Week eleven of my sixtieth year ends with eleven ticks on my 60 for 60 list. So all going to plan. My tick this week was kayaking on the  Limehouse Cut, the oldest canal in London from Limehouse Basin to the Olympic Park. At disembarkation we dined on pizza and some dodgy lager at Crates Brewery. Message to self. You do not like craft lager. Where is a pint of Carlsberg when you need it.
We embarked, all thirteen of us, dressed in some very attractive water proof dungarees and a life jacket. Although the threat to life wouldn’t be drowning but poisoning. It is so sad to see how filthy the canal is. One of our number even managed to flick a used teabag onto himself.

And then we were off on a 6 km ‘sail’ on a warm summer evening.

We were in a two-man kayak with seats and footrests which made it far more comfortable than the kayaking I did in Centre Parcs a few weeks earlier. I was sat at the back so responsible for steering the craft which made it difficult to take photos. A few seconds away from the paddle and we were soon off course heading for a collision with either a canal wall or another kayak. Another steering error landed us in a tangle of weed which took us several minutes to get out of. It did cross my mind that we might miss the beer and pizza as we struggled  to manoeuvre ourselves from its clutches.

It is a great way to see London from a different angle. And the canal is used not just by us seafarers. People were walking, cycling, sitting, just enjoying the evening all along the banks. But the canal is a dumping ground for rubbish. Clearly there is very little investment in its upkeep. It was so sad to see the coots making their nests out of plastic.

Just as we approached the Olympic Stadium, Old Ford Lock 19 had to be transversed. I’d never been through May  a lock before so that was another experience to be enjoyed. Once through we were a few hundred metres from our destination. And just as well. My shoulders were screaming for mercy and I had a blister on my thumb from the paddle. Two hours after the off we were heading towards pizza.

This week also saw a change in location of the gym I’ve been going to for the last six years. This is the gym that I credit my love of fitness to. But was the move further away going to mean I would need to look for an alternative. Fortunately the change of venue only added another ten minutes to the journey time. The new location is bigger and brighter. And the toilets are most definitely an upgrade so all good.

I have kicked off my Great North Run training but am revising my enthusiasm for training in the summer. I prefer wrapping up to face the elements. A run in Regent’s Park yesterday was hard. The first 2 kms were a struggle. It could have been the heat. Maybe I hadn’t drunk enough water. Sometimes it just happens that way but I can’t help the fear creeping in that my heart problems may not be behind me. 

Three years on from open heart surgery and apart from the challenge of being on Warfarin and the click in my chest it’s as if it never happened. But occasionally when I’m finding something more difficult than normal I feel a little wobble. I suspect that most people who have life saving surgery or treatment have similar wobbles. But all we can do is stay positive and live every day.