And...relax. I had 17km to get to my revised target of 600km and decided I'd knock t out in one go so by the time I got to work I could say it's over.
Yet more proof, as if any were needed, that the eighties were awesome.
I was expecting a heavy-legged slog today. It's been a long month - aren't all the -athons? - and the finish line was in sight. I knew I'd not have any difficulty covering the distance (don't want to sound flash, but I can grind out the Ks) and I always run out of a bit of steam at the tail end. I was in a bit of a mental fugg on the way in and didn't know how I'd add the 6k to the commute.
My decision, made on the fly, was to get the extra done before I got to the bridge so that from the steps I could trundle in to work. And that's what I did; I didn't take the Galipolli Steps but ran the hill, I ran down through Mosman and then around Cremorne Point and then did a loop under the northern side of the bridge before the final couple of km to work.
And I was done. Seventeen and a half commute to work. Finished at 8am in Sydney, so I think I was the first to finish this year? I've been typically slack on touring the other entrants' blogs so I don't know if there are any Kiwis who beat me to the finish line?
Maybe see y'all in January. Putting my feet up now.
Obviously in the last week of my job and Juneathon there is good reason to slip in The Final Countdown by Europe. And I was going to. But I just couldn't resist another number from Europe because it is so awesomely cheesy hair metal. Enjoy Prisoners in Paradise!
Not a lot to report on the road today. It was a double JAC (Just Another Commute) there and back again. The body is starting to ache a bit, different aches on different days as I suppose different bits engage in different ways to help other bits out. I don't know, I work in IT, I'm not a PT.
And I'm spent. More tomorrow I hope, on Juneathon the last.
It was only ever a matter of time before I'd crack out Let's Go Round Again by Average White Band. It's a great tune from a great band, yet more evidence that the 80s were awesome and completely appropriate for today's run. Yesterday I did my 20km local loop. Yes, I ran a little bit on firetrail yesterday whereas today I took the road and not the firetrail, but it's the same run. So fire up the funk.
Brother and sister-in-law and their kids were over last night. I had a bit more beer and wine than is sensible if you're planning a morning run. With no dog to walk I didn't get up at silly o clock. H came in and woke me, as usual, but instead of getting up and heading out I staggered into the girls' room, slid onto the bottom bunk bed and fell back asleep until after 8am. AFTER 8AM. I don't think I've slept that late for 6years. By the time I got up everyone else was up and breakfast was being prepared. I asked if there were any plans for the morning and there weren't, so my breakfast was a pint of water with a Berocca before pulling on some running gear and heading out.
I was a little slower than yesterday, but if felt quite laboured. Given last night's extra beer and the get-up-and-go-ness of the morning, and the 19hour gap between the two 20km runs I'm not going to beat myself up too much about my pace. It was another stunning winter morning and by the time I got home there had not been a lot of change in the motivation and activity level of the rest of the household.
So about the departure of my dog...
Rowlf is an Irish Water Spaniel and we've had him since he was a pup. They're a relatively rare breed but ticked all the boxes we'd setup to be ticked. A large, character-filled, hairy dog, fit, lover of water. I'd first met one in Richmond in the UK and got in touch with a breeder (and now friend) before we got back to Australia. We met his dogs and made our mind up even before we got back to Australia; we were going to have an IWS. The breeder is a wonderful, passionate and dedicated Victorian. We were vetted to make sure we looked like decent owners had to wait a while until he came along but that is all good. You can take it as read that I'm not a fan of puppy farms and pet shops in retail malls.
I'll not bore you with the details of his life with us. He was part of the family. He grew into a stunning looking thing who could walk and swim all day. Smart and stubborn (somewhat like his owners.) I am obviously biased but I do challenge you to find a better looking dog outside of the pampered poochery world of show dogs. And boy can he swim. Not one for swimming for fun he can retrieve from water all day.
He once escaped from our old house. The home backing onto ours was being renovated and the shared fence dividing our properties was damaged. The builder managed to catch our Cocker, Rumpole, but not Rowlf. Rowlf was sitting in the carport whe Sal got home. He knew were he lived and brought himself home. It was a one off walkabout...although given a chance he would bolt to our neighbours house, shoot out onto their deck and tuck into their dogs food. So, with hindsight, maybe the clues to his eventual downfall - as a resident member of our family - were there to see.
When we moved house (our family got larger before our old house could, so we moved to a bigger one rather than extend the old one) he escaped a couple of times and we put this down to the move. After all, he is a dog and probably took a little longer to realise that our new house was his new home. But we all settled in pretty quickly. He'd happily sleep outside; in fact he preferred sleeping outside to inside.
