I've just walked in the door, dry salt still on my face, and sweaty and smelly after a great run in one of this morning's Bush Capital events.
From Campbell High School near the Australian War Memorial, runners had their choice of hilly and bushy races from 16 k to a 60 k ultra through the Mt Ainslie and Mt Majura bush reserves. Inviting tracks and trails and Mother Nature's sqwarking, jumping and crawling things were in abundance. There were a few humans here and there as well. They did the running. Like me, who ran in the 25 k event.
It was beaut morning for running, not too cold or too warm with a nice breeze in parts. I really enjoyed my run. I ran easily for the first 12k's or so and had a good chin wag with a bunch of other runners.
About the 15 k mark, I caught up with Emma from my Saturday group and we solved the world's problems during most of the homeward leg. I found our chat a great distraction from those pesky hills that simply refused to flatten out over the race's latter part. I had enough energy for a kick finish and surprised myself by not collapsing at the end.
It was also very pleasing to catch up with some great running buddies and fellow bloggers. My Saturday group were out in force. Ewen , Aki and Friar were there as was the Queen herself, Lucky Legs. It was also really nice to meet Bernie G from Sydney. I am not sure what my finishing time was and I don't care. It was simply good fun.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Monday, July 23, 2007
Motivation - a love story Part 3
Cinderella, that tart! My Moty and her were having one of their feminine bonding sessions at the Fairybucks cafe when I found my lover and needed to convince her to come home.
What to do about Miss Motivation? Her story was my story, the great passion of my life.
As a runner she had nearly always been there when I felt good. But enter injury, sickness, cold mornings and other difficulties that life decides we need. Then she's off with the fairies to the Enchanted Forrest. She was reluctant, but I had a plan...
I would woo her. It would be the good, old fashioned way just like they do in the movies. I held out the promise of lemon-scented fresh linen and lavender bubble baths. We would be the free spirits of old, abandoning ourselves to the effects of fresh air, the fragrant soil and Mother Earth in all her glory. We would share the poetry of our souls. In my best Elvis voice, I would be singing "...I can't help falling in l-o-v-e with you..."
I threw in a tear for good measure. Not just any tear, but a masculine, briny tear, full of the saddest juice; a child's tear that spluttered when 'old yeller' bit the dust all those years ago. That's what I would show her. Something to make her go week at the knees.
It worked. Motivation came running into my arms (of course she came running). We clasped again, again and again never to leave.
She also made me happy by giving Cinderella the flick (personally, I never though much of the chick. I thought she would be better off with that other prissy thing, Snow White. Neither, I should add, are runners).
But then....what's this...."pfft"....a puff of smoke (cue puff of smoke, flash of lightning, claps of thunders, etc) hovers over my beloved. It's Motivation's Fairy God Mother, er, Father, along with a tiara, frumpy frock and hairy legs.
"Yes, it is Motivation's Fairy God Father" the voice proclaims. She...er...he continued:
"Motivation is like love; it can come and go when we least expect it. To get it back, you don't need Viagra (Ewen), you just need the right key to the right lock. Like love it can be found in the most unexpected places, under a rock, at the end of the rainbow, at the end of a race and our arms around sweaty salt-encrusted strangers...
...The real key to the lock is 'expectations'. We put expectations on ourselves, they sometimes immediately can't be met and, hey presto, the motivation slides, we give in".
"So what do we do about it", I said.
"Relax, my child. You don't need to go looking for love. It's a cliche, but it's true: just be yourself and love will come to you. Motivation is the same," he said. "Take one small step at a time, cross train, don't sweat it and in time you will start to feel your old self again...".
"Pfft." Then as suddenly as she..er...he had come, he was gone..gone with the wind...(heard that somewhere before I think??)
(cue angels singing, Mana falling from heaven, sound from Suncorp Stadium after Queensland State of Origin win, etc)
Alone at last with My Moty, our eyes met and danced a tango. Soul mates for life! A heart-felt reunion indeed (at your request Cirque)
Ever the optimist, Motivation gushed in relief to see me, "oooh you're so spunky! I want to go running but what if it rained, what if we got injured, what if it was cold..."
