Weight For The Lights To Go Green

Weight For The Lights To Go Green

Thanks to a bit of jolly team building deigned necessary to spice up an otherwise unspectacular sales conference, last week gave me my first experience of Kiwi go-karting. And without wanting to come over all tall poppy-ish, I reckon that I may be harbouring a bit of a hidden talent. During my stint behind the wheel excursions into the tyre walls were expertly avoided, I nailed incredibly consistent lap times and caught the apex of every corner with almost surgical precision.

I also got absolutely stuffed.

The problem is this; for reasons known only to them, my employer has seen fit to recruit a number of people built along the lines of racing snakes. And this meant that they could enjoy a power to weight ratio similar to that of a Bugatti Veyron whilst my kart accelerated like a fat child on roller skates. Going uphill.

Not designed to move pie eaters

Admittedly at 95kgs no one could accuse me of having an entirely pastry-based diet, but I’m still a bit on the hefty side to ever give serious thought about making much of an impact on the race track. When it comes to the sportsmen at the top of that particular tree, less is most definitely more.

Take, for instance, Sebastian Vettel, the reigning Formula 1 World Champion who weighs in at a measly 58kgs. That’s about the same as a hamster which has spent a month on the cabbage soup diet. Then there’s Scott Dixon who, despite being a larger example of the breed, would still comfortably make the weight for under 85kg rugby whilst holding an average 3 year old child.

Not that this should necessarily come as a surprise. Given the extraordinary and expensive lengths that motor sport teams go to shed kilos from their cars in order to shave extra tenths of seconds from lap times, it would be a strange decision if they then chose to negate that benefit by putting a salad-dodger behind the wheel.

But it does mean that in order to reach the pinnacle of motor sport and keep your job once there, you must be prepared to undertake a lifestyle of discipline and abstinence. And from my experience, this does present a bit of an issue.

It turns out that motor racing puts you in rather good spirits and after we’d spent the better part of two and a half hours thrashing around an old industrial unit in our lawnmower powered chariots, all we wanted to do was go and have a beer. Several beers as it turned out, followed by quite a short night’s sleep and a disgustingly humungous fried breakfast the next morning in an (unsuccessful) attempt to mop up the hangover.

One suspects that this is not something that F1’s consultant dieticians would approve of and that is a crying shame. What’s the point in having all that fun if you can’t go out with your mates afterwards and knock back several glasses of foaming ale in order to celebrate the fortunate hand which life has dealt you?

So maybe this is one walk of life where the amateurs can really claim to have it better than the pros. An evening of go-karting allows you to have all the adrenalin rush of motor racing without the need to sacrifice the fun, frolics and calories of regular life. Why not get out there, get involved and find out for yourself?

Just remember to only invite your fat mates.

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