And then, about a year ago, something changed and he contracted wanderlust. Sporadic to begin with, but he would jump the back gate (no mean feat, it is a reasonable sized gate) and wander off. It was all about his head; there were times when someone - a tradesman, a deliveryman - would leave the gate open and he'd go nowhere. But he knew he could take himself off.
Last week or maybe the week before Facebook did that thing where it posts a picture that you posted a year ago. Mine was a picture of Rowlf sleeping and my caption was to the effect that he was sleeping off a long walk and I had no idea where he had walked to. I'd got a call from H's daycare, where he had turned up. Presumably fed up of being alone in the garden, he'd decided to track down the nearest pack-member. I was retelling the story in the bakery the following morning, Friday, when a local council ranger I know told me that Rowlf had been to the bakery on Wednesday. No, I said, you must mean Thursday; he escaped on Thursday. No, definitely Wednesday. Ah, so he took himself for a walk two days running. Bugger.
The next few months were unpredictable. Some days he was fine, others he might try and escape. The fine days massively outnumbered the escape days. But there a problem creeping up on us. In response to him escaping we would feel we had to keep him in the house some days. If it looked like he was in an escaping mood (like you can tell!) he would be left inside. While the thought of him getting hit by a car was awful the thought of him causing an accident where people got hurt was even worse. Could we make our gates higher? Maybe, I don't know. And even if we did, he'd find another place or opportunity to get out. If he could get his paws on top of a fence he could scramble up and over it. He's fit and he's smart.
Sally had the situation sussed months before I did. My head was in the clouds and I thought we'd simply need to hang on until we got our carport built and we could add more dog-proofing. I stonewalled every attempt to talk sense into the situation. "He's a dog, he's predictable, things will get better and I REFUSE to let him go because no one can look after him as well as I do!" Silly me. He was a pain in the arse, but he was my pain in the arse!
I still cannot pin down what changed for us or him, but his escaping did get worse. I could walk and swim him, come home and the girls might play with him in the garden, he'd have a feed, he'd be happy and all tail-wagging content. Then you'd take your eye off of him and he'd be up and over the back gate. And to add to the mix, despite being well fed and spot-on his correct weight, he is food obsessed. On a few occasions he would get out, knock over a neighbour's bin and work his way through the contents. We're lucky he didn't do himself any damage, but the following day would not be pleasant behind him with the poo-bag.
You can't leave a dog in the house day after day. It's not right. And it will serve only to increase the likelihood of him jumping as soon as gets outside. We had a positive feedback loop. While I'll absorb shite forever in a state of self-imposed ignorance, Sally is far more pragmatic. We were becoming constrained in what we could do as a family because we could not "trust" the dog. Sal did not want the dog in the house all the time and most importantly, it was bad for him. Or rather it was not as good for him as it could be. He is, after all, a dog; he was getting food and shelter and was certainly not unhappy. But still...not great.
I finally agreed that Rowlf needed to go, but I refused to make any arrangements myself. I was convinced that no-one could look after him as well as I do. But Sal did something really fucking simple. She called Kathy, the breeder we had got him from.
And Kathy took him back.
He is reunited with his brother.
He will be worked properly.
He will have a great life.
I was in floods of tears yesterday when I dropped him at the airport. It was horrible. I'm welling up a bit now.
But it's all good.
It was the right thing to do and that is what matters, not my temporary feeling of grief for a future I'll not have with Rowlf. I was lucky to have the past I did with him. Kathy has sent a ton of reassuring messages. The most reassuring was that Rowlf was eating as soon as he arrived. That was an immense relief, and probably why I managed to sleep until after 8am this morning.
Very brief today, more tomorrow including the story of today.
I took Rowlf, my dog, for a walk then put him on a plane to his new home.
His original home with the breeder. Sad for me after almost 8years, good for him. There is a story to tell but we have guests tonight and I don't have tome to write it.
Easy song of the day for this sad runner, based on the title alone.
It's a good sad though, best for everyone. Especially Rowlf.
In running news, I did pretty much the same 20km loop that I did last weekend. Was quite nice.
The morning started as many have with a coffee and a dog walk and a commute to work. I got to the bridge and on the steps passed another runner. He looked like a runner. Around half way over the bridge he eased passed me and I stayed with him. I was in no mood for a race, but figured I'd use him as a pacer and get a little above my usual plod. After a while I pulled alongside him and started a conversation. I told him I was in no mood for a race and asked if he was training or commuting. He was commuting and he asked me the same question and I told him it was a bit of both, with Juneathon thrown in for good measure.
