Tales from outside the comfort zone - The Trilogy

Recently, I've been trying to re-invent myself, or at least recycle myself.  I've been trying to become Me +, Me 2.0.  A different way of saying that, is that I've been trying to avoid being a cynical, miserable, middle-aged pain in the ass.  At the very least, I've been trying to find my smile (see City Slickers, Billy Crystal, mid-life crisis, cattle drive etc).  I thought a good way to achieve this might be to practise leaving my comfort zone.

Sometimes it's good to break out of your comfort zone

A drawback of being in my comfort zone is that I can lapse into lazy ways of thinking, navel gazing, and generally moany and whiney behaviour.  I can get bogged down in negativity, mired in cynicism, stuck in a rut etc.  It's much easier to do this when things become routine, and trying new things isn't part of your regular pattern.  Historically, I've often been too afraid to try new stuff, and even when I have on occasion stretched myself by doing new things, like youth work, or going to India, or learning German, I've sometimes lacked the confidence to build on my new found experiences, so recently I thought it might be good to get myself out there and join in a bit more, and also it might help me make up for lost time.

As a result, amongst new things I've taken up lately are mountain biking, eating satsumas and pretending to be a penguin.  The eating satsumas thing isn't really a big deal, but I first took up eating them on the Coast to Coast to combat a dry throat from all the dust, and it has continued into the weekend just gone.  When I was a child I mostly only used fruit as something to throw at my brother, so it's good to use it for its proper intended use finally.

I suppose I could have taken up doing these new things with friends, but a lot of them are busy doing adult things, like working, bringing up children, mowing their lawns, getting their soffit boards painted (whatever the hell they are), generally caring about the fabric of their homes etc, all things I'm very bad at, and they're not always free to play out.  Also, I moved to Leeds recently, so as well as being busy, a lot of my friends are now also far away.  Not in the global sense, but a bit too far to pop round for coffee etc.

It's been a lot easier to commit to doing new stuff recently, because a lot of the old things I used to rely on to fill my time, like having a job, a wife, a home etc have fallen by the wayside, partly due to circumstance, and partly due to me managing to turn my life into a giant dog's breakfast.

Excuse me, is this the future?

So, anyway, to keep myself busy, and to get me out of the aforementioned comfort zone, I signed up to do 3 main activities this summer:

1) a Coast to Coast off-road bike ride with 56 strangers in June.
2) becoming a volunteer YHA summer camp leader (the camps are in August, and this weekend just gone was the training course, this time with around 74 strangers).
3) a Land's End to John o'Groats bike ride in September with 18 strangers.

As you can see, a common theme with all these activities is that they all involve boatloads of people I've never met before.  One of the good things about people I don't know, is that there are a lot of them around.  In fact, they're everywhere, whereas the circle of people I know is quite small.  One big advantage I've found that strangers have over the people I know is that they are: a) available.  Also, it's meant to be statistically safer to hang out with strangers, as most people who get done in, get done in by someone who knows them.  So, for me, it's strangers all the way!

The pattern on that carpet is literally mesmerising - It's like a kaleidoscope of Doom!

I wasn't always this willing to hang out with strangers.  I grew up in a time of hideous carpets and mustard coloured knitted cardigans and bad hair, otherwise known as the 1970s.  It was a time when the home phone was a giant beige thing with a dial on which you weren't allowed to use, because why didn't you just go down the road and call for people?  A time when televisions were made of wood, and couldn't be stolen because they weighed as much as a house, when a stereo was a sideboard and music was on massive vinyl discs that were so big they were almost too big to bring home on the bus after you'd bought them, a time when the internet was going to the library to read the Encyclopedia Britannica on an evening, a time when there was no point having plugs in your bedroom, because what would you ever need to plug in?

One of the ironies about the 70s, looking back now, is that there were lots of public information films on TV, advising us not to go off with people we didn't know (mostly we were told there would be clues to them being dodgy in that they would want to show us puppies, or buy us sweets).  In those days, although strangers weren't to be trusted, TV presenters were.  How times have changed!  In those days a lot of my good male role models were TV presenters.  What we never told at the time was how it was probably safer to hang out with strangers than it was to hang around with 70s TV presenters and DJs.  That wasn't in any of the public service broadcasts.

