Grey Skies.

Grey skies.

It's been grey skies for the last few days and quite frankly I'm over it. I cope fine with it in summer because it keeps the temperatures down but in winter it just makes the days miserable. And it's just all wrong - our winters are usually crisp, cool nights followed by clear blue skies.

Yesterday I waited around all afternoon for a break in the showers so I could get my run in. Lying on my bed, snuggled under my dressing gown with a dog either side of me - well, let's just say that my baser instinct was telling me to stay exactly where I was.

Luckily my inner nag and a call of nature got me up and going. And I only regretted wearing the (new) singlet and shorts for the first kilometre.

Not Genetics Just Hard Work

I had a great run. It was my last tempo run before the Gold Coast 10k coming up this weekend. I just concentrated on trying to stay positive through the run by focusing on what I was doing well. Running up the hills it was all about my legs feeling strong - such a contrast to how they were last year. And on the flat it was all about keeping the cadence up, enjoying the feeling of pushing myself and not backing off when I felt tired. It was such a confidence boost going into the race. And I'm happy that I didn't listen to my inner sloth.

Because today's so grey I'm going to post about the things that have made me smile over the weekend. This ... 

...certainly did. It's hard to read, I know, but it's the data from my Garmin for the year so far. The distance says 1249k. I've stuffed up the timing of my runs quite a few times so I'm comfortable saying that I've run over 1250k so far this year. Considering that my total distance last year was 1667k, that number made me smile.

 Babysitting my foster grandchild also made me smile. 

This is Bronte.

Luke and Becky are dog-sitting her for 10 weeks but on Friday they wanted to go out so 'Grandma' and 'Grandpa' were left holding the baby. It totally upset the dynamics of our own menagerie. Bronte is an only dog and as such is alpha bitch. Toby is still operating in puppy/annoying teenager mode and didn't know how to take Bronte. He wanted to play but her growls told him that play was not on the cards. He likes toys but so does Bronte and she liked his toys so he was left looking longingly as she carried around teddy and played with his tennis ball.

On one occasion Bronte took his ball but placed it on the floor close to her - close enough that he'd have to run the gauntlet to get it. Toby REALLY wanted his ball so he came up with a plan. He did that slow walk that dogs do when they don't want to be noticed. Step ... step... step... step... (he passes Bronte) ... step,step step. All the time his eyes were on the ball. And so were Bronte's. He looped through the lounge room and did the whole thing again. Then on the third pass he snatched up the ball and raced outside with it. 

Toby is a genius! And he was incredibly relieved when Bronte was picked up, normal hierarchy was restored and he could be his usual playful self. 

The other thing that made me smile was spending Friday night with this beautiful girl.

Sam's girlfriend Hannah is up from Sydney for a little while and came to Sam's football match. I have to admit that we probably didn't watch all of the first half because there was a fair bit of catching up to do. But we all saw Sam's amazing goal in the last couple of minutes that won the match for UQ. Just inside the right corner of the 18 yard box, kicked the ball past nearly the entire opposing team and curled it into the top left hand corner. That's my boy!

No, I don't care that it's grey today. I've got lots to keep me smiling till it's blue again.

Post-Wedding Week

Ughh! It's been a LONG week. I guess that's not surprising after having such a lovely weekend. All the usual everyday stuff seems so mundane and drab. What I should have done - other than come home and work, cook, clean etc. - is invite myself along on the honeymoon. I swear I wouldn't have made a nuisance of myself. They'd hardly notice that I was there and I could have come in handy taking pictures of the two of them together on their travels.

I've managed to get through the BORING days at work by going to a happy place in my head - that little romantic bubble that we were all cocooned in on the weekend. Luckily I haven't had too many clients come over because I could often be found sitting with a dopey grin and a glazed look in my eyes.

Luckily there have been a couple of distractions - a political coup by a certain K Rudd which means that I will probably be taken away for a brain scan if I'm taken to hospital with a head knock and someone asks me who our current Prime Minister is.

