Not a pleasant night for me ... again. I'm afraid the curse of the Hysterical Village struck me early on with a twinge of an adductor muscle. It sort of eased off through the second hour but in favouring it (or at least I believe that was the cause) I aggravated a niggle in my hip that got progressively worse to the point where I couldn't even walk without pain.
Having walked this event home for 10 hours in the past, having gotten injured early on, I didn't have much to gain so, by midnight, having gone through many adjusted schedules in my mind and talked them over with crew, I pulled the pin with a meagre 46 km (I think) having been at 22 km after 2 hours. Definitely went out a little quickly in the first half an hour but I think it's that south corner on the anti-clockwise loop that gets me every time.
As for my crew, can't say enough thanks to Keith & Carol who came up especially to look after me. I'm sure if I'd said i was going just walk around there for the rest of the night it would have been no problem.
Seems that the 12 hour event here is becoming a bit of a millstone for me. One from three isn't so good (the 'one' being my first event there), even though my outings over three and six hours have been good. Not sure where to go from here.
Anyway, I've had the benefit of not taking too much out of myself and after two days off will pick back up with the 6ft training. Two hard weeks to come with a steady/soft week to follow before a little taper.
Tuesday, 14 February 2012
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
Dusk 'til Dawn - @ The Caboolture Historical Village
Well, the streak is over and ended officially on January 31st (though I didn’t take a day off until Friday 3rd). Have to say it’s a relief but, even though I’m trying to rest a little before this weekend’s event at Caboolture, I’m finding it difficult to get my head around not training.
Now then, to the weekend.
The Dusk ‘til Dawn event has been running in one form or another since 1994 and though he didn’t organise the race from the beginning, it’s existence is attributable to the eccentric Geoff Williams. All proceeds go to the The Caboolture Historical Village.
Geoff is an ever present on the local scene and pops up at most events in some capacity, usually as a marshal or at a checkpoint (and has helped out at WHC).
Having taken part twice, I have mixed emotions about it as on the second occasion I succumbed to a pre-existing injury early on and turned the event into a walk (84 km in the end) which was disappointing after my initial foray. This year I’m looking to lean heavily on the base I’ve accrued though I’m very short on long runs.
With good crew in Keith Sullivan and Donna, I couldn’t be in better hands so we’ll see.
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
46 is pretty depressing.
Wow ... nearly a month since my last confession!
So, another year has come and gone and, as with most souls, time for reflection.
46 is awful. I mean, you’re more than halfway between 40 and 50 ... two thirds of the way to your 3 score and 10 (if you’re religious) ... genuinely approaching 50 ... fuck.
Another year of angst for myself, Donna and, sadly, my son (with plenty of good stuff to go with it), caused almost solely by his mother – a trend that shows no sign of abating at the moment. Still, he seems to be getting the bigger picture though, unfortunately, he’s losing his innocence along with it.
Christmas was good, though upsetting (you’d have to go through it yourself to understand what it feels like to spend the morning with your son only to have to wave goodbye to him for 24 hours at tea-time on Christmas Day). New Years Eve was quiet, though upsetting (yours truly being over emotional – family overseas, children ... well, not the best of situations.
Worst of all, just eleven days before Christmas, getting the phone call from my mother, letting me know she’d had a recurrence of the breast cancer she suffered just two months after moving here nine years ago. This time on the other side.
The operation was done and dusted with convalescence started before we’d had chance to sit down to an eggnog and minced pie. Prognosis is good, but I’m wary. It also brings home to me my own mortality as I pass yet another birthday (January 2nd) and brings home the fear of what would happen to my son should anything happen to me.
Happy New Year!
So, another year has come and gone and, as with most souls, time for reflection.
46 is awful. I mean, you’re more than halfway between 40 and 50 ... two thirds of the way to your 3 score and 10 (if you’re religious) ... genuinely approaching 50 ... fuck.
Another year of angst for myself, Donna and, sadly, my son (with plenty of good stuff to go with it), caused almost solely by his mother – a trend that shows no sign of abating at the moment. Still, he seems to be getting the bigger picture though, unfortunately, he’s losing his innocence along with it.