I cut her short. As we rode..er..ran off together hand in hand towards the setting sun, I blurted:
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."
And we lived happily ever after.
(cue soundtrack from 2001 Space Odyssey..)
da dah dum dum dum dum dum da da daaah da daaaah dum dum da daah...........
The End
*****
Post-script:
Well, that's enough of that. JayKay's post that she had lost her motivation and the many others I have read prompted me to use my imagination and have some fun. Whether I have been able to convey a useful message at the same time I will leave others to judge.
Tesso asked about the the mini-series. In my dreams I could pretend that Brad Pitt would play me. Debra Winger, Annette Bening, Cate Blanchett, Emma Thompson and Meryl Streep have been among my favourite actresses over the years and I would love to see them play Motivation. Not sure who would play the Fairy Godfather. Ideas? Maybe I could write the screenplay but I doubt I would have enough motivation to see it through!
Note: No fairies, fairy god fathers, or other creatures were hurt in the compilation of this drama. For overseas readers and those from southern Australian states, the Queensland State of Origin team is the world's greatest ever rugby league football team. Champions.
What to do about Miss Motivation? Her story was my story, the great passion of my life.
As a runner she had nearly always been there when I felt good. But enter injury, sickness, cold mornings and other difficulties that life decides we need. Then she's off with the fairies to the Enchanted Forrest. She was reluctant, but I had a plan...
I would woo her. It would be the good, old fashioned way just like they do in the movies. I held out the promise of lemon-scented fresh linen and lavender bubble baths. We would be the free spirits of old, abandoning ourselves to the effects of fresh air, the fragrant soil and Mother Earth in all her glory. We would share the poetry of our souls. In my best Elvis voice, I would be singing "...I can't help falling in l-o-v-e with you..."
I threw in a tear for good measure. Not just any tear, but a masculine, briny tear, full of the saddest juice; a child's tear that spluttered when 'old yeller' bit the dust all those years ago. That's what I would show her. Something to make her go week at the knees.
It worked. Motivation came running into my arms (of course she came running). We clasped again, again and again never to leave.
She also made me happy by giving Cinderella the flick (personally, I never though much of the chick. I thought she would be better off with that other prissy thing, Snow White. Neither, I should add, are runners).
But then....what's this...."pfft"....a puff of smoke (cue puff of smoke, flash of lightning, claps of thunders, etc) hovers over my beloved. It's Motivation's Fairy God Mother, er, Father, along with a tiara, frumpy frock and hairy legs.
"Yes, it is Motivation's Fairy God Father" the voice proclaims. She...er...he continued:
"Motivation is like love; it can come and go when we least expect it. To get it back, you don't need Viagra (Ewen), you just need the right key to the right lock. Like love it can be found in the most unexpected places, under a rock, at the end of the rainbow, at the end of a race and our arms around sweaty salt-encrusted strangers...
...The real key to the lock is 'expectations'. We put expectations on ourselves, they sometimes immediately can't be met and, hey presto, the motivation slides, we give in".
"So what do we do about it", I said.
"Relax, my child. You don't need to go looking for love. It's a cliche, but it's true: just be yourself and love will come to you. Motivation is the same," he said. "Take one small step at a time, cross train, don't sweat it and in time you will start to feel your old self again...".
"Pfft." Then as suddenly as she..er...he had come, he was gone..gone with the wind...(heard that somewhere before I think??)
(cue angels singing, Mana falling from heaven, sound from Suncorp Stadium after Queensland State of Origin win, etc)
Alone at last with My Moty, our eyes met and danced a tango. Soul mates for life! A heart-felt reunion indeed (at your request Cirque)
Ever the optimist, Motivation gushed in relief to see me, "oooh you're so spunky! I want to go running but what if it rained, what if we got injured, what if it was cold..."
I cut her short. As we rode..er..ran off together hand in hand towards the setting sun, I blurted:
"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."
