A recent sunset over the tracks

I have to start off by giving credit where credit is due: the weather has been really quite good the last two weeks! I know we’ve had our differences in the past, the weather and I, but it really has been lovely. Granted it’s still March, so I wouldn’t recommend getting the lounge chairs and tanning oil out quite yet, but it has been dry and relatively warm.

After the long and wet beginning to the year, I find myself feeling guilty if I don’t get out and enjoy the beautiful days that come along. So, in the last couple of weeks, I have managed to get out on my bike a couple of times and explore the English countryside.

CYCLE LOVE

I have an interesting relationship with my bike. In a way, it’s just like a significant other. I have come to rely on it for so much; to go shopping, to take me to the train station, etc… It’s how I get around. Like any relationship, when life gets busy and you are focused on other things in the world, it’s easy to take a relationship for granted…or in some cases, even resent it.

The bike was starting to get creaky, gears were slipping, brakes were wearing, and so on. Also, being on a bike when it’s cold and wet, only exacerbates those two undesirables. On a bike, the cold air is always colder, and you manage to hit about 500% more raindrops than you would walking. So, yes, I was starting to resent my bike.

Fortunately, the sun came out and I had a desire to get as far away from my apartment as I could, as cheaply as possible. The best option, of course, was to take my bike out. So, I oiled up the chains, tightened up the breaks and set off one day last week, in a generally Southern direction. I didn’t have an agenda or a specific route, so whenever I came to a crossroads, I made an instinctive decision and went with it…usually this was the side road that looked less traveled (not because of how poetic that sounds, but more because there’s less traffic…or both).

Over the Berkshire countryside on my escapade

More countryside

I came across a couple of interesting places and just generally enjoyed the lovely weather and countryside. But more importantly – and as weird as it sounds – I fell in love with cycling again. Quality, intimate time spent together can really help a relationship. Of course, we still have to do the mundane things together, like getting groceries, but now its with a mutual appreciation. So, now I’m going to become a marriage counselor…

Maybe not.

Anyway…

WIGHT IS THE NEW GREEN

This new “bike love” coupled with the travel bug which I mentioned I had caught in my last post inspired me to get out again as soon as possible.

Do you ever hear a random, sometimes nonchalant comment about something, or someplace and it just captures your imagination? It happens to me all the time. It happened to me with the Isle of Wight about 6 months ago, and it has stuck in my mind since. As you may have guessed, that was to be the stage for my next lap of the Tour de Sean.

On St. Patrick’s Day, I awoke early – roughly the time I had been accustomed to going to bed on that Feast in recent years – and made the early trip down to Southampton on the train, where I then boarded a Ferry over to the Isle of Wight.

By 10:15 I was on the Island ready to go! When I was planning my trip I wasn’t sure where I was going to go. Should I go across the Island? A half loop? Oh decisions, decisions. Anyway, I saw that there was a bike route more or less around the Island that looked manageable. I estimated that it would be a little bit over 50 miles round trip and if I got tired or it was late, I could just cut across to shorten the trip. For reference, 50 miles is a good 10-15 miles more than I’ve gone out to do in one day. I was confident it was completely manageable, but knew it would be tiring.

As it turns out, I hit the 50 mile marker about 3/4’s of the way around the Island. Oops, don’t ask me for estimates.

The trouble was, I was torn between following the signs for the bike route – which were slightly sporadic in the first place – and finding an adventure down some side street. I also felt this centrifugal force pulling me out towards the coast as well. So, more often than not, when the signs pointed me inland I would take the opposite road staying along the coast. It’s an Island at the end of the day isn’t it…How lost could I get?

It turns out that I did a bit of hiking as well…through a jungle…with my bike on my back. Essentially, I got lost.

Luckily, there was no one around, so I didn’t have to compromise my manhood and ask for directions.

All this shenanigans was due to road closures. When you are on a bike, you automatically turn into a bit of an anarchist. You’re not restricted to the dullness of pedestrian life, but off the sidewalks road signs when inconvenient don’t really mean that much either.

Someone recently posted on facebook “pedestrians don’t like drivers, and drivers don’t like pedestrians, but everybody hates cyclists” (or something to that effect) and I would admit there’s some truth in that.

