apologies

No running today, as yet, and precious little time for blogging either. How can I work when I keep getting these emails saying “Topic – Run for the kids 2008 has been updated” every 20 seconds. Yes, yes, I know if I stopped answering them, they wouldn’t come. But, take that to it’s logical conclusion and I may, horror of horrors, have to do some work.

We can’t have that.

The Ausrun forum emails almost outnumbered the proper, hard-core spam today. My gmail account usually gets the “we can make your penis bigger/longer/faster/tastier/paint red go-faster stripes down the side” type things, but for some reason the world’s spammers decided when I’m at work I want to buy a dodgy watch. I’m bombarded with invitations to buy “genuyne” Rolexs and other brands who’s names I don’t recall. Odd.

Anyway, by mid afternoon I had finally wearied of look of photos of Jojo getting sloshed at 11am, so I earned my exorbitant salary with a brisk 20 minutes emailing, and then chooffed off home, ready for bed. If I make it that long, I may spend some time getting acquainted with Master Carey on Andrew Denton’s show, but only if I manage to fend off oblivion and unconsciousness for a few more hours.

“Oblivion and unconsciousness”, “Wayne Carey”. The two concepts have an odd sort of resonance together. Or is it me?

Time
If you happen to be one of those churchy types who think obivion’s just around the corner, you might have cause to be a bit nervous right about now. Eh? Why, you ask me? Because the very fabric of time is crumbling around us.

My computer says it’s 19:25, the lift at work thinks it’s 18:24, and the real time is???? Is there such a thing as “real time” any more?

My trusty, reliable, watch (which Em sneeringly referred to as “analog” on Sunday) thinks it’s last Tuesday. Actually, it thinks it’s Mardi, as it’s a bilingual watch that has somehow lost the ability to speak English. I can’t hide my disappointment: it only had to remember 7 words.

ran for the kids

Well “the kids” have been run for yet again, I wonder if they realise all this is happening on their behalf?

Race report
I woke this morning, as expected, with several red hot pokers jabbing into my lower back, courtesy of a Saturday spent gardening. Bloody gardening. Also, what seemed to be the beginnings of a cold. Thankfully I had a 3km run to Ringwood station in freezing pitch blackness – that’s always good for colds.

The run cheered me up a touch, but Ringwood station had the opposite effect. When I finally made it into town I was accosted by a veritable blogging triumvirate of Jojo, Em and AJH, all of whom were looking sprightly, cheerful and raring to go, in which respect they differed markedly from me. A few minutes worth of good natured banter followed and then what felt like a v. rushed start. I was expecting 20 minutes of “entertainment” from a Mix 101.1 DJ. Bummer.

There were two starts, for some unkown reason. Jojo et al headed down the low road (typical) while I took the high road. That was the last I saw of the three blogidos.

The first 3km were pretty good, comfortable, fast and breezy. I made it over the Bolte feeling fine, even taking note of the scenery. Between 9km and 10km I started to feel a touch grumpy. Morsey was there yelling encouragement.

Note to self: must remind Morsey that “JRuns” is not actually my real name.

I continued grumping over the Collins street bridge then cheered up at the casino, past Flinders street and managed a piffling little kick at the end. It worked out slightly over 56 minutes, so I’m not too upset.

After collecting water, lollies, wifey and offspring in that order, we all trooped down to Transport, where a rather bemused functionary refused us entry on the grounds that the place wasn’t open for another 45 minutes. Petty, I call it.

I felt it beneath my dignity to be seen lining up outside a pub at 10:15am, so we headed home to the blessed anonymity of the Eastern suburbs.

gardening, running, kids, earth hour

I’ve pretty much ruined my chances of a fast Run for the kids time by spending today doing the “g” word (gardening). Our front lawn, never the most impressive lawns at the best of times, has been at death’s door for the past two summers. We decided to put it out of its misery, so paid some guy $60 to drop half a truck load of steaming mulch in the middle of the yard. I spent most of today spreading it out all over the place – carrying buckets of wierdly steaming rotting vegetation around the shop.

Still, it’s marginally more enjoyable than work.

I’ve done pretty well at RFTK in previous years – both under an hour, last year 56 minutes something. I should aim for somewhere around that pace, but I’m not overly confident. I have a nasty feeling I’ll wake up tomorrow with a sore back.

Pictures
That’s the last time I post pictures of myself running online. Something about the site of me sweaty, unshaven, dressed in very little and breathing heavily seems to bring out the worst in my little coterie of commenters.

Earth hour
I’ve just been told it’s Earth hour at 8pm tonight. I gather the idea is we are all to turn off our lights for a while, thereby raising the world’s level of environmental smugness and self-righteousness. Or something.

I’ll turn the lights out all-right. I don’t want to be the only one. Besides – I should be able to see alright by the light of the plasma screen. If I leave the fridge open that should take care of the kitchen.

it ain’t pretty, but…

I could never be bothered shaving on the morning of a race. There doesn’t seem any point making myself presentable. I mean, look at this, from Monday’s run…

No amount of shaving’s going to make that look good! The photographers at SC races normally make a point of looking elsewhere when I approach. I applaud their sturdy common sense, in that regard. However, they must have had some new guys on last weekend. I’m all over the place:

and yet again…

Incidentally – it looks like I came 7th in the 10km. See the SC results page. That’s gratifying, especially when I felt so down about the result, post race.

