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Mank

Battle of the Fattest 5 - Chapter 1

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Battle of the Fattest 5

The Pancake Mile

 

After my rather miserable race at Shepparton last year, I did some careful thinking about how to improve – not to go too crazy, but perhaps from "insipid" to "mediocre" would be an admirable goal. So I did some rough analysis, which in the traditional triathlon way, worked out a bit like this: if I'd been a better swimmer I wouldn't have been tired on the bike; if I'd been a better cyclist I wouldn't have been so sore on the run; if I'd been a better runner, I'd have… uh… run.

 

So, why not start with the ugliest part of all that and do a bit of running. I'd actually enjoyed the half marathon I did last year (no, the standalone one!!), so it seemed like a good place to start.

 

Rallying the Troops

A little 21km jog is no fun without some equally inept competition. It takes careful work though if you're aiming to select opponents capable of running 21km, yet incapable of defeating the Mank. At Shepparton, my total run scalps was a staggering one. (And read that sentence whichever way you please, it's still correct). But I had some good ideas this time, which mainly involved systematically stacking the field via an invitational.

 

The cast was to be a stellar one indeed:

 

Ayto. Heavyweight contender, known for ducking races by pretending to be on the organising committee. Usually seen drinking beer. Checking in at around 130kg. Prospects limited. Drawbacks: coached by a midget with Ironman credentials.

 

Antisport. Flat-track bully with an innate fear of hills. Drawbacks: Williamstown course reaches elevations of approximately 50cm.

 

BigKev. Mystery figure, not known to have competed in any event during my triathlon career. Drawbacks: On the comeback trail. Form unknown.

 

SlowDave. Sneaky creature incapable of putting on body mass; last seen relaxing in the Blunty End Cup marquee at Altona. Drawbacks: guaranteed to go into any race about 10kg lighter than Mank.

 

Conor. Constant rival, out of form and content with scoffing scones. Drawbacks: Half marathon time about 30 minutes better than mine. That's a lot of scones.

 

Mxwalker. Capable athlete with the unusual distinction of having been behind me for nearly two hours at Shepparton. Drawbacks: Unfortunately, race went for another 5 hours.

We also picked up a few nominal contenders, being in no particular order: Peter (ruled out through being too fast); Tri_Mel (refusing to race on account of supporter duties); Scraggy (ruled out due to marathon duties); and Pete (too fast).

 

Ten Green Bottles

From cast selection to race day was a litany of excuses the likes of which may never grace Transitions again. Conor claimed to have pulled up lame playing basketball (or perhaps became lame by playing basketball). Pete declared an awfully convenient overseas trip. Mxwalker scheduled a family wedding on race eve. The AntiSport fell off a chair (veracity: unknown), and SlowDave decided a gentle 10km might be a better option. With BigKev out on a medical, this whittled the entire field down to just Mank, and Ayto.*

 

Truly, a Battle of the Fattest for the ages.

 

And what a battle it proved to be.

 

Race Day

The Newport Athletics Track was the venue. Pancakes were on the menu.

 

And therein lay the essential problem - in this gruelling multi-leg event, would it be foolish to go out hard early and psyche Ayto out? Or should I save my best form for the main event? Should I fuel up properly on the run, but risk gut issues on the third round of pancakes?

 

All of this weighed heavily on my mind, along with two other critical issues: (1) my mediocre aspirations (sub-2 hours) were matched only by my mediocre training (the odd good week, and a massive 15km hit-out two weeks before race day), and (2) I would be giving up about 40 kilos to Ayto come pancake time.

 

But everyone knows that a good showdown is 90% mental, and I reckoned I had Ayto well and truly covered on that front.

 

First up, starting line positions. With pitstop duly taken, bags stowed, and Quoleum generously applied to the nipples, I'm warmed up and ready to go with at least 5 minutes remaining. Ayto is rooting around in his sports bag. The announcer calls us to the start line. "Ready mate?" I ask. Ayto roots around in his sports bag. I bounce on the balls of my feet, and sidle towards the track. Ayto looks the other way. I realise that for all his bluster, the big guy is desperately afraid, so I discretely walk away and let his traveling supporters try to talk him back into competing. I last see these Shepparton ferals in a shivering huddle around the big guy, and when the race is underway and I'm trotting happily down the road, there's no sign of Ayto at all. Could it really have come down to a one-man show?