And there was also that important game of Rugby League on Wednesday night. I'm still waiting for Coach Chris to come over to eat humble pie - or in this case cupcake with a chocolate coated cockroach garnish. I guess he's had a busy week.

#3 son, Luke and girlfriend, Becky invited us over to watch the game with them at the house they've been looking after. I've heard that once a child leaves home that they can change but I wasn't quite expecting this - Luke in his penguin suit. I hadn't realised that the dress code for the evening was formal. I'd just worn jeans.

And of course there's been some running. In an amazing/unfortunate coincidence we ended up doing exactly the speed session that I'd been talking about just the day before with the bride and groom as we walked along the beach. We'd all agreed that the 3k, 2k, 1k session that we used to do was probably our least liked (okay, we may have said hated and despised but I don't want Coach Chris to get ideas and include it more regularly) and wasn't it nice that we didn't do it any more?? I could hardly believe my ears and my luck (?) when he announced what we were doing Tuesday morning. But Thursday morning's run into the Gardens and seeing the Storey Bridge glowing red after the big win the night before really made up for it.

We got the go-ahead from the bride to put up wedding pics on Facebook last night. Awesome! I finally got to see how I looked. I was too cowardly to have a good look when I was getting ready because I knew if I didn't think I looked okay I would have been incredibly self-conscious in the photos. Ignorance can be bliss! I think part of me was a little scared that people would look at the photos and wonder why Bec had asked this lady who was old enough to be her Mum (but only just and only if I'd been sexually precocious which I wasn't) to be part of the wedding party.

Channelling my inner girly girl. Hair. Make up. Nails. First time I've had this done in ... ever. Better late than never. 

The whole group outside Wasabi Restaurant.

Daven and I. We were sitting just in front of a glass wall - amazing views of the water but no real sunset because of the clouds. 

My favourite picture so far. I haven't seen any of the professional ones but this one just says everything.

Wedding Of The Year

All weddings by nature are a beautiful thing. After all, what's not beautiful about two souls finding each other and committing to care for each other for the rest of their lives?

Some weddings, however, are just that little bit more meaningful - more intimate, personal and touch you down deep enough to make you remember way back when. Bec and Tom's wedding was one of those.

I've been trying to compose a post that would give justice to how lovely last weekend was and have decided against a minute-by-minute account. I'd rather try and share the pictures and special moments that are going to be in my memory's highlight reel.

Firstly, though, I'll just give you a brief overview of the main characters of this love story. I've known Tom pretty much as long as I've been running with the squad but I knew him first as 'Tom-and-James'. He's a twin and I couldn't tell them apart for a LONG time. Bec was also in the squad and the first time I really talked to her was on a run and she confided in me that she was just starting to see Tom. Tom is mature beyond his years. Sensible. Caring. Hard working. Loyal. Devoted. Bec is warm and effervescent and glows with an inner and outer beauty. She hates being the centre of attention but her personality draws people in like moths to the flame. They decided to have a very small wedding - just themselves and six friends. And I was privileged enough to be one of them.

They booked two apartments for the eight of us up at the Sunshine Coast for the weekend and that's where we headed after our long run on Saturday.

That's the introduction done and now comes the highlights.

Magnificent weather. Amazing views from the apartments. And 57 steps to climb up and down every time we wanted to go anywhere. Forgetting to go to the loo once you'd got to the car meant an incidental hill session. Didn't mind so much on Sunday but on Saturday after 20k and a two hour drive without stretching ... let's just say I was feeling the burn.

Bec, the bride, with Bek and Shelley, the bridesmaids. Definitely highlights! I had met Bek a couple of times before wedding planning had started but only met Shelley recently and I know why Bec loves them so much. Warm. Open. Funny. We talked and laughed so much that our cheeks ached and our stomach muscles hurt.

Saturday dinner of fish and chips washed down with champagne, sitting on the sand. The huge moon shimmering a silver path over the waves. Enjoying the company, the sounds of the waves and the sense of peace.

