running commentary

Oh dear, another spell of blog missing in action (inaction?) The least I can do is bring the running stuff up to dte, so here goes the least I can do.

July was pretty a fairly light month, having started with the DNF on the Goldie and August starting wiht some diving that I did not feel like missing because I'd got all stupid and snotted my lungs up again. Then there was the City2Surf, which was the do-I-don't-I decider for having a crack at the Sydney Marathon and pretty soon after that I landed on do.

So I had about a month to get some distance into my legs and some belief that I could do Sydney's twisty 42k, grab a medal and be able to breathe properly the next day. As it turned out I did what I consider to be about the bare minimum training for the distance, but hey, I've got a ton of base over the years and I'm still stubborn and stupid enough to suck up a fair wallop of post-race discomfort that could have been avoided with more more better training and less stubborn stupidity.

So my final month saw me knock out a lap of Manly Dam - because I was missing the trails a bit, do a bit of faster stuff (well, one run of 5k, running in circles - but it still counts), I ran home from the new office a couple of times (18km) and I knocked out a smidge over 32k of one of my stock runs.

I get my car serviced at Chatswood Auto Repairs and done since I lived in Willoughby a few years back. They are a good bunch that I trust. The run home from the garage is a bit over 32k. Yes, you do need to take a rather daft - but quite picturesque - route home, but 32k is 32k. And that is my bare minimum long run for marathon training. A mixture of arrogance, ignorance and maybe a bit of self-belief tells me that it doesn't matter how bad I feel I can always knock out a 10k. So I took it easy, I took a few pictures and I came away thinking yes, I can do Sydney.

Three days later - legs and lungs intact - I registered.



The following weekend I found myself back in the medals (so to speak, please do not think I got a podium finish!) at one of my favourite events, the Pub2Pub. It does not start at a pub and since the renovations at the Newport Arms it no longer finishes at a pub. But the new finish is, in my opinion, far more conducive to sticking around for a brew-or-two; the finish festival, behind the surf club at Newport Beach, features a pop-up 4Pines beer garden.

This is a lovely event, despite the first bit being in calf-destroying sand along the beach at Dee Why. I finished in under an hour, which I was pleased with. That got me 58th place. At a little after 9am I had my first beer, and despite the drizzle I stayed and had a couple more with a good friend who also has this as an annual event.

It's poor form to turn up at a new job wiht a hangover, so finishing drinking by noon on the day before my first day at Blackmores seemed sensible. Don't judge me, it is one day a year!

My final run was one of the two home from work at which point I started my taper. By which I mean I didn't run for the last 10days. Normally I stop a bit further out, but this time around I felt I should get a few more miles into my legs and as I had no intention of going for a time I didn't need to be fully rested; this one was going to be treated as a long training run.

The Tuesday before race-Sunday I got a call from school saying my oldest was sick and could I collect her. If I'm honest then I'd say i should not have shoe-horned her into school because she had been barking like a seal, but she wasn't running a temperature...Anyway, collect her I did. Wednesday morning I took her to the doctor who confirmed she had a cold, said there was no point in giving her antibiotics and saw no reason to keep her out of school - my kinda doctor! So as she rapidly got on the mend I felt a familiar snottiness creeping up on me and got myself on the Lemsip. And Robitussen. And Vicks Sinex.

Situation normal then; feeling undertrained and battling a cold I went to bed on Saturday night wiht metaphoric fingers crossed that the cold I kept in my head would still be there in the morning. And lo, Sunday rolled around and although I was not feeling a hundred percent I could draw a full lungful of air.

It is an early but not too early start to the Sydney Marathon. I feel for the runners in the half, who go out at 6am, an hour earlier than the full runners. There was a c-o-l-d wind blowing on Sunday morning and many of the waiting runners were huddled behind anything they could huddle behind to get out of it; I ended up in the entrance to the car park of a nearby block of units. I should not complain too much though, because Saturday had been a mad-warm 31degrees with bushfires, before a "polar blast" brought things crashing down.

The wheelchairs went at 7am and five minutes later the marathon headed out. I was somewhere near the 3.30 pacer as the gun went but found that a bit crowded and slower than I could go, so by the time we got onto the bridge I found myself just in front of the 3.15 pacer and formulating my plan. I was always going to take it easy and aim to come home in 3.30. I'd thought that I'd do it by staying on the 3.30 bus but changed my mind because I felt OK to go out a bit quicker. So I'd stay in front of the 3.15 pacers until half way and allow myself to fade in the second half but not get overtaken by the 3.30 guys. Simples.

And that is pretty much how it panned out. I'll not dwell too much on the run because I'll end up bitching about the course (too many sharp turns, clearly created by someone who doesn't run it.) The weather turned out ot be almost perfect; there were a couple of places where the wind hit, but the course was far more sheltered than that start and the temperature was lovely. I got to half way reasonably comfortably and still nicely in front of the 3.15 guys. So I decided I'd stay in front until I got back to the city - which I did - and then that I'd try to stay in front until 32k - which I think I did. It was close run thing at the 32k mark as they bus overtook me.

With 10k to go I was having to gig a little deeper than I wanted to. At about 28k my right glute had
started to grumble and at 32k most of the rest of my right leg muscles had joined in so I felt a bit hobbley. I was likely being a bit soft as well.

The last 10k of Sydney is a trip out to Pyrmont and back. It can be quite soul destroying as when you run back through the City in the late-20s you pass about 500m from the finish line. But this time it came and went OK. Yes I was huffing and puffing, and yes I was shouting all sorts of insults at myself, but I knew I had it in the bag and I knew I'd get home - slowing up quite considerably - in under 3.30.

Just. OK, I had a bit to spare, 3.26ish. I was all sorts of aches at the end and the cold has lasted for the best part of following week. But hey, I got my medal and have put the Goldie behind me. The cold has stayed up in my head, so I should be back on the road again soon.

The men's wheelchair winner was Kurt Fearnley, who I regard as Australia's greatest athlete. In November he will be off to try and win New York for a sixth time. He is awesome. Go read about him.

And while on awesome, this weekend Eliud Kipchoge, who beat me in Berlin last year (and everyone else!) smashed the world record this year back in Berlin.

All in all, a good weekend over the full distance. Now, what do I do next...



...next I could start blogging more regularly #justsaying

Sirius business

The Sirius Building in Sydney is a brutalist concrete monstrosity of a thing slap bang in the middle of the city's primest of prime real estate. It is 79 units of social housing - now empty - that looks like 79 piss-poor building blocks stacked on top of each other.

I like it.



But it is for the chop. Cleansed of those who once lived there and not up to modern building codes the argument that it should be demolished was east t make. The land will sold off for a squazillion dollars, money that will of course be used to fund social housing elsewhere, sold to developers who will of course provide some social housing in Millers Point within whatever replaces it.

I can do the maths. The sale will generate enough cash to build a load of social housing somewhere else. I get it. And I'm over here displacing someone else, so have to shoulder my own little bit of blame for the economic cleansing of Sydney's nicer suburbs. (As it happens I try to sleep at night by reminding myself that I grew up in charity housing, then realise this makes me the pin-up boy for the if-you-just-try-hard-you'll-do-well mob that haven't done the maths; makes my head hurt.)

I don't want to live in a city that is utterly segregated along wealth lines. It isn't healthy for society.

This picture makes me a little sad. Those plants belonged to someone. Whatever is on that washing line was someones washing.

We don't need another fucking casino.

ROBBIE WILLIAMS

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.

ADAMSKI

Having done the same loop twice today, once clockwise, once widershins, I was thinking of using either Let's Go Round Again by The Average White Band or Dizzy by Vic Reeves and The Wonderstuff. At some point in the month I'll probably use them, but for today it's this, from Adamski. 

I felt pretty ropey this morning. Three 500ml bottles of Four Pines craft beer, for all their carbohydrate goodness, were probably not the best preparation for a morning run. Tasty though. I walked Rowlf under a magnificent sunrise and got home to find the girls watching tele and mum still in bed. With their day not really started I took the opportunity to do my stock beach loop. I overhead a father ask his kid if he'd seen the seal, but didn't think much of it, as I ran past. A seal has taken up residence on the Opera House landing-steps and has been there for almost a year, on and off. Maybe that is what he walk talking about. I jogged on, not getting into anything like my rhythm until about 10km. Of my 11.5km run. Some days are just like that.