 

The Secret Weapon

About 2km down the road, I'm pleasantly surprised to find myself running alongside a friend from uni who I haven't seen in a while, and who I'll refer to here as Nugget. Nugget is a good little bloke who also has the distinction of being good company, pretty nippy over 5km, and capable of running a full marathon. In the absence of Ayto, an iPod, or any other immediate form of entertainment, this is pretty good news. Not to mention providing me with a pace runner for my assault on the 2 hour mark.

 

So the cavalcade of slow, fat and unco-ordinated back markers wends its way through Newport and into the Gellibrand National Park, and Nugget and I catch up, chat and punch out 5'30"s.

 

Walker Stalker

9km into the race, I'm fairly convinced that Ayto has pulled out. There's no sign of the big fella, and I've been sceptical for a while of his claims to holding 5'30" pace. Takes a lot of power to shift that kind of mass at over 10kph. So far, the only people I've recogised on course are Rohan, who cruises past at some point in his trademark upright style, presumably a good 20km into the marathon already, and Scraggy, who looks in menacing form, but has made a poor call wearing white – or perhaps didn't notice the marathon race number was pink. Either way, he's wound up looking a little much like a coconut ice with tatts.

 

As I ponder these issues, mxwalker cruises past and I finally get a status update. Ayto is in the race, I repeat in the race. And I'm coming up fast. I give a little skip of joy and surge ahead down the road, and sure enough, there is the man himself, Trannies cap bobbing up and down in time with his fat wattles, and only a few hundred metres in front.

 

As the streets of Newport echo to the slapping sounds of a thousand feet, there comes a strange, blood-curdling howl, drifting up from the backmarkers and unsettling children in their beds….

 

Aaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyytttttooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Aaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyytttttooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Some nearby runners look at me strangely, and mxwalker surreptitiously buggers off, so as not to be associated with the weird fat guy. Ayto pretends not to hear, which is quite a good thing, because it takes me a bloody long time to actually make good on my intentions. In fact another good kilometer or two goes by, and I'm barely crawling up on the lad. I pass his cheer squad, who point out helpfully that I surely must at least beat Ayto. I agree. "He's toast!! TOAST!!" I shout. The long passing maneouvre actually gives me time to consider appropriate insults, and to size up the right spot where a well-placed slap will deliver maximum insult. And finally, I'm there, and I deliver.

 

"BAAAAAMMMMMMM!" Shouts the Mank, ducking neatly aside to avoid any possible fat ripple backwash. And Ayto is duly slain.

 

Chuckling to myself, I scoot gently in front of him, slightly concerned that Nugget is now a few metres ahead of me. I've been rubber-banding off my pacer for a while now, and he's starting to break my spirit a little. But what really troubles me is that bare seconds after passing Ayto, he sneaks past me at a drink station, and puts on a little sprint. At first I laugh to myself, considering this the fat man's version of Chris Lieto trying to hang onto The People's Champion at Kona, but the problem is, he stays there.

 

Oh well. Great champions adjust, I say. And fact is, Ayto is dragging some serious additional kegs round this course. Sooner or later he's going to start hurting, and I'm going to be right there on his shoulder. We wind our way past the Aths track on the return leg, Rohan strolls past still looking like he's been doing something naughty with a flagpole, and up ahead my friend Nugget disappears for good.

 

The Second Assault

Around the 14km mark, I have to admit that the race is starting to hurt. But we've come across some weird little hills, including a sort of footbridge over gas pipes, and Ayto is definitely sucking at those bits. I cadge about ten metres a pop, and keep the target right in my sights.

 

From nowhere, a pack of fleet-footed chicks run up on us and head on past, and inspiration strikes – between starting fixatedly at Ayto's sweaty back, or tucking in behind some fit girls in lycra, there's hardly any decision to be made. I hit the accelerator and I'm gone, leaving a forlorn Ayto wallowing in my wake. I fancy I can hear the big man's heart muscle snapping in two, but that's what you get trading insults with the Mank – no sympathy.

 

I'm feeling strong now, and we run under the Westgate and hit the northern turnaround, so I get to eyeball the competition on the way back. The gap looks like 80-100m, and he's already sooking too hard to make eye contact, so it looks like the hostilities are over for the time being.

