Exit for Marble Arch | #NikeMilers

In the corner of Hyde Park, set back slightly from the road and the soap boxes of Speakers' Corner is a small flight of descending stairs. It's an unassuming scar on an otherwise barely blemished field.

Tiny and unnoticeable, it's locked to the public. Behind the door, a concrete access tunnel winds a quarter mile beneath the park and the five-lane monster of a roundabout that is Marble Arch.

It was through this door that Nike led us.

Strange, really. We were in Hyde Park to run a timed-mile. There's plenty of space - they could have picked any inch of grass to run on - so why did we have to go underground first? Presumably to get changed...

How wrong we were. Along the tunnel lies a car park filled with luxury cars and a electrified fence to keep them safe. Glowing orange, pink, and purple, the tunnel and the car park were lit a night club. Giant speakers, giant screens, Paula Radcliffe, and Steve Cram.

Yep, this was more like it. A true Nike event. They weren't going to organise a simple jog around the park now, were they.

We were givens some kit, naturally. We were shown a video, of course. We were coached as to how to warm up and prepare psychologically, thanks for that. We stretched. We jogged. We challenged our co-ordination - or mine at least - with dynamic exercises.

By the starting line, I felt slightly confused, slightly muddled, but almost prepared for what was to come.

Five beeps. Go on the fifth ... ... ... ... ...

And we were away. Streaking along (I'd like to think) between the rows of Bentleys, Mercedes, and BMWs, twisting around the pillars of the car park, following the yellow and blue markers with our eyes, and spinning our neon trainers furiously.

I lost my running partner pretty quickly. I overtook one, I overtook two, I overtook three or four.

And then I was alone. The car park was empty. All I could hear were the far away cries of the finish and my own breath pounding out a mistimed rhythm.

One lap. Two laps. The corners were tough. Turning was tight and on each straight I settled into a comfortable pace, before having to flex my knees and adjust my balance again.

Finally, lungs burning, it was the final straight. I lifted my arms and feet as high as I could and went for a 'sprint' finish.

Too soon.

The final straight had a twist in it's tale - a long slow corner back up the access ramp we'd started down.

I hadn't factored that in at all. Slowing down, I was overtaken by my running partner. Damn. A slight kick in the teeth, but a time of 5.58 I was very very happy with.

A bottle of water and a bag of popcorn later, and we were outside once again. Back to the park, back to the tube, ready for the commute home.

I'm slightly hooked, I have to say. I've been focusing on distance for the past year, but the mile might be my new best friend. I'd love to go back again next year and try it out once more. Hopefully I'll improve.

Keep an eye on Nike UK for more info on #NikeMilers.

What's your route? Nike + Glenmuir

Runners seem to be creatures of habit - I know I am. Favourite shorts, favourite t-shirt, favourite socks, favourite trainers, favourite route. All the favourites.

It probably won't come as a surprise that my favourite running shoes are Nikes. Well, they didn't use to be. I was more of an Asics man, but trying out some Lunar Flyknits has changed my preference. They're incredibly light, yet solid enough to provide some support on the endless concrete, stone, and asphalt I pound along in London.

Pound. Ha ha. As if I go that fast! I counted at least five people who overtook me on the way home tonight.

That's my most travelled route. The run home from a client's office - when I'm there. It's a great run. Shoreditch, to the City, over the bridge at St Paul's, and then a long home stretch along the South Bank.

A few small ups, a few small downs, and plenty of tourists to dodge in the summer. Distraction comes from the brilliance of London. The different views, different landmarks, different running surfaces. Perfect.

Aside from that, I try my best to mix things up. A loop around Westminster is a particular favourite, but I'm starting to explore a bit further by running along tube line or two and catching the train back.

I'm sure the other folks on the tube are happy with that! Although, I'm usually well dressed - donning Glenmuir base layers. They're good in the cold and the warm. Wicking away the sweat or holding in the warmth.

Anyway, that's my route (or two) what about yours?

The new Nike Free 5.0 Trainer

Recently, I've been thinking more and more about my fitness. While my lungs and legs can carry me for about an hour, and I can shimmy up a few walls at VauxWall, I still feel that I'm struggling.