Christmas was good, though upsetting (you’d have to go through it yourself to understand what it feels like to spend the morning with your son only to have to wave goodbye to him for 24 hours at tea-time on Christmas Day). New Years Eve was quiet, though upsetting (yours truly being over emotional – family overseas, children ... well, not the best of situations.
Worst of all, just eleven days before Christmas, getting the phone call from my mother, letting me know she’d had a recurrence of the breast cancer she suffered just two months after moving here nine years ago. This time on the other side.
The operation was done and dusted with convalescence started before we’d had chance to sit down to an eggnog and minced pie. Prognosis is good, but I’m wary. It also brings home to me my own mortality as I pass yet another birthday (January 2nd) and brings home the fear of what would happen to my son should anything happen to me.
Happy New Year!
Tuesday, 6 December 2011
6ft Track - the saga continues
And so it came to pass that another 6ft Track entry day came and went with incident. Not that I saw it mind you. I just have it on reliable authority (from the ‘masses’) that the system was loaded/unfair/broken/fixed(?) or plain wrong.
For the second such year, I experienced no difficulties. Using my steam driven laptop I opened the registration page at 8:55 DST and waited. At 9:00 am I hit refresh and, as expected, was met with a message telling me the system was very busy simultaneously displaying a counter which counted down from 15 to 0 in as many seconds. I let it count down once and was presented with the same screen. Bugger this.
I let it count down three seconds this time then refreshed, repeating the process about half a dozen times before getting the login screen. I entered my e-mail address as instructed, then clicked on the continue button which went to the countdown page again which I, again, refreshed and voila, I entered my information and registered.
Registration e-mail arrived in my inbox at 9:09.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it common for a website to display a ‘busy notice’ when it’s ‘busy’? Weren’t we all expecting it to be busy? Doesn’t this happen when people try booking cheap flights or get the best deals on e-Bay or queue up at the January Sales in London or New York?
I nearly missed out the year before as I was complacent with the entry opening at midnight. I was actually standing by the PC at the time and thought to myself that I’d enter the following morning, even mentioning it to Donna. It was only when I got a phone call from a friend later the following morning that I’d better get on the waitlist quickly if I could as it had filled up. At that point I thought I’d missed out and was surprised when, in the new year, I got an entry offer.
My point is, I had accepted that I’d missed out, that was that. I didn’t go e-mailing the race director or bemoan my ill-fate to the masses ... it was what it was.
Anyway, since then, the race director and his team has moved mountains to make the entry process as fair as possible to novices, veterans and those that should be guaranteed spots (as the RD has pointed out, Kilian Jornet – or for that matter Tim Cochrane, David Waugh or Mike Le Roux I would think - would never miss out on 6ft). Yet, there are still a contingent who think it’s that same race directors responsibility to ensure that people have the right internet connection/browser/hair colour/star sign/whatever to gain entry (none of which, by the way, have been proven to be contributing factors in individuals failure to gain entry).
I miss out on lots of things – two jobs this year for a start, each of which I’d trade, without too much thought, for my spot at 6ft next year.
I’m not trying to be smug here or anything, I just think some perspective is required.
For the second such year, I experienced no difficulties. Using my steam driven laptop I opened the registration page at 8:55 DST and waited. At 9:00 am I hit refresh and, as expected, was met with a message telling me the system was very busy simultaneously displaying a counter which counted down from 15 to 0 in as many seconds. I let it count down once and was presented with the same screen. Bugger this.
I let it count down three seconds this time then refreshed, repeating the process about half a dozen times before getting the login screen. I entered my e-mail address as instructed, then clicked on the continue button which went to the countdown page again which I, again, refreshed and voila, I entered my information and registered.
Registration e-mail arrived in my inbox at 9:09.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it common for a website to display a ‘busy notice’ when it’s ‘busy’? Weren’t we all expecting it to be busy? Doesn’t this happen when people try booking cheap flights or get the best deals on e-Bay or queue up at the January Sales in London or New York?
I nearly missed out the year before as I was complacent with the entry opening at midnight. I was actually standing by the PC at the time and thought to myself that I’d enter the following morning, even mentioning it to Donna. It was only when I got a phone call from a friend later the following morning that I’d better get on the waitlist quickly if I could as it had filled up. At that point I thought I’d missed out and was surprised when, in the new year, I got an entry offer.
