JFWS

I've been falling into that blogger black hole where you don't have time to write the usual epic so you don't write anything, then you haven't written anything for ages so you Owe The Readers a particularly jaw-dropping bit of epic prose but you don't have time for that and on it goes. I'm at the unpleasantly crunchy end of my thesis and after mumblemumbleOMFGhasitbeenthatlong years of formal education I do Know One Thing about writing: you have to write something. Just Write Something is my motto with the Thesis That has Eaten My Life and is now Eating My Brain (don't expect any sense out of me in the next six weeks no no nooooooo), and henceforth it shall also be my blogging motto.
So
As my five faithful readers are aware, this is a sort-of endurance sport blog, not a weight-loss blog. However, I want to share one of those make-a-face moments - I got a new ID card yesterday for my new placement (that's I'm doing while I finish the Thesis That is Eating My Brain. The placement is at the local psychiatric ward which I think is apt). I put it on the doover with my work ID card. The two photos were taken about two years apart, and the second one is as flattering as the first (there are some gifted photographers in East Gippsland HR). But the new one still looks like the old one's fat ill much older sister. My sugar (fermented and otherwise)-based stress-management strategy is showing. I have no portrait in my attic. Must look into that.
In other news:
I go back to the physio today to see how close I am to going outside. Gosh I miss riding my bike. I'm a bit upset at the moment becuase my other foot - the one that went bung last year - is hurting again!  I went to Melbourne last week and walked all day (YAY!) in flat boots with no arch supports (doh) so maybe that's it. I love my boots though. I am blessed with extremely shapely calves so finding boots that both do up and are appropriately fabulous is a challenge.

In other other news: hurrah! Hurrah! IT'S SPRING!!! We went to the beach on the boat on Sunday. It was brilliant.

Obligatory Exercise News: 2 trips to the gym and 2 swims this week. Must. Do. Better.
More anon, blossoms!

The Perils of LBTEPA

See this? It's a very dangerous exercise known as a static lunge with a band. I was doing this yesterday at the gym (although certainly not wearing head-to-toe brown, nor brown of any kind for that matter. Please.) as part of my very first go at my Exciting New Program at the Temple of Sweat. I like my program, for the most part. I like gyms. I like the machines and the clanking and the little adjustable knob thingos. I may just have a teeny crush on the rowing machine - so much more fierce than the stationary bike! I don't even mind the Noise The Young'uns Call Music These Days
But I don't like static lunges with bands.
I got this picture from g00gle images. There aren't any pictures of what it's like when the band slips out from under your foot and smacks you in the eyes.

Ow.

The muscular tatooed bloke on the next machine swore and got the gym attendant to bring some ice. I didn't swear, nor did I cry (until I got home), because that is the LBTEPA Way. My eye is still a bit swollen this morning and I have a bit of a headache, but I am going back this afternoon to finish that damn workout.

I'm sure I ticked the "all exercises must be 100% nuffy-proof" box on my assessment. Le sigh......

More anon, Ironsides!

Stardate Sunday

I must write swiftly. Since Starship LBTEPA crash-landed on the Plague Planet I have been the slave of the Plague Monsters and they may call for me at any time. Their demands are unceasing. The only blessing is that I have not been infected. This means that if I plan carefully I can sometimes experience a semblance of freedom, even if only for a short time. The blossoms here are lovely and give me such joy. Other slaves to the Plague Monsters tell me this planet is not so bad, and that it will be warmer soon.  They have accepted their fate. I fear becoming like them. I know the monsters are coming to value my labour, even to almost feel affection for me. I have taken some advantage of this and made my way to the Temple of Sweat as often as I can, but I must be careful.
I will get stronger. I will escape.
They are calling me - I must go!

More anon, stargazers!

one of the first images sent from Mars

as you do

In which LBTEPA realises that There Is Enough, and that Being Fabulous is always the best policy. 

Dear Blog
Since I started going to deep water running I've been thinking oh I must join up at the gym, if I get a corporate membership it would cost less than one class and one swim a week... oh come now what a waste of money I have a perfectly good mat and weights and a set of core and strength exercises and a bike on rollers at home... oh but I am so borrrrrrred with that but if I was more disciplined I could do it ... but classes sound like fun........as you do.
The other day I was prodded in the back by the wise, serene and gentle sages of the LBTEPA Think Tank (Philosophical and Spiritual Division) who pointed out in no uncertain (yet serene and gentle) terms that I was not treating the universe as a place of abundance, where There Is Enough for things that matter, and also (equally calmly and wisely) that I was giving a low priority to my health and emotional wellbeing. Continuing ever so serenely on (I have to say they were starting to give me the pip by this stage), the sages pointed out that if I insisted on being so venal as to fixate on the finances, then I might like to channel my attention (see? Pack of bloody hippies. Sheesh.) toward the fact that a) kicking my twice-weekly takeaway coffee habit  and bringing my lunch to work a couple of times would more than cover it and b) a year's gym membership is about the same as the medicare out-of-pocket for a couple of scans and specialists' visits, which I'm less likely to need over the next decade if I get properly fit again.
To sum up (and I thought this was rather brusque: I may write a stiff letter) they said
You like going to the gym
You can afford it
You need to get out more
Stop bleating and sign up
So I did!!
It's been great fun, although rather confronting to have to (ahem) confront the mumblemumblemumble kgs of extra lard I've been ignoring. I must be the only person to have gained weight doing Dry July (I DID IT! I DID IT! AND YOU CAN STILL DONATE TO THIS GREAT CAUSE!!!) Damn you, mirrored pilates studio! Oh well. It is how it is and I'm buggered if finally making eye contact with my spare tyre will stop me from pumping iron again. Sing it with me, ladies - body shame is temporary;  fabulousness is forever!
I have to go to the physio now to check how The Ankle is going. This is scary* but not as bad as the dentist yesterday which I got through without crying or throwing up. Go me.

More anon, Olympic addicts!!
I LOVE the Olympics. I'd ALMOST get cable for the Olympics. Really.

Did you see the finish of the women's triathlon (and by 'see' I mean scream yourself hoarse at the tv)?What's not to love? 

