Northern Indian city Allahabad is home to the Well of Death, a circular arena like structure where the drivers of motorcycles and cars ride their vehicles on its (vertical) walls.
Motorbikes are one thing in the confined space, but then cars are added to the mix. But keep watching. Then the drivers, of both types of vehicle, go hands free. But wait, those aren’t the only tricks up their sleeves…
A glimpse into the thoughts going through the minds of cricketers after they have been dismissed – bowled, caught, stumped, run out, whatever – as they walk back to the pavilion… surprisingly their musing aren’t always self disparaging or belittling:
“What I said to myself helped me to stay positive, knowing that [my] game plan was a good one,” said one player about a recent dismissal. He was one of five players who participated in the research, all based at a county cricket club in England. Two of the others described how they called themselves names and criticised their own shot selection. A recurring theme throughout the study was for this kind of negativity to be followed by motivational self-talk.
We’re probably used to seeing runners and cyclists out and about on the streets of the cities where we live and work, but aside from a boot camp here and there, the sight of other athletes, such as weight lifters and gymnasts, in training, is likely pretty rare.
US photographer James Friedman, in his Interior Design photo collections opens up golf balls to have a look at their cores… something I’ve thought about doing from time to time. Looks to me as if no two golf balls are alike then?
French tennis player Gael Monfils added a little flair to his game when he met German player Tommy Haas recently… it could be we need a little more of this kind of thing. As a bonus, I think Monfils won the match, though it was a pretty tight game.
I’ve rarely ever watched a game of rugby in its entirety, but this recent match between Super 15 teams the Highlanders and Chiefs, should have been an exception, if this snippet of play was indicative of the excitement of the rest of the game.
Both teams, by the way, are from New Zealand, and their players would go on to form the ranks of the All Blacks, which would be, historically/statistically, the best rugby team in the world. I suspect though plenty of people would disagree with such a statement.
If you want to run, run a marathon. If you want to experience a different life, run a… Spartathlon.
The Spartathlon, run each September in Greece, is an ultramarathon based on the jaunt made by Ancient Greek messenger Pheidippides from the town of Marathon to Sparta, some 250 kilometres apart, in 490 BC, seeking help after the Persians had laid siege to Marathon.
And while athletes in peak form could complete the run in about 35 hours (yes, 35 hours), some, including current Spartathlon record holder, Yiannis Kouros, have breezed through in just over 20 hours. Whatever your level of fitness though, the endeavour sure isn’t for the faint of heart:
The drama lies not in the competition between them but in their personal struggles. Many douse themselves repeatedly in cold water. Some briefly rest, grimacing as they rise to their feet again. One disoriented Japanese runner heads off in the wrong direction, and needs to be overhauled and turned around. James Adams, a British runner, arrives after about ten hours on the road, a great muddy stain of blood on his shirt, courtesy of unlubricated nipples. A couple of tourists sit in a nearby taverna watching the runners head off again. “Isn’t it amazing?” says one. “Or stupid,” responds the other. Her scepticism is understandable.