Running can be torture on my joints, feet, and calves. Climbing on my shoulders, arms, and core.

It's not enough just to keep running and to keep climbing, I need to improve the muscle strength and flexibility required for both activities.

That's where training comes in. Something drilled in to me pretty hard at a Nike NFL fitness camp last year. It was only a couple of hours, but boy do those NFL guys work hard on every single muscle needed for the game.

With the launch of the new Nike Free 5.0 Trainers, Nike are at their best again, not just advertising the shoe, but introducing it in the context it was designed for.



This video with Rory McIlroy, for instance, is a great example of the sort of fitness work I'm looking to do more of. Focus on core strength, focus on balance, focus on posture, focus on flexibility.

I'll let you know how I get on.

Running News | Nike+ Running Partnerships

For a clothing brand, Nike are a fairly innovative company - now that's an understatement and a half! Not just content with offering up trainers, clothes, and sports accessories, they're keen on getting involved at every level with both amateur and professional sports folks.

Take running. The Nike+ system was a way for runners (or gym-goers) to measure what they're doing in a more tangible way than simply distance and time. And more than that, the system is designed to encourage you to maintain and increase the intensity of your exercise each and every day. It certainly worked for me!

Now Nike have partnered with some other tech providers - Garmin, TomTom, Wahoo, and Netpulse - to expand the 'usability' of Nike+, allowing it to integrate with other systems and tech that people are using to aid their training.

Exciting stuff!

You can read more about the Nike+ and their new partnerships here.

Image: Nike News.

More on Nike: Nike Free Trainer 3.0.

Keeping Fit | Original Penguin: Vintage Gym Collection

I do love me some gym gear. Even my first post for Buckets and Spades, all those twelve months ago, was on a selection of clothes for the gym.

Original Penguin have just launched their own gym range, with a 1950s feel about it. There's exactly what you'd expect in here, t-shirts, hoodies, sweat pants, and gym bags - all great looking stuff.

What's most interesting though, is rather than the typical press release with images attached, Original Penguin have done something...well...original.

Working with the incredible photographer Jonathan D Pryce (otherwise known as Garçon Jon) - and I don't say that to encourage a RT from him, check out his images here! - Original Penguin have spoken to four guys who like their fashion as much as they like their fitness.

Basketball, callisthenics (look it up!), tennis, and dancing. It's quite a range and hopefully it will inspire folks to try something new or help them push on with whatever exercise they love.

Images: Original Penguin and Jonathan D Pryce.

Like fitness? Check out my attempt at Tough Mudder and read the reasons why I run.

Sneaker Watch | Nike Free Trainer 3.0

Some people get very excited about the technology behind trainers. The materials, techniques, and devices used in their construction.

That's cool.

Part of me wishes I could understand more about intricacies of trainer design. Who knows, perhaps I will, one day.

For now, I'll appreciate their look and take the slightly conservative approach that if a brand's product has worked for me in the past, it'll work for me in the future. A limited outlook, I know, but one that hasn't seen me too far wrong.

I'm the proud owner of two pairs of Nikes (that's right, two whole pairs!) - one, a pair of black Nike Free 5.0; the other, a pair of Nike Free Trainer 5.0 that Nike were kind enough to give me for attending an NFL training session at Wembley, for Buckets and Spades.

I'm always looking to add to that meagre collection, as Nike are a brand who get their trainers right.

A strange thing to say, but there is never a press release I receive from Nike and wince at - a lot of other brands, who do produce some great stuff, regularly produce a dud.

These Nike Free Trainer 3.0 are exactly what I mean. Click the link and admire.

Read the tech specs if you like, but I'm already wearing these (in my head) to the gym, for a run, or on the walk to the climbing wall. So good, so Nike.

Pictures: Nike.

Like Nike? Like Running? Check this piece on running shoes and this one on running in London.

Running Gear | Asics GT-3000 2

This Christmas I was recommended the book Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall. As the Kindle app icon whirled through the download, I started thinking of that age-old debate as to whether or not running is actually good for you.