*Ankle Update: Physio is happy. All is progressing as it should be. If I keep up the standing on one leg (which is Quite Tricky), all should be tickety-boo in due course!!Yay!!

MBPE

In what is possibly the Most Boring Post Ever - apart from all the woe is me I am so sad this is so hard ones - so ok possibly nowhere near the Most Boring Post Ever, but certainly not very interesting to anyone except me; but then it is my blog (but I digress) I have finally realised why I literally dread the thought of going swimming even though I always enjoy it when I get there.
You see, I used to be a very good swimmer. People think I am still (I had an irritiating argument with my dear Spousal Unit on that topic just the other day) but I know I'm not. I'm a good swimmer technically and also compared to non-swimmers, but I am so far from my notion of good swimming shape that I can only just see it on the horizon at noon if I squint . The problem is that I can see it, and that I know exactly how far it is from Here to There (a bloody long way, to use the technical term), and that distance is what I see when I think about going to the pool. Not the half an hour immediately ahead of me, but the weeks and weeks and weeks of feeling unco-ordinated and unfit and finding time around J's shifts and the lane-hogging local swim-squad to fit it in. Another job. Another failure to suck up. Another Bloody Slog to get back something I've lost because I was SO SLACK (aka I am a real person with a real life with priorities and frailties aka I Hate Myself Because I'm Not Superwoman). Le Sigh....
At this stage I don't know what I'll do with this new-found insight, but I always think change is easier when you actually know what you're dealing with.

More anon, philosophers!

Flick

I don't know what the physio said on Wednesday that has Changed Everything, but a switch has been flicked, from Injured and sad and bleaty and a burden to others to Getting Ready To Run Again. Seven or eight more weeks of swimming and deep water running and bike-on-the-rollers and core work and weights and stretching and standing on one leg which is quite tricky and no heels?

Bring.
It.
On.

Except the heels. That's not good. But then I'm going to Melbourne next week, for a prostate cancer conference. Don't I have the best fun? There could be some fab flats there, if such a thing exists. In Melbourne. Not at the conference. Please try to focus.

More anon, dollfaces! And stand back.....

Question, questions

Where have I been? It's been nearly two weeks and really...I've been nowhere, done nothing. I feel as though I'm floating aimlessly, whilst simultaneously moving in ever-decreasing circles.
Will I ever be able to establish an exercise routine again? God I hope so. I feel sad and flabby and dispirited and a failure
How good is feeling strong? I remember it. I remember feeling motivated and organised and happy. I just can't quite work out how to get back there from here at the moment.
Isn't it funny how it's the idea of a daunting task that we fear rather than the task itself? Doubting your own ability to do something new is so tiring but it's hard to overcome until you actually get stuck into things... *slaps self on head for faffing on* that was a long-winded faux-philosphical way of saying, this sobriety thing isn't as hard as I expected. I've even managed an unaccompanied 300km round-trip with my mother-in-law without succumbing to the siren call of the port barrel. You can still sponsor me though. It hasn't been that easy. Just click here! You know you want to!
Will I ever get to go outside, by myself, for a pleasant sweat again?
Will my ankle ever get better?
Will I ever run again? I do so want to run again. I drive up the hill I used to steam up and I say to myself, I will do that again. I. WILL.
What will the physio say this afternoon?
Was buying this on ebay an over-reaction to a major blue with my dear Spousal Unit?

I think we all know the answer to that one...

More anon, sonic screwdrivers!

it's not luck

I've finally got in to the new physio who is a) not leaving town, or so she says, b) kind and c) straightforward, and got the (ahem) good oil (as it were) on my poor sad ankle.  It seems that becuase I couldn't get anyone to listen to me or help me with how to look after it while we found out what was wrong with it ( will resolve in 6-12 weeks, no appointment necessary anyone? BASTARDS), I now have ligament damage as a result of the untreated fracture not being immobilised.
Short version part 1: minimum 8 weeks before I can think about starting to run again.
Short version part 2: ....whimper.....sniffle....
Long version:
Step 1- strap it and stay off it like it was my job for 8 days then go back to the physio to see if that helps.If it doesn't,
Step 2 - 2 weeks in a boot to try and settle things down. If that doesn't work
Step 3 - don't think about step 3.
The physio remarked it's lucky you've got swimming and your bike on the roller and your strength and core work to do. I regret to say that my rather curt rejoinder was it's not luck, mate. It's work. The stuff I have put in place is there becuase no matter how dismal and despairing and frightened and abandoned I might feel, I will Do What I (physically and emotionally) Can. I Will Not Give Up (or not for any great length of time anyway).
I am sad. Sad, gutted, forlorn, despairing. These emotions will pass, I know, but until they do...

WHAT NOT TO SAY TO AN INJURED ATHLETE, especially one who has just had bad news
NB These are all actual things people have thought appropriate to say. I have added my (mostly) unspoken reactions for your reading pleasure. The LBTEPA Publishing Division would like to assure readers that no capital letters were harmed in the writing of ths post.)

I told you exercise was bad for you, and you can't even drown your sorrows LOL
IF I HADN'T KNOWN YOU FOR 25 YEARS YOU WOULD SO BE UNFRIENDED
You still get to go to Queensland, and you'll come back refreshed!
NOTE TO SELF: DON'T OPEN UP TO THIS PERSON AGAIN
There's always Pilates you know
That'll fill the void. not.
You just have to see this in a more positive way
NO. I. DON'T.
We all have our little setbacks in life
THANKS FOR TOTALLY FAILING TO COMPREHEND ANYTHING I WAS SAYING
There's always next year's marathon
NO SH*T SHERLOCK. I WAS TRAINING FOR THIS ONE
Well at least you can still swim
OF COURSE I CAN F***ING SWIM. IF I WANTED TO SWIM I WOULD SWIM
I don't know why you want to run anyway, I hate running
I HATE YOU
Do you think your body is trying to tell you something?
YES, TO PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE. I TRIPPED OVER A PIECE OF CONCRETE WHILE I WAS BUYING PRAWNS YOU MORON
Have you thought about what you'd do if you could never run again?
WHY ARE YOU SAYING THIS TO ME?

Look, I know that in the big scheme of things this is extremely minor. No-one has died, no-one is hungry or homeless or has cancer or lost her job. But it's my lost self and lost joy and my grief. If I can give you one thing to take away from this post, it would be this: don't tell other people how they should feel. You are more than welcome to have any sort of opinion about how valid their feelings are and what la-las they are with their lame first world problems (not that any of my five faithful readers would harbour such unkind notions) but keep them to yourself. Nothing says I'm not listening to you louder than you'll feel better when you (do what I say/agree with me). And nothing will make the person feel more lonely and as though no-one understands.

WHAT TO SAY TO AN INJURED ATHLETE
Oh no. That's awful.
How are you coping? (only say this if you actually want to know. The athlete will be so overwhelmed at your understanding and sensitivity s/he may actually tell you, and this could take quite some time).

But out of the darkest clouds comes the silverest lining, and you will be very proud indeed to note that I remained steaddfast to my vow of abstinence* despite what even the harshest critic would describe as rather provoking circumstances. On the way home from the physio I drove past a pub; my knuckles may have tightened slightly on the wheel, but I kept on going! Go me!

More anon, tiger-tamers!

*If you did feel inclined to sponsor me for Dry July, please click on the logo in my sidebar. It's for a great cause. Thanks!

A new phase

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.

Loretta's hair and makeup were just like this! Her outfit was red and purple and I want to be her when I grow up 

Clan LBTEPA screamed on scary rides at Dreamworld despite it being clear that Disney World has ruined us for faintly dodgy amusement parks. We went out on a boat on a hugely windy day to see whales and proved by our failure to succumb to seasickness that the LBTEPA clan is made of sterner stuff than approximately 80% of our fellow passengers. So very glad I wasn't a crew member that day. But! we saw whales!! Breaching, right out of the water!!! Less than 100m away!!!! Highlight of my life, right there (as was returning to shore. There is only so much the LBTEPA vestibular system can take). We drove south to Byron Bay to see what all the fuss is about, and took Noddie to surfing lessons, at which she seemed both quite adept and to thoroughly enjoy, to the point where she would have gone every day, had she only been able to organise to become Boss of The World. While she was riding the waves I swam in them. It was cold in the water but it was warm and sunny so I bobbed and splashed and bodysurfed and tried not to be run over by the surfers, eaten by a shark (eek!!!) or towed out to sea by a rip. Too. Much. Fun.

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!

I wrote this yesterday but I feel a little bit better now

I keep telling people that I'm so sad and I nearly always feel sad and I've felt sad for ages and ages and it doesn't really go away. I don't want to go to Queensland because at least when I'm busy at home I can avoid walking (avoiding walking is how you fix a chip fracture). In Queensland all I want to do is walk and I won't be able to, or else I will JFDI so we can have some fun at the water slides and the theme parks but all the time I'll feel my ankle hurting and be worried that I'm making it worse. I feel completely lost and overwhelmed with study and my placements and housework and fitness and all that stuff.  I keep chipping away at it, not-enough tiny bit by not-enough tiny bit and then sometimes I feel a little bit better, enough at least to not let my sadness infect everyone around me. People keep saying to me there will be other races, you'll be stronger next year becuase of this, you'll lose the weight you've gained, you'll have such a good time on your holiday and you'll come back so relaxed...They're not listening. They're telling me that I don't, that I shouldn't feel the way I do. They think it's trivial. I've tried to tell some (appropriate) people how I feel but they haven't listened and I've wished I hadn't said anything. The Spousal Unit is the only one who hears me and he doesn't know what to say. There's nothing to say. Just hang in there. This will pass.

I'm feeling a little bit better today. Not so shaky and I don't want to cry all the time. I've caught up with all my placement logs and actually written some of the Thesis that Ate My Brain. The Mighty Mary Sunshine posted a link to some awesome shirts, which I will not be buying (the postage to Australia is a bit steep) but which are helping.Weights help. Cardio helps

More anon, heroes! 

A whole new world

Greetings from Planet I Have a Plan and I'm Not Afraid To Use It!
I feel obliged to confess that I am having a lot of trouble with step 3.
I do have A Chart, however; and will press on gamely, as is the LBTEPA Way.

More anon, glovelies!

Now the Plan Is This

HTFU
Cheer the F*** Up
Work out what to do next
Do it.
Easy!

More anon, swizzlers!

Well that's just super

The CT scan was all good, no structural abnormalities. I went to Melbourne on Wednesday for my MRI, in lieu of waiting for the good drs in the nearest regional centre to triage my referral and tell me when my appointment would be, probably not until August given that I don't have cancer or anything really terrible. I had a  very rare nice day out all alone in the big smoke including some nice shoes but you knew that was going to happen ;)
The MRI found a small (.3cm) chip fracture of the anterior process of the calcaneus (kal-KAY-nee-us NOT kal-sin-ayus, for those inclined to linguistic accuracy). That's the front of the heel near where it joins to the ankle. All ligaments are 'within the normal range'  phew phew phew phew. The  Dr's advice (via  the practice secretary) is that it will resolve in 6-12 weeks (!!!??!?!) and  that I don't need to talk to him about it. HMMMMMMMM
Well.
I will certainly be talking to the council about reimbursing my out-of-pocket medical fees. Also my race entries - Traralgon, Gold Coast and Sandringham are GONE. Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger. If I squeak it a little bit I might be able to start running again in mid-August but that's nowhere near long enough to prepare for Melbourne *sad face* swear words swear words swear words crying swear words. Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger.
If I categorised my posts as some bloggers do, bless their organised little cotton socks, this would be under 'blunk drogging' as me and the chardy have been cheering each other up pretty steadily this pm no seriously my typing goes to #$%& when I've had a few, it's hilarious but I fix it up to spare my own sadly vain blushes. One dy I won't just to give you  giggle.
I don't want tomorrow to come. I will be sober. and it will be time to HTFU, suck It Up, reframe, make Plans, Be Plucky and Set A Good Example. Being F***ing SAD and P*SSED OFF will have to be put aside. Just now I'm letting them happen.
Until tomorrow, my ducklings! Then there will be Plans aplenty, oh yes there will. But not now

just a thought

I was going to delete this stupid blog, with all its stupid whining, and then I realised it wouldn't make my buggered ankle go away. I'm so brainy.
So I have had a nice big cup of

 put on my

   sorry, my 

and am off to the CT scan now. Huzzah!
UPDATE: I have been zapped & will hear some news tomorrow if I can catch the Dr before he heads off on the long weekend. Otherwise it'll be Tuesday.
More anon, mountaineers!

Oh well

so I rested my ankle for two weeks as the physio said, and then I went for a nice little short run in the rain and wind (it's been really terrible, half the district is under water ) and it was so great and I felt so alive and happy and then afterward I iced it as per said physio advice and it was so painful it almost burned and it's been really sore all day today so I went to the dr again and he said I need a CAT scan and maybe an MRI and not to run or cycle (b/c clipping out hurts my ankle) until it's all sorted out which could be a while so no Gold Coast half marathon and quite likely no Melbourne marathon because that's 16 weeks away and I'd need to get to work now if I was taking a tilt at it again.
I am so sad about this. I don't want to go to Queensland now. I don't want to be near another race I'm not doing. Not again. I'm so sad.
Everlasting injury BS makes for boring blogging I know Obut I need to write this down somewhere otherwise my head will EXPLODE. This is STUPID. I was just buying some prawns FFS. I AM  SO UPSET.
I don't want my ankle to be trashed. I want to run and train and sweat and RACE and GET BLING. I am disappointed and angry and sad and sad and sad. 
 My CAT scan is tomorrow morning and I should hear the results within the week. Then we'll see what's next.
Oh well.

More anon, plodders on!

Little by little

So I went to the dr and asked him why my ankle was so sore so long after the Great Prawn Disaster and he said he thought it was ligament damage and that I should see the physio to start sussing out the extent of the damage and that if it was a worst-case scenario I should ring up to get a referral for a CT scan and/or MRI.
Oh, I said.
So how can I make this worse?
Keep running on it, he said. R.E.S.T. is step one.
Can we just take a moment here to acknowledge that I am OVER RESTING? I am rested Up To Pussy's Bow, what with horrendous blisters and irritated sinuses and coughs and gastro bugs and all the other stuff I am so bored with and feel so pathetic about that I don't even blog about it any more to avert the risk of anyone falling off his or her chair with the tedium. I grapple with the wake up at 3.30am with painful sinuses/finally get back to sleep 90 minutes later/now do I get up with the alarm and work out or sleep longer so I am functional through the day (and maybe get better a bit more quickly hahahahaha)? question over and over again. So. Bored. With. It.  I lost so much base over the summer and now every time I start to get on a roll something gets in the way and I just don't seem to have that killer-instinct, ok it's 5.30am/8.30pm and This Is The Time I Have for this workout so I'm Bloody Doing It steel determination in the required spadesful at present. These things happen. It's a phase. Yet still the whole mess messes with my head and makes me frantic and scared and sad.
But I digress.
So there I was, sitting in my car outside the dr on Monday afternoon with ligament damage of unknown severity. I must tell you, my five faithful readers: it felt like the Goofy news all over again, which is stupid stupid STUPID becuase I'll be missing a cheap half-marathon 2 hours from my house, not the massively expensive race of a lifetime on the other side of the world. I was frozen, I felt sick, I wanted to cry. Not. Again. That feeling didn't abate at all until I saw the physio on Wednesday morning and I confess I hid from it through irritability and under a pile of chips, chocolate and chardonnay. I just couldn't stand how bad I felt.
I know. LAME.
The physio had a bit of a prod around and uttered the most wonderful words I ever heard: the reconstruction has held. He's a bit of a buzz-harsher and would choke before anything remotely encouraging fell out of his mouth so the rest of the session was all about how I'd mismanaged things after the Prawn Fall (10 days 'rest' wasn't enough, apparently; I should have intuitively divined that it wasn't merely bruised) but his final verdict was 2-3 weeks off and add balance and calf strengthening to my core and stretching routine. Swimming and cycling ok, also deep water running hahahaha not. going. to. happen.  He also (somewhat confusingly) said that I can probably still run the half marathon at the Gold Coast - if I don't overdo things.....???....so that's good. I think.
But I still feel really sad and lost and hopeless. That hasn't gone away. I wish it would.
The only thing I know is that I don't have a choice. I have to keep doing what I can when I can with what I have. Little things. I have to keep giving up and whingeing to the Spousal Unit and throwing myself on the couch in despair and then getting up again and getting on with it. It's worked before and it will work again. It's just that this bit of it really sucks.

Good thing I am so bloody fabulous and brave and amazing, isn't it?

In other news, Noddie and I are off to the Big Smoke on the train on the weekend for our looooong-awaited Culture-and-Shopping Extravanganza. We'll be staying at a hotel in the city (and eating breakfast in the hotel restaurant! Oooh!), catching the ferry to Scienceworks to see the Wallace and Gromit exhibition and taking in the wonders of Ancient Mesopotamia at the Museum. We also plan to go nuts at as many shops as we can manage and eat good asian and greek food. To quote my 8yo companion-in-adventure: It. Will. Be. Awesome. I think I'll wear my leopard print trench coat.
More anon, fashion criminals!

Proud

Oh, how proud you will be of me, my five faithful readers! Since last I bleated wrote, I have crash-tackled some major bleaty stuff, to whit oh I'm so lonely I love it here but poor me I have no friends waah and oh I am so unfit how depressing everything always goes wrong poor poor me waah
- I asked some women I know over for a girly dinner party! Everyone brought something and we all played one of those question meme games, you know, who plays you in the movie of your life, who's the most famous person you've ever met etc (J won by miles - strip poker at Mt Hotham with Robert DeCastella, I don't care if it was 35 years ago!). The Spousal Unit kept Noddie and her little friend corralled at the other end of the house and we all just laughed and talked and laughed until home time.
And then!!! On Mother's day!!!
I Did A Race!
You see, these days J always works on Mother's Day, only this year (to my immense are you sure? are you really sure? Can I see that roster? surprise) he didn't! Once the obligatory brekkie in bed had been (gratefully) scoffed (and the lost ipod/hat/socks every other bloody thing had been located) I was off into the rain and freezing wind to represent Team Stupidly Determined in the 10km. I have a new Team SD sleeveless top that I made out of a long-sleeved top that didn't ever fit properly, me being so blessed with busty substances, and I hummed and hawed about wearing it a) becuase it was FREEZING and my other top was both extremely fetching and had long sleeves and b) becuase, well, I was feeling a bit funny about how last I was going to be. At the last minute, however, the true LBTEPA spirit shone through! and I toed the line with STUPIDLY DETERMINED on my back. Within minutes I was at the back of the field (where 'at the back of' = completely out of sight of), being passed by small children and nannas on walking frames doing the 5km. But I didn't care. It was just so nice to be out there on the river bank working up a sweat. I felt happy and I stayed feeling happy all the way, even when the rain stung me and when we had to scamper through muddy puddles and when my #$*&ing orhtotics had another go at removing the soles of my feet. Bastards. I had a few lovely chats with the bike marshall as he cruised to and fro - he did his first Ironman in Melbourne in March so was happy to yack about that and I of course can faff on about running until the cows come home.
The worst bits about the race? All the sympathy. Keep going, you can do it! (Thank goodness you said that, I was planning to stop) You're doing well! (So glad you think so). Also the outright derision from one of the marshalls. Tool. People: slow does not mean underdone or unfit. Slow does not mean struggling. Slow just means slow.
The best bits? Wearing my shirt - so many people laughed and commented on it! Being out running, along the river, in the wild and wooly weather. Cliche alert: I felt so alive! The absolute best thing of all was how strong I felt. I love to feel strong, love it love it love it - it is the absolute best feeling in the whole world and I didn't realise how much I'd missed it. I knew I could run 10k. How cool is that? I could keep running and not slow down and steam into the finish and embarass Noddie with the triumphant arm-raise thing and collect my ninth consecutive mother's day medal. I think I might run next year and then retire! It. Was. Just. Wonderful.

I've stopped wearing the bastard foot-trashing orthoticis and have replaced them with some off-the-shelf ones that feel ok. In worrying news, every time I've run in the last week my left foot - the one I hurt when I tripped over a few weeks ago - has ached and ached and felt really weak and strange. Back to the quack again today. Onto the #$*&ing injury merry-go-round again, I fear. Meh. Oh well. I'll keep you posted More anon, streakers!

oooh! oooh!

Race report coming soon! Yes, I, LBTEPA the Mightily Unfit, actually pulled on the Team SD shirt and raced! A 10k! In the rain! Last by miles (of course) but no pain! Yay!

Scary

it is so easy to not exercise

*HEADDESK* #2

MY ORTHOTICS STILL AREN'T HERE!!!! ARRGGHHHH!

*HEADDESK*

So I got all bored with massive blood blisters after every long run and took my orthotics in to be adjusted, as you do. The podiatrist took them on Wednesday, was going to fix them on Thursday or Friday and pop them in the post (his main office is 150km away, and he's going on holiday next week) so I would have them today. Not ideal since my foot still needs to be mollycoddled and the best way to get it all sting-y and painful is run without orthotics (I have evidence that this is not just pessimistic thinking, alas - I had to borrow back my favourite ice-pack from Noddie on Friday) and I HAVE A HALF MARATHON IN 3 WEEKS did I mention that?????
They weren't here today so I rang up to check whether he might have sent them to his office for me to pick up. HE'S JUST DONE THEM. TODAY. HE WILL POST THEM TOMORROW.
*headdesk*
One of the perks of living in a picturesque bucolic wonderland such as that in which I reside is that THE POST TAKES AN EXTRA DAY. So I won't have them until Wednesday at the earliest and I've already had five days off running and I HAVE A HALF MARATHON IN 3 WEEKS did I mention that????
 Yes yes yes I've been stretching and walking and doing my core workout and a bit of cycling but really - hang with me on this, I'll explain it very slowly and carefully - the best preparation for a running event, especially when you've not laced on a Saucony in anger since October, is RUNNING. True.
Now I am happy to take responsibility for any and all behavioural impediments to my becoming super-zoomy. I eat too much. I drink too much. I get all disheartened and don't work out enough. But I've rehabbed this foot like it was my job and been careful and patient and cautiously optimistic and aimed high-enough-but-not-too-high and I was just getting on a really good roll and building up some reliable strength and endurance and I WAS REALLY LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS RACE AND NOW IT'S GOING TO BE A TRAIN CRASH unless I come to my senses and drop out but then I won't have a hit-out before Gold Coast and I was really looking forward to it it's not fair

*pouting*

Le sigh.......

Look! Shoes!

- not mine, but very fab, don't you think? Who can be downhearted when such shoes exist?
More anon, toe-tappers!

Just like the big kids

The nice chap at the bike shop gave me an Endura Cool Mint Gel to try so I thought I'd be like all the big kids and do a product review. Here it is: this gel sounded as though it would taste like toothpaste, and did taste like toothpaste. I'll stick with the raspberry and vanilla. They are Yummy.

I confess I haven't tasted the coffee one; I am extrapolating from the fact that I don't like anything else coffee-flavoured

In other news, Noddie has a new bike and has started riding to school! It's about 1km along a straight road so no big dramas but I am still SO proud, and so happy to see her beaming as she flies down the hill.

She also has her first sports injury BOOOOOO! - a hairline crack in her heel, which is not uncommon and will resolve itself in time but it's been quite painful, poor lambie. She was so brave at the podiatrist's. I have lent her my favourite ice pack.
Please don't feel you have to read this next bit as it's quite dull.
Activity here at the LBTEPA Institute for Behavioural Modification continues apace. Project thisissoboringOKAYI'llwritedownallmyfood has interacted with my laziness in an interesting way: I'll often refrain from cupboard-grazing when I can't be bothered looking for the notebook o'boringness (aka my food diary)! As so often happens, my friend the Mighty Emma has lit the way to another breakthrough. She has recently modified her diet to include porridge for breakfast and salad for lunch. I don't especially care for porridge, or rather, since it is the LBTEPA way to be accurate, washing the porridge pot, so I have substituted muesli as a fast-breaker, and fang down on rabbit food at noon. Rather startlingly, after only four days the button on my work pants is noticeably happier.
Have you fallen asleep yet? Sorry.
I must tell you about the Most Awesome Run I had the other day. It wasn't one of the effortless floating ones or the wow that was fast ones or the I could go all day ones. It was after work eww and warmer than I like and I was stiff from my long run on Sunday (14km, how the mighty have fallen, eh?) and my foot was hurting and I couldn't get my shoe tied properly or my orthotic to sit right. But I kept going. I retied my shoe and fixed my orthotic and stretched my calves. I focussed on my form and reminded myself I only had to run for two songs (BTW ahem did you just read that? Two whole songs! Squee!! And happy dance!!) As I trotted on, things settled down. I felt more comfortable, and strong. I didn't ever feel good as such, but I felt ok and as though I could keep going as long as I had to. No dramas, no desperation. Enough in the tank, physically and mentally. I felt strong! I didn't realise how much I had missed feeling strong. I think about it now and I smile.
More anon, exemplars!

Things that make you go hmmmmm

Comment by LBTEPA on the Mighty Emma's effbee page, following an indication that she (the Mighty Emma) is thinking of a grudge match with Melbourne this October:
...asking myself, can one really go an entire year without a marathon....?
Her response:  A year without a marathon is like a year without mind-numbing terror.
When you put it that way..........

Is there a middle ground between too comfortable (which the brave, brave button on my work pants is telling me I am right now) and scared out of your wits?

Mmmm, bikkies

It's the Anzac Day public holiday here today. In honour of the occasion I have made some Anzac biscuits. My first batch ever - so un-Australian I know! but better late than never. They are yummy (if you read the recipe in the link, there's no way to achieve instruction 6).
I also ground out 8.5 of the slowest kms ever recorded by a conscious person but I did run 2 songs/walk 1 the whole way and I have no foot soreness YAY! YAY! YAY!. And it's not my long run (11km is scheduled for Saturday. Eeek).
A quiz for you: just say a sharp edge in your orthotics is giving you brutal blisters. Do you
a) tape your foot, or
b) tape the edge of the orthotic?
Extra points if you worked out that the best answer is b) in less than 3 weeks, unlike some people I admit nothing
Operation you bite it you write it is continuing in its boring yet worthwhile way; I'd tell you more about it but I might fall off the chair at the immense tedium of it all.
Must keep this short as Noddie wants to paint flowers on my nails, and the footy is on. It's my favourite sort of game - very exciting and loads at stake and my team isn't in it.
More anon, kid-wranglers!

we can rebuild it

Righto.
I must just say that, since I acquired the Best Sinuses Money Can Buy TM, sinus infections such as the one with which I am currently afflicted are a matter of somwhat tiresome pain, general off-colour-ness and poor sleep, as opposed to wanting to saw my own head off as was the case in the past. It's all good.

The other day Captain Obvious flew in and whacked me on the head with the 'you idiot!' stick - it finally occurred to me that the reason I don't seem to be getting anywhere much with the Great Health and Fitness Overhaul of 2012 is that I have started from where I would like to be than where I actually am.

Images in this post are brought to you by my no-show12.30 client

Consequently, boffins at the LBTEPA Institute for Behavioural Modification have conducted a thorough needs analysis, pinpointed a number of skill deficits, and come up with A Plan, bless their enthusiastic little hearts.

Issue 1: I am chef de cuisine here at Maison LBTEPA. I am also a picker and an emotional eater. I just stuff things in my mouth All The Time. Mostly little things, but my work pants are telling me it's adding up.

Plan: write down EVERYTHING I eat.

BO-RING, but so is my work pants being too tight

Issue 2: vaulting ambition o'erreaching itself (aka senseless optimism/biting off more than I can chew).

Plan: limit, limit, limit. Slow, slow, slow. 30 minutes on the bike, not 40, so my hip won't tighten up, so I can run the next day. 6km runs, not 7, so I can run two days in a row.

This is also BO-RING, and very confronting. I like to see myself as this crazed superfit superhero (STOP LAUGHING) and let me tell you, I will be that person again. But I need to suck up that I am not her now. Patience, patience patience. I will FLY AGAIN! Bwahahahaa!

Mind you I am still doing two half marathons in the next couple of months. That doesn't count.
Issue 3: no routine to my fitness.The Spousal Unit works pretty much random shifts and Noddie is a bit young to be left alone.

Plan: get up at 6am no matter what and do SOMETHING. Minerva is set up on the trainer in the study, but even if some wretched lurgi is hanging about (as they so often do) making cardio inadvisable, I can still stretch or do weights or a core workout. I need to am going to rebuild my "I am an athlete, this is What I Do" mindset one day at a time.

The guts of it? I need to TTC, have a RHG and a GHLAM!

More anon, thinker-outers!

PLan C

In which LBTEPA Thinks Things Through

3.45pm Saturday: The Spousal Unit gets home from work.
- You're off for a run?
- I really don't feel like it but since I didn't go this morning I pretty much have to decide right now whether I'm still aiming for the full at the Gold Coast. 
4.15pm: head out
4.20-4.45pm:  I really, really don't want to do this today. My foot hurts. Why is my foot hurting? Why didn't I stretch today? I stretched yesterday. My head aches. Stupid smoke. It'll stop soon. It's not stopping. I'm not re-tying my shoes again. This is doing my head in. I don't need this....aaaannnd repeat
4.45: sms J when I get home I am entering the GCM half the full is just too much atm it's messing with my head
5.20pm: enter Gold Coast Half Marathon
5.21pm-10pm sulk, feel like a failure/loser, and more of a failure/loser for feeling like a failure/loser about something that a) makes perfect sense in the context of my current health/injury/fitness status and family/work/study obligations and b) loads of people would love to be able to do and think is amazing.

Essentially, I did The Right Thing, then had an extended sook about going interstate for a nice holiday, some bling and a new t-shirt - becuase I looked in the mirror and didn't see Wonder Woman.
Boo F----ing Hoo, eh?

J said Now you can just enjoy yourself! And do a bit more riding and swimming, and just have fun.
That's taking me a while to get my head around, but I'm sticking with it. I'm plucky like that.

Of course I woke up this morning at 4.30am becuase poor little Noddie was coughing and I feel fantastic and full of energy (if not properly awake). If I hadn't got all gloomy yesterday I could be out getting my long run in and still on track for Very Slow Marathon #6
*SLAPS SELF ON HEAD*
This will give me the chance to really thoroughly get my core strength and flexibility sorted and my foot really properly healed (not to mention the sprained ankle from last weeks' faceplant) instead of always worrying about how far I'm pushing it and every little ache and sniffle that's going around.
I will also experiment with this 'exercise for fun' thing. I'll just do a couple of halfs over the next few months and maybe the full in Melbourne in October.
*READS PREVIOUS SENTENCE, SLAPS SELF ON HEAD AGAIN*

More anon, derring-doers!

The horns of a dilemma

So. Do I crank out my make-or-break, do-it-this-weekend-or-forget-about-the-full-at-the-Gold-Coast 20km (did I tell you that Noddie commented the other day you know you could just go to the Gold Coast and not run in anything. I just stared at her in complete incomprehension) from 6-9pm tonight after work EWWWW, or from 3-6am tomorrow morning before J goes to work EWWWWWWWWWW?
Ewww.
But as the Mighty Emma, my comrade in Stupid Determination, has observed, everyone wants to do a marathon but no-one wants to run a really long way.
I want to send a shoutout to my good friend Sara who is going through her own stuff and still reaches out with comforting thoughts when her dopey mates fall over broken footpaths and hurt themselves twelve weeks out from the Next Big Dream. Darl, I think I was going the full drama queen about my foot, on the inside, but was so horrified myself that I couldn't even express it. The ankle is still a bit creaky but that's what ice and ibuprofen are for, no? (((HUGS))) darl you are the best.
Do you have an awesome friend who always says the right thing? Get on the phone or the interweb or ride your bike to their house Right Now and thank them for being in your life. Off you go!

More anon, buckers-up!

(that's BUCKERS. With a B)

JFDI

I was whingeing to the ever-patient Spousal Unit the other night. No! you cry. Never!
What's happened to me?I used to be fired up! No sooner had I packed Noddie off to bed and I'd be on the trainer! I hurled myself out of bed morning after morning in the freezing cold, no worries! Now look at me. What's happened to the mean keen exercise machine? Where did she go?
I don't know where she went. She's not here, that's for sure.
B#&*%, letting me down when I need her.
You know what? I thought. She nicks off, with my mojo and my enthiasm? I'll show her. I'll run by myself. 
And I did. It wasn't too bad. It's been cold but the mornings have been clear and beautiful, and I got to high-five the funny old bloke who always tells me there's five miles to go, and say hi to Killer and Fang the attack fluffballs out protecting their Mum.

Dear Keen Energetic Self: see you when you get back, but I'll be ok.

Told you

6 km run 4: walk 2 with no more than the usual creakiness says IT'S JUST BRUISED.

Thine be the glory

Easter Blessings to you all!

A river in Egypt

I have decided to ignore this whole foot nonsense and treat it as a false alarm until evidence to the contrary becomes particularly intrusive. IT IS ONLY BRUISED.

The curse of the prawn

It's Good Friday today so yesterday I nicked out from work and headed down to the waterfront to get some super-fresh prawns off the trawler (as you do skite skite) for the fish barbecue tonight.
My purchase complete, I trotted back to the car, caught my foot in a broken bit of footpath (as you do) and splatted so heavily and inelegantly that the fishermen came tearing out to see if I was ok. I think I was a bit shocked becuase I more or less bolted away. I should have asked them for some ice. Now my foot is sporting some unsightly bruises and is quite painful even without weight on it. It feels weird.  I might whiz up to the hospital for an x-ray when I've finished my tea.

Bloody prawns.

UPDATE: possible fracture, a week on crutches then another x-ray to confirm. #!&%!!  #!&%!! #!&%!!

Up and at 'em

I need a personal trainer who would stab me with a pin and make me get out of bed in the morning! I used to be really good at hurling myself out from under the doona o'sloth: now all it takes is one trip up the hallway at 3am to help poor coughing Noddie and I'm All Excuses All the Time when 6am rolls around. Then I get up at 6.50 in a temper becuase I KNOW I'd be feeling GREAT if I'd just got back from a run or ride.
Oh well. We here at the LBTEPA Institute for Self-Improvement are nothing if not tenacious and optimistic! The sun will rise tomorrow, and who knows, I may be out there to greet it! I'll be doing (drumroll please) 6.5 km of run 4 minutes, walk 2!!! No more run 2 walk 2 for me, no no no no. Bring on the squeals and girly handflaps!!! Woot!!

I did charge through a major (self-created) obstacle today. The GPs at the clinic where I work are quite grumpy, and I suffer from Fear Of Grumpy so I've been putting off asking them to distribute the surveys for the research I'm doing for the Everlasting Masters Degree. Today I just thought, hang it, I'm going in! Possibly becuase I've been reading Bear Grylls' autobiography. Fascinating stuff, all GO FOR IT, DREAM BIG, WORK AS HARD AS YOU CAN AND THEN WORK HARDER, NEVER GIVE UP AND THEN GO FOR IT SOME MORE. He could so be a member of Team Stupidly Determined (especially if he took his shirt off a lot).
 Anyway, of course the GPs weren't nearly as scary as i had imagined them to be (although they were pretty grumpy, possibly an occupational hazard??) and they were happy to help me. That's a major yay since I need a sample size of 138 for appropriate statistical power and as of last week I had eleven.

And YAY for sucking it up and going for it. When did I forget how to do that?

More anon, storm riders!

why I walked home

aka EWWWWW

More anon, band-aiders!

What does it mean?

What does it mean when you dream you've drunk-dialled Mark Allen and told him he has diabetes and he threatens to shoot his doctor and then you have to stop him?

I know this

if I am consistent with my strength work and running I will progress
if I am consistent with my stretching and core work my foot will take more running without hurting me
if I am consistently patient with my run/walking I will be able to run further and not aggravate my foot
if I am consistent with my patience run/walking so slowly won't mess with my head so much
if I am consistent training will get to be a habit again
if I am consistent I won't worry about what's going to go wrong this time, I'll just do it
if I am consistent I'll believe in the process and that one day I'll be able to run without thinking about it
if I am consistent I will be able to come home from a run all sore and hurting and not be upset because I am looking at the big picture
if I am consistent I'll finish another marathon one day. Maybe one day this year
if I am brave I will get up from this computer and put the ice back in the freezer and limp off to the tri club dinner.


I AM BRAVE.


Cheers

Interesting facts

- Running shoes that are not  completely worn out don't make your feet and knees hurt. Note to self: mark the date on them somewhere.

- These shoes don't make my feet and knees hurt either. They may blind bystanders with their fabulousness but I can't help that.

- The lurgi that hath laid low half my town is of a treacherous and deceitful type, viz., it pretends to bugger off and then when you're reaching slightly-less-feebly for a bite of something more substantial than dry toast, returns with a vengeance. I tricked mine this morning: I went out for a stagger before I'd properly woken up so I didn't register how crappy I was feeling until I was out watching the sunrise and bidding a gay good morning to the sprightly octogenarians and their foxies fox terriers, what were YOU thinking?. Worked like a charm - I was slow as a wet week but got the ks done and didn't die. KPIs achieved!

- The sum total of Australian awesomeness dropped this week. Jim Stynes and Lincoln Hall have died. Let us learn from their lives. Live the dream, people! Go big or go home!

And fill up your life with small sparkly joys while you're at it.

- I am not entering the Gold Coast Marathon until the last week of May I have done a 30km training run. I am not entering the Gold Coast Marathon until I have done a 30km training run.. I am not entering the Gold Coast Marathon until I have done a 30km training run.. I am not entering the Gold Coast Marathon until I have done a 30km training run. Let sense rule over optimism this once.

More anon, flashdancers!

Living the dream

This edition of the LBTEPA News begins with ORN (obligatory running news):  despite being laid low with the vicious lurgi that has claimed half my town I am stringing together sort-of regular workouts. Nowhere near what I'd prefer at this stage in a (ahem) "marathon" campaign but what can you do? and anyway I haven't entered yet although I'm not giving up. I'm gaining weight like it's my job, le sigh, but I have A Plan for that which I may go into in another post if it doesn't seem too boring. My foot gets niggly when I slack off on the core/strength/stretching but hasn't torn again. That is A Good Thing.
The first ever Ironman Melbourne is next week and I was really looking forward to being part of it as a spectator with the Spousal Unit and Mum and Dad. I don't know if you remember the magnificent Dave, who gave me his marathon medal when I sooked all over him after they ran out of bling at the end of Melbourne 2010? Well you should, he is a Top Bloke, and I was looking forward to cheering him over the line of his first Ironman. But as so often happens, everything has fallen into a sorry heap and we're not going. Mum and J both thought it was on the Saturday not the Sunday, so J would have had to arrange an extra leave day. Then it turned out that Mum and Dad are moving into their new house on the Monday as well. Not the best time to be away and there will be loads of last minute things to help with over the weekend. I'm really very disappointed, but in comparison with spending three days hobbling painfully around Disney World looking at other people with Goofy medals it's not so bad. I can go next year.
But I digress.
Not long ago Noddie went to a party where she'd had a great time playing football with the boys, playing on her friend's wii (which we don't have at home) eating cake and watching the big kids play car chase games on the x-box. We were talking at bedtime and I asked her how it was. Oh mummy, she said, we were living the dream!
A couple of things have happened lately that have got me thinking about that.  Margaret Whitlam died this week. Although I never met her (my Mum has) I felt happy for her that she lived well for a long time and passed quickly. She lived by her principles and from all accounts her life, although not perfect of course, was how she wanted it.  The second thing was that a friend of mine was on holiday when she heard that a friend of hers, whose wonderful life she'd always been a teeny bit jealous of - great job, married to the man of her dreams, brand new baby - had died, very suddenly. My friend went home, packed up and left her partner. She wrote in her blog that life's too short.
I asked J if  there was anything he isn't doing that he wants to do, any important thing that's missing from his life? He thought for a bit and said no. This probably sounds terribly smug but, touching wood, I can also answer 'no' to that question. I'm blessed with loved ones, I live where I want to and I'm doing the work I want to do. My commute is a drive through the countryside. My home is warm and pretty and full of stuff that would horrify the style police. I wear red lipstick and fab shoes and crochet lairy blankets and run Very Slow Marathons with other big dreamers. Of course I've got a one of these days list like everyone else - an ironman, Macchu Pichu, piano lessons - but - and this is the important bit - it's not an oh, I could never do that list.
My question, seeing as we are getting all philosophical oh you weren't? righto, carry on is: are you living the dream? What are you not doing? Do you want to wear polka dots and paint your bedroom silver and sing opera and get a dog? Why aren't you doing it? If the answer is because it's not the right time, but I know I will one day - great! Keep your eye on your dream and grab it when you can. If it's oh, (a person like me) couldn't....  well...

Just trust me, my friends. The Style Police, the Too Fat Police and the Not Good Enough Police never come.
More anon, dragon-tamers!

Playing with the big boys

Hurrah for public holidays and family all the way from Ballarat for the long weekend and trips to the beach in the boat and barbecues at friends' places (but not the totally TMI conversation at the end of the evening, how do I get myself into these things?) and permission to start my placement At Long F#@*ing Last and effective antibiotics and 12 glacially slow, drippingly humid and just bloody wonderful km of 2 min run/2 min walk! My first 'double figures' since October! All that tiresome boring stupid stretching and strength work and patience patience patience is getting me what I want. Who knew? I'm thinking of doing the Traralgon half on the third of June. One of my friends is doing her first full there, pretty exciting! Go Jenny go! It'll  be a good hit-out to see if I should do the full or the half at the Gold Coast as well. We've booked our flights now. I'm stoked.
I've also discovered that you can while away a very pleasant hour googling "good disney running songs". Don't judge me.


 

more anon, wandering minstrels!

Happy International Women's Day

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY TO ALL THE INSPIRING WOMEN I KNOW

 

 

 

...this is not all of you, of course. I'd be here all night.
Cheers to you all, dear friends! You make me brave and the world amazing.