Photo by Dan Hems, gnarley waves by Mother Nature My dad went to hospital last week. He's okay, he just learned some valuable lessons about launching a kitesurfer in 30 kilometre-per-hour wind too close to a car. An ambulance ride and an x-ray later he possibly has a broken rib, definitely has a sprained ankle, and certainly won't be running the Fairford 10k tomorrow, only ten days after he got too friendly with someone's brake-light. So, tired from travelling and sitting in the hospital, and frankly overjoyed my father was still breathing, I suggested I take up dear old Nick's place at Fairford. Looking back, we both did something stupid that day. What followed was ten days of training, on and off, to get me up to speed with my mother, who has been doing this for the last 3 months. As an experience, it ranged from 'interesting' to 'whatthehellwasithinking', right through to 'ireallyhopeicankeepbreathing'