My point is, I had accepted that I’d missed out, that was that. I didn’t go e-mailing the race director or bemoan my ill-fate to the masses ... it was what it was.
Anyway, since then, the race director and his team has moved mountains to make the entry process as fair as possible to novices, veterans and those that should be guaranteed spots (as the RD has pointed out, Kilian Jornet – or for that matter Tim Cochrane, David Waugh or Mike Le Roux I would think - would never miss out on 6ft). Yet, there are still a contingent who think it’s that same race directors responsibility to ensure that people have the right internet connection/browser/hair colour/star sign/whatever to gain entry (none of which, by the way, have been proven to be contributing factors in individuals failure to gain entry).
I miss out on lots of things – two jobs this year for a start, each of which I’d trade, without too much thought, for my spot at 6ft next year.
I’m not trying to be smug here or anything, I just think some perspective is required.
Thursday, 24 November 2011
Rhys Llywelyn Davies
At 8:55 am, 11 years ago today, at the Royal Glamorgan Hospital, my son, Rhys, was born.
He is funny. He’s smart. Considerate, thoughtful and aware, even if it is sometimes on reflection. Sometimes, he is a royal, 11 year old pain in the arse, but mostly he is Rhys.
He has been an immense source of pride and affection since then and whenever I’ve been low, directionless or plain depressed, I only have to think of him and I smile. Sometimes I weep. He makes me stop and realise that things aren’t quite in the order or priority that I thought they were. Even with two grown up daughters, whom I see little of and hear from even less (largely due to my circumstances and actions and despite my mourning that loss I am yet to learn all the lessons I should have by now. I am only beginning to understand and am becoming acutely conscious of the expanse of his being.
At every turn there is a news item advising us of an abused child, a family hit by tragedy or community shell-shocked by huge loss. Such is the frequency of these events that they are no longer guaranteed to make the front page. Though sadly, tragedy that the Morecambe’s have endured is all too prominent. We are fortunate to have our son with us, yet we still fail to protect him as we should something so precious.
Love Dad
He is funny. He’s smart. Considerate, thoughtful and aware, even if it is sometimes on reflection. Sometimes, he is a royal, 11 year old pain in the arse, but mostly he is Rhys.
He has been an immense source of pride and affection since then and whenever I’ve been low, directionless or plain depressed, I only have to think of him and I smile. Sometimes I weep. He makes me stop and realise that things aren’t quite in the order or priority that I thought they were. Even with two grown up daughters, whom I see little of and hear from even less (largely due to my circumstances and actions and despite my mourning that loss I am yet to learn all the lessons I should have by now. I am only beginning to understand and am becoming acutely conscious of the expanse of his being.
At every turn there is a news item advising us of an abused child, a family hit by tragedy or community shell-shocked by huge loss. Such is the frequency of these events that they are no longer guaranteed to make the front page. Though sadly, tragedy that the Morecambe’s have endured is all too prominent. We are fortunate to have our son with us, yet we still fail to protect him as we should something so precious.
Through the last couple of years, while his mother and I have been dismantling the fabric of our life – one disassembling and the other putting away the pieces – he has been through the mill. At times he has been forgotten or, at the very least, too low in the order of things. Though he manages to remain enthusiastic about the things that he enjoys he takes it upon himself to protects the ‘grown-up’s’ from themselves at times. We have squandered part of his innocence – shame on us. Shame, shame.
Now, suddenly, he is 11 years old. I grieve for the greater part of his childhood thus far that has gone sometimes unnoticed and sometimes uncelebrated. It’s dawned on me that it will never be back for us to share again. No more, my son. It’s all about you.
Happy birthday ‘Young Man’
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Bless me father ... for I have sinned
It’s been .... ooh .... a week (?) since my last confession.
The Diet
Well, to continue in the current vein, I have successfully navigated another 7 days with no meet. I was duped into the purchase of some very nice looking vegetable fried rice in the cafe at work, only to discover just in time that it had bacon bits. I am guilty of mistaking some chorizo sausage for sun dried tomatoes in a pasta dish I had after the Rainbow Beach Ultra on Sunday, but I was tired and, let’s face it, there’s very little meat in sausages!!