And we lived happily ever after.
(cue soundtrack from 2001 Space Odyssey..)
da dah dum dum dum dum dum da da daaah da daaaah dum dum da daah...........
The End
*****
Post-script:
Well, that's enough of that. JayKay's post that she had lost her motivation and the many others I have read prompted me to use my imagination and have some fun. Whether I have been able to convey a useful message at the same time I will leave others to judge.
Tesso asked about the the mini-series. In my dreams I could pretend that Brad Pitt would play me. Debra Winger, Annette Bening, Cate Blanchett, Emma Thompson and Meryl Streep have been among my favourite actresses over the years and I would love to see them play Motivation. Not sure who would play the Fairy Godfather. Ideas? Maybe I could write the screenplay but I doubt I would have enough motivation to see it through!
Note: No fairies, fairy god fathers, or other creatures were hurt in the compilation of this drama. For overseas readers and those from southern Australian states, the Queensland State of Origin team is the world's greatest ever rugby league football team. Champions.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Motivation - a love story Part 2
"Oh, damn", I thought, suddenly amazed at my ability to speak in tongues. My high school English teacher would be proud.
The love of my life, Motivation, had disappeared in the trance of time. Some might say she wasn't mine alone.
Ha! She was. There was something different about My Moty. When the going had been good Motivation was my friend to accompany me, a runner, through races thick and thin. But now when I was injured, sick and sore she was gone. A rough diamond who couldn't handle things when the going got tough.
I was haunted by that song by Lennon and his bodgy-headed mates from Liverpool, "There's something in the way she moves..." Oh, so true. She moves alright, but not when I wanted her to and to places I knew not where. Which planet, which galaxy, which universe? I know men are from Mars and women are from god-knows-where but THIS was ridiculous!
Where had she gone? I had looked long and hard, yet I was left bereft. Things were at their worst. But isn't it strange that when things are at their worst that suddenly clarity - an epiphany - comes to us to show us the way through the puzzle.
Lance Armstrong said in is bestseller "It's not about the bike" that the irony of his chemotherapy treatment for cancer was the worse he felt, the better he got.
It is a bit like that for runners, too, missing their motivation. So often in running and in life all the world's nastiness can hit us all at once. Not nice. I felt like that after running the Boston marathon earlier this year when I got injured.
Yet I decided to use some reverse psychology on myself. I was feeling miserable and relying on others to get me out of the bog. In the end I felt that I 0nly I could get myself moving. And that's when I had the epiphany. That's when I said "stuff this", I was not going to allow myself to feel sorry for myself because I couldn't run. I was going to reverse the strength of those negative feelings to bounce upwards...
...certainly that is what I decided when it came to me and my absent lover, Motivation. Typically, when I became more positive in my thinking, Good News, another friend, raised her beautiful, beautiful head. She told me about Saffron.
And Saffron, the yellow fairy, one of those spunky little flitty things I had spoken to at the bottom of my garden told me about Motivation. There had been a sighting. "Oh, yus, yus," I cried, punching the air.
Motivation, she said, could be found in the Enchanted Forrest of Lost Hopes and Repressed Marathon Desires. Motivation was there with another flaky one called Cinderella. Both were in the said Forrest sipping caramel lattes and bemoaning their bad luck with the men of this world (or at least some world!).
Motivation and Cinderella were real girl friends, as only girls can be. They shared a fetish over shoes: Cinderella with ...well... at that stage she didn't have any. Motivation, of course, had her tailor-made size eight Brooks Adrenaline running shoes. (Please note, I say "hers" but they were actually unisex running shoes we both wore, such was the relationship we had.)
Oh, they could be catty too. Privately Motivation always felt that Cinderella's obsession with pumpkin carriages was a tad odd. Motivation ALWAYS preferred to run to the ball.
Still, they shared so much in common, and both wanted to be coveted by the best stallions in the land - Cinderella by some dude in leotards wearing a fluffy pink hat (and he had a kinky thing for glass slippers didn't he?). Motivation, I would hope, was thinking only of me.