But I digress. The point is; however, no matter how many “Road Closed” signs I read, I still refused to turn around. I would think, “surely there must be some way through for an innocent biker like me?”

In some cases there was such a path, but not everytime; not this time! So cruising down a quiet wooded road (3 road closed signs later), I finally get to a point where the road is closed! Like severely closed; steep rise to a cliff on one side and a steep wooded hill on the other. It was probably about 2 miles back that I saw the last major turn off and turning back is like admitting defeat, which I am too stubborn to admit.

surveyed the situation and saw a little footpath just down the hill to the left that looked like it might just meander parellel to the road for a little while. So, I thought, why not follow that and pop back up in a few hundred yards and find the road again.

What exactly does “closed” mean?

Perhaps not the best idea.

I muddled down the path for a while, sometimes carrying my bike over my head and kept going up to check for the road…which apparently wasn’t closed, but had rather disappeared. I guess they just didn’t have any “ROAD DISAPPEARED” signs on hand. In any case, it became apparent that there was some serious landslides in the area and that was the reason for the missing road.

Again, instead of turning back, I stubbornly pushed through this thickening jungle on this treacherous landslide, feeling all but lost – but smiling at the thought of my lunacy. Eventually, but not without a few moans of desperation, the road did appear again. It was easily the most difficult half mile on the trip.

I still have no idea if it saved any time or not, but it makes for a good story.

The rest of the loop went smoothly. I made a nice stop at a pleasant Benedictine Abbey called Quarr Abbey and saw a number of nice beaches and quaint waterside towns rising up from the water. I won’t bore you with anymore details at this point, but pictures are below.

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All in all, I ended up cycling 70 miles!

There is something therapeutic and almost spiritual about cruising along on your bike on an empty road. They way you can swiftly move forward, all on your own power; while simultaneously leaving difficulties behind and attacking new ground. Sure, you face challenging hills that can slow your pace, make you huff and puff, and wear you down; but if you keep pushing, you get to the top and it’s a brilliant moment of achievement!

More often than not, you are awarded with a brilliant view of the valleys below; behind you can see what you have already achieved and before you the horizon presents a new challenge. Then on top of that, you get to go down the other side and that feeling of momentum and pace with which you move, with almost no effort makes you appreciate all the hard work that has come before.

The road ends up leveling off at times as well, with only gradual and steady ups and downs. I actually find these times the most productive. You aren’t setting records, but you are consistent, mile after mile chalking down a steady pace. It’s during these intervals that you are building up the resolve to attack the next challenge, the next mountain; with its beautiful views and the wonderful sense of accomplishment that makes life worth living.

And that was my St. Patrick’s Day this year. Wight was my green.

Apparently, it was a White St. Patrick’s Day back in Virginia as well!

ON THE PITCH AGAIN

I meant to write more about this, but got so excited writing about my biking adventures that I lost track. I’ll give you a brief rundown. I’ve played 4 games with Thatcham Town in the last 2 weeks. It all started pretty abysmally with 2 poor losses, in which we didn’t play well at all. Then finally, we managed to turn things around in the third game and won 3-1 after a very good second half performance. In the last game, we ended up losing again to the 2nd place team in the league, this time only 1-0. It was a tight encounter though and a much better performance all around. It was certainly not a step back from our solid victory earlier in the week.

Waterside Park – Thatchams home ground in the sunshine.

The Meadowbank Ground – Home of Shortwood United

We ended up losing at Shortwood United 3-0. They scored 2 goals in the last 2 minutes to really kill us.

I have been playing well, but definitely improving every game. The 6 weeks off definitely made me a bit rusty. However, after an injury to a teammate in the second game, I have been playing in a less favored position at defense. While I’m still playing well there, its not as fun as playing a more attacking role. For now as long as the team continues to improve form, I’m happy to do a job there. I even managed to get our Man of the Match award in the last game, which was nice, but you would always prefer a win.

Just like being back out on the bike, it’s great to be getting back out on the pitch. I’m slowly falling in love again. I’m still down in the valley, trudging along through the flats, trying to make it to the mountain. It will be a long challenging journey to the top I am sure, but it will be worth it!

You might say I came to a road closure and had to get off my bike and carry it through a jungle recently, but the most important thing is that I’m back on it again and moving forward.

