Eighteen no more

It is a truth universally known, but largely ignored, that the body deteriorates far more rapidly than the mind is willing to acknowledge.  There are things that I was capable of doing as an 18-year-old that I am no longer able to do today.  One of those, to consume as much food and drink as I like without suffering a consequent weight gain, has definitely passed.

Yet my mind has successfully kidded me into believing that others are not so far beyond my scope.  The madness to cycle in European Alps occasionally overcomes me, and this year is no different.  I have signed up for a trip to the Swiss Alps in June where, on the back of a push bike, I’ll tackle some not terribly flat roads.  In agreeing to this venture, I have committed myself to a training regime that will see me having to ride 150 miles a week, much of it up considerably smaller hills than Switzerland has to offer, in a bid to avoid losing my lunch when I reach the summit of the Matterhorn, or whichever mountains it is that our tour planner has determined we shall scale.  So far, I have managed 57 miles, albeit, that’s the total for the year so far rather than just this week.

I ride largely alone when training; my (lack of) pace and the times that I head out are often incompatible with those that I might ride with.  Occasionally though, I stumble across other riders and for a few brief moments, whilst our routes align, I may have some company.

On one such ride (not this year I hasten to add), when I was feeling considerably fitter than I am currently, I passed the pop-up base station of a road-race.  There was a high likelihood that I was riding on the route of a competitive event and, shortly after passing, I heard the whirr of bikes behind me, closing in on me as I trundled along.  I peered over my shoulder to see a group of perhaps 15 – 20 riders bearing down on me.  Naturally, their speed was significantly greater than mine, however we were on the flat and there was a decent tail-wind, so I thought perhaps I might try to leap onto the back of their peloton.

I have often wondered what it would be like to join the peloton of an elite group of riders and see whether I could maintain the pace.  For those unfamiliar with cycling, this is not an easy thing to do for the amateur cyclist; you first have to build up additional speed so that the difference isn’t so great and then attach to the back of the group without knocking the rear-most rider off his or her bike, before pedalling frantically to gain the benefit of the group’s slipstream.  Fortuitously for me, the road dipped shortly before they were due to pass me, and I was able to grab their coattails.  Benefitting from the slipstream of another rider is one of the great cheats in cycling.  There’s a range of opinion on what the actual benefit is, however, various studies have suggested drag reductions between 27% and 50% depending on the circumstances.  That day, it felt like I was benefitting at the upper range.

There is also an etiquette to road cycling that suggests that riders in a peloton should take a spell at the front of the group to allow those that had been leading to enjoy a little respite and the advantages that come from having someone else do the heavy lifting.  It was clear to me, however, that I would not be able to take a spell in the lead, unless the group fancied reducing its overall speed substantially.  In such cases, it is polite to ask A) whether you can join the group and B) whether they mind that you’re a malingering benefit cheat that will make no contribution to the velo-society that you have just joined.  In both instances, the chap at the rear of the group was agreeable to my requests and I clung on.

Except for descents on the aforementioned Alps, it was by far the fastest I have ever cycled, and the effort to maintain my position at the rear was considerable.  Thankfully, the road remained flat and the wind direction kind.  We were in two lines as we raced along the road and I had made the group an even number, so I had a companion to my right.  He was an affable Welsh chap, a former rugby player turned elite cyclist, having damaged himself too greatly in the former to continue with the sport.  Happily, he was a chatty fellow, content to burble away and receive mono-syllabic replies from me, given that oxygen depletion rendered me incapable of erudite conversation.

I confess I was at my limit.  My cycling computer recorded my pedalling cadence in three figures, when typically, it sits in the 70s or 80s.  My heart rate monitor was flashing red, reminding me that, at my age, the next beat will very likely be my last, and the fellow next to me was asking the group if anyone was a qualified first-aider.  My determination to stay attached to the group, if not to life, was great and I continued to cycle as hard as I could.

Blessedly, gravity came to my rescue in the form of a short hill.  Carrying 31 pounds more than my 18-year-old self once bore meant that the drag efficient of a peloton, on even the mildest of inclines such as the one before us, is reduced almost to nought.  I knew that in a few short turns of the wheel, I would be lost to the group.  I summoned up all the energy I could to explain my plight to the Welshman.  “You’ll drop me at the hill ahead.”

  “What hill?” he asked, clearly believing that the 4% gradient coming up was no more than a bump.

  “That one,” I said pointing to the barely perceptible mound before us.

  “Hmm,” he offered, finally registering that I was somewhat out of my depth as he began his disappearance over the horizon.

  “I hope the race goes well,” I shouted after him.

His response will forever remind me that I am no longer eighteen.

  “Oh this isn’t the race mate, this is the warm-down.”

Twitter: @GOMinTraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019

What’s it gunner take?

In resurrecting the GOM, I had hoped to write light-hearted pieces that might bring a wee smile to a few faces, but there’s nothing remotely witty to be drawn from this week’s subject.