So it's taken some time for me to feel safe around strangers, but as long as you're careful, there's no reason why meeting people you don't know should be any more dangerous than meeting people you do, except for if you meet them in a disco when they're drunk (are they still called discos, probably not?).

Strangers - Like Friends, except you don't have to remember their birthdays...

Anyway, I've already done Part One of my Stranger Trilogy - the Coast to Coast, which I wrote about here.  In terms of encouraging me to be positive, and aspiring to be better, it couldn't have gone much better.  It was full of positive people, good role models etc, and was genuinely inspiring.  I even got to meet the famous popstar / singer Alistair Griffin who put me in one of his music videos and in time I will become an international superstar on Youtube, just by association (this has not happened yet).

The good news about Parts Two and Three of my master-plan is that they are going to take up most of August and September, which means I don't have to sort my life out until at least October....

Part Two is the youth worker thing, and I went on the training camp for that this weekend.  Unlike the Coast to Coast, there wasn't much of a variety of ages, in that they were all the same age (except me).  And the age they all were was about half my age, or less.  It turns out a lot of people with time on their hands this summer are young people, and although I have some stuff in common with them, like having two arms and two legs, it takes a bit of adapting to.  Luckily, I made an early start, like about 2 years ago.

My tendency to start hanging out with young people started at SLC, almost 2 years ago exactly, when I was inducted into Batching and Scanning Team, with a gang of people half my age, ie Joss, Lucy, Gibbo, Rob, Vicky, Pete etc.  They may have wanted to spend a lot of time getting wasted on coloured drinks, but at least they had some energy about them.  I found that as long as I didn't have to go to Avalon with them, I was fine.

I've just remembered... I need to go home and wash my socks

I've found, after having lots of different jobs, some where I was the oldest person around, and some where I was nearly the youngest, that the latter is so much worse.  If there's a group that's worse to work with than people who go out till 4 in the morning, and then come into work at 8 looking like the Incredible Hulk (Joss), it's people who've been doing the same job for about a hundred years, and who are now coasting into retirement, or perhaps even sliding into the grave.  Their children and their pension plans are a disappointment, the council want to put a bus stop next to their house, kids keep knocking footballs into their gardens, they've found a lump, they need a scan etc.

Joss - if you look in the mirror and you're this green, you should probably stay home...

I myself have had an alarming number of scans in recent years, along with internal examinations I'm not going to tell you about involving latex gloves going into places the sun doesn't shine, and cameras going into places you would think cameras really wouldn't fit into, but even if this is just inevitable side effect of being middle aged, like nose hair, I really don't want to hear about it at work over my morning coffee.

Retired people are even worse.  If you ever go out for a pub lunch, never go when the Pensioners' Special is on.  All you'll hear are disastrous anecdotes about angina, going down the big white tunnel towards the light before being called back, or at the very least a trip to A&E.  Or how they can't eat cheese anymore, even though they love it, and how they really shouldn't eat broccoli because it plays havoc with their irritable bowel.  Give me young people anytime!  Ones with bodies that just work!

What did I miss?

At times these days I already feel like I'm in a Time Travel movie.  Moving back to Leeds after 20 years away, I already feel like I'm in Back to the Future Part Two.  There's so many big new buildings, the former Odeon is now a Primark, my old school has now moved, the old school buildings are part of Leeds Uni, the rugby pitch I used to play on now has a cycle path through the middle of it.

Then this weekend, spending time with all those young people, training to be a youth worker, I felt like Sylvester Stallone in Demolition Man, like I was a fossil they'd defrosted to help with some unruly kids from the future.  Sitting around listening to people talk about taking their driving tests, knowing that they were all born after I passed mine, I felt like I'd just fallen out of cryogenic storage.

Although, to be fair to them, they must have felt like they'd been simultaneously projected into the past.  Because we were right in the middle of the Peak District, there was no mobile signal, which made it a lot easier to actually have a conversation.  Something I find difficult with young people these days, in fact people in general, is getting their undivided attention, what with them scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and online betting websites, or looking at videos of cats doing funny things.  There was none of that last weekend.  We were back in the stone age, in a geographical basin.