Until next time, Go head first!

Peace,

Seano

PS: Yes, for those wondering, I was extremely saddle sore at the end of the day!

For some reason I feel the need to start this post with an explanation for my long absence. Instead, I’ll go ahead and just say I was on sabbatical, or maybe since it’s winter, I’ll say I was hibernating. Anyway, that’s irrelevant and I have more interesting things to tell you about.

I have plenty to report from the last six or seven weeks. It’s been a flurry of travel, hoping, waiting, anticipating, and most of the time, just generally failing. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll give you the chronological rundown.

In mid-January, I found myself going on a footballing adventure to the small Mediterranean island of Cyprus. I say “found myself” as if one day I woke up and poof I was playing in Cyprus, which while romantic, is not true at all. I had been considering and planning this trip since back in the fall. Essentially, it was through an agency who brought over about 22 players to Cyprus on a 4-5 day trial with the hope of being scouted by some of the teams in the Cypriot League.

To make a long story short, I’m back in England.

Though I was slightly disappointed not to get picked up by a team in Cyprus, the experience was good. I thought I played well over the days we were there, but as luck would have it, I played mostly as a defender and the teams were primarily looking for central midfielders and strikers. Having said that, any experience has value and I also met new people to connect and work with in the future. My one regret is that I didn’t get to see much of Cyprus. It was strictly a business trip and so there was no time for sightseeing.  Oh well, I’ll just have to go back.

Apoel Nicosia Stadium

Inside the stadium where we were able to train the first day.

The stadium has hosted a number of Champions League games.

Trying to give you an idea of the surrounding area

Did most of our training on this pitch

Intriguing mountains in the distance

I think the mountians seen here are actually on the Turkish side of the Island as we were quite near the border

From the rooftop of our Athletic grounds – effectively our chosen prison

Back in England, I was missing nothing except flooding of biblical proportions. This flooding and rain persisted through much of January and February. During that time, my Dad forwarded me this article; “UK floods: January rain breaks records in parts of England“, with his condolences and that pretty much summed it all up. Sometimes life is just soggy.

The rain inevitably led to muddy football pitches throughout the country and thus a myraid of cancelled games in January and early February. Unfortunately, the pitches weren’t the only thing getting bogged down and muddy throughout these damp weeks.

I continued my merry-go-round adventure in non-league football, by deciding to take the opportunity to move back to Thatcham Town from Fleet Town. If you remember, I had played a few games at Thatcham back in late Autumn. However, my transfer back to Thatcham was caught up in the mire of paperwork and petty bureaucracy. Essentially, I was told I would have to wait 4-5 weeks to make the switch.

Understandably, Fleet was not willing to waive the waiting period that would let me go to Thatcham (a direct competitor of theirs). Fleet was also annoyed with me for undermining them and deciding to leave without consulting them first. I shamlessly admit that it was because they were able to offer me more money…footballers, we’re all the same! Oh, and not to mention, that it’s far more convenient, since it’s only 10 minutes away as opposed to an hour and a half on the train.

Ok, I’m done venting, thanks for that. In the end, the break-up appears to have been beneficial for both parties, because they’ve won 2 games of their last 4 since I left. You may remember, this is the team I kept losing with back around Christmas.

Moving on…

Barring any unforeseen consequences, I will finally be playing with Thatcham Town this Saturday. It’s been about 6 weeks since I played a proper game and I’m itching to get back to it! In the meantime, I’ve continued the monotonous, dull, and unrewarding work of training on my own. The countless hours of kicking a ball against the wall, shooting on an empty net, and forcing yourself through sprints, will hopefully begin to pay off.

If you’re starting to feel bad for me, then thanks, I’ve done my job as an attention seeking writer – Woe is me!

But in reality, you don’t have to feel bad at all. I’ve had some fun as well, and this break from games has given me other opportunities to grow and enjoy life.

One of the side effects of my Cyprus trip was that I was stricken with a bad case of the travel bug. As luck would have it, my sister Grace just happened to be travelling around Italy at the time; just before she started a semester of study in Rome. My dear Mother, who always has the best ideas, suggested we meet and spend a few days together. I jumped on this, like a trampoline, and that was it; Grace had her favorite brother as a travel companion!