It’s been a week since we woke to the shocking news from New Zealand of the heinous attack on our Muslim brothers and sisters in Christchurch, where 50 people lost their lives.

Since then, the news in the UK has reported a terrorist attack in Utrecht where another three lives were taken and in the United States, where mass shootings are now so commonplace that an incident barely registers media attention, there have been six mass shooting incidents since Friday that have resulted in six deaths and 22 injuries.

I received a message soon after the Christchurch attack that included a comparison relative to population.  By extrapolation, the 50 souls lost in New Zealand would be the equivalent to 3,412 deaths in the US, an astonishingly high number.  What is sobering though, is that since the start of the year, that is not far off the actual number of deaths due to firearms in the States.  At the time of writing, and according to the not for profit Gun Violence Archive, shootings have cost the lives of 3,030 people and a further 5,226 have been injured.  Included in the statistics is a staggering 320 “Unintentional Shootings”.

Yet the differences in the response from the two countries could not be more different, which was summed up in a tweet I read from @Fitz_Bunny the following day:

US: “Thoughts and pr-“

NZ: “Semis are banned.”

US: “-ayers. Wait, what?”

Under the inspirational leadership of its Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, the country has already moved to ban the sale of semi-automatic weapons which came into effect at 3pm yesterday.  In addition, she also proposed a gun-buyback scheme for those who already own such weapons, citing that “fair and reasonable compensation” would be paid.  The scheme is estimated to cost the country somewhere between NZD100 million and NZD200 million and the government will still need to develop plans on how to fund it.

Further reform is needed to include elements relating to licensing, registration and storage, and the NZ cabinet will be presented with proposals for consideration on Monday.  With no central gun register in NZ, Ardern stated that the immediate changes are intended to address, urgently, the critical need to remove such weapons from circulation.  She also said there would be a shortened select-committee process for the legislation and that she expected the amendments to the Arms Act to be passed within the next session of parliament on Monday.

Yet New Zealand doesn’t have a proud tradition of gun control or amendments to its firearms laws.  After two shootings by police in 1995, the government ordered an inquiry into police procedures for storing and using firearms.  The police reported in May 1996 that the system was sound and that no major changes were needed.

That outcome led to a government decision in August 1996 to order an independent report, this time led by former judge Thomas Thorp.  Thorp made detailed recommendations covering 28 areas including restrictions on legal gun ownership, restrictions to ammunition sales, license renewals on a three yearly basis and establishing a Firearms Authority.

The government subsequently made four attempts in 1999, 2005, 2012 and 2016 to amend its firearms laws, all of which failed to become primary legislation.

This time, however, things are different and the demand and momentum for change is significant.  As well as Ardern’s firm commitment to implement change, the country has seen cross party support from the conservative opposition National Party.  It’s leader, Simon Bridges, has stated that

“National will support firearms reforms. We have been clear since this devastating attack that we will work constructively with the Government.”

We are at a defining moment, not just for New Zealand, but for the rest of the world.  Ardern and the New Zealand government is poised to demonstrate leadership that can only be dreamt of in the United States.

Contrast New Zealand’s approach to an article from the Associated Press on 16 March which reported that Republican state Rep. for Missouri, Andrew McDaniel, has proposed measures that would force adults to own handguns and young adults to own AR-15 semi-automatic rifles in a level of idiocy that goes to eleven. That’s akin to increasing the speed limit outside a school and believing the children will be safer because the cars are not taking as long to go past.

The AP report suggested that the Missouri Lawmaker’s Bill is not meant to pass and that he’s trying to make the point that mandates are bad.

“The other side of the aisle loves mandates, so I’m trying to get them to make an argument against mandates.”

If that’s the case, and that was his intention, then surely, he could have been a little more inventive, coming up with a mandate that everyone needs to wear non-matching socks; using eccentricity to highlight his point rather than promote a reckless and irresponsible bill that, potentially, could still pass into law.  By any standard, what he has proposed is moronic, utterly insensitive and ignores the wider issues that we face.

We live in times where extremists in many forms are perpetrating violence on our societies at an alarming rate.  Ultra-right nationalists, Islamic fundamentalists and other terrorist organisations are poisoning our societies with hate-filled rhetoric and malignant beliefs that are contrary to the good, decent values that most of us try to live by.

Worse still, those beliefs are fostered and given succour by some of our world leaders.  Soon after the attack in Christchurch, the Turkish president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, exploited the attack in his local election campaign by screening video footage of the assault at his rallies.

In the United States, following the death of Heather Heyer and the injury to 19 others in Charlottesville in August 2017, the mendacious President Trump, who had been shamefully slow to condemn the white nationalists and neo-Nazis at the “Unite the Right” rally, flipped from the forced denunciation in the White House prepared statements of a day earlier and defended the white nationalists who protested, saying they included “some very fine people,” exposing his inherent racism and also suggesting that the counter-protesters deserve an equal amount of blame for the violence.