 

That Long Bit

Between the northern turnaround and the Aths track, there's a really nasty bit of the race which I'm going to refer to as "the slightly angled long hard awful shit long bit". It is long. It is angled just enough to make running a bit uncomfortable. And it is the first time that a crack appears in my formidable race plan. Yes, Mank has hit the 15km mark, and that's right where Mank hits the wall.

 

It's not a sudden crash… more of a slow disintegration. But it goes a little bit like this.

 

First of all, I look down at the Garmin and discover I'm running 6'02" ks. I knew I was slowing down, OK, but I'm not sure quite where I lost a whole 30 seconds per km. That just ain't right.

 

Second, I've been worried for a while about how I'm going to run two consecutive 10km PBs. The 55 minute 10km has set me up pretty well for a tilt at 2 hours, but it hasn't left me that much room for error.

 

I do some quick maths and realise I'm actually in an OK place – I'm 6km from the line, and I've 36 minutes up my sleeve. 6 minutes kms. I can run that! All I have to do is hold on.

 

I pass this message to my legs, who point out that the pain levels in my quads are actually increasingly steadily, and has the captain factored this in? Some people run past as I ponder a response. I walk along thinking about it for a while.

 

Uh…

 

Oh… it appears that I'm... walking.

 

Plan B

Some frantic re-planning is called for, starting with a Royal Commission into Walking, which goes something along these lines:

 

"Mank, you can run 6 minute kms, but not if you're walking. If you walk for 30 seconds, you're going to have to run, um… fast… for some other bit. You're in no shape to run anywhere fast. So you better at least run."

 

But it hurts.

"Friggen run through the pain barrier then, my god man, what kind of weak prick are you? 6 kilometers!! Bloody Ayto's back there somewhere!!"

 

Well he probably gave up too.

 

"I bet he friggen didn't. Can't you feel the ground trembling as you walk?!"

This spurs me somehow into action, and I get running. But now the Garmin is all over the shop and I've no idea how much damage I've done to my chances. At least my legs a hurting a bit less. I try not to think about Shepparton, where this run / walk process descended very fast into disaster. There's another little bout of walking, but still no sign of Ayto, and then with a grunt of pain, I manage to lurch forward one more time and go shambling along past the athletics track, southbound.

 

I don't quite know what to do from here. I know my 2 hour tilt is cactus, but a PB is certainly on the cards – that's 2'07" – and I can easily crank that out.

 

Cometh the Hour, Cometh… The Aytosaurus

A quick shuffle through the park, and I'm back onto flat ground again, making my way back over the early part of the course, and into the final few kilometers. But as I hit the last outbound straight, a cheer goes up from the crowd: "There he is! GO AYTO!!".

 

Well this is embarrassing. I mightn't be in the best shape of my career, but surely a Tranny hat isn't enough to fool someone into thinking I'm 80 kilos heavier?! F.ckers. I ignore them.

 

"Yeah AYTO!!" they yell, the shortsighted dickheads.

 

"Smash him AYTO!!!" they… oh nooooo.

 

I ain't gonna look. That's all. I just ain't gonna look. But I know it. And then the ground begins to shudder all around me, and I quail in terror and misery, but it's all too late.

 

Seems the only 'toast' on this course today is the Mank. And Ayto passes me, and Ayto is gone. And after a few more minutes, I shed a quiet tear and I walk. I pass tri_mel on the sidelines, who offers a rather unconvincing "you can catch him", but we both know that I can't.

 

I do reach the final turnaround though, and in perhaps the best sign that my race plan has completely disintegrated, it suddenly occurs to me that I'm still in range of a 2 hour finish – I just need to bash out a couple of 5'30"s. Mank Maths is becoming a signature of my longer races. It involves taking pretty much any random speed or pace, applying it to an imagined remaining distance, and coming up with the wrong answer, while being completely convinced that it's bang on. Momentarily excited, I dig deep and try to lengthen my stride, and I'm rewarded with twin bolts of agony up the front of each quad. Mank Maths buggers quietly away, and I go back to hobbling instead.

 

The course is neatly laid out to make sure that you hate the race directors, so I have to wrestle with a steep bank and half a lap of the longest athletics track in history before I can finally stop. I pass one bloke during this period, but suffer the final indignity of being smashed by two female contestants who race past me in a sprint finish. (There is however a pretty happy ending to this – these smart alecs get themselves identical times, allowing me to pick them out of the results list and discover I've bloked them after all – chip times are a truly magnificent thing).