While there's no argument that running doesn't aid your cardiovascular capacity, while burning calorie after calorie, the damage that can be caused by the high impact nature of running is frequently cited as a reason not to run.

As strange as it sounds, I enjoy running too much to care. My knees still work, and after a run, I don't ache anymore than after football, rowing, climbing, or the gym, so I'll carry on for now.

Perhaps it's my trainers that help.

I was always told never to skimp on decent running shoes.

Okay, the person who said that was trying to sell me a pair. He does a lot of running though, so I trust his judgement. Besides, running definitely is a high impact activity, there's no escaping that. Shoes that cushion, support, and don't peel your toenails off can only be a good thing.

Everyone I speak to has their own preference for running shoes, discovered either through trial and error or via a gait analysis. This preference usually extends to a brand, as well as a style. For me, that's Asics and in particular the GT-3000 range (formerly the GT-3030 range).

I won't go into the technical details of how, why, or what makes this trainer my favourite - mainly, as I don't understand them. Instead, I'll point you in the direction of this piece from Runner's Forum and simply say that these are the most comfortable running shoes I've ever worn, supporting my feet for every mile I've run in the last year, and still feeling as good as new.

Pictures: Asics website.

Like running? Check out my piece on running in London or my adventures at Tough Mudder 2014.

Hidden London | VauxWall, London

We all get stuck in our routines, even those of us who live in a city like London. It's especially true when it comes to exercise. The same circuit, the same weights, the same reps are all easy ruts to fall into, yet very difficult to climb back out of.

I first considered going climbing instead of the gym while training for Tough Mudder. I was running and gym-ing almost every day, growing increasingly bored and finding myself stuck at a certain level - the old exercise plateau.

Fortunately for me, at about the same time, VauxWall opened all of ten minutes down the road.

Built within a couple of the archways beneath Vauxhall railway station, VauxWall is a bouldering centre - basically, climbing without ropes, with a large crash mat to fall on, should you need it. I haven't so far...luckily.

It's good fun, very tiring, and a great workout for your arms, legs, and even your lungs. It is a little daunting, seeing people hanging from blocks no bigger than a penny, but even in the short time I've been going, I've improved and moved up from the basic blocks to the (ever-so-slightly) smaller ones.



In the New Year I'll be making a regular weekly visit to VauxWall. I'm not going to grow the necessary hand calluses without it!

Liked this piece? Check out my review of Tough Mudder, London South!

p.s. All images taken from the VauxWall website gallery (and do not feature me).

Running in London

Freelance living can seem like an adventure, but it can be a constant dripping tap of worry - one that never closes to allow a moment's peace. Thoughts of money, sickness, and the future are all more acute with the instability self-employment brings.

These worries niggle during work and during play, often transforming into fear in the night time, when the mind should be sleeping, but can't stop spinning for the panic woven ideas.

For a freelancer, stress relief is paramount, particularly in a city. Intense noise and congestion compound worry, reducing headspace to almost zero.

In London, I run often.

Running is the quickest, easiest route to freedom. The alerts, vibrations, phone calls, and emails are all silenced. The squeal of breaks, endless announcements, and claustrophobic invasion of personal space, all left behind.

What remains is a silence broken only by the sound of feet on the pavement, echoing through the unending variation and unrestrained inspiration that the streets of Central London offer.

The calves begin their gentle burn as the river comes into view. To the West the banks run to Chelsea; to the East, South Bank and the City beyond; the North, Hyde Park and the cluttered narrows streets of the West End.

One favoured route takes in the white stucco of Pimlico, the sweeping curves of Belgravia, the dark curled wire of Buckingham Palace, the pink of the Mall, before skirting the edge of Trafalgar Square, under the shadow of the Elizabeth Tower, back over the river for the last leg home.

Another route follows the river. Embankment, St Paul's, the footbridge shining blue, weaving through the iconic architecture of South Bank, before that final empty stretch to Vauxhall and beyond.

Better than any gym, better than any class, a perfect distraction from the humming screens and the stagnant air found in-doors. Unable to work, the mind empties, the body relaxes. Beneath those giant structures, one tiny pinpoint in a city of millions carrying an Oyster Card and a single pound coin, problems gain perspective and dwindle to nothing. It's a fresh start, every time, clearing the space needed to sit back down and start all over again.