And then he told me that 100km was about the shortest distance over which he raced. And he'd been invited to run La Ultra High. Only 10 people were invited to run it, and if you take a look at the course - a single stage 333km through the Himalayas - you'll understand why. It started to dawn on me that this guy, Jason Dunne, was one of those people that you read about but don't think really exist. In his training he was averaging a marathon distance a day and even managed to knock out an overnight 100km before going to work the following day. He is off the end of the bell curve. Nice guy though, if you met him in the street you'd not pick him.
So, have a bit of James Blunt "High." Let it be known that there are no guilty pleasures, just pleasures, and I quite like James Blunt. So there.
The run home was just another commute, but it saw me scrape back to a 20km/day average and tick over 520km for the month to date. I'll take that. The sunset was quite a stunner. Mostly cloudless with a deepening blue sky leading down to an orange that became a red on the horizon.
Twenty five days and my month is still trying to run up this bloody great hill, to work and my resignation. Or something like that.
Another tired day*, low on inspiration so not a hugely representative song choice. But I like it; one hit wonder (I think.) Their song Superfly is kinda cool too. I was 22 when What's Up? was a hit in 1992. Wow.
Dropping off the distance a bit for a couple of reasons. Want to have a decent rest before the CPUltra, and what with me leaving my job at the end of next week I do need to start taking home the shit I've accumulated over the past eight-and-a-bit years. Would rather not run home with a bag full of the morning's stinking running gear, many pairs of sunglasses (I was drunk one night and bought 60 pairs of sunglasses for $80), one of my Olympus Trip film cameras and a few rolls of film...just stuff.
So today was a single run to work, the 11km takes me to 498km after 25 days. Plan is to run to and from work tomorrow and finish this working week and day 26 on the 20km/day average I'm looking for.
That's kinda all for today. Sorry folks.
*the tiredness probably not helped by the three bottles of IPA I had last night. Carbs are good though, right?
This far into the month of juneathon and with my unplanned song-a-day-sort-of-theme coming along quite nicely (One Direction notwithstanding) I was running my usual run wondering what to use for another day of JACs (Just Another Commute.)
Inspiration came on the bridge as I eased past another runner and thought he decided to stick with me...for a while. I'm pretty sure he did speed up and maintain his10ft gap for a while before I dropped him (in my mind) or he just slowed down because, really, why bother (more likely)?
The answer to that question is "The Commuter Olympics", a phrase I heard from a semi-pro triathlete who once worked in a building I once worked in and I'd chat with every so often. I hate getting beaten over the bridge, so will invoke The Commuter Olympics if someone tries to stay with me, or I'll pick a target ahead and try to beat them. I usually do pretty well.
So today I thought of Yello.
Good facial hair. I look like a hobo at the moment with an unkempt red beard, flecked with grey. Doesn't help that I like wooly hats and wandering around unshod. A colleague I have worked with for maybe 5years genuinely mistook me for a homeless person last week. My beard is, to coin phrases my brother uses to describe his, a "beard to be feared" and "full hobo."
It was a short day at work. AJ was being presented with a Principal's Gold Award for something or other this afternoon at a special school assembly to be held at 2pm. A more engaged parent would likely know more than I did. So I did 4hours in the office, mainly so I could run in and back (I could have worked from home) before leaving at noon. The run home was a slow, lead-legged plod in some wonderfully un-wintery weather. I've been Sydney based since 1999 and I may be getting soft, but it can get cold here. A proper bone-chilling cold. Not today though. Maybe 20 degrees, wispy clouds in a mostly blue sky. Lovely.
The assembly was cute. I'd been to one last year when AJ was in kindergarden and it seemed to go on forever and it seemed like everyone got some award or other. Maybe because I was (and still am) getting used to this having-a-kid-at-school malarky, maybe because I have no recollection of anything like this from my school days. Of course I may have been a dunce...
The letter we'd got from school said she was getting a "gold award" which turns out to be pretty special. Only 8 kids in each year get it, for excellence in maths and English. Seems my laissez-faire approach to schooling is paying off - go me!
But really, go AJ! The especially touching bit came yesterday though; she knew she was getting an award but seemed just as (if not a little bit more) pleased that I'd be there to see her collect it. bought her an ice ream after the assembly and gave her her first pair of Dunlop Volleys, dad's favourite shoe. She seemed happy.
Sorry about that. I mean they're good at what they do, but ye-gods...
