SWIMSTAKES!

These are some of the most popular search terms that have brought people to this blog this week, according to wordpress:

‘swimwear’

‘most dangerous shark in the world’

‘boys swimwear pics’

‘triathlon guys’

– I can only speculate about which of these searches faced the most disappointment.

As none of the search terms included ‘The Ben Gelblum Swim2Bestival office (or home) swimstakes ™’ , I had better remedy that with this easy-to-cut-out Ben Gelblum Swim2Bestival office (or home) swimstakes ™.

Just cut out these options and you can have a sweepstakes gamble type thing with your colleagues/friends/family about my athletic & fundraising prowess or watery demise in the Swim2Bestival on September 8:

SWIMSTAKES!

And if you’ve got time to do that, you’ve DEFINITELY got time to click on this:

http://www.bmycharity.com/swim2bestival4FAN 

and sponsor my once-in-a-lifetime athletic endeavour and help lots of children in urgent need of cancer treatment.

Do it today! It’s Neuroblastoma Awareness Week, so please spread the word!

Yours swimmingly,

or not really swimmingly today as I’ve got a sniffly nose,

Ben x

PS: sponsor me now: http://www.bmycharity.com/swim2bestival4FAN

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Loose Swimmin

So this blog doesn’t stray too far into the territory of outdoor fetish-wear, here’s a bit about swimming that I’ve just worked out.

In seven and a half week’s time (gulp) I’ll have to swim this far – about 4 miles, or 6 km from Gosport to where my son Rocky’s pointing, Ryde, on the Isle of Wight.

yeah, sure, Dad!

The fastest Swim2Bestival was an awe-inspiring 83 minutes last year, the slowest so far, just over 3 hours.
The trail I’ll be blazing on September 8th will probably be the aquatic equivalent of London Marathon’s slowest-ever ‘Brian the Snail’: however long it takes the ocean currents to bring me back to the Isle of Wight.
 
A beginner triathlete – ie: someone rather better at swimming than me – swims 25 yards front crawl in 20 strokes. If I can manage that, it should only take me me a total of 2,816 strokes to reach Ryde, burning a total 1,736 calories – the equivalent of 6 Marathons.
– I am, of course, not referring to the athletic endeavour, but the chocolate bar now better known as Snickers.
Watching TV apparently burns 145 calories per hour. Making my swim the equivalent of just under 11 hours of telly viewing.
– I guess that’s like watching a DVD boxset with all the extras.
I’ve never owned a DVD boxset, but I guess if I’m to attain such a level of fitness, I’d better be off to Blockbusters this afternoon to invest in some.
I wonder if Baywatch Series 1 burns off more than The Wire?
 

Anyway, enough about swimming.  This week will be International Neuroblastoma Week – find out more: http://www.familiesagainstneuroblastoma.org/

So help stop this child-killer claiming more lives & sponsor me now: http://www.bmycharity.com/swim2bestival4FAN .

At least that’ll shut me up for a bit!

Why do I think this is important? Read this: https://fatboyswim.wordpress.com/about/

& feel free to comment below please,

All the Bestival,

Ben x

Swimwear photos – as promised.

Woody concerned about his father

Sigh. So here are some swimwear photos as promised. And that’s the Isle of Wight in the background. Behind all the shipping.

Practising in the Solent was rather different than braving the gently-lapping crystal-clear waters of Ibiza last month, – where the only thing to worry about were ageing nudists on the beach – who seemed to be bending right over every time I came up for breath.

(What is it with naturists? They seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time bending right over, as if they’ve lost something very small in the sand that takes absolute ages to find. That’s not natural. That’s what my nine-year-old Rocky would refer to as pulling a moonie.)

I'll show you how it's done Dad

Anyway at least Rocky has finally stopped insisting on joining us on the 4 mile swim across to Bestival on the Isle of Wight, after swimming his heart out – and going backwards in the fast currents of the murky Solent.

He will be joining us by ferry on the day, as I feel it only right my boys see what may be their father’s final resting place.

We’ll be setting out just after midday on September 8 from GAFIR’S Lifeboat station, Portsmouth for this year’s event, hoping the tide will carry us to the left, then back in to land at Ryde on the Isle of Wight, rather than Zakynthos.

http://swim2bestival.blogspot.com/

The lifeboat guy looked less than impressed at my swiming prowess on this visit to the Solent. As we chatted, he looked me up and down, asking, ‘so are you a STRONG swimmer?’ ‘You’ve down this sort of thing BEFORE, right?’ Then as we parted his eyes went misty and he nodded ‘GOOD LUCK, MATE,’ in the sombre tone monkey keepers must’ve sent the first chimps into outer space with.

I was out of breath just struggling to squeeze into my wetsuit. My pal Andrew,- who’ll be doing the swim too, tried his best to hide his exasperation.

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Well I did promise swimsuit pix.

Eight weeks to go! There’s still time to sponsor me and help Families Against Neuroblastoma: http://www.bmycharity.com/swim2bestival4FAN – splash the cash and I’ll post even more swimsuit photos!

And there’s still time to book tickets for Bestival and smugly appreciate the convenience of boat travel: www.bestival.net/

I’m off now for a serious sporting endeavour. School sports day and the dads’ race. Some of the dads were limbering up this morning and were bringing starting blocks and everything.

Wish me luck!

Ben x

s***t creek

Solent today… a glassy sheet of calm waters as still as a mirror. Or a warm bath.  

Wonder if armbands are allowed?

http://www.bmycharity.com/swim2bestival4FAN

 

All the gear and no idea

Gimp my ride

This is the simple 16-step process of squeezing into a neoprene triathlon swimsuit:

Half an hour squeezing my lardy self into the first swimsuit and I did indeed feel like I’d done a triathlon.

The second one I tried on in the triathlon shop cut off circulation to all kinds of important parts.

And by the time I’d struggled into the figure-hugging third suit (which had already broken the £150 mark) I had to ask the shop staff to help me get out of it again. As I had lost all strength in my hands.

Still, flattering aren’t they:

After trying on half a dozen swimsuits, I was beginning to turn blue, could no longer lift my arms, and my testicles had been squeezed back inside my groin.

The patient staff at Bike and Run in East Finchley had by now watched their lunch from the chippie go cold, and looked as if squeezing me in and out of these suits had kind of killed their appetites anyway.

Swimsuit number 7 was definitely the one, they all agreed. A perfect fit. And hi-tec enough to keep my whole body not only warm – but streamlined as I’d bob across the Solent waves like a rubber duck. 

I was too exhausted to disagree. Let alone speak.

I won’t reveal how much I spent, to purchase something that makes me look rather like a gimp who’s lost their mask:

Batman Begins... in East Finchley

Batman Begins... in East Finchley

Somehow I was happy to pay all that for the staff to just let me out of the rubbery torture costume. I’d hoped it would accentuate my athletic physique somewhat. But for some reason I resembled the unironic rubber-clad people I’d glimpsed the only time I’ve ever wandered (BY MISTAKE) in – and straight back out again – of an S&M club. Funnily enough Bike and Run didn’t seem to sell many bicycles with me staggering about the shop stuck-fast in waterproof neoprene…

Now to don it for a trial swim at the lido in Hampstead Heath. My outdoor swimming pal Pat insists it’s the best place to put me through my paces.

That’s if I ever manage to squeeze myself into this ridiculous thing.

Not sure how it’s going to go down on the C11 bus to Hampstead Heath.

Love,

Sportacus x.

PS: While I’m mincing around Hampstead Heath like a fat Sportacus, help FAN help some kids with Neuroblastoma:  http://www.bmycharity.com/swim2bestival4FAN