My Mom also has this knack for finding really interesting and fabulous people; people throughout the world who are willing to put us up in their homes. They are willing to do this, even after they find out that there are copious amounts of us O’Reilly’s; any of whom might just show up at anytime. (The caveat, of course, is that they can show up at our place anytime as well). One of these people happened to live in Torino (Turin), Italy, so that was to be the setting of our adventure.

Torino is in Northern Italy, and was originally founded as a Roman City. For years it was the seat of political power in the region and in the country. It also is well known for it’s history in the automobile industry, most notably as the home of Fiat and Alfa Romeo. Recently, you may also remember that it hosted the 2006 Winter Olympics. While it has lost some of it’s political and industrial power since the World Wars, it is still considered the third most important city in Italy, and is full of respected educational institutions.

Torino is also home to the famous religious relic, known as the Shroud of Turin – the cloth said to have been used to wrap Jesus in his tomb. While it was not on display, we visited the chapel that holds it to pay our homage. Turin is also home to, and current resting place of, Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, who was an athletic and humble young man. I find him a great role model and his case is being pushed for canonization (sainthood). I have praying to him specifically for help in my football pursuits and so it was a pleasant coincidence for me personally to get to visit his grave. Grace and I enjoyed our time there very much, and the family we stayed with were great hosts and we hope they will soon visit us in America as well.

I’ve also been trying to draw…this is my best effort at Torino, with the Alps in the background.

I got a remarkably strong sense that people of Torino were very proud of their city and its history, which gave it a distinct and genuine character. If you get the opportunity to visit, I would definitely recommend it, the city is seeped in history and set beautifully at the foot of The Alps.

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However, even three and a half days in Torino, didn’t satisfy my appetite for travel, so I decided to follow Grace down to Rome for a quick visit to The Eternal City. Another sister, Cecilia, was already in Rome as she has been pursing post-graduate studies there since the summer. My stay in Rome was short and sweet, but was long enough for the city to grab hold of me and I could feel it tugging me back for a closer look even as I left. Rarely do things or places live up to expectations built up by others, but in Rome, they certainly did. I certainly intend to go back to immerse myself deeper into its grandeur, its warmth, its charm, and its mystery.

I have to say as well, it was a blast to share this experience with Grace. It is rare in such a big family to spend long periods with only one sibling at a time, so it was a blessing to do so with Grace. Unlike times as children where we were sworn enemies, we got on quite swimmingly! 🙂 Probably more due to her patience than mine.

Once I got back to England – rainy, damp England, I am always obliged to add – I had a busy week as I had signed up to start my coaching qualifications. So, for a week, I was commuting an hour and a half on the train to learn how to coach. I am done with all of the theory work, but now have to go out and do practical hours. So, I will be coaching at local clubs in the area in the coming months in preparation for my final assessment.

Me after 6 days in a row of getting up at 6am. Such a softie.

To be honest, the theory part was terribly boring at times. When you’ve been around the game for a long time, most of the stuff you inherently know. On top of that, passing your assessment is all about “checking boxes” as our instructor said, which means you have to do certain things very deliberately every time. The instructor made the comparison to passing your driving test, where you have to dramatically put on your seat belt, then wiggle all the mirrors, so as to be sure they instructor knows what you are doing. Then once you get your license, it’s pedal to the metal!

Essentially, this starting level qualification does not promote creativity itself, but sets up opportunities to get to a good platform with which you can develop your creativity. In the end, you still learn things about yourself if you are open to your own self-development. For instance, I am not very good at getting my point across concisely and effectively in verbal communication. But you probably knew that already if you’ve ever talked to me for a significant period of time 🙂 .

Thanks for bearing with me, I know I’ve just tried to cram nearly two months of information into one post. The important thing to note is that even though I’m failing, I’m also lucky enough to be living a little. There’s other stuff I probably missed as well, but we’ll save that for another rainy day – that way it’ll be soon.

As I begin playing again, I am hoping to be inspired to blog more regularly. After all, it makes more sense to write about football on a blog titled “Head First Football”. God willing, the next time you hear from me, I’ll have some positive news from on the field.

Until then, go head first!

Peace,

Seano

PS: Hope you like the new layout…thought it was time for a change. Let me know what you think.