Running
I ran last night around my local streets – 13km. No big deal. Just a run.

Comments
The “Akismet” spam filter thingamajig that wordpress uses seems to have taken a dislike to AJH and Em recently. I can’t think why. Possibly it knows something I don’t.

I think I’ve un-spammed you guys now, but I can’t be sure.

blood-suckers

I had rather a good run planned for this lunch-time and even went as far as getting changed before a nasty wardrobe malfunction ruined it all. I won’t go into the details as I don’t wish to upset the kiddies or put you off your wheaties. Suffice it to say: it ain’t pretty.

It wasn’t such a great loss, Melbourne seems to have gone from the height of summer to deep, dark winter in the blink of an eye. It seems like yesterday all the talk was about the best way to cram ice into various items of clothing, today every man and his dog is wrapped up in seven layers of thermal underwear. Weird.

Weird
Even wierder – have a look at this:

Demi Moore’s leech of faith
Demi Moore covers herself in blood-sucking leeches to keep her skin looking fresh.

My first thought was “that’s no way to describe Ashton Kutcher”. But no, I read on:

You watch it [the leech] swell up on your blood, watching it get fatter and fatter – then when it’s super drunk on your blood it just kind of rolls over like it is stumbling out of the bar.

Surely that’s cruelty to animals, isn’t it? Even leeches have rights, especially the right not to be subjected to Demi Moore.

Ugh.

run fatboy run

The JH family, or at least those old enough to appreciate such things, all trooped out to our local multiplex last night to view this particular piece of cinematic culture:

Run, Fat Boy, Run

It’s not so bad, as movies go.

Basic plot: our hero leaves gorgeous pregnant wife at the alter and, surprisingly, no-one’s pleased. Some years later, in a futile attempt to win back her respect, he enters a marathon, having never run before. Amusing jokes ensue about running shorts, chafing, KY jelly on the nipples etc.

It was directed by David Schwimmer, who I believe was Ross from Friends in a former life. Thankfully, “Ross” managed to keep his face out of the movie.

I grumbled a bit, as expected, at the factual errors in the film. The most glaring was the way the marathon organisers kept the course open for 14 hours or so. That’s not going to happen in a major city….

Running
12km this morning, in bright crisp cool sunshine. It was a lovely morning and a good time was had by all. Well, by me. I’m not sure what A/M thought of it.

Heckling
I’ve noticed a rise in the JH heckling rate in the past week. P’raps it’s the new shorts, I don’t know. I was favoured with that wonderful old witticism “Run Forrest Run!” shouted from the back seat of a car in Kilsyth (I believe that’s the natural habitat of the runner heckler). This morning a man in his 60s on a racing bike shouted at me as I lumbered up the William Barack bridge “buy a bike!”.

Buy a bike???? Why??? I have a bike. I’d just rather run. I don’t understand his point. Oh well.

le tour

Apologies to those amongst you who are of the lycra-lout community – the title of today’s post has nothing to do with a certain gallic velocipede competition. I have no intention of entering the tour de france, or the tour de anything for that matter.

I was a bit more interested in this:

Monumental change for Paris skyline

Apparently, the French are cheerfully disregarding the “if you’re on to a good thing” rule and are set up upgrade the Eiffel Tower. I, for one, like the new version. It’s a little bit Belle Epoque, a bit Maison Rouge and generally pretty funky.

I am a bit worried it might take off in high winds, but I assume they’ve thought of that. Perhaps that’s part of a plan. Along comes a stiff westerly, picks up the 300 metre spike and drops it somewhere across the channel.

Here are some pictures:

10km pb at burnley

I decided last night to run the Sri Chinmoy run at Burnley after eating a million hot cross buns the previous day and consequently feeling fairly flabby and evil.

I made it there by about 7:30, just in time to register, stand in line for 10 minutes for a pre-race bog and then jog up and down a bit to warm up the calcified muscles.

There were the usual bunch of Cool Running types, PJ and Tiger Boy, but curiously no Em who seems to have given up running for a life of alcohol-fuelled debauchery. As you do.

Aside from being manhandled by Tiger Boy, I felt the usual SC-type relaxed atmosphere and wasn’t worried about the race much.

My first 5k felt pretty restrained – I was running on feel as I forgot to note the time at the start. I started to feel a the pace a bit at 6 km and then felt my technique getting a bit ragged between 8 and 9km but I brought it home relatively strongly in 38m 12seconds. It was a PB for me, but slightly disappointing.

On the plus side – I was overtaking people the whole way and wasn’t overtaken. On the minus side, I felt my technique was woeful, and I’m sure I could have strolled home at this pace 7 months ago.

I do think I have a 37 or even 36 minute 10k in me if I prepare at all well.