night-time fog

I see Steve has been setting some sort of land-speed record around Latrobe Uni on the weekend. He should be careful, at that speed he’s in danger of taking off and landing somewhere unpleasant: Preston, perhaps or Reservoir.

My weekend was far more prosaic. Not for me the setting of 100 metre records, nor drunken brawls outside city night clubs. I spent the weekend pottering in the gardening, having intense conversations with a two year old and shivering.

It was last night before I managed a run; dark and vast walls of fog disfiguring the landscape. But, I ask you, is there anything better than fog?

Clearly no, that’s the answer I’m looking for.

If you’ve got a nice heavy fog, chances are it’s cool and there’s little wind. If it’s REALLY foggy it has the added benefit of protecting passers-by from the sight of my unsightly limbs sweating their way up and down the footpath.

Anyway – last night was 18km around the streets in 1 hour 20 minutes. Not blistering speed, but pleasing. There were a couple of reasonable hills thrown in there and I choofed up them with no real problems. Here it is on mapmyrun.com.

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.

queen victoria

It may come as a surprise to you, but I’m a bit of a fan of Queen Victoria, mainly the Leonard Cohen song, but also the historical figure.

Queen Victoria, my father and all his tobacco loved you.
I love you to in all you faults.
The slim, un-lovely virgin floating among German beer.
The mean governess of the huge pink maps.
The solitary mourner of a prince.

This is the word of Leonard Cohen, thanks be to Leonard.

If old Queen Vic was to set out for a Sunday night run, I imagine it would be a fairly unique affair. I see something rather stately, dignified and above all SLOW, with black petticoats, a couple of carriages in attendance and possibly a crystal palace hastily erected along the route.

My run tonight was quite like that, except with neither the stateliness, dignity, petticoats of any colour, carriages nor a crystal palace.

That’s my way of saying it was SLOW. But it was a run, and for this I suppose I must be thankful.

Reasons to be thankful
You know they have those “open garden scheme” things? Some uber-green thumb with a gee-whiz garden invites all and sundry in for a squiz one weekend and everyone is dead impressed.

Well, there’s a reason they’ve never held one of those things at my place. I have what’s known in the trade as a black thumb. Everything I touch turns to ash, weeds and bitter dust.

So, to say I’m a bit chuffed to see my pumpkins growing is something of an understatement. First they sprouted, then they spread, taking over the rest of the vegie patch, and now there are ACTUAL pumpkins. They’re little, to be sure, but they’ll grow. Hooray!

stuffing around in the garden

After a weekend of running-based heroics, wiping myself out in rather epic fashion in the grounds of the MCG, last weekend was a return to something a fair bit more prosaic. I did manage a bit of a run, but it wasn’t really the focus, more of an aside. (Here it is on mapmyrun.com).

Yes, last weekend was spent with the general flock, following the standard outer-suburban Australian weekend migration pattern. For those of you inner-city trendies for whom this might be a mystery, this involves multiple car trips in concentric circles based upon various combinations of Bunnings, IKEA and/or Westfield.

For me it was Bunnings: my bi-annual flurry of interest in gardening.

Last time I got all excited about the garden was March of this year, when I spent a couple of days digging and planting a vegie garden. It looked pretty good, and for most of April I would sneak out in the early morning, furtively surveying the ground for any shoots peaking through.

Between then and now it all went to seed, except for an impressive collection of grass and a crop of broad beans my Dad called “triffid-like”. They’re about chin-height now.

I picked the first crop of beans yesterday, and brought them inside, all puffed-up with pride, only to face the awkward question “so, what do you do with them?”

It had me stumped. I don’t even like broad beans.

Trailwalker
There is maneuvering happening behind the scenes at the moment on the issue of Trailwalker 2008. Various female types have the early running, but I’m aware of a male syndicate threatening a rival entry.

I would normally be, up for the most running-related challenges. I’ll probably give this one a miss though, on the grounds that I have some fairly substantial challenges (there’s a hint!) planned for that period next year, and also my no-races-longer-than-a-marathon policy.

Politics
It seems John Howard has taken my advice (he’s an avid reader of this blog), and called the election. Thank christ.

I know 6 weeks seems like an awful long time, but take heart: at least the finish line is in sight.

So who’s going to win? I actually think a bet on J. Winston Howard may be worth considering, taking into account the rabid right-wing press and the inherent stupidity conservatism of the Australian electorate.