The Countdown to Uni: Four Days to Go (Part Two)

The training, however, didn’t last the whole day – in fact, the most I trained in a single day was two hours – leaving us to our own devices for the rest of the day. This afforded us a chance to engage in some other activities throughout the week. Generally this involved sitting in the kitchen reading/discussing a number of issues, including a particularly memorable evening trying to find an answer and logical proof to a mathematical problem that, it soon transpired, didn’t seem to be able to be solved. Nevertheless, having evenings of that kind was definitely to my taste and hopefully many more similar evenings will follow. We also spent some time playing football and basketball, which was entertaining as a result of the different abilities on show. Today was particularly memorable; the group went raft-building down by the river. This was extremely pleasant for the majority of the session, until the ‘sabotage’ stage, which involved trying to unseat as many of the opposing raft-building team as possible. Suffice to say that everyone spent some time in the river, including myself, despite my frantic efforts to remain on the raft. However, quite frankly, if some good-natured ducking is the worst of the OUAC’s ‘banter’, then I profess myself to be relieved. On the whole, it was a lovely week and I am very much looking forward to coming up now. It transpired that one of the girls with whom I spent the week – the Women’s President of the OUAC – was taking the same train as I was, so I also got to hear some amusing stories about the antics of the OUAC on their Easter training camp in Portugal. The trip to the Algarve is one that I definitely intend to go on, even if the cost is rather beyond my means right now.

The inherent pleasantness of the week really has helped to alleviate the nerves I had regarding Freshers and coming up; namely, whether I’d be a social recluse or not. It appeared as though I was fairly well accepted by the group despite being one of only two Freshers there, and I was very relieved by that. One of the guys there is doing a PhD and another is in the middle of a Masters; one is in the fourth year of a Maths course, so generally people were older than me. That I didn’t feel particularly out of place would appear to augur well.

With regards to work, it surprised me – though many of you would say that it should not have done so – how readily I was allowed to get on with some preparatory reading. That was to an extent a new experience; generally, the consensus I’ve been used to is that free time is not for reading and/or working – and this included free periods at school and the bus or coach to football matches. The wholly different reaction here was yet another reassurance that Oxford is definitely a place that I can identify with.

However, my battle with Bleak House still continues; I have just over 280 pages left. I do hope that finishing it by Sunday morning is possible, giving me time to read one more book prior to coming up. It’s not as much as I would have ideally liked to have done, but such is life.

That is essentially the recap of the last week. Tomorrow I meet Cambridge Reapplicant and Cambridge In Abeyance – two friends of mine. The former got rejected by Cambridge the first time around, but got four A*s at A-Level and so reapplied; she’s now going to do Law. The latter is an unfortunate case; one of the cleverest people I know who got into Cambridge first time around. Unfortunately she didn’t go last year due to a severely ill mother. Her mother has sadly passed away, but this did mean that we all expected her to go this fall. However, she has deferred her place for yet another year due to illnesses of her own, and it seems as though it is becoming ever more unlikely that she will take up a place she wholly deserves. Hopefully her illnesses and pains will abate soon enough for her to go up this year, but it looks like a remote possibility. On a final note, being home from the camp means that I can finally start packing for my imminent departure. It’s nearly here.

Regards,

Jack

The Countdown to Uni: Four Days to Go (Part One)

The last time I updated this blog, there existed the clear waters of an entire week between the end of my Gap Year and the start of my university life. I write today with no such breathing space; a long weekend is all that separates myself and Oxford University. This has resulted in a torrent of tumultuously fluctuating emotions – yes, this is in one respect rather mundane and nothing that I haven’t been feeling before; what has changed, however, is the rapidity in which my feelings change right now. In the space of the forty minute train journey home from Waterloo, I probably moved from utterly terrified to uncontrollably ecstatic five or six times, moving through the entire spectrum of intermediate emotions in between. As such, I have no idea what kind of state I’ll be in come Monday. Whether I’ll be coherent enough to blog will be doubtful – or, if so, my blog will probably read something like ‘ZOMG OXFORD GUYS!’ (Well, I’ll do my utmost to avoid such an eventuality, though without making any promises).

The feelings of excitement, terror and nervousness prior to starting university are hardly new, compelling or interesting, so I’ll move swiftly on to a recap of the past week. For those who don’t know, I’ve been at a training camp in Wellingborough with the Oxford University Athletics Club since Monday, and I have to say that it was truly excellent. We stayed in a secluded location in Wellingborough which afforded me (us) some stupendous views of not only the shimmering lakes (when we were afforded some sun, that is) at the bottom of the hills, but also the surrounding rural area. It was very Hardy-esque (or, rather, would have been if we were in Wessex as opposed to Northamptonshire). It transpired that only eight people – including myself – were on the camp, well below the original estimate of twenty or so. In one respect, this was extremely nice. As an inconsequential Fresher, I could see myself becoming rather isolated in a crowd that large, especially given that I can’t pretend I’m the most naturally vivacious person in any circumstances. On the other hand, all of the five other males were far superior runners to me, which was of course a rather chastening experience. It was a rather odd situation for me; since the age of twelve or thirteen, I’ve been at the front or middle of most running fields; to know that if I were racing these people I would come comfortably last is a substantial change. Of course, this is what life at Oxford was always going to entail: accepting that there is always going to be someone better than me, both at my subject and at my sport. Such a realization is hardly shocking, but it will no doubt be a departure from what life was like at my secondary school. Incidentally, I hope all readers excuse my unseemly lack of modesty in the above paragraph.

The training was also a level above anything I have heretofore been used to. Over the summer, I have run approximately fifteen to twenty miles a week, reaching a high of twenty-five two weeks ago. This week, I have run thirty-five miles and the week is not yet over. It proved to be a gruelling training schedule, but then again this is why these people are so good. I also did a couple of core stability and strength exercises, which were extremely useful and hopefully will provide those minimal gains that can make so much of a difference in competition. The one downside – and it is no small one – over the week is that I have managed to sustain plantar fascitis of my left foot. For those who may be unacquainted with the affliction, it comprises a pain on the sole of one’s foot, where the plantar fascia resides and is commonly sustained when a person is one their feet – that is to say, running – more than they have previously done, which is precisely what I have done this week. It essentially means that it is extremely painful to walk on, let alone to run on, and unfortunately it is not the type of injury that can be trained on, because every single time one takes a step or stride their entire body weight is supported, however briefly, by the plantar fascia (in collusion with other muscles and bones, of course). It seems unlikely that I’ll complete the two races this weekend in anything approaching my desired times. C’est la vie, I suppose.

Regards,

Jack