I'm tracking well enough this month. Strava (which syncs with Garmin Connect, which syncs with my Garmin Vivoactive, which syncs with my phone) shows 465km for the month. Runningfreeonline, which no longer seems to sync with anything I own, shows a bit less. I suppose I've forgotten to save a couple of .tcx files from GC and manually upload them to RFO. It's a wonderfully quaint way to do things.
This difference annoyed me and I wanted to fix it.
But what annoys me more is that runningfreeonline does not upload my miles - and never has - in the correct timezone. So it all went into the too hard basket today when I started trying to find the gaps. I supose it would have helped if I'd added any blurb to the uploaded RFO miles instead of petulantly clicking save and sulking a bit. Every day. The saving grace is that it still looks as though I've run every day - which I have, just not at the times RFO says I have - so I'l not get disqualified from Juneathon.
What's the date? June 23rd. Over three weeks and this is the first time I've let my irritation at RFO get the better of me.
A-n-y-w-a-y, it's the run-in now, the legs are feeling a bit heavy and I'm eating like a horse. I've downgraded my personal goal for the month so figured I could give myself an extended rest of 24hours between this morning and tomorrow morning. I was all growed-up about it and didn't take a second set of running kit in to work (I did toy with the idea of wearing the stinking, damp morning commute gear for a lunchtime loop...briefly...though better of it.)
Considering how little I managed to write about yesterday's run to and from work I am, unsurprisingly, struggling a bit to find much to say about today's run to and from work. At least today the GPS battery was full.
My new GPS, a replacement for my ageing Garmin Forerunner 305, is the Garmin Vivoactive. I was tempted by the Fenix and Epix, but I could not justify the spend considering how few of the features I'd actually use. I don't pay much attention to data fields other than distance, time, lap time, average and current pace. Occasionally I will put on a heart rate monitor, but that is so rare that I decided to save the extra $60 the strap cost. Having said that, I did see if the HRM strap from the 305 would pair with the new watch...and it did. Sixty bucks well saved.
The Vivoactive has all the data fields I need and a few smart features. It pairs with my phone and automatically uploads my data. It send me mail, calendar and facebook notifications and it does the day to day activity tracking. And it is properly waterprrof. I like it. And I think it looks OK. But the best thing about it, and the thing that made me retire the 305, is the battery life. Even with my reasonably high mileage I get several days on a charge. The blurb says you get 10hrs on the GPS, up to 3weeks without. Alas the 305, from full, was complaining about low battery during two runs earlier this year. I can't have that I'm afraid. And it locks on satellites far more quickly than the 305. The times I've spent 5minutes shivering in the pissing rain while the 305 stubbornly refuses to lock on...
The only pain with the Vivoactive is that it refuses to re-pir its conection to my phone once it is broken. Turning bluetooth off and on on my phone (currently a Samsung Galaxy S4) fixes it; not too much of a burden.
I need a song for the day. This is more a song for yesterday, when I hit the milestone of 2000km for the year to date. Have some Silverchair. It's got 2000 in the title. And the video is filmed about 200m from my office. That'll do.
There really is not much to say about today's miles other than they are a bit out of the normal run of things. A bit Mondayish really. It was a (sun)day in the office so I ran to and from work for another 22km day. Not the most inspiring running, just workmanlike commuting.
It was an early start, so running was the best way to get to the City from home. At 06:30 the bus service from the beaches is patchy at best. Maybe I didn't notice some buses pasing or maybe I only started paying attention later in the commute, but I am fairly sure I saw only 2 buses pass me on the run in. Both passed me on the Harbour Bridge, one was 'out of service' and the other wasn't from the beaches. So rather than wait 55min for a bus to maybe turn up I ran 55min and turned up at work.
Where I stayed for the next 10hours, successfully deploying stuff with colleagues, eating pizza and drinking coffee. The Garmin was looking somewhat light on juice. In fact it had warned me that the battery was low on the run in. I have pushed it a bit between charges, probably has something to with a colleague buying an iWatch and me ripping the piss out of him over its battery life - or rather lack of. Should have charged it last night. Nevermind, might be lucky. Wasn't.
It was dark when I left work for the standard trot home. I noticed on the run that the battery had died. I did wonder if the Vivoactive was smart enough to shut the screen down and still track me? Didn't know. Once home I uploaded today's miles to find it had crapped out 5.9km into my 11km run home. So today I manually claim to have run a further 5.1km to bring up the 11km commute home.
You know I ran it. You can trust me. I mean, would I lie to you?
That's a bloody awful song, it really is. I wish I was making my miles up so I could pop in something better.