Courtesy of Bek Kington

Waking up Sunday morning to the promise of a gorgeous day. A hug with the bride-to-be in the kitchen before the day really got started. She was excited and nervous. Glowing even before any make-up had been applied.

 Ducking up the road to get a coffee. Ringing Youngie, the only one of the wedding party not yet there (apparently the Wallabies v Lions game was a big deal if you like Rugby) to make sure he HAD remembered THE dress.

Preparing. Hair. Make up. Lights, camera, action!

The bouquets were just whipped up by Bek, a graphic designer, who has an amazing eye for form and colour. She also took the most artistic photos at the reception and kindly let me use some of them.

I wouldn't have believed that Bec could be any more glowing but she was. The dress was gorgeous and her hair made her look she'd time-travelled from the 1920s - classically beautiful.

The look on Tom's face when she walked down the aisle made some of us well up a little. Unfortunately I have no pics from either the church or after taking photos on the beach. But I have some moments that will stay with me forever (or until dementia really kicks in). The little girl who was mesmerised by the princess walking towards her. The dachshund puppy who found it all too scary. The lifeguard who had no idea when he was putting on his uniform that morning that he'd end up in someone's wedding album. Watching Bek take off her sandals to stop them from getting wet only to have them nearly wash out to sea.

The reception at a two hatted Japanese restaurant, Wasabi, was so intimate. We had plate after plate of the most incredible-tasting food that was all explained to us in detail by our waiter. Seaweed that only grows in whirlpools in a particular location. Blue fin tuna that's collected straight from the boat up the road before the rest of the catch is shipped over to Japan, then man-handled by the chefs into their fish-smelling station wagon. Wagyu beef that has had classical music played to it and has been massaged daily by the virgin daughters of the last Tsar of Russia who escaped the Bolsheviks. Okay I might have made up the bit about the Russian virgin princesses . How much champagne did I have??

Courtesy of Bek Kington

 

Courtesy of Bek Kington

Courtesy of Bek Kington

Courtesy of Bek Kington 

Courtesy of Bek Kington

Courtesy of Bek Kington

The one thing that stands out most from the reception would have to be the speeches. Goosebumps when Tom told us of the first time he noticed Bec who'd just finished a race and how he thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Damp eyes all round when Shelley talked about her relationship with Bec. Laughter when Bek told us about the time Bec overstayed her welcome. There was so much love at the table.

Then back at the apartment we all assembled in the lounge in our pyjamas and de-glammed, talked some more, laughed some more and listened to music. 

It's a bit scary how yesterday's beautiful eyelashes can look like spiders when you wake up the next day.

And for those who asked to see this particular bridesmaid - I'm betting you're regretting that right about now. This is a selfie taken the morning after the night before. Five hours of restless sleep always has me looking my best. Took me a good ten minutes to get my hair out of it's gravity-defying state so I could sneak out to an early coffee with the newly-weds.

I really don't know if I can do the wedding justice - it's hard to convey exactly how special this wedding was to be part of. The whole weekend was such a high that it's going to be tough to settle back into real life. 

Thanks again Tom and Bec for letting me share it with you. Have a wonderful honeymoon and I'll see you (and thousands of photos of your travels) in about a month.

Confessions

Confession time

Confession #1 - I just ordered a couple of running singlets from Rockwear.

Did I need new singlets? No. Is it currently winter and too cold to wear singlets? Yep! Will they make it harder for me to close my running clothes drawer? Infinitely. But they're such nice colours and I know they'll be worn over and over and over again. And once I'm dead I won't be able to buy cute running singlets any more. YOLO!

Confession #2 - I didn't do a scrap of work yesterday.

All my work was up to date. Well, except for the leotard for the hula hoop performer. But she's not in a hurry and I need something to do next week. So I went and did my grocery shopping then put the soup on for dinner and then took the phone off the hook and snuggled with my puppies for a couple of hours. It felt so great to be able to give in to the post-run, post-lunch fatigue without guilt. Well, not much guilt.

Confession #3 - I let Toby lick out the bowl today when I was doing some baking.

I know, I know - I was only just complaining that he was getting chubby and there I am, enabling him. But we have solved the issue of him helping himself to compost scraps. And I did scrape out most of the cake batter so he really only got a taste rather than a meal so I'm not feeling too guilty. It was really hard to resist those eyes.

The reason for the cake batter is this weekend's wedding. I'm going to be making a (hopefully) amazing chocolate layer cake. So far the cakes are made and luckily there was no sinkage - so far so good. Actually the thing I'm worried most about is getting it to the venue in one piece. We have quite a long drive to get there and I don't have an appropriate cake container so I'm making do.

My biggest fear is sudden braking at 100k/hour. As far as I can recall from my grade 12 Physics (how many years ago was that? 33??), inertia can have a particularly catastrophic effect on chocolate cake travelling that fast. So I'm hoping for a smooth road, very little traffic (first day of school holidays so I'm not sure I'll get that wish) and shock-absorbing icing. I'm also hoping that the rain and the freezing weather (freezing by Brisbane standards) goes by Sunday and that the wedding takes place without the wedding party having blue lips and goose bumps.

But most of all I hope that Sunday kicks off the most wonderful adventure for Bec and Tom - a life together filled with joy and love and laughter. And lots of runs!

Doggy Biggest Loser

Toby has a little problem.

It's a pretty common problem for dogs of his breed and similar breeds. But it's a problem that needs to be addressed for him to live a long and healthy life.

Toby loves food! He's an unashamed binger and will eat almost anything. Broccoli, beans, mouldy bread - if he can find it he will eat it. 

And it's starting to show. I've noticed a definite wiggle in his walk lately. Actually it's more like a waddle where his belly is swaying from side to side as he makes his way from couch to food bowl and back again. Oh, yes - he's a couch potato that has a nice turn of speed when he hears someone rummaging in the pantry. And he's my constant companion once I put my baking apron on.

I tried to convince myself that it was just his winter coat but not even I can ignore that waddle. So I'm going to have to harden up and start to ignore those pleading eyes.

We decided as a family that we were going to reduce his dog food and the number of leftovers that he's offered. And this has resulted in more leftovers going into the compost which in turn goes into the hen. I can live with a fat hen but not a fat dog.

But this has not gone unnoticed by our astute and cunning canine. Unbeknownst to me, he's been making forays into the chook run to help himself to what he thinks is rightfully his. And here I was thinking that his new diet wasn't working. 

The other day I went outside to see why our hen was a little upset and there was Toby. He wasn't interested in her - only her food - and she was indignant that she had to share all those luscious morsels of dinners past.

So Iven has had to do a little work on the fence. This is the doggy version of a padlock on the fridge. 

He can't get a toe-hold on the wire any more. Humans 1 - Toby 0

I'm pretty sure that his reduced food intake and his nightly walks will have him back to normal in no time. 

And for those of you wondering why I don't just take him running with me (which was one of my plans when I bought him). He is just like his human brothers when they were younger. No amount of cajoling or bribery could get them to see running as a fun exercise. They'd come for a couple of times around cross-country and then they'd find some excuse why they couldn't. Toby likes the IDEA of a run but isn't in love with any distance over 500m. He slows down. He sits. He's even been known to lie down and refuse to move. It takes me back to having a two year old - without the full blown heel-stomping, red-faced tantrum.

Any ideas in how to make my boy into a lean, mean running machine?

Career Sea Change

I am thinking of changing professions.

It won't be the first time in my life. I've had a couple of jobs and some of them have even been paid me. I earned a bit of money while I was at uni by ironing and cleaning house - yeah, that was a lot of fun and probably the reason why I still cringe when I plug in the iron. Then I did a two week stint on a chicken farm where I learnt to crack eggs in both hands at the same time without getting shell into the egg pulp. That's a life skill worth having.

I worked as a vet for a little while after I graduated until it became just too hard with kids and then I became domestic goddess/slave/business owner. That's been my longest-running role.

But this weekend opened my eyes to other possibilities.

I went to a Hens party on Saturday. As I've mentioned a couple of times, my running friend Bec is getting married. The Bucks were all heading out on a magical mystery tour which involved physical and emotional challenges, confronting fears and challenging livers. It also involved humiliating the groom just a little by making him dress like this all day.

Yes, that's one of my creations. I like to think there's some understated elegance there. Tom doesn't look entirely convinced, though. And if there's enough interest I might just start a line of leotards just for classy Bucks' functions.

Bec, the bride-to-be, was treated with a lot more dignity.  

The girls decided that we'd be cultured and have an afternoon filled with art and music and arranged an art teacher to come and give us drawing lessons - life drawing. Yep, that means a nude model. Or, more precisely, an almost nude model. He kept it classy by wearing a bow tie.

I was expecting to feel a little confronted by the whole thing but it was surprising - when you're focused on what you're doing it doesn't seem at all weird to be staring at a strange naked man.

So my new career? Artist of course!

How could you think otherwise after seeing these beauties?? My latent talent is obvious. It might need a little honing but when I get a passion for something I can be unstoppable. 

The first two sketches were done using a single line and not really being able to look down at what you were doing. The bottom two were done using the techniques shown to us by the teacher. We only had five minutes to do them in which explains the lack of detail. The model was quite concerned that I'd left out a bit of him - I'm pretty sure that there was more than one bit that I missed out on but not being a male, couldn't decide which he thought was more vital. 

After the drawing class it was off to dinner and I found out that if I was ever taken to Guantanamo Bay on suspicion of terrorism and was tortured by having loud music played into my cell I'd probably last only about fifteen minutes before giving up a life-time's worth of secrets. I'd be telling them my passwords, pin numbers and the location of my secret stash of peanut M&Ms as well as handing over all three of my sons into slavery.

So terrorism's definitely off my list of possible new careers. But fine art's a definite possibility. What do you think?

It's All Done With Smoke And Mirrors And Industrial-Strength Underwear

I'm feeling strangely uplifted today.

Could be that the new bra I bought this week has special anti-gravity properties. Man, I love physics - and I love how physics can be used to counteract its basic laws. A few bits of elastic, appropriately moulded foam, some pretty lace and lycra and some industrial-strength wire can wipe away the effects of three hungry babies and 50 years of gravity.

Actually I'm thinking that I should lengthen the bra straps just a little - my mammaries aren't used to the altitude and I don't want them suffering from lack of oxygen. So maybe I should acclimatise them by extending the straps way out then tightening them a little every couple of days. Doesn't altitude training result in the production of extra red blood cells to help minimise the effects of the lower oxygen concentration? So wearing a more uplifting bra should eventually result in me being a better endurance athlete. And a perkier one.

So you can probably guess from the new bra that I did finally manage to go underwear shopping this week. Sans sons. And a whole new world was opened up to me. Who knew that there was underwear that really negates the need to ever exercise again? That would probably be every woman in the developed world except me. 

I thought that it was only by hard work and privation (or being one of the genetically blessed minority) that women were able to look good in clothes. Not so. Apparently you can manage to slim off kilos just by squeezing yourself into a modern-day corset.

Spend a good twenty minutes wrestling this thing on and not only will months of substance abuse (my substance of choice is peanut m&ms) be forgiven but the glute-deficient amongst us can instantly blend into a crowd - no longer to be mocked by their more well-endowed sisters (who can probably twerk). If only they'd had these years ago when I spent most of my weekends sitting on concrete watching the boys play football. I would never have had to bemoan my lack of god-given padding or the fact that I'd forgotten to bring a cushion again.

See Coach Chris - there's really no reason to run hills. Apart from developing strength and stamina. Why go to all the trouble when you can give the illusion that you run hills and do squats in your spare time?!

I can't help but feel that it's all a bit of a con job. And that there must be some mightily disappointed men out there who go to 'unwrap their present' only to find that it's not what they were expecting.

But regardless of my moral misgivings I will be wearing said garment of medieval torture. The French said it best - 'Il faut souffrir pour etre belle.' One must suffer to be beautiful.