 

Ayto is good enough to wait for me at the finish line, though I suspect he's incapable of moving at this point. After 2 hours, 21 kilometers, 4 lead changes and one slap on the ass, he's ended up sneaking in a mere 2 minutes ahead of me.

 

Epilogue: The Pancake Mile

Must say that by this point I'm feeling terribly unwell, and the lure of the pancakes is seriously diminished - especially as SlowDave has been eating steadily since ambling around in the 10km race, and has set the benchmark at 4. Ayto and I make a good fist of 2 pancakes each, but it's very clear that nobody wants to head back for another round, and I'm due at a child's birthday party in a couple of hours.

 

In the end, the Pancake Mile is declared an honourable draw.

 

Final standings:

 

Half Marathon:

Winner: Ayto

Runner up: Mank

Third: DNS

 

10 KM:

Winner: SlowDave

Runner up: DNS

Third: DNS

 

Pancake Mile:

Winner: Tied between Ayto and Mank

Runner up: DNS

Third: DNS

DQ: SlowDave, for running in the wrong event.

 

* - Postnote: the level of withdrawals from this BOP event was truly disgraceful. The Race Director's reaction was captured by SlowDave on film,

.

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[/size][/font]Ayto is good enough to wait for me at the finish line, though I suspect he's incapable of moving at this point. After 2 hours, 21 kilometers, 4 lead changes and one slap on the ass, he's ended up sneaking in a mere 2 minutes ahead of me.

 

Ok, so I will concede the arse slap, as it was deserved at the 10k point of the race, however I would appreciate if you get get it right - the margin (for the record) wasn't just 2 minutes - It was 2mins AND 14secs, representing a total of 30 positions. I worked hard for those 14 seconds......

 

 

Take your pick pancake boiz

 

Sunday 14th August 2011

Devilbend 21k

http://www.devilbend.com/

 

Sunday 31 July 2011

Sri Chinmoy Princes Park 30K

http://au.srichinmoyraces.org/events/melbo...cevents09/pp30k

 

Sorry Anti, but Devil Bend is a no go for me at this stage.

 

However, happy for the challenge to be set for either:

 

- Run Melbourne - 17 July - 21.1km

- Shepp Half - 28 August - 21.1km

- Sri Chinmoy Yarra Blvd - 25 September - 21.1km

- Melbourne Mara - 9 October - 42.2km

 

Sri Chinmoy Princess Park is a possibility but is only 2 weeks after Run Melb - but then again, I guess I don't really need to bring my A Game for a challenge with you guys :lol::lol:

 

Whatever the challengers choose, just make sure it has pancakes............

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Guest steamroller

Funny as always gentlemen. I may have to consider starting a Sydney Branch of the BOP challenge. Each year we could have a state v state challenge at alternate venues. Well done.

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All right then... I can be fair.... or is that drunk....

 

- Run Melbourne - 17 July - 21.1km ~ Too expensive for me at this time

- Shepp Half - 28 August - 21.1km ~ I have a date with one of my bikes that day

- Sri Chinmoy Princes Park - Sunday 31 July 2011 -30K ~ Bring it … as you said it shouldn’t be too hard for YOU to back up after Run Melbs

- Sri Chinmoy Yarra Blvd - 25 September - 21.1km ~ mmmmm PANCAKES

- Melbourne Mara - 9 October - 42.2km ~ Too expensive

 

Edit: as it is a slow day at “work”

 

I am now officially pulling rank, I want the most value I can outta my glow stick and since we are under 12months the I can still officially be called an

 

Warm-up, optional: Sri Chinmoy Princes Park - Sunday 31 July 2011 -30K

 

“A” Race is: Sri Chinmoy Yarra Blvd - 25 September - 21.1km

 

No questions no protests will be accepted.

Edited by TheAntiSport

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All right then... I can be fair.... or is that drunk....

 

- Run Melbourne - 17 July - 21.1km ~ Too expensive for me at this time

- Shepp Half - 28 August - 21.1km ~ I have a date with one of my bikes that day

- Sri Chinmoy Princes Park - Sunday 31 July 2011 -30K ~ Bring it … as you said it shouldn’t be too hard for YOU to back up after Run Melbs

- Sri Chinmoy Yarra Blvd - 25 September - 21.1km ~ mmmmm PANCAKES

- Melbourne Mara - 9 October - 42.2km ~ Too expensive

 

Edit: as it is a slow day at “work”

 

I am now officially pulling rank, I want the most value I can outta my glow stick and since we are under 12months the I can still officially be called an

 

Warm-up, optional: Sri Chinmoy Princes Park - Sunday 31 July 2011 -30K

 

“A” Race is: Sri Chinmoy Yarra Blvd - 25 September - 21.1km

 

No questions no protests will be accepted.