Anyway, this is where I found my little cherished catty cherub - in the Enchanted Forrest with that siren, Cinderella. Just seeing her...my head spun with desire, engorged with endorphin-rich love again, and again...
Trying to ignore the tart sitting next to her, I pleaded to my Moty:
"My darling, the hills will be alive with the sound of music, our music. Our running steps, our breathing, our spirits would be entwined forever...if only you will come with me..."
"No"
"Wot"
"No"
What did she mean, NO? Just like that, NO! How could she? My oxygen-depleted brain cells couldn't take anymore of this. And they weren't going to take any more of this. I would fight for her. Release her from that fandango she seemed to be in with Cinderella.
I would get my Moty back. It was just that I was going to have to be smart. I had a plan...
TO BE CONTINUED
Will this story have a happy ending? Will I get my Motivation back? Does Viagra get to play a part? Who will play me in the television mini-series of this grand adventure?
Stay tuned for the final exciting installment of "Motivation - a love story" - which will be released at 7 pm Australian Eastern Standard Time on Monday 23 July.
Agents please note the exclusive rights to this story are currently under negotiation with the inhabitants of Planet Venus. It will then be available in all good book stores throughout the universe.
The love of my life, Motivation, had disappeared in the trance of time. Some might say she wasn't mine alone.
Ha! She was. There was something different about My Moty. When the going had been good Motivation was my friend to accompany me, a runner, through races thick and thin. But now when I was injured, sick and sore she was gone. A rough diamond who couldn't handle things when the going got tough.
I was haunted by that song by Lennon and his bodgy-headed mates from Liverpool, "There's something in the way she moves..." Oh, so true. She moves alright, but not when I wanted her to and to places I knew not where. Which planet, which galaxy, which universe? I know men are from Mars and women are from god-knows-where but THIS was ridiculous!
Where had she gone? I had looked long and hard, yet I was left bereft. Things were at their worst. But isn't it strange that when things are at their worst that suddenly clarity - an epiphany - comes to us to show us the way through the puzzle.
Lance Armstrong said in is bestseller "It's not about the bike" that the irony of his chemotherapy treatment for cancer was the worse he felt, the better he got.
It is a bit like that for runners, too, missing their motivation. So often in running and in life all the world's nastiness can hit us all at once. Not nice. I felt like that after running the Boston marathon earlier this year when I got injured.
Yet I decided to use some reverse psychology on myself. I was feeling miserable and relying on others to get me out of the bog. In the end I felt that I 0nly I could get myself moving. And that's when I had the epiphany. That's when I said "stuff this", I was not going to allow myself to feel sorry for myself because I couldn't run. I was going to reverse the strength of those negative feelings to bounce upwards...
...certainly that is what I decided when it came to me and my absent lover, Motivation. Typically, when I became more positive in my thinking, Good News, another friend, raised her beautiful, beautiful head. She told me about Saffron.
And Saffron, the yellow fairy, one of those spunky little flitty things I had spoken to at the bottom of my garden told me about Motivation. There had been a sighting. "Oh, yus, yus," I cried, punching the air.
Motivation, she said, could be found in the Enchanted Forrest of Lost Hopes and Repressed Marathon Desires. Motivation was there with another flaky one called Cinderella. Both were in the said Forrest sipping caramel lattes and bemoaning their bad luck with the men of this world (or at least some world!).
Motivation and Cinderella were real girl friends, as only girls can be. They shared a fetish over shoes: Cinderella with ...well... at that stage she didn't have any. Motivation, of course, had her tailor-made size eight Brooks Adrenaline running shoes. (Please note, I say "hers" but they were actually unisex running shoes we both wore, such was the relationship we had.)
Oh, they could be catty too. Privately Motivation always felt that Cinderella's obsession with pumpkin carriages was a tad odd. Motivation ALWAYS preferred to run to the ball.