But no, I am far too OCD to not run 20-22km pretty much every day of the month.
I forgot to write up my Juneathon post yesterday. I have some work stuff to do, so I'd set an alarm for 01:00 Sunday and went to bed early. The Juneathon rules allow 24 hours post-run to write things up, so that's alright. As it happened my boss just called at 00:02 and I'm now up and awake. I was going to plonk on Billy Idol Rebel Yell because of the lyric 'in the midnight hour, I cry more, more more!" but then I found this, from a show called The Midnight Special. Minnie Riperton had a sublime voice and bonkers vocal ability, so in it goes because of the show's name; the song has bugger all to do with running.
The miles today were knocked out in one go. Saturday is a kids' morning, which I've probably mentioned twice already this month. So, dog walk, gymnastics, a bit of a break for some breakfast and then swimming. I skipped lunch so that I could head out for a run while the kids and mum chillaxed at home. Can I still use the word "chillax"? Sod it, I just did.
I picked a run I've done before, albeit in reverse today because it seemed like the best bang for my buck. A gentle 5k climb followed by 12k of downhill to flat and then a 3km climb home, mostly not too nasty but with one short-sharp-shock. It's pretty much an extended version of my usual beach loop that gives me 20k.
Or it does if I finish the run with 100m past my house and back again to click the GPS out of the teens.
Lovely running weather today; clear skies and fresh. I think I'm still a bit under the weather because I did manage to get cold to the degree that my (self diagnosed but I think I'm right) Reynaud's Phenomenon left me with yellow fingertips. Maybe I do need gloves.
Anyway, work has finished for a few hours, it's 01:10 in the morning and that was my 20km for yesterday.
Th rain on me came pouring down this morning - thank you The Levellers - and it was cold too. Proper stinging cold on my corned-beef legs on the way to work. The weather was hostile enough for me to spare the dog a walk in it. Last night's dinner had been a family sized pack of grain waves and a couple of pints, so it wasn't an altogether heroic trot in this morning. But I got there, didn't lose sensation on my fingers for too long and added the standard 11km. Oh, I really like this song; the line about "blew his money for the week on a horse called Hope Street" reminds me of my dad.
I had a late-ish lunch today. Back to Malaysia Food House for a big Nasi Goreng (spicy.) Very nice it was too. Not so nice to run home with it onboard though. I crossed the bridge in a bit of a blur, head all over the place. Legs were working though, and I trundled home to clock up another 22km day.
Oo, actually, my head wasn't so fuddled that I didn't notice the moon. A lovely crescent that was sitting in a deep blue sky over the red glow of a sunset behind the mountains. Looked like there were a couple of planets in line with the moon too. Fired up Google SkyMap when I got home but had fail, so I can't tell you what planets they were. Venus and Mars maybe? Oo, maybe Venus and Jupiter?
Just a short one today; Birdman on DVD, Sav Blanc in glass.
I was looking for a job and then I found a job, and while I'm not miserable now I am a bit, I dunno, vague. So this song will do.
I've got 2 weeks and a day left with the company I've been with for 8years and 3months. Quite a long time. The new job is closer to home - I can run it in 20minutes, under 10 on the bike I reckon - 200m from a beach and 200m from a brewery, can wear jeans and t-shirts, no conference calls with the UK at stupid 'o clock. Ticks all the boxes.
I am looking forward to it with a dollop of trepidation. Lots of shiny new stuff to get stuck into. I'm a nerd by trade, and have been curator of...how should I put this...a code museum...for a while. Steep learning curve and a couple of weeks looking like a bit of a chump. I'll be fine, or in Australian, "she'll be apples."
I'm struggling to find stuff to talk about today. I did a single run, just going to work, so only 11km today. I think I do need a bit of a rest, so one run is OK. Instead I went to the Malysian Food House in the Hunter Connection. Food is excellent, decor is bog-standard and there is no phone reception. Perfect for lunch. Also close to Paxtons, where I dropped off a film to get developed.
Yes, to get a film developed.
A little while ago I bought an adapter that allowed me to use old film camera lenses on my Olympus Pen. An adapter for the lenses costs about 15 bucks. I got a good deal on a load of old camera gear. I just wanted the lenses, but it came with a Pentax Spotmatic. So I put a film through it. Loved it. Only 36 chances to get it right. And manual manual manual. So pay attention. I went a bit mad after that, bought another Spotmatic and three Olympus Trips. And it was a film I'd put though one of the Trips I dropped off and picked up today.