 

I went into this winter determined to prove I could run a 10km PB in my <cough> mid-forties <cough>. So I'll be at Princes Park and Richmond but only for 10km events to demonstrate both power and speed. I'll also be singing both kinds of music - Country and Western. I am now thinking that I could make Devilbend for a half. Of course if I happen to run a PB at PPark I could be tempted to run half at Richmond, but don't fancy my chances

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Warm-up, optional: Sri Chinmoy Princes Park - Sunday 31 July 2011 -30K

 

“A” Race is: Sri Chinmoy Yarra Blvd - 25 September - 21.1km

 

No questions no protests will be accepted.

 

Allright Zoe, as the only legitimate ironman amongst us, your pulling of rank is begrudginly accepted..........

 

Nothing like a 30km "warm up" run!!!!

 

I went into this winter determined to prove I could run a 10km PB in my <cough> mid-forties <cough>. So I'll be at Princes Park and Richmond but only for 10km events to demonstrate both power and speed. I'll also be singing both kinds of music - Country and Western. I am now thinking that I could make Devilbend for a half. Of course if I happen to run a PB at PPark I could be tempted to run half at Richmond, but don't fancy my chances

 

Dave, Dave, Dave............if you really want to prove yourself, everyone knows that it's the long distance stuff that gets the lungs burning, the legs turning to jelly and the girls swooning. Get on the train Buddy.

 

 

As an aside, I wonder if mxwalker can invent another brother who is getting married the night before the BOP challenge :lol:

 

As an aside, I wonder if Magoo will be back from holidays by the time the next challenge comes around :D

 

As an aside, I wonder if Conor will break his other ankle just in time for the next challenge (probably a good thing thoughgiven his half PB!!)

 

As an aside, I wonder if Mank is still alive or whether he has exiled himself after his last showing :lol:

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Funny as always gentlemen. I may have to consider starting a Sydney Branch of the BOP challenge. Each year we could have a state v state challenge at alternate venues. Well done.

 

 

Get on it Steamroller - It could be the new State of Origin series :lol:

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Allright Zoe, as the only legitimate ironman amongst us, your pulling of rank is begrudginly accepted..........

 

Nothing like a 30km "warm up" run!!!!

 

 

 

Dave, Dave, Dave............if you really want to prove yourself, everyone knows that it's the long distance stuff that gets the lungs burning, the legs turning to jelly and the girls swooning. Get on the train Buddy.

 

 

As an aside, I wonder if mxwalker can invent another brother who is getting married the night before the BOP challenge :lol:

 

As an aside, I wonder if Magoo will be back from holidays by the time the next challenge comes around :D

 

As an aside, I wonder if Conor will break his other ankle just in time for the next challenge (probably a good thing thoughgiven his half PB!!)

 

As an aside, I wonder if Mank is still alive or whether he has exiled himself after his last showing :lol:

 

Oh I'm sorry, didn't realise you had time to sit around typing in between getting sooky massages.

 

I've been busy laying out the odd PB here and there. You're lucky you've dodged the Devil Bend is all I can say.

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As an aside, I wonder if mxwalker can invent another brother who is getting married the night before the BOP challenge

 

No brother but I do have a younger sister who is currently single :lol:

I will have to see about the Yarra Boulevarde as I will be on leave so may not be in town. I have entered the Devilbend half and if I am ready I will race the Princes Park 30k.

 

Lot of running ahead !

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but I do have a younger sister who is currently single :lol:

 

 

Really????

 

:D:lol:

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Really ! and she is just up the road from you in Wodonga

 

Jesus Christ, it's a race report not a lonely hearts dating service. Take it to Facebook or something.

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.... back to the Battle of the Fattest. How does one qualify for the next invitational?

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Geez Mank, get over your taper temper........you should be back into full training now!!

 

And sorry Zoe, all my brothers are taken :lol:

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.... back to the Battle of the Fattest. How does one qualify for the next invitational?

 

Are you too slow to compete against real athletes?

