Gold Coast 2014

I feel like I've lived a lifetime's worth since my last post - five days ago.

Five days ago I was complaining about a slightly sore throat and worried that it might affect my chance to go sub-50 in my 10k race. But then a slightly sore throat was totally put into perspective by some very heavy real-world stuff. Stuff that I won't be talking about here because it's not mine to talk about. But it was stuff that had me knowing that a race just wasn't that important even if it was the last one of a long-term goal. Quite frankly, racing seemed frivolous and inconsequential.

Thursday was supposed to be a day of baking to feed the hungry runners. It ended up being a day where I just sat talking and supporting someone I love dearly.

But by Friday things had improved enough for me to consider the race again. And by Friday afternoon I was down at the Gold Coast meeting up with two bloggers from Singapore who'd come over to race.

Holly is on the left and Grace on the right. Holly was running the half marathon and Grace was going the full 42.2. We had a lovely time chatting over coffee. It's wonderful and strange to finally see people that you feel like you know despite never having met.

Then it was off to the traditional pre-race Thai dinner with my bestie Natalie - who's totally to blame for the whole 10 years of 10k goal (even though she thinks it was my idea).

My son, Josh, turned up with girlfriend Serena and friend Jeremy later that evening and we agreed (some more reluctantly than others) to set our alarms for 4:30 am. Which came a lot sooner than I'd have liked. But, amazingly, there was no pre-race jitters.

By 6:15 we were on the start line. Champing at the bit to get going. Sort of. There were still no nerves. Just a steely determination not to make a liar of myself and run sub-50. I had a race plan of sorts - try not to go out to hard and die AND to see every kilometre click over under with 4 as the first number.

There was just time to photo-bomb Josh's selfie and we were off.

It was a little more congested than I'd remembered it being last year. There was a bit of dodging and weaving to be done before settling down into a comfortable rhythm. Race starts are always like that and it's hard to get the balance right between getting into clear space and not pushing too hard. 

When my watch beeped at the first k at 4:50 I was a bit worried that I'd gone out too fast but I was feeling okay so I just continued on at the same effort.

I'm not going to go into all the minute details of the run but I will mention the highlights. The cheer from my high school friend, Chris, just before the 3k mark. Hoping that the action shots that Martyn, her husband, took didn't show the blind pimple festering under my nose. Running past the GaleForce tent on the way out to the turnaround point and feeling the rowdy support coming at me from across the road - best cheer squad ever! Seeing each kilometre beep with that 4 at the front like I was wanting. Getting to the 8k mark and knowing that I hadn't given up mentally like I so often do in 10k races. Seeing Chris again not long after. Then running right past my squad - the noise that they made lifted and carried me all the way to the finish line. Seeing the clock still under the 50 minute mark as I ran over the finish line. Yes, I did it! 49:14 - three seconds quicker than last year.

Then it was back to the tent to share the joy with the other runners. Winners are grinners! 

Josh had told me earlier in the week that he thought he could go 45 mins. He did! And his friend Jeremy smashed it in 41:??

We waited for Natalie to finish and then she and I went up to a special tent to receive a certificate and polo shirt for completing 10 events.

My work was done but there was still the half and full marathons to be run on the Sunday. So this meant another early start. But the pain of getting out of a warm bed on a cold morning is always worth it when you're greeted with views like this.

The half marathon was first at 6:00am and not long after 7:00 we were already cheering the front-runners. I'm not sure what's more fun - cheering or being cheered - but I do know that the sense of camaraderie is amazing. Every PB is celebrated  and the constant smiling and laughter makes your cheeks ache. 

The marathon started at 7:30 but we didn't get to see any of them for a long time, being at the 32k mark. But eventually they started filtering through. I was thrilled to spot Grace (in the berry singlet below) twice on the course - on her way out to the final turnaround and then on her way to the finish. I'd missed Holly in the half until she was past and I realised too late. She was too fast!

Now it's all over for 2014. 

And the big burning question is - what next? Build on those 10k's and make it to 20? Or complete the half marathon set? Only eight more to go there.

Keeping My Fingers Crossed

Three days till I run my tenth 10k at Gold Coast.

I've been quite happy with the way I've been running lately. I've been doing a bit more faster stuff. Pushing myself into that hurt zone on shorter runs and finishing my longer runs with a few fast kilometres. It's been confidence-building that there's a little bit of speed left in the old girl, Certainly not the speed I had five years ago but I'm happy with it.

My goal is simple. To run under 50 minutes. Because that's the group that I've seeded myself in and I don't want to make myself a liar. (Not that anyone will care apart from myself.) And after my latest runs I was pretty sure that I could. My 16k run ten days ago - ran the last 8k at sub-5k pace. My 19k run on Saturday - the last 6k were sub-5.

Notice the word WAS in that last paragraph? It should have been an AM. And it would have been an am if I hadn't noticed a tickle in my throat last night. I just thought it was a bit of phlegm that needed clearing. But it needed clearing again and again and again. I dosed myself with zinc and vitamin c and told myself to ignore it. Then woke up coughing in the middle of the night - yep, it's dry and sore.

I skipped this morning's run. I decided the last thing that my throat needed was to be exposed to 5 degree cold, dry air. I may do that run tomorrow morning but will make the call on that closer to the time. If I miss it it's not going to really matter.

My plan is to stay warm, drink lots of hot tea and keep up the zinc and vitamin c if only for their placebo effects. And to keep my fingers crossed. I'm not actually feeling ill so that's a plus.

All those good training runs. All those early mornings. All those high hopes derailed (hopefully temporarily) by breathing in germ-filled air.

If it sounds like I'm disappointed - well, I'm really not. I've been running long enough to know that anything can happen on the day and there will always be other events if this one doesn't go the way I want. But I will be disappointed if the sore throat gets in the way of a fun weekend. Running's only part of the reason that I run.

Things Happen In Threes

What is that they say about the number three? Third time's the charm? And things happen in threes?

I don't know if third time was the charm. Actually I do know that third time definitely wasn't the charm. But things really do seem to happen in threes.

I was hit on again. By another geriatric.

I don't know what type of pheromones I'm releasing but I'm pretty sure they smell a little of moth balls and liniment. That's the perfumes that old people like isn't it? Or maybe I'm attractive to the over-80 set because I'm using testosterone and they are attracted to something that they used to have but they've lost.

I'm so hoping that this is the very last time that it happens. Because whenever it does I'm torn between telling them to take a hike and not disrespecting my elders.

This last time happened on Saturday. In the checkout queue at Aldi's. With my husband. Well, actually my husband wasn't there when it happened. He'd been standing there with me but his back is a bit niggly at the moment so I'd sent him off so he could just walk around or stretch it out.

As soon as Iven was out of ear-shot my would-be-suitor pounced.

Let me just paint a picture of him because I couldn't exactly ask him for a photo - he may have taken that as a come-on. Bald, apart from a few straggly grey hairs around the sides. Wing-nut ears with long, pendulous lobes. And at least four teeth missing - of the ones I could see. I suppose that it was good that he had some of his own teeth - that's a step up from Denture Man.

He nudged me with his elbow and said, "Are you going to go wild when you have that wild berry?"

Wild berry? No. Obviously his eyesight was fading too.

And my response to his flattering advance? No witty repartee. No quick retort. Just a pained smile and a quick prayer that the check-out chick would move faster and I could be out of there ASAP.

I wished I'd said "Oh yes. I'm getting hot just thinking about it. . . sorry no, that was just a hot flush."

I'm seriously thinking of offering my services as wingman to rich, elderly widows who aren't particularly fussy. 

"No I'm not available but my good friend Gladys/Elsa/Flora/Violet is." 

Pretty sure I could make a killing at the retirement villages.

Traumatised

I'm not sure how to start this post.

There are moments in life that just leave you speechless. Gob-smacked. Flabbergasted. Traumatised!

Maybe that's why I'm finding it so hard to start - I'm suffering from PTSD. But bottling the trauma up inside is not going to help me move on so, as hard as it is to find the words, I'm going to try to get it out so the healing can start.

But before I start I need to give you some background info.

I have a cleaner come in every week to clean my house. Evelyn has quite possibly saved my marriage and the lives of people I love. When the kids were little and I was working 70+hours a week establishing my business, she was the reason that I wasn't screaming like a banshee at my family if they left a mess anywhere. If I had to clean the house and it was being trashed as soon as I was finished I was a psycho.

I wasn't particularly fond of cleaning house. But I was less fond of living is squalor so I did it. Very ungraciously. 

And then, like an angel sent from heaven, Evelyn arrived.

Her weekly visits saved my husband and children from a brutal, bloody death and me from a life of baking cupcakes in a prison kitchen.

Evelyn has been making her weekly visits for about fifteen years now. And she's almost like one of the family. She's seen the kids grow up. The dogs adore her. Iven loves that he no longer is nagged about doing his share. And I just love coming home from doing the groceries on Thursday to have the house smelling clean.

But yesterday she did something that's bordering on unforgivable.

After she finishes cleaning she always has a cup of tea and I'll often offer her a cupcake or a piece of cake. Which she usually accepts. She enjoys it and I get to rid myself of excess cake. I never mind sharing the cakes because I love to bake them but I don't particularly like to eat them and there's only just so much that the family can get through.

I started work, as I usually do, before she left and, as she usually does, she dropped past my workroom to say goodbye. But before she said goodbye yesterday she said, 

"I hope you don't mind but I helped myself to a couple of pieces of your rocky road. I love home-made rocky road!"

Just typing that has my heart racing and my heart thumping. 

My home-made rocky road is sacrosanct! No one gets a piece unless I, the bestower of all things sweet and chocolatey, deem it thus. My husband knows this (and he also knows that I put in lots of nuts because he doesn't like nuts and won't be tempted to break his marital vows). My kids know this. Even my kids' girlfriends know this. 

No. One. Touches. My. Rocky Road!!

So many thoughts flashed through my head at the speed of light. Some involved assault with a deadly weapon - they were the most fun. Some involved torture - I've heard that needles inserted under the toenails can be quite excruciating and I have plenty of needles in my workroom. Some involved a gentler approach of just screaming incoherently until she became so terrified of all the crazy that she dropped the rocky road as she fled. And yes I totally would have picked it up out of the dirt and eaten it. Only after I'd dusted it off - I'm NOT an animal.

But, amid all the voices in my head imploring me to do bad things to the mean lady, there was one loud voice of reason that reminded me of just how much I love my clean house every Thursday. That I can always make another batch of rocky road but there's only one Evelyn. And it was this voice that prevailed.

It still took me every last ounce of self restraint to stop me from chasing her down, tackling her to the ground and prying those two chunks of delicious goodness out of her grasp.

Twenty-four hours on and I'm coming to terms with my loss. And I have a plan to prevent it from ever happening again. 

News, News and More News

After last week's events I'm finding it hard to enjoy my morning coffee trip. Having been accosted interrupted twice in one week I'm finding it hard not to scan the seats for white and grey-headed old lions on the prowl. I'm scanning all the seats before I choose my own and looking for the one furthest away from any likely Casanova in the hope that distance and dodgy hips or knees will be enough of a deterrent. I'm seriously dreading pension day!

In other news - Toby got a new toy.

I'm not entirely sure what animal it's supposed to be but I know that after only a couple of plays it was blinded. They don't make dog toys quite sturdy enough for tug-of-war-death-matches between two determined combatants. 

We did manage to find one eyeball. But the other seems to have disappeared. And my theory as to where it's disappeared should be proven any day now. I'm desperately hoping that it's been eaten and will be passed as the crowning glory to an epic power dump. I'd even be prepared to risk the $220 council fine just to enjoy the knowledge that some poor unsuspecting person might find this Cyclopean creation and be haunted by the memory of a poo that would win any staring competition.  

I know - I'm just a little strange.

And more news - my half brother, who's visiting for 10 weeks with his fiancée and baby, has decided to get married while he's here. It's going to be like a pop-up wedding. There's about four weeks to organise everything but so far so good. Clothes have been bought. Celebrants have been sourced. As has a venue. And it looks like I'll be on cake-duty. So I've been practising.

I need to work a little bit on getting the fondant on without wrinkles if they choose to go traditional.

This one is my homage to Game of Thrones. A crown. And all the blood shed to win the crown. 

And my final bit of news - I'll be running my tenth 10k at Gold Coast in just over a week's time. I know I haven't mentioned much about training lately but it has been happening. In fact it's been going pretty well. I've had a couple of successful 60k+ weeks (the + was because of a few unexpected detours in search of toilets) and some runs that have been confidence-building. My aim is to get under the 50 minute mark again this year and Monday's run of 16k where the last 8k were all under the 5 minute mark (except for two of them that included hills - and they weren't much over 5 mins).

Over to you. What's been happening in your world?

A Funny Thing Happened At The Coffee Shop

I'm pretty sure someone tried to pick me up yesterday.

I say pretty sure because I've never been terribly aware of the subtle dance between men and women. I probably would have done well in caveman times when the woman got hit over the head with a club and was dragged away by her paramour. Nothing understated about being hit over the head - I would never miss that clue.

I was at my coffee shop just waiting for my coffee to be made before going to the movies with Iven. Iven had declined a coffee, due to his ever-shrinking bladder that tends to require relieving at the most climactic moment of any film, so I was there by myself when a voice from behind me said "Excuse me."

It wasn't an 'excuse me because I ate a meal of beans and cabbage last night' or an 'excuse me because you and your enormous purse are in my way'. It was an 'excuse me, I'd like your attention' kind of excuse me. And, being that I was the only person there, I knew it was directed at me so I turned around.

And there he was. A slight, wizened man of  advancing years with a peaked cap perched jauntily on his head.

"I just wanted to share this advertisement I was reading." He held out a magazine. "It claims it can help men get their self-confidence back."

I couldn't actually read the ad that he'd pushed in my direction but I watch quite a lot of late night TV programming and I know what can give men their confidence back - in the bedroom. It usually involves a nasal spray and the quirky little ditty - up your nose and away it goes.

A question flashed through my head - what exactly about me says 'talk to me about premature ejaculation'? Is it the red scarf? Red is a pretty sexy colour, I've heard.

I looked over at the barista, hoping desperately that my coffee was almost done but she was only just pouring the milk into the jug. No reprieve for me - I was going to hear all about what can make men get their self-esteem into better shape.

He pushed the magazine even further forward so I could see it more clearly. A picture of a woman running her fingers through her man's thick hair and the name of a company who promises help with hair loss. Phew! No need to chat with a stranger about the mechanics of the male organ.

My new friend went on to say that he found it sad that men might be so lacking in character (his words, not mine) that losing their hair would make them feel less about themselves. He himself was 90 and being a bit bald didn't worry him. And what did I think about bald men?

I told him that the only problem I could see with bald men is that they'd get cold heads in winter. Which made him laugh - hard enough to displace his upper dentures. And they never seemed to click back into place for the rest of our conversation. There's nothing more riveting than the potential horror of a denture being propelled with force away from its owner. Unless of course said denture was covered in the cake its owner had just been eating.

But before disaster could strike, my coffee was called. And as I said a relieved good-bye, he winked at me. That's when I realised that he was trying out his moves on me.

Or he might have just had a twitch in his eye. See I told you I wasn't good at this sort of stuff.

You Should Buy a Lottery Ticket

Have you every been watching the news and thought to yourself "Wow! He's a lucky guy. He should go out and buy a lottery ticket."

It's usually in relation to a near miss. Like with this guy.

Or an uncanny coincidence. Like this guy who gets knocked off his bicycle only to land on a mattress.

Well, I actually got to meet one of those 'lucky' guys today. At my local shopping centre. And I should have taken him straight to the newsagent to buy a lottery ticket or at least a scratch-it.

I was just sitting down, minding my own business and doing the crossword in the newspaper, when the 'lucky' guy walked by me. He paused by my table, looked down at my phone (which I was using to help with a clue) and said "It's cheating if you use your phone."

Really? Cheating?? I didn't know that doing a crossword for relaxation was like doing an exam. And that he was a self-appointed moderator. And personally I'm not a big fan of having strangers coming and telling me that I'm doing things wrong. Except if it's to do with changing a tyre and the thing I'm doing wrong may end up in me being crushed under a car. In that situation I'm more than happy for a stranger to intervene.

It's not like I'd go up to him while he's eating his KFC for breakfast (which he did) and say to him "you're cheating on your diet." 

So why is he lucky? He's lucky that I have amazing self-restraint despite having three nights of barely sufficient sleep and quite the case of PMS (or is it menopause? or both overlapping in one spectacular fireball of hormones?) And he's lucky that my death stare doesn't actually cause death ... yet. Believe me, I'm working on that particular skill. But I'm pretty sure he's aware that he over-stepped after I told him that I really didn't care about his opinions.

And on the subject of PMS -

A special gift from a special person who really gets me. It's funny because it's true.