Of course I get the images scanned to CD and upload them digitally, so it is all a bit silly really. But I like it. I have convinced myself film has more soul, and the process of taking pictures on a film camera is a lot more fun than my click-happy digital life.
I'm middle aged.
I have a beard.
I drink craft beer.
My bike has no gears.
Wanker.
Kids probably take after mum, because they're proper cute. Took this picture with a camera that might be older than me.
There and back again tomorrow is the plan. Let's see how that plays out. Now - craft beer.
The run to work was JAC - just another commute - but I do feel as if I've over the worst of my cold. It was another sweaty affair, unsurprising with humidity in the high 90-percents. I'll not bitch about that as I do in January when that humidity, added to temperatures that can be in the mid to high 20s before work make it rather unpleasant. This time of year I can shower and then not sweat afterwards, the temperature in the low teens. Far better.
Work was work, punctuated by chats with soon-to-be-former-colleagues about my new job. Closer to home (20min if I run, about 10 on the bike), no formal dress code, 200m west of the beach and about the same south of a brewery; really, what's not to like?
I worked through lunch, having forgotten about a 1pm meeting. I probably wouldn't have run at lunch today. I need* to buy a new phone and might buy a new laptop for my new job.
*sort of. I give my main phone back when I leave my current job and my personal mobile is the original Galaxy Note. And that won't sync with my new Garmin Vivoactive. I can't have that. And I need** a decent camera phone.
**sort of. I have plenty of cameras, but take the majority of my pictures with my phone. So I'm tending towards the Galaxy S6.
I digress.
I decided to run home. The city was grey and damp. Reasonable running conditions but nothing special. Until I got to Military Road when something that sometimes happens in Sydney happened. A gap opened up between the western horizon and the grey clouds. The sun shone through the gap, picking out buildings and trees and stuff in bright, vivid detail. Very pretty, I like that. And then I noticed the rainbows. Two of them.
I am amazed I didn't run into a person or a lamp post as I spent a couple of kilometres gazing at the rainbows and not really paying much attention to anything else. I picked the pace up a bit and hoped it would keep raining so I could stop and take a few pictures with my soon-to-be-handed-back phone.
There was quite a lot of swearing at said phone as I struggled to unlock it with cold, wet hands while standing in the rain dripping sweat on to the screen. Not entirely sure it was the devices fault, but swearing is big and clever and I am sure it helped. The pictures were so-so, but you get the picture. Literally.
I jogged on, stopping again at the Spit to take another few sunset pictures, and then it was up Mount Seaforth and home for another there-and-back 22km day.
So the song of the day was an obvious choice - Over the Rainbow. I love the Judy Garland original (who doesn't), still have not worked out whether or not I like the Tori Amos version (I think I do, but it is a bit...tense), the Israel Kamakawiwo'ole leaves me a bit cold and I've already used a Jamie Cullum this month. So it's a god job I found Billy Thorpe. An Aussie singer who released the song in the 60s as Billy Thorpe and the Atzecs, but I like this solo version.
Well today's musical entry is a bit obvious and easy. Today was supposed to be a simple commute to work. A light day, one run. I did, of course, take running gear with me to work because, well, you never know. The one thing I will say about the run to work is that it was a sweaty affair; the humidity seems to be up a bit.
I arrived to find a message from Sal. The H bomb had "accidentally" let Rowlf escape, which is code for my 4 year old daughter opened a door, the dog wandered out and jumped the back gate. Sal had looked for the hound, not found him and headed to work. O-Kay, so my dog is somewhere near home, wandering the streets?
I sent a couple of mails to the effect that, once I'd finished my breakfast I'd be taking an early-early-lunch in which I'd head home, hopefully locate my AWOL pooch and then start working again.
I sculled a couple of mugs of water, got changed and about an hour after finishing my run to work I ran home again. Rowlf was under the deck when I got home, and I initially thought he might have been hiding from Sal. Then I saw the empty TimTam packet in the garden. We don't have TimTims; clearly that is from someone else's bin.
So, he'd escaped, gone scavenging and then returned home. Bloody dog; it isn't like I don't feed him. Grrrr. I think he's eaten something that hasn't agreed with him and I'm sure I'll find out once it comes out the other end. He's hardly moved from his bed since I got home.
So, obviously
And for me, an unexpected double making 22km where there was supposed to be 11.
I've gotten a bit lazy on Strava and will now refer to some of my runs as JAC, or Just Another Commute. Which musically took me here. It's a song from my formative days, but really, it doesn't do a lot for me. You can listen if you want. It's over fairly sharpish.