Which is not really enough to justify the Adamski video. However. This afternoon I did the same run in reverse. The legs and feet gave me no grief and after a nana-nap I felt OK. I ran through dusk and it was lovely. There were people lined up on the wall behind the harbour-side beaches looking out to where the sun had set. I stopped when I saw a guy washing his scuba gear. He had twin tanks, which are a bit of an overkill, so I asked where he had been. He'd done a shore-dive and had finned around form Fairlight, which is a fair distance and probably does justify two tanks. He and his buddy had chosen to do this dive because of the seal that had been in the area. They didn't find it, but I did manage to shoe-horn that video into this blog. So there.

That's it for running stuff.

The rest of the day was like any given Sunday, despite it being Monday. Queen's Birthday public holiday for us in New South Wales. Odd, but I'll take it. I took the girls for a swim, where they met up with a couple of friends from daycare and used their father, Simon, as a climbing frame; easy parenting for me, not so much for him; should have offered to help, didn't. My time came when he took one of his lads to the loo.  Then it was lunch then aforementioned nan-nap, which must have been nearly two hours. I woke up just as Sal was leaving to take AJ to soccer practice. As they were pulling out of the driveway H stumbled into the room so we headed out too so we could watch AJ play. Only AJ wasn't at soccer practice. She had a small cut on her toe so didn't stay. H and I hung around, and fate caught up with me for cutting Simon loose in the morning. H and one of her friends used me as a climbing frame and took it in turns to cover me my head with coats and jump on me. Half expected to end up on Diego Garcia with a spotlight in my face and the CIA interrogating me. Didn't happen though.

And that was the day.

One last thing (Colombo style.) Yesterday Sal threw out half a loaf of bread which was past its best. I retrieved it fro the bin and made my first bread pudding. I used this recipe and it worked a treat. Tastes a lot like my childhood, like the bread pudding my mum, dad and nan would make. Got to like that.

And I think that's 164km for the month.

HEAVEN 17

So my plan had been to knock out 24km to give myself a week of halfs, but I gave into temptation today and only ran 17. So the song choice is pretty straightforward. 

I'd woken up feeling tired. And yesterday I'd been tired before I even went for my run, nodding off while at H's swimming lesson. I was on a chair, not in the pool. And this morning started with a shortened "long" walk for the dog, which was probably around 8km, down to the aquarium and back. The highlight of the walk was seeing a pair of Tawny Frogmouths in a tree next to the footpath. I got all excited and doubled back to share my discovery with another 2 dog walkers. I hung around watching the birds do very little and probably showed them to a dozen or so other walkers. I love stuff like that.

For the record - they're not owls. They're frogmouths. They spend their days sitting in trees looking like bits of tree. At night they hunt, flying almost silently. They are a good sized bird and seeing but not hearing them fly is a bit weird. I like them. Can be tricky to spot in the daytime, so Go me!

The rest of the morning was a bit of a lazy affair for me. Sal and her sister Mara plus a friend Anthea were walking the Spit to Manly and taking AJ who, as it turned out, set the pace. I was on duty with the H bomb (as I call my 4yo daughter.) For us it was a drive to the Upper Crust pie shop so dad could grab some breakfast, eaten overlooking the ocean at Collaroy. It's a hard life. I had a half-hearted look around a hardware store for some landscaping odds and ends and was on the way to a whale-watching vantage point (assume "via coffee") when Sal called, earlier than expected. So we turned around and headed back home, I changed into some running gear and then we went to Manly to rendezvous with the walkers.

The running plan was pretty simple. Leave small child and car keys with mother, run home. Try to do 24 - no, sod it, 17 - km. Small child and car keys were left in in a restaurant at around lunch time and I headed south. I'd not done the maths, but I figured a run up to North Head via the bush track, then back and then home would give me 17km and 140 for the week. I needed to arse about a bit at the end, but it was a reasonable estimate.

I'm not sure it was the smartest choice, given my physical and mental "meh"ness. Although not a big climb, the run does head up early on. Then there is some sand to run through. My legs hated me. I took a small detour down an overgrown path to near the cliff edge; might go back and explore that a bit more, it might be how the fisherman get down to the rock-shelf below. From North Head back was a bit nicer - mostly downhill. The run along the beach felt nothing whatsoever like winter; boardshorts and bikinis aplenty. Towards the end I knew I'd pull up a little under 17km if I went straight home, so I continued along the bikepath a bit past home and then doubled back.

Job done.

You can head to Strava to see the run if you like, I grumpily load an exported TCX to RunningFreeOnline and I will link to the run on Garmin Connect because it knows where I live and what I do and automatically names the loaded GPS data. MANLY RUNNING. Well, it makes me smile; a ruggedly handsome chap, wooing ladies, saving children from burning buildings, hunting for dinner; Manly! An American friend of an American friend of mine, when told there was a suburb called "Manly" asked if it was all the gays hung out. Also made me laugh. But no, Manly is called Manly because the indigenous Australians encountered by European settlers in the area seemed confident and manly.

I feel like a bit of a teaher today, what with the manly and not an owl stuff. Only wrote that because I felt like linking to this.

the go-to run

Another running post. Sorry.

To add some balance, the house is looking good and is nearly finished, the kids are great and Alex starts school next week, I've not been diving in ages despite getting a new camera and housing for Christmas. That brings pretty much everything else up to date.

I've had a go-to run for quite a long time. Sometimes I'll have a couple of different distances, or one one with hills and one without. These are the runs I do when I think I need to run but don't want to think too much. Familiar, comfortable routes that I can tick off when done, runs  that make sure my legs keep turning over even if they may not want to.

Richmond Park was a go-to run. I briefly had a loop around London's dock area. From Willoughby I would head along the bike path next to the freeway. Now I have the 11km local loop that will have me running along Manly's 1.6km beachfront, and an inland loop that takes me along the Wakehurst Parkway.

It was as I ran the inland loop last week - three times, once anti-clockwise - that I started thinking about the go-to run. And then on to what makes for a good go-to run, which is worth pondering when you consider the Wakehurst Parkway.

Frenchs Forest Road becomes the Wakehust Parkway not far from my home. Depending how I leave my house I can justifiably say it is the road I live on…if you allow a few bends and couple of name changes. The stretch I run is probably about 5km long. It has no footpaths. The asphalt peters out to rough gravel and the road, which is either quite straight or dead straight, is edged by rough scrubby trees and grasses which provide little shade and look ready to burn any day now. I've run it day and night, and in the day it can be quite warm and still, most of the air movement coming as cars and trucks go past at around 80kmh, a couple of feet from your shoulder. But usually it is warm, the asphalt seeming to retain plenty of the suns heat. It's not so bad; this stretch of road is flat enough that I can plod through the heat and make it to the water bubbler in the small park near where I turn off.

In the summer I get to hear cicadas in the gaps in the traffic that the lights at either end provide. Very occasionally, or at night, there will be no traffic in sight, but usually it is the hum-to-a-roar of traffic that I hear. There is always roadkill. Mostly possum with the occasional wallaby. There is always litter; some fly-tipped, some that looks to have fallen from workmen's vehicles and plenty of fast food packaging that has got loose or been discarded.

So there it is. A quite dangerous, reasonably featureless, hot, noisy, litter and dead animal strewn stretch of road that places me on the very border of "is committed" and "should be committed."

But.

It is local. It is easy running. And it makes me feel like a real runner, one of those runners you see in documentaries training for a twenty three thousand mile solo barefoot desert mountin crossing. You get my drift. I love the look of this stretch of road, even when driving it. I took that picture today, pulled off the road onto the gravel with my phone stuck out of the drivers windows waiting for a gap in the traffic. And yes, there is a washed out filter applied to the picture, but it can look almost like that. In my minds eye it looks exactly like that.

I think that is it. A good go-to run is one that makes me feel like a runner. One that I can do comfortably so anyone catching sight of me would think "there goes a runner" and not "what the hell is that moron doing running along the Wakehurst Parkway?!" And it is one that I need dig into a bit to find interesting, something a little left field.

Yes, that's it.

The Sydney Harbour 10km

I think I'd had a few beers the night I decided to enter this race. The race, yesterday, was staged about a month before the City2Surf, which I will be running. It must have seemed like a good opportunity to pick the pace up from the long-distance plod pace I typically maintain. I rarely do "fun runs" so it is not my intention to meander the C2S with 69,999 of my mates. The Sydney Harbour 10k course is very flat so I was entertaining the possibility of beating my 10k PB which I set on the MiniMos - far from flat. I had the usual confidence-smashing slow runs last week and felt the need for a Lemsip Max on the Friday and Saturday night. So everything was going as it usually goes.

Pre-race-day Saturday started early-but-later-than-it-should when I failed to wake up until 6am. I grabbed a camera and dog and hurried down to Manly and back, managing to get there in time to see the sun rise over the ocean. The rest of the day was painting, which I'll cover in another post. Suffice it to say standing on a roof is not what my calves needed the day before a race.

Sunday morning started at about 5:30 and I got the 6:30 bus to the City, a bus that was almost full by the time it got to North Sydney. Very few passengers were not runners. We got to the City at 7am with plenty of time to emppty my bladder, skull some water and drop my backpack on the lawn in front of the Museum of Contemporary Art. Start was 7:30.

The course starts on George Street in the Rocks. The street is quite narrow, and despite being in the 'A' group I wasn't as close to the front as I would have liked. I am far too polite to elbow my way to the front and I figured I'd be able to get where I wanted to be and away from the crowds inside the first kilometre. The start was a little congested and it took  me over a km to get properly into my running. Annoying though that was, the dodging and weaving did result in me setting off at a quicker than expected pace. There were a few restricted sections over the first couple of km which upset my rhythm a little, but by 3km I was feeling comfortable.

I looked at my Garmin once early on and allowed myself another peek at half way. I was averaging in the 3:40s/km so could tolerate a little fade and still get my PB. Sub-40min was a certainty unless I managed to fall in the Harbour. The course is out-and-back (pretty much) so it was back around Darling Harbour and King Street Wharf, along Barrangeroo, back on to Hickson Rd and under the Bridge for a finish at the Circular Quay waterside, right in front of the MCA. I was fading a little towards the end but a couple of things helped me along; a girl with 'You Can't Catch Me' written on the back of her shirt (I did catch her) and with 100m to go, as I was easing a little, a guy shouting "go-on!" at me as he was about to overtake. I put my foot down and went over the line in front of him, before turning to shake his hand and call him a bastard.

Medals collected we had a chat about times - he was chuffed as he wanted sub-40 and according to my watch we'd done 38:40. We chatted about cricket and then parted, me to collect my bag and head to Manly for breakfast with Sal, the girls and some friends.

In the final washup I came 128th (net time) of 5000 with a net time of 38:40, which is a new PB. I think I earned my ferry trip and big breakfast at the Bavarian Beer Cafe. A beer would have been nice though.

swimming with the kings

An unexpected but welcome side-effect of my GoPro not firing up when I got in the water is a visit back to my neglected blog.

The weather forecast for this week had been pretty close to spot-on and after a couple of days of rain the weekend landed quite nicely. Yes, there was some early drizzle on Saturday but it was dog-walk-near-dawn early and the day cleared nicely to be warm and cloudless. As I'd walked Rowlf to Manly I had idly wondered if the word "drizzle" had made it it into Snoop's vocabulary; drizzle on my jizzle or some such. As it is I got a a bit wet before getting to Manly.

As I walked past the aquarium I saw how clear the water was. I was hoping to get in the water with my GoPro and things seemed promising. I wandered along the Corso to the ocean side and things started to look a little less promising for a dive; the surf was solid. Fairy Bower, where I had hoped to get in the water, was rather lumpy. Saturdy was for chores, so maybe it would drop off by Sunday, or even Monday when I'd be taking a day off work.

Sunday dawned clear, Sal set off for a walk to Manly (part of her training for next year's Everest Base Camp trek) and I hung back, driving the girls down a little later. We met Sal in Fusion Point, our semi-regular haunt, had some breakfast and then went to have a play on the beach.

While not as large as yesterday the surf was still pumping. I took some pictures - I think I took more of the girls than the surf - and once Harrie started losing the plot we packed up and headed for a drive along the beaches to the Bilgola lookout and a spot of (failed) whale watching.

Somewhere along the way I decided that today was the day to jump in the water. Tomorrow is not due to be as sunny, so the light would be at its best today, and as our builder started on our renovation on Thursday it makes sense for me to be around so I can answer any questions or simply get in the way. I plugged the GoPro in to top-up the battery, faffed around and then headed out, leaving Sal to do some packing while the girls did some sleeping.

My option was down to Fairlight or get battered in something akin to a washing machine. Fairlight had looked reasonably clear on Saturday morning, despite the rain, so I was OK with heading there. I suited up, applied some I-hope-this-prevents-my-mask-from-leaking vaseline to a top lip that has remained unshaven for over a fortnight and wandered down to the waters edge. It makes a pleasant change to not apply vaseline to my nipples crotch. It looked a bit green and murky. Ho-hum, I slid in and it was reasonably warm. And green and murky.

I'm not sure what the tide was doing but I seemed to get sucked out over the shallows, which saved some finning. There was a little bit of swell and small waves breaking by the pool, but conditions were good. The same could not be said for the condition of the GoPro. I tried all combination of the three buttons but it stubbornly refused to power up. On the plus side it hadn't flooded, so I guessed a battery-out-and-back-in restart would be needed.

Visibility was OK. By Fairlight standards. So visibility was pretty ordinary. I could see to about the top of the drop off and could see there were plenty of fish about. I dropped down through a large school of yellowtail. Towards the sand it went from reasonably murky to murky. I had a bit of a swim around and popped back to the surface. Futile attempts to get the camera to work were futile. The GoPro is so small that carrying it about is no big deal; I gave up on it and started to work my way along the small wall that is the Fairlight dive site.

Before long at all I spotted a couple of the Kingfih I'd seen last time I was here. OK, I don't know if they are the same Kingfish, but last time I was here and again today there were Kingfish, to about 2ft long, idly swimming through and probably scaring the shit out of the juvenile yellowtail. There were also old wives, blackfish, hula fish, lizardfish and wrasse plus the usual fixed life. It was, and with no photo or video evidence you will have to take my word for it, quite lovely.

I was feeling reasonably comfortable in the water. Despite the mukiness below the ascent was through some deceptively blue water. Milky blue, but blue nonetheless. One of the great things about short-stay freediving, the frequent trips to the surface, so I was having a great time.

I found myself in the middle of a good sized school of yellowtail as a Kingfish passed through. The yellowtail parted and it looked all very National Geographic channel. The Kingfish did a few turns and twice came within touching distance. So, without the aid of a picture, picture this; I'm midwater, hanging in the centre of a school school of yellowtail that keep parting and reforming as a Kingfish swims through. It was as close as I get to a religious experience. I forgot about holding my breath; that's not to say I took a lung full of water, rather that I was there in the water with the fish, not at all concerned that I needed to go back to the surface. I'm fairly sure that's a first. Eventually (ha! unlikely to be more that 2minutes) I headed back to the surface.

I worked my way along the wall and decided that I'd keep myself entertained by dropping right down on to the sand, which is only 8m away. I swam down through the murk, over a couple of small but nicely vertical walls and hit the sand at 7.8m. I swam away from the wall...and found the wreck. I came to the surface a few metres from a stand-up paddle board and chatted briefly to the rider whose opening gambit had been "have you found the wreck?"

The Fairlght Wreck is a small speedboat that sits just off the wall, as the more astute reader will no doubt have guessed from the previous paragraph. The thing is...I very rarely find the wreck. As it turns out there is a good reason for that; I've been looking in the wrong place. I took some bearings and dropped straight down onto it, marvelling at how rock-hard-water-man I am to sink through 8m of really quite warm but somewhat green water. I'll not be setting any records for freediving or hardness. The wreck - a small speedboat - seemed cleaner (in part) than I recall, more of the engine being recognisable as engine as opposed to crud-covered metal.

Very pleased with myself I decided 45mins in the water was enough and made my way back in as a dive school was preparing to enter the water. An especially inelegant fin removal kept them entertained; I'd timed my exit to coincide with a largish (by Fairlight standards) set coming through. I stood up, tried and failed to look cool as I wandered past them and headed back to the car to get changed.

And that was today in the water. Back at the car I removed the camera from the housing and the battery from the camera then replaced the battery and voila! It fired up. So I dried and dressed, took the now working GoPro back to the waters edge and clicked a few pics, including one that was of a water-creature (a sea hare) underwater. So I got a "underwater" shot in the end.

All in all a nice way to spend a couple of hours of an autumn afternoon.

the calming power of the ocean

I really do not like the title but can't come up with anything better and so it stays.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty ordinary and being in one of these bad moods where I become such a charming person to be around. Luckily the kids and dog don't kop it from me like Sal does, so once I took the kids and the dog to the small beach at the Spit where I spend most mornings I started to feel somewhat better, and Sal, who had things to do, probably did best by not being around me.

The walk to and from the beach is...challenging. I have a dog who is hell bent on getting to and in the water as quickly as possible and a daughter who either runs like a nutter or dawdles. Daughter number 2, along for the ride on my back is currently far easier to take along. First stop was the bakery where I handed AJ the money to go in and get herself an iced snail and me a coffee. Then it was to the Harbour via the Gallipoli steps.


The steps are quite steep and Sal will avoid them if she can. They are also a shortcut, so I tend to take them. The trip down the steps today was enlivened by a woman and her Wiemaraner overtaking us half way down. We stopped to let them past; Rowlf, of course, wanted to play. Which was fun; a playful pup and 5yr old dog meeting on a precipitous set of steps, me with a 3yr old by my side and 1yr old on my back. The meeting went relatively well, and other than Rowlf wanting to take off after his new best friend the rest of the descent was relatively uneventful.

The beach is always a bit of fun. I split my time between playing with Alex, preventing Harrie from eating too much sand and throwing anything floaty as far out into the Harbour as I can so that Rowlf leaves me alone to play with Alex and prevent H from eating sand. Today was different only in that H is now walking. This week she decided it was time to walk and walking is the new sitting. So that was the start to the day; we popped into the kayak store so AJ could try on a lifejacket - the yak gets wet tomorrow - and then it was home to hand the kids to Sal while I did my weekly sweep of the attic for dead rats. Two this week.


A bit of food down the kids and then they had their naps while Sal went to Pilates and I decided to try and groom Rowlf; it's been a while and he is starting to knot a bit. It went not as badly as it could have. Then Sal got home...and I was given a free pass for the afternoon.

We'd had some rain on Thursday and Friday but not enough to stop me thinking about a dip in the ocean.  The water has been silly-clear for the last week, even the Harbour at the spit looks fairly gin. I'm pretty much over my cold and I could clear my ears. The howling gale (ok, strongish wind) was blowing from the west, so the Bower should be OK. A quick look at the Manly Beach cam showed there was no surf whatsoever. I grabbed the   has-been-packed-for-months bag of snorkelling gear (I can't really justify calling what I do freediving can I?) and headed for the Bower.

Before leaving I said to Sal I was not taking a camera, so it was probably going to be great...

Without a tank to worry about the parking is far easier and I found a spot a couple of streets back from the water. I geared up and took a quick picture of myself in a wetsuit, in case it never happens again. Then it was down and in. The water looked lovely. There was a kid in board shorts and a rah vest standing in the shallows. In my 3mm spear suit, hood, booties and gloves I felt pretty damn soft.

A couple of guys swam past in just their swimmers. Yep, I'm getting old and soft. That said, it felt chilly to me and I was glad of the neoprene. The water was fairly clear; a little "milky" but I could see the bottom, about 6m away, from the surface so i had plenty of visibility. It's not shark season and I didn't see any sharks. I headed out and south, over the kelp and small reef. Plenty of small fish about and a bossy Grouper hassling another kept me company. I dropped down to the bottom a couple of times but on the third time my left ear stubbornly refused to clear. I came back up a little, swam around at a couple of metres and then went back to the surface. Bollocks, thought I. On the surface it cleared, and on the next attempt it took a little coaxing but cleared and from then on it was fine.

The Shelly side was not yielding much more so I turned and head north to what JCJ called "Aztec City" because the large boulders brought that to mind. There are usually lots of fish over there and today did not disappoint. I passed quite a few Old Wives before I met up with the resident school of mullet. I had a swim around with them. I'd drop down a few metres away and then slowly come to the surface among them. They don't give a toss about me and tolerate my presence. Despite the shivering there was no way I was leaving now. Drop down, swim around a bit and then come up through the sun's rays piercing the clear water and a big school of fish. Is it any wonder I feel better in and after being in the water?

I swam over, around and between the rocks trying to find a Wobbegong or Port Jackson shark or maybe a giant cuttlefish, none of which put in an appearance today. As well as the schooling mullet there were plenty of wrasse, more old wives, seargant baker, big eyes...the usual suspects. As I went across another couple of rocks I spotted a huge school of yellowtail and headed slowly towards them. Like the mullet they tolerate people swimming with them. With the yellowtail a few metres off I upended myself and headed for the sand. And then I spotted something else, something that looked a lot like a turtle under a rock. I veered off to find that the thing that looked like a turtle under a rock was a turtle under a rock! Fucking hell! There's a turtle under that rock! On and off I have dived and swam in Sydney for 10years and this was the first turtle I'd spotted. All thoughts of looking for anything else disappeared and the remainder of my time in the water was split between swimming though yellowtail (packed so tight that I felt a bit queasy among them) and the turtle. He (she?) raised a flipper and had a look at me but was unconcerned by my intrusion.

I would have liked to stick around until he/she had decided it was time to breath or swim off but I was shivering controllably and was in no mood to start shivering uncontrollably. I had a final dive to spend some final time with the dude and then headed back to the shore, ending my dip with about 45mins in the water. I got out with stinging feet and fingers that were purple and yellow. I may or may not have my dad's looks but I certainly have his circulation. There is a coffee shop at the waters edge, so still in my suit and dripping wet I wandered in and grabbed a cookie and coffee. I stood for a while at the seawall, looking out over the flat ocean before heading back to the car to start warming up.

I felt a million dollars. Just being in the water makes me feel better, but a day like today, well...

a day worth blogging

beautiful at the Bower, a photo by Auswomble on Flickr.

I am a bit crap when it comes to blogging about the kids and their awesomeness and a lot of stuff in general and for that I do not apologise. If I'm a bit crap then I'm a bit crap - so there. For the record the kids are awesome. Both Sal and I find ourselves locked in a battle of wills with number 1 while number 2 refuses get to her knees and now drags herself commando style all over the house in search of things to upend over herself. They are awesome in the correct sense of the word and awe is inspired every day. Which is not to say I will blog any more about them than I presently do.

So to today. I woke up a little grumpy despite having been gifted a 15minutes lay in and not getting woken until 4:45. This, I suspect was evening the score for Friday's 4:15 start. Anyway, I got up and kept the kids quiet until approaching 7am when I could take out my grumpiness on Sal. I suspect the grumpiness was a hangover from a Saturday spent filling a 3m3 skip with bricks, concrete and wet sand.

Anyway, a proper row was narrowly avoided and we went out for some breakfast at Splat in Queenscliff. I've been there a couple of times before and like the view from the deck - all along Manly beach - the pictures on the wall - especially the one of the shark and swimmer at the Bower - and the guy who runs the place - who seems like a decent bloke. It was a far more relaxed breakfast this morning on account of me not having cycled there and arrived a stinking, sweating wreck or got there with a mental dog in tow.

So we had breakfast and it was pleasant and the girls behaved and we drove home and the grandparents, who have taken up residence, took AJ out while Sal headed out bag shopping with Harrie and I was a free man.

I have been longing to get back in the water since Fiji - in November. So I grabbed a backpack, faffed around a lot deciding what gear to take (deciding to ditch the weight belt and wetsuit in favour of a rash vest), grabbed the pushbike and headed to the Bower to see if I could swim with the sharks.

Manly was busy with crowds in town for the final day of the Australian Open of Surfing that looked like it was going to take place without waves. Bad for them, great for me. I got to the Bower to find it looking pretty nice - just like the picture. I chained my bike up, left the key to the chain in the backpack that I hung from the handlebars and went down the steps to the water.

Australia is having a La Nina year. That means a lot of rain and cool temperatures with warm seas. Today we didn't have the cool temperatures or rain but we did have the warm seas. Perfect. I headed out and saw my first shark, a small Dusky Whaler, after about 30seconds. It had already been a good outing.

I got out over the sand and found a huge school of Yellowtail heading north. I duck-dived down to join them swimming over the weed and between the boulders. Clearish warming water, loads of fish, a shark. Happy days! After a while I turned to head south as that is where I have seen more sharks in previous years. And after a while I spotted another whaler. My breath hold was getting a bit better - but not outstanding - and I was pretty comfortable swimming around at about 5m. As it was low tide that was deep enough. Any deeper would need a shovel.

I turned back towards the rocks, passing a lone, juvenile Kingfish and another Whaler. Then I found a small Wobbegong sitting on top of a rock. I started to beat myself up for not having a camera with me (always take the camera!) as I did a few dives to get a good look at the little carpet shark and another that was wedged under a rock about 8ft from the first.

I saw a few scuba divers approaching so swam over to them and let them know there were sharks about. I do like hanging out with scuba divers while I'm on breath-hold :-) A quick trip to the surface and I went back down to point out the Wobbie on the rock. I should have pointed out both as one of the divers damn near stood on the second one. On the surface I had a chat with another snorkeler about the sharks before heading on my way south.

I saw no more sharks but enough fish to keep me happy as I started to get a little chilly. I got out after around 40mins, very pleased with myself. I grabbed a coffee and sat on the wall by the steps to watch the world go by and take this picture. Then it was time to head home.

I decided to first ride along the beach to check out the crowds at the surf comp. So I put my sandals on, packed or strapped to the rucksack everything else and headed along the beach. With my bike helmet clipped to the backpack and my t-shirt knotted on my head (I'd forgotten to pack a cap) I felt very much as if I lived "on the beaches." It was a nice feeling.

Along the beach and then back to the main road. I stopped to correctly fit the t-shirt and bike helmet and then cycled home. I was a little surprised to find that I'd been gone under 2hours. I really must do this more often.

Sal was cooking a roast for dinner and with only Harrie to look after I got another free pass. Rowlf hadn't had his long walk so I took him down to the Spit so he could have a swim in the Harbour. He was his usual mental self, I was back by the water and all was well in the world.

OK, I need to go to bed, so that's the lot. A good day; overlooking the ocean with my ladies, in the ocean with the sharks and paddling in the shallows with my dog. Three out of three.

Layne Beachley and the beaches

It isn't every day you bump into a genuine living legend and I don't think it is overstating it to describe 7 times world surfing champion Layne Beachley that way.

The big toe was fine this morning but I was feeling a bit bleugh; the constant humidity that I am constantly belly-aching about is starting to drain us all. But today was a no-brainer choice. Bryce was turning two and his party was in Newport. Drive there with the family, they drive and I run home along the Northern Beaches. Shouldn't take too much cocking about to turn it into a one way 25km run.

The only downside was that I'd be setting off at around 12:30 by which time it was pretty damn hot and still quite humid, I guess around 80%. I felt reasonably well hydrated, if a little underfed, slapped a load of sunscreen on greased my nipples and crotch and then watched as Sal and the girls drove off in air-conditioned luxury, heading home for a sleep. I must be out of my tiny fucking mind. Oh well.

The idea was to run along Pittwater Road which does not have too many great views. However it soon became apparent that the km were turning over a little too quickly and I'd need to add a couple of kinks. Simple enough, at mona Vale I turned east and ran closer to the ocean. Got some nice views too.

Despite the sunscreen I was a little concerned at the heat and sun and was glad when it clouded over a little. There were a couple of drops of light rain, but nothing that cooled me down. At Dee Why I did the maths and figured that heading back to the beach and the into Manly would get me the distance. I wasn't really enjoying the miles at this poit but I was enjoying the fact that they were ticking over. Hot and with something that felt a bit like a shin splint (left leg) I was glad of the brief rest I awarded myself at Freshwater. I was 17km into the run, on a boardwalk over the rocks by the ocean and I had just passed my Juneathon total. From here on it is uncharted waters.

I rounded the headland to see a surf carnival on Freshwater beach that means I could not run across the hard packed sand but needed to go through the soft stuff - really not at all what I needed and I'm glad "Freshie" is a small beach. I got to the zig-zag steps on the south side and thought sod running these.

A couple of zig zags up I glimpsed a surfer behind me who looked a bit like Layne Beachley. Around the next zig zag I stopped to find that she looked exactly like Layne Beachley. At a sweaty 18-and-some-km in I must have looked pretty as a picture as she trotted up behind me, board under arm. We had a brief chat, I told her I thought she was an inspiration and had done great things for surfing. She said she never tired of getting compliments, wished me well for Janathon and I trotted on, a bit of a spring in my step.

Dropping down to Manly the spring did not last long as I picked up the stock loop in reverse. I cut the corner at the southern end of Manly beach. When I got to the Middle Harbour side I actually felt cold. Oh dear; the reserve tank is empty and I have about 4km left. It was slog home from there, but I made it to the end of my road at 24.5km, which really was enough.

At home I was a bit of a mess. The shoulders looked to have survived the sun but I suspect I made a schoolboy error by not putting sunscreen on top of my head. I was wearing a lightweight running hat all the way, but I'm not convinced of its SPF. I threw down fluids, had an Ikea meatball and branston pickle sarnie and some liquorice. I put a sweatshirt on to deal with the goose bumps.

Looking forward to icing the left leg tonight and getting to tomorrow. All about the numbers now. Monday and Tuesday are no brainers, tomorrow is make or break. Just need to stay on task.

Australia Day, some bad language and the threat of violence

I will try and keep my views on Australia Day to myself - I am, after all, English (despite the second passport.) It is only fair to warn you that I will be dropping the C bomb in his post. It will not, however, be gratuitous. No, in this post I will attempt to accurately record the history of this day, what happened and what it represents. Which is somewhat at odds with the mainstream Australia Day (strike 1! I will try to stop there.)

Today is a public holiday and therefore I had the opportunity to do a single run. And, free from the commute I could hit the local trails. I'd written earlier in a post or a comment that I would run the Manly Dam mountain bike circuit, inspired to do so by recalling that Gary is a mountain bike instructor. I was helped by the weather - it was humid as hell and had been belting down with rain. That plus the fact it was Australia Day should mean the track would be biker-lite. As it turned out it was bike-free. That trail is about 9km, so the plan was to link this with a run along the beach at Manly and then do the Manly to Spit scenic walkway. It was all very Manly (snigger; it's still funny after 12years.)

I left at about 1pm and it was 97% humidity. It is about 1km to the nearest point of the bike circuit, straight up. It was, of course, somewhat wet underfoot. I decided to hop about and avoid as many puddles as possible until the creek crossing; after the rain there was no way I was getting through the water with dry feet. Mind you, the humidity alone meant there was precious little dryness anyway.

I was travelling light, just a $10 note, a tub of vaseline and a bottle of home brew Gatorade. I stopped at the only bubbler on the bike course, in the park where I walk Rowlf each morning. Then it was on to the single track, passing the "no pedestrians" sign as I went. As I said, today I didn't think there would be any bikers that I'd be pissing off. I'll not run the course in good biking conditions. Manly Dam is the most popular of Sydney's relatively few official mountain bike circuits. The heavy traffic it gets and very recent heavy rain had chopped it up quite a bit. So there were plenty of puddles and boulders, but also boards and sections of slippery sandstone. It keeps you thinking.

As I came down the steep section to the creek I passed a couple of lads walking out from a side track. One said something like "hey, jogger!" but I was concentrating on picking out a crossing and paid them no attention. I went around the final bend before the water when a small rock hit the ground near me. Not one I'd displaced but one that had been thrown. "Oi!" I shouted "did you throw something?" The likely lads were about 70m back up the hill from me; as I took a couple of steps back to catch a look at them they look off up a side path. This suggested the answer to my question was yes and I should do some further investigation.

I did the sensible, mature thing and shouted "come here you little CUNT!" and took off after them. They bolted and I surprised myself at how quickly I managed to move considering the conditions and how many miles I've put my legs through this month. I was also surprised at how echoey and menacing my shout had sounded, leaving them in no doubt that a) I meant business and b) I am definitely a Laan-da-na' (Londoner if you must.)

The scrotes were in luck. The adrenaline dropped of quickly and I reminded myself I was 5km into 25km run. A sprint followed by beating the piss out of a...well, I called him a cunt so I may as well stick with that for consistency...a cunt was not an efficient use of my energy. Should the same thing happen in any other month I may make a different decision, who knows? Satisfied that I had at least scared the shit out of them I returned to the main trail, got my feet soaked in the creek and made my way up the hill on the other side.

The rest of the circuit was uneventful fun. I like the boulder-strewn descents around the dam. They are just right for me and I manage to get some pace up by not so much running as falling with a modicum of control. It tends not to happen on many runs. The mountain bike section came and went relatively easily; I was sweating like a racehorse but feeling fine. The next part was a dull road slog down to the beach.

Despite the sun coming out there were not the usual large crowds at the beach. I assumed most people were honouring the day in the traditional manner - gambling and getting pissed off their tits. There was a noticeably greater police presence than you'd expect at a weekend but all seemed good natured enough. I made my way through the flag-heavy corso and picked up the Manly to Spit Scenic Walk.

Most of this trail is not very traily. It is a popular 9km walk and much of it has been sanitised with sandstone steps. Great for walkers but not as much fun for runners. But it is not a road, the views are great and there is still some rough stuff to keep you hopping about. It is a great run to have just down the road - it starts a little of 1km from my home.

Not much to say about it other than I got it done. I knew I'd be sweating buckets so I didn't take a pack and didn't carry my camera(phone), so no pictures of the day until I got home. I managed to not restart my GPS after stopping at a bubbler for a natter so there is a dead-straight and not counted section in the GPS track. It looks over 500m but I claimed it as 500m to give myself a total of 24.5km today and an overall now past 600km.

Still tracking pretty well, even if I do say so myself.

My main problem with Australia Day is that....no, I said I'd be good.

a token trail run

To avoid any sibling rivalry in later years today starts with a picture of AJ because, once again, I ran light today and didn't take a camera(phone.)

I thought I'd better do one half decent trail run before the month is out. Had I not been heading out on a trail run when I should have been getting my entry for this year's Six Foot Track submitted I may have done fewer miles but more off road. C'est la vie. My game plan for this weekend was 2 runs with a nice 24hr break between them and more than the weeknight sleep between today's outing and tomorrow's commute. So that meant today I would be running in the heat of the day. While that does suck a bit, the fact is that the middle of the day has the lowest humidity and up to a point I will take heat over humidity. So it was breakfast by the beach, home to cut the lawns, stick around to say hi to a couple of friends who were popping around and then out for a run as the kids went down for the lunchtime snooze.

I'm a bit over all this road running so wanted to get onto a trail. It would make a nice change and I figured the rougher terrain would be better for the legs than pavement pounding. Plan A was to do an old favourite trail that I have done many times before when training for Six Foot. I used to do it from the other end before we moved. Today I thought I could do it out and back. Then I thought that was a bit dull, so I decided to run around to what was the start and do it one way. I'd hit a bit of fire trail on the way out and then have a nice cruisy downhill to the start at Davidson Park. I was giving the Nikes a day off in the hope that they'd be dry tomorrow morning. So it was the Salomons-I-am-not-yet-bonded-with and my North Face shorts that I knew would be soaked and heavy after a few km. I chose them not because I knew they wouldn't chafe but because I knew pretty much everything else had. Vaseline was applied and a small tub slipped in my pocket.

It was pretty warm when I departed and the sun was almost directly overhead. But it wasn't too stuffy and I made reasonable progress along the firetrail and then to the start of the proper trail section. I did the first 10km in a smidge under 54mins which is slow (15mins from my best!) but acceptable all things considered.

I entered the Garrigal National Park just by Roseville Bridge and took the steps up to the trailhead. It seemed more open than I remembered and as though some of the trees had died off. Odd. The air had puddles of humidity but was surprisingly cool (that is a relative) which was a pleasant surprise. I've done this run a few times when the valleys between the climbs have been really quite oppressive. It was quiet on the trail. I passed a family of three walkers,  2 joggers and a guy walking with his kid.

....if this post ends rapidly it will be because my keyboard is that latst bit of technology to hate me...the bloody cursor keeps jumping about and I find myself typing in the middle of a section 2 paragraphs back...very irritating...where was I?

I made OK progress but was not the rock-hopping-mountain-goat of old. OK, there is a large dollop of poetic licence there; I was not keen on taking any big drops on my weary - but better than yesterday - legs. The track basically follows middle harbour and has a couple of decent climbs that are part walk and part rock scramble. The final big climb, up Timber Getters I did walk most of. Two reasons; it is fucking seep and running it is just silly, and it is the only place I have seen a Brown Snake. Note the capitals; a Brown Snake is considered nasty even by Australian standards and is not just a snake that happens to be brown.

But today was snake free. In fact it was wildlife-lite from beginning to end. The trail was fairly dry after yesterday's rain with just a few muddy puddles. I got back to Seaforth Oval and the end of the trail at about 19.5km which was a bit short of what I wanted. I refilled the water bottle and crossed th Wakehurst Parkway to run a bit of the mountain bike circuit before heading for home in a little under 25km.

I didn' feel like too much of a slacker. Another couple of milestones reached - today I passed my 2011 Janathon total and went through 500km for the month. Gotta be pleased with that.

And my leg feels much better. And that picture wasn't taken today - I was travelling light - but is from the trail. See how far down the water looks? The trail goes down there on both sides. I told you there were climbs!

(apologies for the extra overhead of having to go to Garmin Connect from RFO if you want to see the course map and profile. I have now, officially, given up on trying to upload anything to RFO and am just logging there with a link in the notes. RFO continues to astonish me.)

sleep running

Yesterday's run home was bleugh. Shorts were chaffing again, I seemed to hit a red light at every pedestrian crossing and I just could not get into any sort of rhythm. Later, at I'm-not-sure-what-time-o-clock, I passed out on the sofa. I may not have hit the wall, but I've certainly tapped a fence. Hello fatigue.

Sal, with the best of intentions, woke me from my spot on the sofa and I staggered to bed where I promptly failed to get comfortable. Rather than ruin her sleep I slurred something about "if you need my help with Harrie then come and get me" and took myself off to our spare room; the room is downstairs and cooler and I dropped off almost immediately, waking up at 5:30, a bit later than usual. Hello Wednesday.

Metronome...walked dog, despaired at humidity, got wet in rain, took kids to daycare. Then I leant forward until I'd either fall on my face or my legs would start moving. Legs started moving. Hello Janathon day 18.

I struggled on the way to work. I'm physically tired, but that's to be expected when knocking out a morning and evening run. I'd love to be able to kill each day in one go and have a decent slab of rest in between, but to get my numbers I don't have that option. Physically tired is OK. I get slow with ocassional second winds and tend to bottom out (pace-wise) at something that can still be described as running. My rule for Juneathon had been if I log back-to-back 10ks in over an hour then that was time to quit. This morning I did 14.5k in about 1:17, so I'm still tracking OK.

I spent a fair bit of time thinking about mental fatigue and figured this was not the best way to deal with it. I was more fixed on the effects than how best to deal with it. I also tucked away three bottles of Gatorade - up from my usual one. Hydration is a complete pain in the arse at this time of the year, especially when the nights remain humid; you start the day playing catchup and then head out for a 14k run. Whinge whinge whinge, moan moan moan! A couple of slight deviations today, but nothing to qualify as a new route. My path along Barangaroo was blocked because there was a cruise ship in town, so I was diverted onto Hickson Rd, Sydney's hungry Mile. So here is a picture of a sodding great boat and the backside of the CBD.

So that was the run in. Does not make for inspiring reading, but it's in the bank.

Popped out to grab some lunch and...it's a warm one today.

And it was still warm when I left work. In fact it was borderline bloody hot in the sun, and the tarmac as I approached the bridge seemed like a huge heat sink. One of the office buildings told me from on high that it was 27C and I was not about to disagree. As I ran up the hill that is North Sydney a lass in office attire started to trot towards a cab just in front of me. "VERY EMBARRASSING if you beat me!" I quipped as I inched past her, glad I was feeling human enough to have a bit of a laugh. Work had called a couple of times since I'd left the office, so at North Sydney Oval I found some shade and gave called the office, glad of the rest.

And from there it was the trot home, which went a lot like it did yesterday, and the day before, and last Friday, and zzzzzzzz.....

When I got home I wrung out my shirt and gave the flies that plague my dog the chance to bite me - bastard things. Then I went and got a local paper out of the recycling bin so I could stuff it in my trainers in the hope that they'd dry overnight. After that it was time to jump in the shower, and as AJ needed a shower she jumped in with me.

...but not before stuffing her crocs with paper. Like daddy like daughter, gotta love the little monkey bum.

Metric 400 on the board

Five bottles of Gatorade, loads of water and 2 beers before bed. Hope that does the trick.

turning into the home straight

..if only that were true, still a long way to go, but at least I'm through half way...

Having learnt nothing from yesterday's failure to check the weather forecast before heading out with the hound I was treated a little better today and got wet but not soaked to the bone. Rowlf, of course, didn't care. I didn't take a camera with me this morning so I'll try to describe the scene from the top of the hill. A bank of heavy cloud was hanging above the ocean but did not extend all the way to the horizon. The sun was shining through and under the cloud and the ocean was lit silver and bronze, but under the cloud was a brooding grey-purple. From the cloud you could see rain falling and where it hit the ocean you could clearly make out the crescent shape of the leading edge of the shower. If I can see that I really do not care how wet I am, because that right there is gobsmakingly beautiful. Hello Monday morning.

The rain had stopped by the time I left for work and set to coaxing my legs into doing something that might qualify as running. I'm starting to feel like an old car. Let it turn over a bit to start with and don't even think about revving it until it has warmed up. The suspension is suspect, so slow down on corners. Paintwork faded, backfiring, aircon broken. OK, that's enough of the metaphor.

Andrew had not backed up last weekend's marathon with another big number so it was the slumbering giant, Gary, who rocked me this morning with his 30 mile Sunday. Room spinning, need to sit down, it's happening all over again...I'm on metronome detail this January and I'm not sure I'd have a big number in my legs. Repect to the guys who can lay down the miles day in, day out and then go large at the weekend.

My blog, back to me. The run to work was the run to work and there isn't a lot more to say about it that that. I think it was the first time I'd run with the three things I got from Wiggle after last year's 2nd place. My X-Socks are on their last legs, the Inov-8 backpack is great until I start to run and then becomes OK, but the Craft shorts...they're like being cupped by a velvet glove. I did think about my dad a bit, but not in the digging-deep-for-any-help-I-can-get way that I sometimes do. He had been a physical training pnstructor (PTI and later a parachute jump instructor, PJI) in the RAF. I wondered if he had enjoyed his exercise or if he had days when he was just getting it done? Then I snapped out of it, realising that fully-kitted winter pack runs over the Brecon Beacons and my commute to work were really not apples and apples.

I decided to add the under-the-Bridge-along-Barangeroo bit to the commute and give myself 14km for the morning and a target of 25km for the day.

But hey, I made it work and have therefore made it to the half way mark. And I have also made it to within fifteen minutes of going home without stuffing any newspaper in my trainers. Yuk. And on that, time to get ready for the run home.

The run home passes in a bit of a blur and I think I know why. By the tail end of the day I am so knackered that I've no energy left to think about how knackered I am and my legs, left to their own devices, simply keep turning over. Slowly, but turning nonetheless. But I have discovered something slower than me. Tonight runningfreeonline hit a new low speed record. It already has the shits with me - maybe because I changed Garmin devices after a few days, maybe it doesn't like my shoes. I don't know why, but it doesn't like me. The upload process now goes a lot like this:

Plug in Garmin and try to upload out of a misplaced sense of optimism. Website connects to device and sees new run. Website claims to have uploaded but not processed run. Website then decides new run, despite being a new run that will have a different date, time and (slightly different) waypoints tells me it thinks I have a duplicate. I tell website to ignore duplicates and just upload the thing (how I wish there was a "just upload the fucking thing" button!) and wait for it to tell me there is some is a communication failure or the dog ate my waypoints or my run was abducted by aliens.

Anyway, to make better use of my time waiting for the inevitable failure I chuff over to Garmin connect, upload the new run without any silly questions or accusations of duplication. I then export the new run to a GPX file. Tonight I id that while runningfreeonline was still trying to to fail. So I killed the session, started again and uploaded the GPX file. Then it was a simple matter of deleting the time of day, elevation and anything to do with the weather and then save my miles. Silky smooth technology I think not.

Anyway, having spent as much energy getting that off my chest as I did uploading today's trot I think I'm done for the day. A bit over 25km with the Barangaroo thingy.

For the record, and please don't tell the others, both legs are feeling a bit weak at the moment.

a more fun run

My dog Rowlf is an Irish Water Spaniel and I make sure he gets to swim regularly because that is what he loves to do. Whether he loves it or not is moot; it could have just been bred into him as the breed was bred  to retrieve from water, albeit Irish bogs and not Sydney Harbour. So, having not taken him for a swim yesterday I got up this morning, waited for Sal to achieve semi-conscoiusness and, after not checking the weather, I took him for a walk.

On the plus side I did have my morning coffee in hand and was near a large tree when the heavens opened, so we waited for the shower to pass when all it wanted to do was not be a shower and not pass. Bugger. I mooched from one tree to another until deciding to brave the Gallipoli Steps in a downpour with exuberant dog in tow. Or he had miserable middle aged wet bloke in tow, not sure. Anyway, I made it to Spit Bridge soaked through and sheltered there for a while, out of the rain but able to throw stuff for the lump to retrieve.

No running yet. Sal had put herself on Harrie duty last night and the two of them, having had a somewhat interrupted sleep, stayed at home while I took Alex to Evie's princess themed 3rd birthday paty. Similar drill to yesterday, 10-12 an ankle-biters aplenty. This one was at the parent's house and, without ducks for entertainment they had sensibly hired Princess Aurora to herd the kids (pretty much all girls), paint their faces and give the adults a break. I got home to find Harrie about to go to sleep at about the same time as Alex needed her sleep. Cracking timing, and that would mean Sal could - fingers crossed - get a little peace while I was out. The girls went to bed, Sal put on Rise of the Planet of the Apes, I unblocked a sink and then headed out for a run.

Today's game plan was to crack 200 Janathon miles and I needed 14km, a little longer than the stock loop. A bit tired of trudging along asphalt I decided I would sort of do the loop but instead of heading down the road to Manly I would go via the Spit to Manly Scenic walk. This would add 6km of mostly trails to my loop.

It had stopped raining but the rain had upped the humidity. I think I'd take temperature over humidity, but beggars can't be choosers and I was glad that it was un-seasonally cool, by which I mean very low 20s and 70-something percent humidity. It could have been a lot worse. Sydney's second La nina summer in a row kept the route fairly walker-free. It was a little damp underfoot which when added to he humidity-induced-sweaty-feet meant it was a bit of a squelchy trip. The nipples were a bit sore again - poor singlet choice - so as soon as I was away from the crowds I went weekend-warrior-stroke-hero bare chested. A little something for the lay-deez (I think not!)

It is a nice run. As a trail run it is a bit "meh" because it has been sanitised with sandstone steps built into the hills - I like my trails a tad rougher. But there is no traffic, you get great views of the Harbour and if you care to stop there are aboriginal engravings en route. On warmer days there are lizards aplenty, eastern water dragons that are so used to the foot traffic that some simply refuse to get off of the path. Oh, and you end up in Manly, the start of Sydney's Northern Beaches.

And from Manly, if you've been following, you know the route by now. The Garmin - my brother's, which he left with me and has not missed a beat - clicked over 17km at the bottom of the small rise to my home and I thought that'll do for today.

Fifteen days in and I have hit half of the June miles and I am just a little bit pleased with myself. Right leg is a bit grumbly but not a concern at the moment. Think I might need to retire the 7year old shorts I wore today. I spent more times at kid's parties than I did running. AFC Wimbledon finally got a win. All in all, not a bad weekend.

finishing week 1

Right, a quick summary of the day before I go to bed. Long blog posts are best composed while at work when it is easier to carve out the time.

So, this morning I checked the modem and it was still dead. I may as well give you all a good laugh now...it had been unplugged. We'd had a cleaner in on Friday and they had unplugged it. The reason it had worked briefly on Friday evening was the battery backup was on its last legs. Yes, I did feel stupid. But...the plug in question - the power plug in a powerboard - is not obvious, and anyway, I was kind of glad to be so tired that I'd missed something so simple. It made me feel as though I have been pushing myself. The only competition I am in is with myself, and much of it is mental and not physical. The discipline to carve out running opportunities and then the double discipline of taking them. So in summary - dick head.

I grabbed my brother's Garmin and headed off on the stock Manly beach loop run. As well as being one I knew I could knock over before Darren and Ellie woke up it was also an opportunity to check out a couple of snorkelling spots and see if they were calm or were getting chopped up by the northerly wind. They were both pretty calm. The morning was relatively cool, waves non-existent and it looked as if an ocean swim was about to start as I got to Manly beach. Nice run, and with the extra bit added I decided to walk the last little hill home and stopped the GPS a bit early, just as 12km ticked over.

Back home for a coffee then we walked to Fairlight Beach, snorkelled, walked to Manly, had breakfast and then walked the length of the beach. At North Steyne the shark alarm went off and everyone was told to get out of the sea - very cool timing for my touristing brother and Ellie. By the time we'd wandered to Queenscliff then turned and got back to the sharky spot people were back in the water. Presumably the shark had left of its own accord, been chased off or was now full and no longer a threat.

Back to Manly and I had a pint of stout in the Four Pines before Sal gave us all a lift home. While the others got ready I did the standard Manly Beach Loop, again stopping a little early and walking the few hundred yards uphill to home. Garmin stopped at 11km and that's 23km for the day and, as I'd hoped but not really expected, I had managed to average a half marathon per day for each day of the first week.

It's taken its toll though.

Week 1 - done.

Short day tomorrow methinks.

and they're off!

A few runs on the board somewhat later in the day than usual, but with good reason. Today started a few hundred kilometres north of Sydney at Stoney Park where AJ, my 3-in-a-fortnight year old and I were overnighting, about half way through our road trip back from Queensland's Gold Coast where the big Xmas shin-dig had been. By big I mean my wife Sal, her 2 brothers, 2 sisters, their partners, her parents and 9 kids under 10. I think think that's big enough. Good times. I was on carting the presents home detail.

Anyway, Janathon business. I woke up at a little after 5am and did ever-so-briefly consider a quick - very quick - blast around the lake before AJ woke up. But sanity got the better of me and I returned to where I am most comfortable, being a parent who does not pull shit like that. Anyway, Alex normally wakes by 5:30, and she did today, and we were on the road by 5:30. No runs yet.

We got home at about noon, by which time my brother and his partner, who are staying for the New Year at our place, had gone out to brave Sydney on a hot, sunny New year's day. Sal and our other daughter are flying back home tomorrow, so as lone parent I'd have to wait until the evening to go for a run when Darren and Ellie could babysit Alex. The afternoon was therefore chored out - house stuff, lawn cutting, grocery shopping and uploading photos. Fun times.

Stick with me, the run is next.

After dinner - barbecued kangaroo sausages for that authentic Aussie feel - I put AJ to bed, where she eventually stayed, and at 8pm head out for a run. We have recently moved to Seaforth, which is just on Sydney's northern beaches, and I have yet to get any "stock" runs sorted other than my commute to work. So tonight I decided I'd knock out what I think will be my first regular fun-run. In a nutshell; straight down the hill to Manly, along the beach to Queenscliff and then follow the bike path back to Seaforth. I call it the Manly Beach loop.

It was a thoroughly pleasant trot; the sun was down and the moon was out as I ran though the fading light. There was a cooling breeze coming of the ocean...and at about this point I cannot help but feel a few janathoners up in he UK could be cursing me...sorry. The bike path was a little tricker. I discovered that it is unlit, and I was a little concerned about turning an ankle on a dodgy lump and a lot concerned about running into a bollard at bollock height. Luckily I made it home with ankles and nuts intact.

One down.

Oh, the pic is of my new trainers. First pair of Nike (the Pegasus 28) since I was at school decades ago. They were far cheaper than the Asics (Nimbus and Cumulus) I've been running in for the last 7years, so I thought I'd give them a go. Went alright tonight.

just like paradise

The blog has been neglected for a while, so I figured I'd pop back in to make sure it still exists.

This morning was one of those perfect Sydney mornings that serve to remind me why I live here. I didn't move to Sydney for the people or the sport or the work, I moved here because of the lifestyle on offer. I remember something which may or may not have actually happened but is what I tell people is the reason I decided to move here. About 13years ago, while on a work trip, I was sitting on the deck of Skiffies, a small boating club at The Spit that looks out on middle harbour. It was winter, I was wearing shorts, drinking beer that cost under a pound-a-pint while watching yachts sail past. Decision made. It was relatively early in my scuba days and here was a city where I could dive every weekend. As it turned out I would dive every weekend and often after work.

Anyway, before we get too misty-water-coloured...I now go over Spit Bridge each day on the way to and from work. And so it was this morning. Rewind Two hours and i was up at 5:15 and walking the dogs at 5:30. Blue skies, a few fluffy clouds being lit pink-orange-golden by the sun coming up over the ocean was my intro to Friday. Back home I shared some too-brief-moments with the ladies before hitting the road for work at about 7:20. It takes about 4mins for me to get my first view of the harbour and the ocean, from the top of the hill that Seaforth, the new home suburb, sits on. Then it is down the near-vertical Gallipoli steps before I get to Spit Bridge. middle harbour this morning was pretty damn flat; hardly a ripple and the reflections of the yachts and tinnies were picture perfect. On the south side I loop under the bridge, which is a whole lot better than crossing over the busy road, and takes me to sea level, depending on the tide.

As I head towards Skiffies I typically see three of four pelicans perched on poles at the end of the jetties. Occasionally one will be lazily swimming past. Past Skiffies, which is closed for renovations at the moment, I head away from the main road and up Parriwi. It is a bastard of a hill. However, it does have a few things going for it. First there is the view you get to the left (east.) Middle harbour, the heads and the ocean. Yachts go past, kayaks, the odd small fishing vessel that still goes out from this part of Sydney. Lovely. Then there are the houses. This part of Mosman sits atop a big pile of money, and although there is some old housing stock left there is plenty of evidence oh architects having had a bit of fun. The eastern side of the road drops away very sharply, and it is incredible to see what it is possible to build up in the air. In training terms you get the opportunity, every so often, to race bikes up the hill. The guys on their road bikes usually fly past, but some of the more casual cyclists on their mountain bikes can be beaten. And finally, today, being in an unusually good mood, i had Dave Lee Roth's "This Must Be Just Like Living in Paradise" stuck in my head. In short, it was a good start to the day and the run.

At the top of Parriwi I joined Military Road. The run keeps going up, albeit at a far gentler gradient, right the way to Mosman Junction. It's a bit of a slog, and you're running with the buses and nose-to-tail cars, so not as much fun. But every so often you get another glimpse of the ocean if you look down the side streets. At mosman Junction I caught up with a road-biker and we had a chat. He's broken a gear cable and was therefore now on a fixie - which was why I'd caught him. but up on the ridgeline he had the advantage and once the lights changed he was off, legs spinning a bit more than he'd like.

I was idly musing upon the "Just Like paradise" thing when, for no apparent reason, the Guns N Roses cover of "Mama Kin" displaced Diamond Dave. Maybe because the road and the cars were a little less easy on the eye than the harbour and the yachts. That said, I did have a sulphur crested cockatoo to follow for a while as he flew along parallel with the road.

I was fairly sure I was out-pacing the traffic but started to concentrate a little too much on my right knee that had been feeling a bit stiff. My form was pretty ordinary, especially on the downhills where I felt I was putting the brakes on a bit too much. Ah well, I was approaching 64k for the working week, and I'm old, so it's to be expected. I pulled off of military Road at Neutral bay junction, running down Wycombe Road (a road name the locals have an inability to pronounce correctly.) This takes me within about 400m of my first proper residence in Sydney, once I'd finished dossing. I moved out when the tax breaks stopped.

As I approached the bridge, after dropping down to sea level at Anderson Park, I checked my time and it was, as expected, slow. I wasn't too concerned as I knew I was tired. I decided to take it easy over the bridge and try to enjoy the fact that I was running over Sydney Harbour Bridge, something I do every day and therefore take for granted. That lasted until almost half way when I spotted another runner in the distance and decided I should overtake him. Rather than pip him at the post I overtook with a few hundred yards before the end of the bridge (from steps-to-steps is 1.5km) and had decided that if he wanted to have a race then I'd go for it. He didn't but I kept the pace up and got over in a respectable 6.11 - in fact very respectable considering I'd dawdled (relatively) the first third.

Off the bridge it takes only a few minutes to get to the office...and that is how the day started.

Mustn't grumble.