Still, they shared so much in common, and both wanted to be coveted by the best stallions in the land - Cinderella by some dude in leotards wearing a fluffy pink hat (and he had a kinky thing for glass slippers didn't he?). Motivation, I would hope, was thinking only of me.
Anyway, this is where I found my little cherished catty cherub - in the Enchanted Forrest with that siren, Cinderella. Just seeing her...my head spun with desire, engorged with endorphin-rich love again, and again...
Trying to ignore the tart sitting next to her, I pleaded to my Moty:
"My darling, the hills will be alive with the sound of music, our music. Our running steps, our breathing, our spirits would be entwined forever...if only you will come with me..."
"No"
"Wot"
"No"
What did she mean, NO? Just like that, NO! How could she? My oxygen-depleted brain cells couldn't take anymore of this. And they weren't going to take any more of this. I would fight for her. Release her from that fandango she seemed to be in with Cinderella.
I would get my Moty back. It was just that I was going to have to be smart. I had a plan...
TO BE CONTINUED
Will this story have a happy ending? Will I get my Motivation back? Does Viagra get to play a part? Who will play me in the television mini-series of this grand adventure?
Stay tuned for the final exciting installment of "Motivation - a love story" - which will be released at 7 pm Australian Eastern Standard Time on Monday 23 July.
Agents please note the exclusive rights to this story are currently under negotiation with the inhabitants of Planet Venus. It will then be available in all good book stores throughout the universe.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Motivation - a love story
My blogger mate, JayKay, says she has lost her motivation with running and I know that many others, including myself, have had the same problem in recent months. So I thought I would share some thoughts on how I found my motivation again.
This (said with booming god-like voice over) is a true story....
Motivation and I were lovers. But she was flaky; definitely a fair weather friend. When everything's hunky dory there she is, along side, hand in hand, lapping up the good times. Yet when the weather turns foul, injuries appear and other problems intrude, this lady seems to take flight. Just when I need her the most she goes missing in action - MIA. Some friend.
This happened to me earlier in the year. Motivation and I had been together in Boston for the marathon, a great lovers' tryst if ever there was one. After I came home from Boston, I got injured and stopped running. Motivation was gone. I stopped blogging. The world was the pitts.
I was like a lost puppy in love....panting.....frantic. I looked for my Motivation. I remembered all the great times we had together, remembered the special times, moments when we looked into each other's eyes and only saw a galaxy of stars. Remembered the soft loving touches; the embraces, our breathing up close and decadent..frosted, sparkling like dew, melting as one. Our feelings were really butterflies landing on our hearts, contented. Not since Caesar and Cleopatra and that cad, Antony, had there been love like this. We were runners and lovers; lovers of fun, who would run to love, and love to run and...um...have fun.
We had traveled together to the great cities of the world. Our romance blossomed in London, New York, Tokyo, Washington, Singapore, Bangkok, Beijing, Vienna, Geneva, Sydney - the hills of Canberra. The world was our oyster and what an aphrodisiac.
Who needed Viagra? It was bliss...it was passion...it was freedom rubbed raw... it was a romp through the hills and valleys of Nature's grand adventure...sunset and sunrises...rolling in the waves of a sea of lustful eternity with the sand getting in all the wrong places. God it was good. Just me and Motivation, Motivation and I. The two of us. My Moty.
Then she was gone. Just like that. Gone. Emptiness, loneliness. My soul, a vacant pit looking over a tundra of sadness and fallen tears...."oh Motivation, oh Motivation, where art thou Motivation..."?
How could she do this to me after all we had been through together. This was hell. I looked far and wide, high and low, long and short, up and down, inclined and upclined; through and back; looked under my bed, spoke to the fairies at the bottom of the garden but no-one, not one person had seen Motivation.
I needed a sign from her. Something. Anything. A clue from her that our old magic could be restored.
Things where at their worst and I was in the gutter of despair. Then something happened. I had my epiphany.....
TO BE CONTINUED
Please note the next installment may be R-rated. That means - especially for my US and UK friends - it could be adults only...(oh goody, very naughty...ssshh!)
