“I’ve always been lucky when it comes to killin’ folks.”
William Munny, in 1992 Clint Eastwood film 'Unforgiven'
I, too, am a bit like William Munny out of Missouri, killer of women and children. When it comes to choosing training partners, I’ve always been lucky.
To lose weight, to get fit, to improve performance – there is no substitute for a top-quality training partner.
And like Will Munny’s knack for killing people, it’s not all luck when it comes to picking a training partner. There is some method in it.
The first mistake is asking your best friend. This is not always a good idea.
Best friends don’t always make the best training partners.
Let’s say your best friend is a poor time-keeper. That’s not such a big deal when they arrive 10 minutes late for a chat in the café.
It’s another thing entirely if you’re waiting on a bicycle and it’s pelting hailstones.
So, here’s a broad policy. Draw a line through any friend that is unreliable.
If you’re unsure, try them out for a few weeks. If they let you down, drop them like a stone.
Conversational ability is another key factor.
If they’re like a running tap – it will put your head away. By the same token, if they’re like the stone faces on Easter Island, it’s not going to work either.
You need a Goldilocks. Not a blabber mouth. Not a statue. Just right.
My first training partner was John O’Connor, a native of Drumsurn. We used to meet near Cutter’s Wharf and run on the towpath and trails around Belvoir Park in south Belfast.
John is built for knocking things over. His cousin Niall was a professional rugby player and John has the same body type – broad and strong.
He’s one of those men who looks trim at 15st. That said, not long after we started running together, John embarked on what came to be called ‘The Year of the Monk.’
John stopped eating bread and processed foods. Rain, hail or shine, we ran most days. John got down to 13st 4lbs, which for an O’Connor, is skeletal.
John was the ideal training partner. Totally reliable, he specialised in my favourite brand of conversation – a mixture of fantasy, fiction and pure nonsense.
He also loved all the science, theory and technique which surround training.
For example, when we started riding bikes, John read somewhere that the top professional riders could ride so close together that they could feel the “hair of their knuckles”. Yes, that’s an exact quote.
No surprises for guessing what we spent a considerable part of our time practising.
You know the way the top pros can ride just a few centimetres from each other? It looks totally seamless. Well, we weren’t like that.
Picture two men constantly colliding against each other while just about staying upright and taking up most of the road. That was us.
Since then, I’ve encountered a few hairy situations on a bicycle.
During lockdown I narrowly avoided getting hit by a lorry that pulled out of a junction. How do you remain calm when a lorry is driving towards you?
I think the experience of getting repeatedly shouldered by a 15st North Derry man did wonders for both my nerve and bike-handling skills, so a good training partner can save your life!
When I moved back to Maghera, and the gym opened, one of my first members was a fella called Craig Gibson.
When Craig started our spin classes he was an average cyclist who was about two stone overweight.
We started training together. During the bike rides, I’d give Craig the benefit of my knowledge and expertise.
About a year later Craig was two stone lighter and had started racing.
He went from Category four to Category two in the space of a few weeks.
That’s when I stopped giving Craig advice and just tried to stay on his wheel.
Craig is an ex-motorbike racer. People who ride machines into corners at 120mph tend to be fanatics. Craig is no exception.
Over the years I lost count of the number of times when I woke up in the morning to the sound of a howling wind and lashing rain.
I’d check my phone, hoping a message would arrive from Craig requesting a postponement or a cancellation to the planned bike ride.
It never came. Never. And when you turned into the car park, there he’d be. Early. Always early.
Such was our fear of missing a session that when the roads were frozen in South Derry, a group of us used to drive to Limavady.
The Seacoast Road from Limavady to the Port benefits from an Atlantic breeze so remains impervious to zero temperatures. Needless to say, we still took some founderings.
In that respect, a good training partner is no different to a good drinking partner.
Observe two friends in a bar who embark on an accidental day-long bender. Initially, there might be some excitement and giddiness.
Then reality sets in. This is when both parties quietly accept that what they are doing is inadvisable and the long term consequences will be unpleasant.
But they persist anyway. Long periods of silence are typical during this phase.
A four-hour winter bike ride is something similar. It will be an adventure or a nightmare and possibly both. Regardless of what happens, a severe hangover is guaranteed.
But if you emerge alive and unscathed, the memories will be golden.