(All pictures taken by me - available on Instagram)

Tough Mudder London South 2014

It was 5.45, on a Saturday. The platform was almost empty, save for the returning late night revellers, tube drivers heading out on shift, and the man dressed as a Jedi. What a walk of shame that is.

Wrapped in two t-shirts, one hoodie, a coat, and a beanie, I huddled down into my collar, attempting to shiver off the last of a three-day bed-ridden cold. On my feet, off-white running shoes; a pair of Asics sadly setting out on a voyage from which they wouldn't return.

Vauxhall, Clapham Junction, Putney, Barnes. The morning grew darker as the emptying carriages rolled out to the quiet suburban bliss of deepest, darkest South West London. Saturday newspapers lay unread and cats startled the empty milk bottles as we thundered along the deserted streets in a low-slung, ten-year old Golf. Inside, heater turned up to eleven, teeth still chattering, we discussed nerves and tactics over Lucozade and Jaffa Cakes.

On the open road, the two hour journey took ten minutes. Motorway, A-road, farm track, cowpat filled field. Pack on the back, we walked the last mile, watching mud-soaked runners climbing hills, crossing cabbage patches, and breathing heavily. It was our turn next.

The start of Tough Mudder, I don't care for. All oorahs chest slapping, fist bumping nonsense imported from the States. The scathing English rubbed shoulders, muttered cynical disapproval, and joined in politely. And then we were off. Orange smoke, a small fence to hop over, a man with a sprained ankle to dodge, across the grass, up and down the hills, and out to the cabbages.

The first obstacle of Tough Mudder, bar the five foot garden fence at the start, is pace. The second, is other people. There's a temptation, after the adrenaline boost at the start, to set off like a bolting horse, steaming ahead of the scrawny marathon runners, muscle-bound gym warriors, and orange-clad veterans. A desire to get ahead, to win the race that no-one else is running. Ten minutes into the cabbage patch, you realise it's a pointless endeavour. The stream of 'competitors' is relentless and the obstacles add such a start-stop to proceedings that it's best to ignore everyone around you and settle into a comfortable stride.

Tough Mudder isn't easy, but it isn't tough - so says the guy who bottled the 12-foot drop and the ice bath. Hey, I swim like a brick, and bricks have an unfortunate habit of sinking. I aced Hang Tough though. Stick that in your oorah and smoke it.

This isn't an attempt to play the hero. It is a gruelling encounter - three hours of almost continuous running, knee deep mud, electric shocks, and twenty other delightful obstacles - but, bar injury, it's only moderately difficult.

The team element helps. Four other idiots to laugh with, jostle, and motivate over the obstacles. It helps, when you're ear deep in ice-cold water, your face pressed against a metal cage, slowly moving towards the end of a trough, and gradually sinking towards the fear, to hear the muffled cries of encouragement from the other passengers in the car. It also helps, when you can't be arsed to haul yourself over another wall, to have a couple of people to give you a firm push. It's not quite so nice when one of those you're pushing happens to have forgotten his pants. The horror, the horror!

Through the cabbages, underneath the dull grey sky, Tough Mudder seems like a hard slog that won't finish quick enough. Two hours later, jogging the crest of a hill, looking over the sun-kissed fields of England, it's a pleasure, a joy, a stroll in the park, albeit with burning calves and a chill in your chest.

Tanks, logs, mud, mud, mud, ice-cold water, barbed wire, electric shocks, and a sprint up a half-pipe, arms waving for some strong bastard to pull your limp corpse over that final lip. The finish line and the final arm numbing bolt of electricity are more than a welcome sight.

A drained body, a drained pint, a drained hose washing away the encrusted mud. Headband firmly in place, the journey home was bliss and a well-earned McDonald's. A massive spread from ear-to-ear as that train rolled back through Barnes, Putney, Clapham Junction, and Vauxhall. The man in the Jedi suit presumably nursed his pride and his hangover that evening, I nursed my aching limbs and it was well well worth it, even with the oorahs.