This (said with booming god-like voice over) is a true story....
Motivation and I were lovers. But she was flaky; definitely a fair weather friend. When everything's hunky dory there she is, along side, hand in hand, lapping up the good times. Yet when the weather turns foul, injuries appear and other problems intrude, this lady seems to take flight. Just when I need her the most she goes missing in action - MIA. Some friend.
This happened to me earlier in the year. Motivation and I had been together in Boston for the marathon, a great lovers' tryst if ever there was one. After I came home from Boston, I got injured and stopped running. Motivation was gone. I stopped blogging. The world was the pitts.
I was like a lost puppy in love....panting.....frantic. I looked for my Motivation. I remembered all the great times we had together, remembered the special times, moments when we looked into each other's eyes and only saw a galaxy of stars. Remembered the soft loving touches; the embraces, our breathing up close and decadent..frosted, sparkling like dew, melting as one. Our feelings were really butterflies landing on our hearts, contented. Not since Caesar and Cleopatra and that cad, Antony, had there been love like this. We were runners and lovers; lovers of fun, who would run to love, and love to run and...um...have fun.
We had traveled together to the great cities of the world. Our romance blossomed in London, New York, Tokyo, Washington, Singapore, Bangkok, Beijing, Vienna, Geneva, Sydney - the hills of Canberra. The world was our oyster and what an aphrodisiac.
Who needed Viagra? It was bliss...it was passion...it was freedom rubbed raw... it was a romp through the hills and valleys of Nature's grand adventure...sunset and sunrises...rolling in the waves of a sea of lustful eternity with the sand getting in all the wrong places. God it was good. Just me and Motivation, Motivation and I. The two of us. My Moty.
Then she was gone. Just like that. Gone. Emptiness, loneliness. My soul, a vacant pit looking over a tundra of sadness and fallen tears...."oh Motivation, oh Motivation, where art thou Motivation..."?
How could she do this to me after all we had been through together. This was hell. I looked far and wide, high and low, long and short, up and down, inclined and upclined; through and back; looked under my bed, spoke to the fairies at the bottom of the garden but no-one, not one person had seen Motivation.
I needed a sign from her. Something. Anything. A clue from her that our old magic could be restored.
Things where at their worst and I was in the gutter of despair. Then something happened. I had my epiphany.....
TO BE CONTINUED
Please note the next installment may be R-rated. That means - especially for my US and UK friends - it could be adults only...(oh goody, very naughty...ssshh!)
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Skippy versus Freud and his couch
Cold, (-3 to -4) frosty, and foggy conditions greeted my Saturday running group as we went through our paces over familiar turf this morning through Isaacs, Mt Wanniassa and Mt Taylor in Canberra's southern suburbs. From the top of Mt Taylor, Telstra Tower (left) put on a show as it rocketed through the heavy fog over central Canberra.For part of the run I had a really interesting chat about the mental side of ru
nning with Emma, one of the stalwarts from our Saturday group, a psychiatrist in real life, and a damn good runner. (That's her at right approaching the top of Isaacs Ridge during a recent group run.) Freud and his couch still might have a place somewhere in modern psychiatry but Emma said that exercise plays an important role in therapy to treat d
epression these days.This is hardly a surprise. As even Skippy and her joey would know (at left on Cooleman Ridge recently), running makes us feel good. That endorphin release and good honest sweat seems to reduce anxiety and create well being.
But I think intangibles come into play too. A run - any run - is a journey isn't? There's a start, a middle, and an end. While we often focus internally on our own thoughts during a run, the tug of the external is never far away. Whether its is the chat with a ru
nning buddy, or simply 'to finish', there's more to think about than just ourselves. Finishing any run is a challenge of sorts in itself.And what price does one put on being at 'out there' at one with Nature, a great sunrise, and intoxicated with cold, crisp air and the 'sounds of silence'.
Life will give us plenty of mountains to run. But more often than not, as runners, we have the skills to confront those challenges...and win.