So the run to work was just another commute and then I did a day at work, broken up by a trip to a psychologist that was really not too bad at all. I'll write about it one day, but not today.
I'm quite busy but not massively motivated at work, so the afternoon dragged a bit. By the time 5pm rolled around it was pretty dark outside but the rain seemed to have stopped. I say seemed because when I got outside it was sort of raining. More drizzle. Or possibly a low fog. I'm not really sure what to call it.
I'm sure some people would find it depressingly miserable, but it was not too cold and I thought it was quite good running weather. It was a bit of a plod home, maybe because I'd had an extremely light lunch, maybe because I'm half way through Juneathon and the lags are getting a bit tired.
Whatever it is, got home, have gone though 300km for the month so far and am tracking well.
And this is the song that came to mind on the run home.
I shouldn't really call the 15km back from the mall - I took the scenic route - a lazy day. It makes me sound like a bit of a flash, arrogant prick (which is only half true) and quite frankly, it's not an easy run. It starts out pretty flat, then there is the Sunday obstacle course of dodge, duck, dip, dive and dodging the ambling ocean-front denizens of Manly who, to be fair, seem to do Sunday morning far smarter than I do. To get to my target of 15k I'd decided to do the Manly to The Spit bush track instead of head up the road.
So, I only call it a lazy day so I can drop in some Brit Pop, specifically Robbie Williams from back in his Imperial Era.
The Spit to Manly (or Manly to Spit as it was today) is a lovely route. I've got a set on flickr that contains far fewer pics than I've actually taken on it. I've run the route a lot and get a bit "grumpy old man" at times - that familiarity/contempt thing. I do understand why the council wants to place sandstone steps on all the hills...but it makes the running less fun. And on a lovely day it can get a bit crowded. But I suppose these are minor gripes when you consider how lovely it is and that it's right on my doorstep.
A brief aside, brought to mind by my mention of "on my doorstep." I fell asleep on the sofa this afternoon watching a Travel Oz show on tele. I was tired, but I'm fairly sure the presenter suggested that, while not downplaying overseas wonders, we should visit and enjoy the wonders in "our own backyard." I'd have to agree. And the Mitchell Waterfalls look spectacular. But the Mitchell Waterfalls are 4700ish kilometres from my home. That's about the distance between Edinburgh and Tehran. I think you'd have to agree that's a fucking huge backyard. Yes, Australia is a country, but also a continent. Quite a large place. However, I digress.
I wheezed on the climb up to Tania Park and didn't stop to take the view in that much. I'm getting old and was keen to get home for a nana nap (oh how I wish I was kidding!) The Garmin refused to give me 15km by the base of the steps under the bridge, so I plodded up them to be licked mercilessly by a black labrador at the top. I did my final 100m to the foot of the Galipolli Steps and allowed a wave of "fuck this shit" to crash over me. I stopped the GPS and walked the final km home.
Week 2 of Juneathon out of the way with 147km; near enough a half-a-day. Suspect I'll drop the average back for the next couple of weeks, but to date I'm pretty pleased.
Really quite pleased that I can justify - to myself if no-one else - shoehorning some Manilow in today's post. But that's for 4:45PM and I'll do the day in order.
To the surprise of no-one I awoke feeling grotty. The Citrus IPA chaser to last night's stout did little to help my dehydration. And I was phlegmy. And My first few coughs had a bit of a stab in my chest. Look, I'm getting pissed off with myself for the daily whine about my cold-at-the-door so I'll drop that and just let you know when I feel better. For the time being you can just assume I start each day feeling like crap.
Rowlf, my Irish Water Spaniel, gets a longer walk at the weekend. That's a link to quite an old picture, but damnit he was a handsome lad. Today it was a shorter than usual longer walk; we didn't make it all the way to Manly and turned at 3.5km. We'd left at around 6am and I needed to be back to take H to gymnastics. I wasn't sure when I was going to knock out today's miles. The plan was to get home and have some food before getting kid-duties started; gymnastics for H, soccer (football!) for AJ and then swimming for both. Then, er, run?
But I got home to find mum and the girls still in their pyjamas and the decision for H to miss gymnastics today had already been made. She's been a bit under the weather, so no biggie. I sculled a pint of water with a Berocca, put a wash load on and did my standard anticlockwise beach loop. I was pretty much on auto-pilot and was surprised when it wasn't as slow as it felt. A quick shower, another pint of water and no time for food because it was AJ's soccer o clock. Via a coffee stop, so at least I had a couple of large cappuccino to get me through the morning. They didn't render me sharp enough to spot AJ scoring a belting goal form the halfway line though. D'oH!
