I have reserved. To make matters worse, he’s put his coat over the back of the seat, so hiding the ticket that shows the seat reservation (it’s an old fashioned train with cardboard “Reserved” notices manually stuck on each reserved seat).

So now I’m torn. Do I take the moral high ground and challenge the guy to reveal the reserved notice under his jacket, risking an issue if indeed there isn’t one, although I have the backup of my own reservation ticket in my pocket? OR do I sit somewhere else? A quick scan of the carriage reveals that there are only a dozen other seats reserved, and there are 2 other table aisle seats available. I decide to take the practical approach and simply sit elsewhere. Honestly, it grates though, it’s the principle of the thing damn it!

The ticket collector comes by, the interloper hasn’t got a ticket and asks for a day return to Crewe. That’s just 15 minutes away! When he gets up and leaves at Crewe, he picks up his jacket, and there underneath, revealed for all to see, my seat reservation ticket springs up! I sit in my seat and silently try to sooth my irritation.

The train is still quiet and I decide not to move to my seat. Trying to play the game, I had actually chosen a window table seat. You see the opposite aisle seat has a reserved ticket on it from Crewe, and if someone sat there, the chances are I’d have the whole trip without facing someone, meaning I could stretch my legs out the whole journey. A grey haired man in his 60’s gets on the train and it looks like he’s going to take the aisle seat opposite me. Excellent, this is all going to plan. He smiles nicely at me, shifts along, bypassing the aisle seat and sitting straight down directly opposite in the window seat and promptly puts his foot on my toe!

There ensues a few moments of foot hockey as we both try to vie for as much leg room as possible, without of course looking like we’re competing (that wouldn’t be very British now would it?!?). He then promptly closes his eyes and starts to nod off.

In the words of that most famous of TV grumps, Victor Meldrew: I don’t believe it! There are no more than 10 other people in the entire carriage. There are loads of other seats free, including some windowed table seats. This guy doesn’t even need a table seat, he has no laptop, no paper, no notes to work on, he’s just sleeping. WTF did he decide to sit across from me and impinge on my leg room for the next 3 hours!?! My early morning good mood has now completely dissipated. I am officially grumpy!

When puppies attack cat!

Parrot grooms Cat:

How this cat doesn’t eat this bird is a mystery to me:

On a side note, I had the credit card company phone up yesterday. It seems some little blighter has cloned my credit card and after a few very low price items charged to it, bought themselves a £1700 Dell PC with it! It matters not as just about all credit cards don’t hold you liable for credit card fraud, but it’s a smidgen inconvenient to be without the main credit card for a week whilst they organise a replacement.

Worse however is trying to workout which companies have the number on file, either for regular payments, or websites as a saved card? That’s going to be a hassle for a month or 2 to come I think. Fortunately I have a couple of backup credit cards, in case of just such an eventuality, so no real harm done, except for Dell of course.

With 13 days to go before the Northern Masters and the last chance I have to qualify for the 2009 British Weighlifting Championships, I was looking forward to a desperately needed one on one PT session with my weight lifting coach, Mark from Crossfit Manchester.

To be honest I’ve been beginning to think that I wouldn’t make it for this year, but was prepared to surprise myself. It was always a risk to change my technique slightly, just 3 weeks before the competition, but I’ve learnt from 2 years of training under Mark, that I do better (in everything) when I do what Mark tells me and don’t argue. It didn’t go too well last week when I was training on my own in Cardiff. I failed to get even a 65kg Snatch, dropping 5 in a row before giving up. It’s not a strength thing, it’s a technique and timing issue. Either way, I needed another session to steer me back on track.

I was due to see Mark at 5pm on Sunday and was pottering round the house doing chores on Sunday afternoon thinking about the upcoming session. Then it happened… reaching behind my old PC to stick a USB stick in, I felt a twinge in my back. It wasn’t a major drama. Nothing went pop or twang. It was just a small twinge. Slightly annoyed at myself for what was obviously poor posture or a stretch too far, I went about my afternoon.

Within 10 minutes however the pain really started to set in. First bending was uncomfortable. Then twisting was uncomfortable. Then just sitting was uncomfortable. About this time bending became painful. Then twisting became painful. Sitting was just bearable. Bending was now impossible! I called Mark… there was no way I could make it the session.

It got worse as the evening went on and I had a torrid nights sleep. Lying flat on my back staring straight up at the ceiling was the only bearable position to sleep in, though I reckon I only got 3 hours sleep. As I write this I’m sat on the train to Newport for a week’s work and I can just about cope with the pain. I think it’s highly unlikely I’ll be able to make the gym this week and to be honest I think this is the last nail in the coffin for the BWLA Championships qualifiers.

However I’m not going to give up. I think there’s little chance but I’m still going to the Northern Masters and I’m still going to give it my all. In some respects having little hope reduces the pressure of the meet and I may feel freer to try lifts I wouldn’t normally expect to get. Is this the famed Crossfit mental toughness coming out… or is it just my typical stubbornness… Who knows. All I know is that I need more ibuprofen and a masseuse!

EDIT: I’ve just got in at the end of the day. I decided to get that massage after work and so found Christopher Leslie who operates out of St Joseph’s Private Hospital in Newport. Chris is a very gently spoken man, around 60. 30 years a teacher he switched career to therapeutic and sports massage full time 8 years ago. £45 bought me a 90 min top to toe massage, with special focus on my back of course. I’ll decide tomorrow if it’s made a difference, but it certainly couldn’t hurt, and if it takes a few days off my recovery, it was worth it.

Well these girls seem to be enjoying themselves anyway. Or at least not taking themselves too seriously, which is a very good thing in my book (mostly work and family safe, it’s hard to actually see anything, if you know what I mean):

This one’s hypnotic:

And if you ever wondered just how fat some people can get, this will prove that you’ve NOT seen it all: