the waiting is over

A short post again today, as you might imagine I have a couple of things to do.

Team JH has a new member as of about 12:15am this morning. However, I don’t imagine Matilda will be up to much in the way of running for a while, as she’s only about 50cm long and tends to sleep a fair bit. She is pretty strong and healthy (she weighed 8 pounds 10) so I have high hopes.

Everyone’s safe and healthy and I’ve managed to grab some sleep this morning, despite the efforts of the construction guys next door.

old wives

When last we spoke I was all of a tizz, frantically rushing around the house in an effort to remember all the tiny little things one brings to the hospital. I had barely enough time to post a well-crafted sentence or two, before rushing, maternity ward-bound, to greet the new arrival.

Or so I thought…

It was something of a false alarm. I could go into the details, but frankly this is a family blog, and there are some things that are best left in the delivery suite.

So, the new arrival is now a week late. Stress, irritation.

Old wives’ tales that, 10 days ago, we would have laughed at, now seem quite sensible. Dangle 5 cent coins? It could work. Castor oil? Not sure what that is, but at this stage it’s a possible.

Running
9km yesterday morning around Lilydale lake.

shortest post ever

There’s a chance all the waiting around is finally over. Will post more, hopefully soon. Cross fingers.

more sighs

Ah, woe is me! I tell you: by the amount of twiddling of anguished thumbs in my house at present, we’re all in serious danger of developing RSI.

I suppose I should be grateful: we’re being taught valuable life lessons – patience, humility, grace under pressure.

Bugger that.

Running
None. Today was my last day at work today, at least for a while, so everyone wanted a piece of my time. I should feel pleased about this normally, but they all just wanted things done.

So no time for running during the day.

Tonight I’m just too fagged and the air outside is foul and rotten, like that filthy sock I left in the back of the closet for three months last year.

sigh

There’s a fair bit of sighing going on in the JH house at present, but precious little else.

If you’re up on events chez JH, that oughtta tell you all you need to know.

Hamburgers
I wrote, some days ago, on the considerable desirability of old-fashioned red-blooded, beet-rooted hamburgers. The prospect of a burger with a fried egg loomed like some marvellous mirage in a desert of chick-peas and organic boredom.

What with one thing or another, it wasn’t until tonight that the dream came to fruition, and even then I had to make it myself. But gosh, it was worth it!

Running
10km or thereabouts this morning with A/M. The “f” word per kilometre ratio was considerably down compared to previous weeks, which either means she’s getting fitter or is becoming a reformed soul.

three great mysteries

Lately at the JH house, there’s been a fair bit of sitting around, twiddling of thumbs and pondering of life’s great mysteries. Here are three that occurred to me last night, in front of the idiot box.

1. Miley Cyrus: I hadn’t heard of her until last Sunday, but apparently she’s the phenomenally successful star of “Hannah Montana” (no? me neither) and a pop star in her own right. Also she’s the daughter of Billy Ray Cyrus, he of “achy breaky heart” fame.

What’s the mystery? Well, according to wikipedia, she was born “Destiny Hope Cyrus” and changed her name later on. Hey, if my name was Destiny Hope Cyrus, I would too. But “Miley”???? Her reasoning was that, as a child, she was particularly smiley, so Miley seemed logical. Strange. Very strange. I think aliens were involved somehow.

2. Claire Hooper. Allegedly a comedian. Does anyone actually think she’s funny? How does she keep getting a gig on TV? It’s a mystery.

3. The assistant District Attorneys on Law and Order are ALL effing gorgeous. How can that be? I don’t understand. Do they not have homely lawyers in New York? Does being on the cover of Vogue get you special entry into NYU law school?

Running
A bit of a choof around the Croydon Golf Course this morning. 12km or thereabouts. No further comment.

I’ll let you go

Is there a more dishonest thing to say than this:

I’ll let you go

It’s usually used towards the end of phone calls, but also used at about the point when you’re about to get fired. In that case, it’s usually more like “I’ll have to let you go”, said in regretful tones.

Either way, it’s pretty insincere.

When you say “I’ll let you go” to someone on the phone it sounds like “I know you have plenty of exciting things you’d rather be doing than talking to boring old me”. But what you really mean is “get stuffed, you’re boring me. Go away.”

Personally, I’d rather be told to go away, flat out.

I like language that says what it means, even if what it means is pretty offensive.

any minute now

Last year was a bit of a super-running year for me. Over 3,200 kilometres covered in training, two marathons, a PB in the half and two in the full. All good stuff.

This year is a fair bit more laid back. I ran the 30km Maroondah Dam run earlier in the year, the Run for the Kids and a Sri Chinmoy 10km a few weeks ago but I don’t plan on anything serious. No Trailwalker, no 150km training weeks, nothing.

The reason for all of this is about to show his or her face any minute now. In fact, we were expecting movement at the station yesterday. Pretty soon I don’t anticipate much in the way of personal time, exercise or, above all, sleep.

All of this lends these last precious few runs an extra air of poignancy. I made it to the top of Anderson street; a secret tear was shed. I stopped for a drink somewhere along the Dandenong Creek Trail and was forced to choke back a silent sob. I forgot to apply Vaseline this morning and started chafing 20km into my long run; the wince was a wince of regret.

It’s all too much.

Still, kids have a way of making these little sacrifices worthwhile.

Running
As mentioned, a comfortable 23km run this morning. I started at a nice and slow 5 minute k pace as the air was pretty smoky. I could feel it (the smoke) in my lungs, like a flashback to me at age 21: a pack and a half a day smoker. As I ran the wind picked up a bit, clearing the air, so I picked up the pace in the last 15km, including over some hills in the Montrose area. I finished nice and strong, and could easily have run another 10km, but I didn’t want to wear myself out, with the chance of a fairly strenuous ordeal ahead of me (and the wife, obviously).

Now I have some sort of craving for handburger(s), preferably the old-fashioned sort, with real meat, an egg and possibly a slice of tinned beetroot or two. We’ll see.