In short, to get more out of life we don't have to read Rhonda Byrne's The Secret and learn something slick marketing is trying to convince us is exclusive information when it's the bleeding obvious (and contribute to Byrne's handsome royalities at the same time). Nor do we need to watch re-runs of Mr Bean to feel good about this world.
For the real answers talk to Eddie who ran at PB at Canberra this year. Ask the inspirational Cirque about the tremendous gains she is making in her return to running. Speak to Tesso about the blinder she ran recently at the Gold Coast, or Aki and her own recent 5k PB and her health battles, or PLU, the Owl, Blkbox, Lucky Legs or a myriad of other wonderful runners and people who have come to overcome adversity and challenges through running.
Through running all of us have the capacity in ourself and with those who share the spirit to have fun. And fun I am going to have. So stuff negativity! Stuff you too Dr Freud and your couch!
Skippy knows the real secret. And I don't have to go to a book store and pay $25 for the 'privilege' of finding that out. So there!
Saturday, July 07, 2007
London and its pigeons
I've just returned from another overseas work trip, this time to Europe. While I was in that part of the world I decided to fly over to London last weekend to fulfill a life-long dream of feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square.You can imagine my disgust, though, when I did get there and discovered you were not allowed to feed the poor blighters. What a travesty!!
There's one of the dispossessed of the Earth (at right), meek, mild...and unfed (you poor little thing, I know how you feel).Frustrated that I unable to fulfill my aviary ambitions I decided to go running with London's Serpentine running club instead. I had a beaut time with the Serpies running their Three Parks run that takes in Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, Green Park and St James Park.
You get to see the landmarks including Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Downing Street, Marble Arch, and so on. On our run, as if on cue, Her Majesty's Horse Guards came clip, clop, clip, clop, clopping down the road at one point obviously off to guard horses somewhere. Strange place this England.
Anyway, the run was fun. A whole bunch of us started the run from Speakers' Corner in Hyde Park but for the most part I ran in a quartet: with a Brit, an Irishman living in London, and a young American living in London. There was me the Aussie marveling at the wonders of this world where I could be running over a Monopoly Board one week and then zooming around Canberra's outlying hills a week later.
It rained during the run - this was England after all - and my nipples got rather sore from rubbing against my wet shirt. So I caused a bit of shock and awe to the locals by taking off my top and running bare chested through central London.
Now I know they
have had to put up with a lot over the years with the Blitz and all that but I distinctly heard some oohs and aaahs from some adoring natives when they saw my Herculean physique trundle around town. This was pleasing. Well, Hewitt had not won at Wimbledon again and someone had to do their bit for Australian masculinity! (That's me and my body from a few year's back - the hat? don't ask!).Not so pleasing was the little episode with a mother and baby at Heathrow airport as I was trying to escape this lofty old town the next day. There I was sitting alone in Terminal Two, seeking solitude, wanting to be at one with the world, needing karma...and desperately trying to hold my head steady to relieve the effects of a grade ten hangover. I had had a great previous night at the South Bank area of the Thames with friends. I was accompanied by too, too much red wine, and a 'gay' dog called Hooper (or was it Hoover. Such was my alcohol induced fog from that evening, I can't remember for sure! Hoover is a strange name for a dog. Then again this is England.)
So there I was grieving the loss of clear headed innocence when a mother decided to change her baby's nappy right next to me. I couldn't believe this latest travesty - strange place this England! My grade ten hangover was matched by the force ten odor that emanated from that young thing. I almost brought up my own chemical warfare hazard to equalize the biological toxin that had emerged and was clearly visible next to me. Aren't there international treaties to guard against this sort of thing???
Ah, England! It was my third trip to the Old Dart and I did miss the place. It was good to be back. The pidgeons clearly had missed me too! (At right, London lights and sunset shortly before landing)
During the week back in Canberra I had the privilege of catching up for a cuppa with Owen, son of Cirque. We had a lovely night and this was one very impressive Cirquette (at left with glasses).
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