Do you want to feel like you belong in racing without actually looking like it?

Is your typical response to race results "Oh bloody hell"?

Do you consider time reading this to be training time?

 

BUT THE KEY QUESTION

 

Is there a real chance in races you may come dead flat last?

 

If you've answered yes to these then you qualify.

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Catcam is a hard one Dave…. She dropped me comprehensively, on her shiny new bike, up Balcombe Hill on Sunday… but then proceeded to sit on my wheel for the headwind ravaged drag back to Mecca…. Sorry Mt Eliza.

 

 

She has come to the DarkSide and needs to be watched.

 

And PS No one, NO ONE has a greater record than I when it comes to dead last. No one.

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Are you too slow to compete against real athletes?

Do you want to feel like you belong in racing without actually looking like it?

Is your typical response to race results "Oh bloody hell"?

Do you consider time reading this to be training time?

 

BUT THE KEY QUESTION

 

Is there a real chance in races you may come dead flat last?

 

If you've answered yes to these then you qualify.

 

 

Dave, I think you forgot the most important question of all:

 

- Am I only here for the pancakes?

 

If you can answer that one with a categorical YES, then welcome aboard.......

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Are you too slow to compete against real athletes? Yes, that's why I want to do an Ironman

Do you want to feel like you belong in racing without actually looking like it? Yes, that's why I joined Transitions

Is your typical response to race results "Oh bloody hell"? Yes, followed by "there must have been something wrong with the timing chip".

Do you consider time reading this to be training time? Yes, I like to think of it as mental preparation

 

BUT THE KEY QUESTION

 

Is there a real chance in races you may come dead flat last? Yes, byt my own insecurity will mean that I'll feel left out if I can't see anyone else, so I will do what it takes to finish at least equal last.

 

If you've answered yes to these then you qualify.

 

And as for the pancakes, the answer is a categorical YES (this is from someone who as a child refused to go anywhere but the Cuckoo restaurant in the Dandenongs for my birthday - just for the pancakes)

 

Catcam is a hard one Dave…. She dropped me comprehensively, on her shiny new bike, up Balcombe Hill on Sunday… but then proceeded to sit on my wheel for the headwind ravaged drag back to Mecca…. Sorry Mt Eliza.

 

 

She has come to the DarkSide and needs to be watched.

 

And PS No one, NO ONE has a greater record than I when it comes to dead last. No one.

 

Sorry Anti, I got a bit over-excited on my shiny new bike coming up Balcombe and then resorted to my usual position of being last. Was there a headwind? :lol:

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Are you too slow to compete against real athletes?

Do you want to feel like you belong in racing without actually looking like it?

Is your typical response to race results "Oh bloody hell"?

Do you consider time reading this to be training time?

 

BUT THE KEY QUESTION

 

Is there a real chance in races you may come dead flat last?

 

If you've answered yes to these then you qualify.

 

This seems somewhat deceptively named. On these criteria I would qualify (and the pancake one too) but surely there must be a qualification requiring some form of actual or imagined fatness.

 

I read in reports of such things as "only 6:00 kms." I aspire to 6 mins/km. Last is always an option for me (not last in age group, just last) and yet I would never consider myself for a "battle of the fattest" whether it was spelled the an "f" or a "ph".

 

Can an alternate series be created for those of us that are just bone idle with sporting aspirations that don't match with effort applied?

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Do not loose faith Stikman, it took me a while but eventually I got to 6:00 kms…. I am there, it is hard to maintain but I can do it!

 

 

You are talking about the bike right? :lol:

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.... back to the Battle of the Fattest. How does one qualify for the next invitational?

 

You kind of blew your chances at Shepparton. Try eating a lot of pancakes every day for six months and get back to us.

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This seems somewhat deceptively named. On these criteria I would qualify (and the pancake one too) but surely there must be a qualification requiring some form of actual or imagined fatness.

 

I read in reports of such things as "only 6:00 kms." I aspire to 6 mins/km. Last is always an option for me (not last in age group, just last) and yet I would never consider myself for a "battle of the fattest" whether it was spelled the an "f" or a "ph".

 

Can an alternate series be created for those of us that are just bone idle with sporting aspirations that don't match with effort applied?

 

 

You need to understand, fatness isn't an image or a body shape, it is a state of mind. It is synonymous with BOP, and even the skinniest whippet can be invited to battle of the fattest. That's why I'm there :lol:

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