Faaaaail

Having spent last night deadlifting, I had no intention of returning to the gym today. However, by a strange series of events, I wound up back at the gym anyway. I decided to spend my time hitting a punching bag, then doing various kinds of biceps curl, in an attempt to avoid...
Posted On 31 Aug 2011
, By

Deadlifting: The King of Exercises

┬áToday, I went deadlifting. “Deadlifting?” you ask, confused and scared. Yes, deadlifting – the KING of exercises for many, many reasons. Allow me to explain just a few of those reasons.
Posted On 30 Aug 2011
, By

Starting from Scratch…Again

Having done very little training recently, I have to get back to the gym and the various sports I need to complete. Last week, I managed to fit in a couple of days of training. Tuesday 23rd Legs day: squats at 90kg and front squats at 60kg Wednesday 24th Back: pull-ups, chin-ups...
Posted On 30 Aug 2011
, By

Day Fourteen: Punching a Hydra

We have two goals for my final day in Poland: 1. Visit Memento Park to see statues from communist Budapest. 2. Pilgrimage to the statue of a man punching a hydra. We get up early, ten litres of beer from the night before still sloshing around in our bodies. Matt has damaged his...
Posted On 17 Aug 2011
, By

Day Thirteen: Rocktogon

The heat is ridiculous. Sweat pours down our bodies as we traipse across Budapest to our new hostel. By the time we arrive, we are sodden and exhausted. The hostel man greets us. What’s that? The room we’re staying is on the other side of the city? By the train...
Posted On 16 Aug 2011
, By

Day Twelve: The Baths

We leave Hostel Relax three hours earlier than the day before and head straight for the baths. The underground changing rooms are a teeming, squirming mass of humanity. We deposit our things in one of the rows upon row of lockers, linked by slippery walkways, and push our way up...
Posted On 15 Aug 2011
, By

Day Eleven: The White Bridge

We wake up late, groggy from dreams. Damn this shaman tobacco! Hostel Relax is deserted, apart from the owner. She gives us a tour – all the way to the local shop and back. We need to get to the city, urgently. First, however, we must cross the White Bridge.
Posted On 15 Aug 2011
, By

Day Ten: Hostel Relax

Our bus pulls into Budapest at 23:00. The bus station is a sea of blue and red lights. Riot police are everywhere. We have no money, no map and no idea where our hostel is. Football fans flood the streets. Gods, what have we done?
Posted On 14 Aug 2011
, By

Day Nine: The Green Faerie.

We awake in linen shirts, our heads pounding from wine and song. We break out fast on preaches, plums and pastries. Yoghurt with honey compliments strong coffee. We mope and despair. We are bohemians.
Posted On 13 Aug 2011
, By

Day Eight: Clothed in Linen

Breakfast involves a waffle covered in jam and punching the machine. I still fail to break 900. My wrist feels shattered. Arriving back in Krakow, we make a big decision. To be bohemians.
Posted On 12 Aug 2011
, By