Same as last week I almost fell asleep at swimming. Today Sal was there to prod me awake. The nana-nap after lunch (of leftover last night's goat masala) did not come a moment too soon.
Run number two was the same beach loop as the morning. It was all a bit lazy-in-front-of-the-tele at home and I left at about 4PM, which meant I ran through sundown. It was lovely, and the beach section was especially nice and provided my Manilow moment. Today's song of choice was going to be "Let's Go Round Again" for obvious reasons. But I got to the beach to see small turquoise waves just off shore and out at the horizon there were some pink fluffy clouds in a pink sky that got less pink and more blue the further away from the horizon I looked. Right out on the horizon was a brilliant white triangle, the sail of a yacht. As I ran I kept looking back over my shoulder at the scene. And then the yacht was gone. A bit tired I started wondering if it had turned suddenly and the sail was now edge-on, or if it had sunk extremely quickly or simply disappeared a-la Bermuda Triangle. So obviously...
I spotted the very faint outline of the yacht after a while and worked out what had happened. The sun had dipped down enough so it was no longer picking out the yacht's sail. Mystery solved. I turned away from the beach and headed west, looking towards the sunset over the lagoon. Lovely.
Clowns copyright their face by painting a copy on an egg. True story. That has nothing to do with anything here, but my brother told me and I'm telling you and it is interesting.
Another groggy morning, up at a bit after 5am then the standard coffee-heart-starter and dog walk. I drop the kids off to before school care and daycare each Friday which adds 500m to my journey to work. I really struggled today. Over-dressed in the Helly polypro and singlet combo I was sweating like a racehorse from the get-go. Legs were heavy, the backpack seemed heavy; everything felt heavy. It was a proper plod today and I was glad to get it out of the way.
I'd hardly got through my first meeting and first Lemsip when my phone rang. Daycare had called Sal who was now calling me. H had spewed 4 times and I needed to go and collect her. Sal was in a workshop with 40 people, so I was "it." Fair enough. I figured the run would not be much slower than the bus, especially outside of peak hour when bus services to the Northern Beaches get a bit patchy.
So after a two hour break I was on the road, heading back homewards. It was a bit of a slog again; the total distance is not a problem, but I was all set for an eight hour break between runs with more food and fluids onboard before number two. But with my first ultra on the horizon I figure that a bit of running-near-empty is probably good training. So I did struggle, and mount Seaforth was a bitch, but I wasn't too grumpy about it.
H seemed full of beans when I turned up. Once again a sweat monster I decided to walk the under-one-km home, with her on my shoulders, rather than stink the car up. And this afternoon I worked from home. And now I am drinking Rogue Chocolate Stout, which is really rather good. Probably not ideal stuff to rehydrate with - and I am a bit dehydrated - but it's Friday so sod it.
So 23km for the day and a milestone for the year. With 18 days of June left I have reached 1826.8km in 2015, which is the equivalent of 10km per day for half a year. Unlikely to keep that up in the second half, but I should thank Cathy and all at the J-athons for pushing me twice this year. Bastards.
Let's return to the clown theme. Again, bugger all to do with running but there you go.
I live on a hill. To get to work I run down that hill (OK, I usually take the shortcut down the 149 Gallipoli Steps) and then over Spit Bridge and up the hill that is Parriwi Road. Military Road is a ridge line for a while, then I drop down Wycombe Road and Thrupp Street, down to sea level at the back of Kirribilli then up another short hill before crossing the Bridge and getting to the City.
I took my running gear to work today for the possible but unlikely lunchtime top-up. I ended up working through lunch but I did, of course, run to work. I was expecting a busy afternoon but things got a little less busy and I grabbed the opportunity to leave on the dot of 4 and run home (or rather to H's daycare.)
Which was pretty much the reverse of the morning run. Through the City and over the Bridge, pass through Kirribilli then run up Thrupp and Wycombe streets to Military Road. Drop down to Spit Bridge then up 'mount Seaforth.' Heading to daycare instead of home adds a bit more climb the final hill.
So there are plenty of instances of me running up this or that hill. I'll pop in the Placebo version, which seems more apt for today because it's more in tune with my generally flat mood of late. And Brian Molko's vocal flatness is a neat counterpoint to the hilliness of the song. Good god, did I just type that?
So there you go. A bit low on inspiration today, maybe Friday will provide a bit of a pick-me-up. I suspect few if any Gods would be prepared to make a deal with me, so I shall be running up that road, running up that hill tomorrow and I'll just deal with any problems that crop up.