When you actually get to talk to most young people, without the distraction of technology, they're actually quite nice.  And they're a lot like me.  We've all got our hopes and dreams for the future, it's just that they have more energy to pursue them, and less aches and pains.  I thought I might get some opportunity to talk to them about my life experience, but in then end, it was me who ended up trying to learn from them.  To rediscover something I thought I'd lost.  Possibly my youth.  I didn't expect to find good new role models amongst the young, but I did anyway.

In that mobile signal desert last weekend, with no internet, running around, playing games, it was like being a child again.  And in many ways that was how I felt on the Coast to Coast.  I felt timeless and ageless, outside the confines and the circumstances of my normal life.  Spending time blindfold pretending to be a sheep, standing around being a statue, literally jumping through hoops, trying to put on clothes that don't fit, playing Monkey football, doing the Penguin dance, trying to put a magic stick on the ground, turning cone shaped things over and over without running directly into people, trying to walk across an imaginary ravine on milk crates that are supposed to be turtles, playing charades.

Here's me and my new volunteer friends - doing what Penguins do...

At one point, and for just a brief moment, when someone got a bottle out I thought.  'Holy shit, we're not playing spin the bottle, are we?  If we are I'm off!'  Thankfully it was a lot simpler game than that, involving blindfolded hand squeezing.

The people I played these games with last weekend, are the same age now as I was in the period 1986 to 1990.  After decades of living out different roles, and following various paths, here I am again, back at the same crossroads as I was then, with no job, no house, no wife, still wondering which way to go.

I suppose the difference is, I've been here before.  The good news is, I suppose, whatever has gone before, it's never too late to start again, to press the reset button, to restore the factory settings.  At least that's what I'm hoping for....

Tour de Yorkshire - If this is what it is to be crazy, then sign me up!

For a long time when I heard the Tour de France was coming to Yorkshire, I thought 'So what? Cycling's such a rubbish sport to watch in person, why would I want to stand around for hours waiting for riders who'll be past me in a flash, what's the point of that?'

Hurry up and take that photo Gary!  The riders'll be here in 5 hours!

This view wasn't entirely based on ignorance.  Some of it was based on having been to see the Tour of Britain, where I was pretty bored on the whole.  As far as my phillistine brain was concerned, it was 45 minutes of standing around on the Quayside in Newcastle and then it was all over.  Much ado about nothing.

Closed roads - much safer to wander around on without looking behind you

It's not that I mind waiting around generally.  When I used to go to football I used to like to get there about 45 minutes early for kick-off, to feel the anticipation and to see the stadium fill up, to see the teams coming out etc.

With football, even if it's a bad game, you know you'll get your 90 minutes.  The downside being that it's 90 minutes of football, and it has probably cost you an arm and a leg to get in.  But getting to the scene of a bike race 5 hours early to see 20 seconds of action?  How nuts is that?  At least with a sport like Formula One if you miss them you know they'll be coming round again soon.

If you can't see over your fence, build some scaffolding!  Simples!

Well, if it is nuts, then after yesterday, I'm happy to be crazy.  The good news is I'm in good company, because everyone else in Yorkshire is just as crazy as me.

What I discovered yesterday was that it's not all about the 20 seconds.  There's so much more to it than that.

It's not every day you get to sit in the street for hours drinking red wine

My venue of choice for the day was Ripon in North Yorkshire, partly so that I could meet Stephen, Mark and Gary there.  Ripon is about halfway between where they live on Teesside and where I live in in Leeds.

I set off around 9 am to drive north to Ripon from Leeds (the riders weren't due through Ripon till after 4 pm), and it was during the drive up the A1, seeing hundreds of cars with bikes on the back, seeing the Team Cars heading for Leeds, it finally hit me.  This isn't just any old bike race, this is the actual Tour de France.

Like the Olympics or the World Cup, there's something about the Tour de France that makes it much more than just a sporting event.  It's impossible to define, but there's a magic to these events, that goes beyond running, riding a bike or kicking a ball.  There's a feelgood factor which draws people together in ways that you can't explain.  But usually, as with Steve Redgrave in 2000 and Mo Farah in 2012, my experience of these events doesn't go beyond sitting in a room jumping up and down and shouting at the telly.