At the other end of the power spectrum is the disgraceful vitriol spewed at Chelsea Clinton by students at a vigil at New York University for those who lost their lives in Christchurch, blaming her for the killings.  Leen Dweik confronted Clinton with the words

“This right here is the result of a massacre stoked by people like you and the words that you put out into the world. And I want you to know that and I want you to feel that deeply – 49 people died because of the rhetoric you put out there.”

To her credit, Clinton maintained her dignity and responded with the words

“I’m so sorry you feel that way.”

Dweik’s view, as insane as it is, with no causal link save for a spurious connection to Clinton’s condemnation of anti-Semitism, is an example of the unbridled anger and hate that serves to exacerbate the self-fulfilling state of violence within which we find ourselves.

New Zealand’s bold approach to legislating changes to its gun laws may well address the risk of a future attack, but it doesn’t address the underlying issues that led to the incident.  People were murdered by hate.  We should spend our time fighting that instead of each other.

We can start by not ignoring racism, or other forms of “ism”.  It’s not easy; we must park our sensibilities and our fears and call it out.  The focus shouldn’t just be on egregious cases, but also the subtler forms of prejudice that routinely pervade our lives and we all too often ignore.  We condone those actions with our silence and give strength and power to the offenders.  By voicing our condemnation, we erode their power.

In response to the backlash that followed his ill-informed propagandising, Erdoğan has since tried to diffuse the ensuing diplomatic row by stating that Ardern’s empathy after the deadly mosque attacks in Christchurch was an example to the world.  He further counselled that

“We can’t solve problems by sweeping them under the carpet. We cannot treat social diseases by ignoring them. We can’t get away from problems by hiding. We cannot respond to the issues that threaten us and all humanity with silence.”

Whilst I agree with the sentiment he expressed, that is tempered by how his rhetoric might manifest; he could quite easily adopt the principles he promotes with his customary trampling of human rights.  Instead, I would rather leave the last words to Jacinda Ardern, a woman who exemplifies leadership and who has demonstrated to the world what it means to serve her country.  Speaking in the immediate aftermath of the massacre, she unambiguously espoused a simple and profound ethos that should be embraced the world over when she said

“New Zealand is their home.  They are us.”

Twitter: @gomintraining
Copyright © Craig Brown, 2019

A new day

Today is the first day of the rest of my life, which of course, can be said of every day.

This one, however, is a little different.  Today I become a Writer.

I’d love to be able to say that I’m an Author, but that would suggest that I’d actually published something, and I don’t believe that my canon of published works (which consists, in its entirety, of the grief driven and highly sentimental, Together Again: a momentary memoir, that I wrote following my mother’s death) really counts.

Nonetheless, I’ve crossed the Rubicon and, as Julius Caesar said, "alea iacta est” – the die is cast.

A blank canvas lies before me that is both intimidating and terrifying.  I have nothing to suggest that I’ll be any good, save for a sense of self-belief and a very supportive family.  I have amassed a mole-hill of ideas that seem splendid in my head, but which need to be crafted and committed to paper.  The prospect is daunting, but it is a long time since I have felt this excited.

In 1988 I dropped out of university, flush with the confidence that comes from youthful arrogance, knowing that I was doing the right thing and that I was about to embark on a stellar writing career.  I had two great friends visit me at the time, Sally and Kate, imploring me to stick it out. I should perhaps have listened a little more closely to what they had to say, for the ambition was never realised, half-heartedly pursued, and instead, I trod a more conventional path that led me to a moderately successful, yet not entirely fulfilling, career.  Along the way, I have made some great friends and I won the lottery in meeting my love and my soulmate, Alex.  We’ve been blessed with two wonderful children who are our great joy and the foundations for happiness have been solidly built.

Until today though, the final step in realising that happiness has not been taken.  I have not pursued my passion and have burdened myself with excuses for why it hasn’t been possible.  They’ve always been plausible and until now, I’ve always believed them.

There were catalysing events that led me to today.  An old friend, Rodney Strong, who I met in my first job after leaving university, published his first novel.  I took that, and his second, away with me on holiday to read.  Every time I picked it up, I reflected that he’d done it; he’d stepped off the treadmill and started following a new path; it might be forked, have precipitous sides, or appear to be never-ending, but therein lies the adventure.  It was a journey I started to mull.

Another was the imminence of my 49^th birthday, the age at which my father died.  Reflecting on mortality and the absence of creative output gave me pause; we have no idea what tomorrow may bring, and carpe diem never felt more timely.

I was also intensely dissatisfied with both the predictable work life imbalance that I faced and staring at the world through a profound window of boredom.

I don’t know what the future holds, but I am greatly looking forward to bringing Daniel Fielding to life in “No One In Particular”, of seeing whether “Dignity’s” Malcolm Beaumont is able to live out his dream, or what messages we’ll discover in “Video Postcards”.

As I begin my new adventure, there is only one regret that I plan to have, which is that I didn’t start it sooner.