another stinker

It’s a stinker in Melbourne again today, but not as bad as yesterday. In terms of stinkiness, today is like a new-born baby’s nappy – stinky and kinda gross, but nowhere near as foul smelling as a baby who’s started on solids.

Apologies to the non-breeders out there.

Thankfully, this morning was relatively cool. I took the opportunity to dash out for a long run. 25km around the streets near me.

I’m not back into full fitness, but I felt a lot better than my last attempt at this distance a few weeks ago. I even managed to overtake a cyclist going up Kent Street in Croydon. Admittedly he looked like he was about to cark it, but still….

I’m melting

Hot weather sucks the big one, not to put too fine a point on it.

There’s absolutely nothing to be said in favour of it. You can’t run to any great degree (although I note some people don’t seem to realise this) and you can’t really do any gardening. The lists of things you can’t do stretches on and on, until all you have left that you can do is sit around and swelter in the house.

Actually, I take that back. There’s one thing to be said for hot weather – it makes the inside of Eastland Shopping Centre look vaguely attractive. If you knew my thoughts on Eastland, you would know how amazing that is.

Anyway, no running today. I did pay a brief visit to the pool and clambered up and down a few times. Plus the visit to Eastland, which exercised whatever muscles you use to grind your teeth.

honorable member

Here in Australia our politicians have a habit of bleating about their “years of loyal service” and how they need a pay raise to reward their “high performance”.

Next time your local honorable member starts off on that track, remind them of this:

Bhutto assassinated

The member for Deakin or Eden-Monaro should think themselves lucky they’re not running for office in Pakistan where, if they don’t like you, they shoot you then they blow you up. Presumably, if that doesn’t work, they make you watch endless repeats of Two and a Half Men until you rip your own eyes out of their sockets.

Running
Today is the start of a run of super-hot days here in Melbourne, so I got up relatively early and attempted a hill session. It was okay – 16 * 1 minute hills, working hard up the hills while trying to keep relatively good form and then jogging down. With warm-up and cool-down it turned out to be 12.2km.

restraint in exercise

I’m not one of those runners who obsess about their weight, or looks or health, other than wanting to be healthy enough to run. I probably only weigh myself once or twice a year – only really when I shower at my mother-in-law’s. She has a set of scales in the bathroom.

I was over there yesterday and found myself a kilo or two above fighting/marathon weight. That’s to be expected I guess, the season being what it is. Also, it’s been a while since I put in a 100km week.

It’s really not a worry – I still struggle to find pants small enough to fit me.

But I did put in an uncharacteristically long mid-week run last night. It was 18km, including a couple of laps of Croydon Golf Course. Again, not a great run, but I had some pleasing sections around the CGC, and some nice steady work over the hilly sections, such as they were.

boxing

Oooooh baby, was that a grumpy post or what? It’s amazing what a boring day at work, the flu and 4 days off running will do to a person.

Thankfully, as I pen this humble missive, the grumpiness, like Christmas itself – there’s a strange coincidence – is more or less over.

We contrived, somehow, to spend most of the day lolling about in the sunshine; self toying with the barbecue and assorted family members gambolling around with their new toys.

The little one is too small to understand the alleged joys of Christmas: he’s entirely indifferent to presents and thinks Santa is scary. He and I are of one mind on that score. But he does like toy trucks, books, sausages and the new sand-pit – all at once if possible. So all was good.

Running
But reader, and here comes the real secret, I managed a morning run! Joy of joys! The lord omnipotent reigneth!!! or something along those lines.

Now, I’m not claiming this morning’s run as a particularly good session. It was a fairly pedestrian 14k, taking in the Dorset Golf course and surrounds. But it was pleasant, and the various dog-walkers and joggers all seemed in particularly gregarious moods.

Clouds on the horizon
The problem is actually that there aren’t any (clouds on the horizon, that is). It’s going to be 38 effin‘ degrees next Monday, and 37 the following day. Woe is me.

Ah well, not much I can do about that I suppose. I’m off now to watch the Panel. I know I’m not going to like it, but somehow I don’t feel able to stop myself.

sigh….

Dear reader, my supplies of the Christmas spirit, already at historically low levels, are officially at a low ebb.

Think of it as something like the water shortages. Back when you and I were kids it used to rain more or less constantly from May to October, Lake Eildon was a lake and if you planted some vegies in your backyard, you had a reasonable chance of them growing.

