You will no doubt be pleased to know that the LBTEPA family has returned intact from a week in the licentious and sinful northern climes.
I crewed for the mighty Emma at a tough day at the Gold Coast
marathon; nobbled by the heat, the marshalls directing her off road and a
#$*&ing #$*&!#$*& of a spectator tripping her
up, she retired hurt at 30km. DNF = Did Nothing Fatal but her heart was
broken after working so hard. It was stinking rotten foul horrible filthy luck and we were very sad. But as she has said, her last marathon will not be a DNF. She'll be back.
Oh, my five faithful readers, how I wanted to be out there! But it was fun to spectate, especially when I walked along the far leg of the course cheering on the back-o'-the-packers. Looking strong, looking brave, looking determined, I yelled to them. Just a bit more pain and then the bling is yours! And it was nice bling too. Emma and I sighed over it at the post-race rehydration session, in which I participated with gusto (that's what friends are for, no?). Proving how gorgeous our running mates are, one bloke offered Emma his medal when she told him her story. *wiping eyes* Proving also that we are All Grown Up now, Emma and I gave our unfinished mumble mumble not telling how many bottle of bubbles to a Patsy-esque (?)octogenarian called Loretta.
So in short, pretty much - apart from Emma's stinking luck, and BOOO to the race gods, I say. BOOO! - as I expected. Also as expected, most of the week was spent in a haze of sadness and worry about not being able to run and about the damage I might be doing to my ankle by walking as much as I did. Crappy holiday for the family becuase Mummy wants to spare her ankle versus pain and possible exacerbation of the injury? I didn't know what to do so I HTFU and carried on. It's bloody sore now. I'm sad and worried but I'm used to it. I'm seeing the physio on Tuesday. I hope she can help me. I don't want to rely on Dr Google but when your GP writes a note saying calcaneal fracture, will resolve in 6-12 weeks, no appointment necessary then waddyado? *headdesk*
So. We have floated down from our 9th floor absolute oceanfront apartment and back to Chateau LBTEPA for the next phase. Big things are afoot, my friends, oh yes they are! The astute among my five faithful readers will have noticed in my sidebar that I am participating in Dry July. Yes, I, LBTEPA, emotional drinker and extreme excuse-maker, am taking a month off the booze to raise money for cancer support services. Surprised? I certainly was when the thought came to me, very strongly and wouldn't go away. I suspect the LBTEPA Institute for Behavioural Modification has been sneaking about behind my back.
Now the deed is done. I have a donations page and I have told everyone I know. It's happening.
The LBTEPA Think-Tank has come up with a couple of goals, outlined below
Goal 1. (not negotiable) not touch a drop of alcohol from July 8th until August 8th.
Goal 2. (fingers crossed) raise $1500 through sheer irritating persistence.
If you would like to help me with number 2, please click the link in my sidebar! If not, any and all kind words, mockery, derision and/or cans of HTFU (with or without spoon) will be appreciated. I'll keep you posted!
More anon, abstainers!