So often Ripon is a place I'm rushing to get through on long bike rides on the way to somewhere else, I might pop into a shop for 5 minutes to buy a drink and something to eat, but I never really go there, in order to be in Ripon itself.  Spending time yesterday at places such as the Water Rat on the riverside and the Racecourse were added bonuses of being there for the cycling.  At one point I even had a pint of specially made beer called Black Sheep Velo.  The others kept telling me it had a fruity taste to it, but it just tasted like beer to me.

Excuse me barman, this fruit juice tastes a bit beery...

Of course Ripon looked at its best because of the great weather, and the collective good mood.  The closed roads helped too, as it freed the place up for cyclists of all shapes and sizes, on all different kinds of bikes.  From the heavily overweight, to young kids with their saddles at the wrong height, and people straining along on Aldi anvil specials, they all had one thing in common, and it was the same thing as the professionals.  They were all just people who ride bikes.  Like me.

The Tour de France - like a day at the races, except with less horses

The whole of Yorkshire seemed to out on the roads, and everyone seemed to be having a good time.  It was all smiles, even the people who were working or volunteering for the day, seemed happy and positive.  There seemed not even to be any frustration or impatience from the countless small children who were there, and even the many waiting dogs seemed happy enough.  Everyone was just waiting, and not complaining about the waiting.  In fact, no-one complained about anything.

Oh No, it's Watership Down 2 - The Revenge!

There was a bit of action a couple of hours prior to the riders coming through, cars with giant bunnies and Teddy bears and bags of Haribo on top started to come through.  McCain were there too, probably throwing oven chips.  And something you don't often see, the Police were so relaxed they were riding past high-fiving spectators.

Excuse me Officer, any chance of a fist pump?

There was no us and them, like there can be at football, where sometimes the relationship between crowd and police can be adversarial.  Yesterday, the Police seemed to be having as much fun as everyone else.  The French Police were managing the race, and the crowd was managing itself, practising Mexican waves and taking selfies.  The British Police seemed able to relax at a sporting event for once.

Check out the guy in the red - trying to be David Blaine...

Most of my experiences of actually seeing sport live are ones where you have to pay to get in, and you've got an assigned seat and you're kept at a distance from the action.  Certainly a lot further than at arm's length from the stars.

If we'd been any closer, we'd have got friction burns...

By the time the riders finally arrived, and within 20 seconds were gone again, they seemed almost superfluous to the carnival atmosphere, although of course they were the star attraction.  Just not a star attraction that you could see, because they were so fast.

When I ride, I'm a risk assessment on wheels.  Especially in a group, I usually ride as if I'm expecting that anything can and will happen, so to see 197 riders go past in a blur within 20 seconds, with such proximity to the crowds all around, you could only admire their riding technique and their fearlessness.

Slow down!  I'm trying to take a picture...

I usually put the brakes on going downhill just in case, even on completely empty roads.  If I can even see a sheep in a field, I've got my eye on him in case he makes a suicidal dash to throw himself under my wheels.  I've had nightmares about hitting a cow side on.

These Tour de France riders are contending not just with the physical demands of riding, but with the overwhelming sensory overload from all sides, and yet they get through it, day after day.

If I'd stayed at home and watched it on TV, I would have missed this...

The whole experience of yesterday had me reconsidering what it actually means to be a spectator.  According to the dictionary a Spectator is a person who watches at a show, game, or other event whereas a Participant is a person who takes part in something.

I used to think that being a spectator was just turning up and passively waiting to be entertained. But now I think that turning up to watch IS taking part.  

Papier mache bikes - very light but not too good in the wet..

The Tour de France blurs the edges between participants and spectators like no other sporting event I've ever been to.  Every rider, every bike, every village, every bit of bunting, every knitted yellow jersey, every polka dot coloured pub, every cheering child, or dozing dog, it all added something to the event that wouldn't be there without it.  I hadn't understood that before.

Sharow - home of the Marianas Trench - special bonus visit 

I watched the ITV4 coverage of the event last night and this is what Gary Imlach said at the end of the show, about the day.

Well, we've had 3 members of the royal family, one Prime Minister, assorted dames, knights, MBEs CBEs, and cycling legends here at the Tour today, but they've all had to take second billing to the great British public, who've turned in one of the great spectating performances in Tour History.

Well done Yorkshire. I'm proud to have been there.