No longer. 10 years of below average rainfall have put paid to that. They graze cows where Lake Eildon used to be. Cows!

They might as well graze cows in the bits where my Christmas spirit used to be, cause there’s nothing there now, let me tell you.

It doesn’t help that I’m right at the peak of a case of the flu, that I’m stuck here at work and that I haven’t run for four days. Four days without running is enough to give me the major grumps at the best of times.

Saturday’s trip to Eastland was probably ill-advised too. If you’ve ever tried to feed baby-chino to a screaming 17 month-old in a cafe outside “Hairhouse warehouse” you’ll know what I’m talking about.

There’s nothing for it but to grit my teeth and bear it. In a couple of days the phlegm will recede, taking with it the tinsel, holly and mince pies and then life will get back to normal. Touch wood.

Apologies
I’m aware this post isn’t exactly brimming over with happiness and joy, but it’s the best I can do. The original draft (yes I draft these things sometimes) was littered with four-letter words of an extremely unsavoury nature.

Update
A few hours later, and I’m not so grumpy. I’m still sick, but not in the same biting-people’s-heads-off kinda mood.

I’ve just realised I’m not there is out soon. That’s a good thing, or it would be if I ever managed to get to the movies.

On the plus side, it’s about Dylan, who’s more of an influence on me than just about anyone else on this earth, and it’s directed by Todd Haynes who made one of the most beautiful films ever released (Far from heaven). Also, it has Christian Bale, who was by far the best Batman yet.

On the down-side, it has Heath Ledger, who, along with Will.I.am, is a living, breathing personification of the word “wanker”. Also, Cate Blanchett who, despite being more beautiful than any human being has a right to be, manages to spoil almost everything she puts her hand on.

She does look strangely like Dylan though, don’t you think?

Disturbing.

I would walk 500 miles….

… and I would walk 500 more. Actually, as of this morning, I’ve run slightly over 2000 miles in the last year. See my 2007 training log.

So does that make me the man who walks 2000 miles to fall down at your door?

Very possibly. Falling down at a door sounds quite attractive at the moment.

Running
Yes: as I hinted above, I went out for a sticky, sweaty, humid lap of the tan this morning. What with one thing and another, it ended up being 9k all up.

Storm
No sooner had I made it back to work from that run, than a great big storm – it must have been practically snapping at my heels – took a bit of a crack at my office building. The lightning stupidly missed my boss, but did manage to hit whatever drives the ‘lectricity for the place, so the combined workforce was left twiddling various thumbs and making stilted conversation.

Apparently the same storm beat up on a couple of defenceless trams shortly afterwards. Temper, temper!

Marriage
Robert Wiblin of Malvern SA has achieved the hitherto thought impossible feat of smuggling some good sense into the letters page of the Australian newspaper. I’m so astonished by this, that I thought I should reprint his letter in full:

Both opposition to and support for civil unions makes me wonder why we need our government to judge and regulate private relationships at all.

There is no compelling reason to have any laws regarding marriage nor even keep public records of marital status. Insofar as marriage is formed for financial purposes it should be a private legal contract. Insofar as it is a symbolic action, it is best left as a private covenant, overseen by a church or other institution at a couple’s discretion.

By fiddling with our tax and welfare payments depending on our relationship status, the government is engaging in unnecessary social engineering. In a liberal society, we must all be free to form, recognise and ignore human relationships as we see fit. The government should have no more role administering marriage than administering friendships.
The Australia, 20 December 2007

What do you think?

pete doherty

I’m getting forgetful in my old age. Yesterday’s post on “scary-things” missed the big one: Pete Doherty.

Pete (I believe I can call him that, we’d be on first-name terms if we ever met) is the 21st century equivalent of the boogie man. Tell your naughty children if they don’t play nicely they’ll turn into this:

That’ll put them on the straight and narrow.

All of this goes some way to explaining how disappointing this news is:

Pete to run a marathon

If he does run a marathon, and presumably quits the ciggies, crack, smack, booze, eccies, Maccas, dope, mince pies and Kate Moss, what will we have left to scare our kiddies with?

Amy Winehouse? Santa Clause? Phillip Ruddock? Hey, that might work.

Update
If you have teenage daughters, there’s always this:

Britney’s 16 year-old sister pregnant

You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t tie her legs together.