Over 2½ weeks I have dropped a steady 3 kg’s and am now sitting on 79. I can confidently say it’s not down to training as though I have maintained my streak, I have had very little intensity or distance other than the 45 km’s on Sunday, following which I did as I always do for a couple of days after a run: experienced an insatiable appetite for carbs. and sugars, succumbing to the demand for plenty of the former and a little of the latter.
I’m definitely feeling better for it too and my ‘habits’ seem to be a little ‘healthier’!
Rainbow Beach
Anyway, back to Rainbow Beach. When I first saw this race, I thought, “Ok, lovely part of the world, will be a beautiful run and all that, but just call it a marathon. I mean, 43 km’s is just an excuse to tick the ‘ultra box’. How wrong of me.
The race is a huge challenge over the distance and merits the tag and has the makings of bringing an imposing event onto the trail running map (hopefully now it’s back on there’ll be no more difficulty with permits).
My day was quite adventurous as it turned out. There were one or two teething problems with the event, namely the tide being a lot earlier than anticipated and a lot higher due to the full moon (as a CP volunteer said to me after my travails, “Maybe we should have come up yesterday morning to check the real high tide time”) but no real harm done.
After covering the first 18 km through some beautiful trail to the beach very sedately, my ‘comfortable’ 5 hour plans were scuppered by the ‘losing’ of my legs running along the beach to the lighthouse (the heavy sand as a result of the high tide just took it out of me, walking or what was loosely described as ‘running’).
The fantastic views up to and from the lighthouse lightened the mood (the colour of the ocean was spellbinding and just sucked you in). When I got back down the other side I had some misgivings and had no option but to go across the sandbar as I was already cut off from the main beach on the inlet, knowing I’d have to cross the inlet somewhere.
After a couple of km’s, I reached the inlet where the tide was rushing in at a furious rate. I decided to go for it and waded, tested, swam a little before realising it wasn’t on - It was well over my head and coming through quickly enough that I couldn't keep my footing. I was more concerned about Rhys’ camera getting buggered than anything else (admittedly, this feeling wasn't helped by the signage I saw at Inskip Point the night before warning me of the presence of estuarine crocodiles in the area - a salty on my arse would have severely hindered my already precarious chances of finishing!!).
I was fortunate in that a family on the other side were out enjoying the sunshine and he had a kayak on his roof. Anyway, the guy yelled over to me that he'd come get me and so it passed. I got a kayak ride across and, by the time I made it across the rest of the sand bar and doubled back to the checkpoint, I had added about 3 km to the trip. It was only about 12 km from there I think but it felt like a long way home. Possibly could have been 5½ hours instead of the trudge that my morning became but there you go (6:28!)
One thing though, Donna arrived at the finish expecting me to be there. She asked Ian Javes if there was any word about anyone’s whereabouts and he simply said, I’m sure with sneaky grin and a twinkle in his eye,
"This course isn’t as easy as they all seem to think!”
I put this to Donna yesterday and she confirmed – she was sure he looked pleased with himself ... good for him!
To cap off a sincerely enjoyable weekend, we had a full blow out in a fully laden 4x4 at 110 km/hour on the way home ... at least I got to lied down in the grass while digging the jack under the car!
The Diet
Well, to continue in the current vein, I have successfully navigated another 7 days with no meet. I was duped into the purchase of some very nice looking vegetable fried rice in the cafe at work, only to discover just in time that it had bacon bits. I am guilty of mistaking some chorizo sausage for sun dried tomatoes in a pasta dish I had after the Rainbow Beach Ultra on Sunday, but I was tired and, let’s face it, there’s very little meat in sausages!!
Over 2½ weeks I have dropped a steady 3 kg’s and am now sitting on 79. I can confidently say it’s not down to training as though I have maintained my streak, I have had very little intensity or distance other than the 45 km’s on Sunday, following which I did as I always do for a couple of days after a run: experienced an insatiable appetite for carbs. and sugars, succumbing to the demand for plenty of the former and a little of the latter.
I’m definitely feeling better for it too and my ‘habits’ seem to be a little ‘healthier’!
Rainbow Beach
Anyway, back to Rainbow Beach. When I first saw this race, I thought, “Ok, lovely part of the world, will be a beautiful run and all that, but just call it a marathon. I mean, 43 km’s is just an excuse to tick the ‘ultra box’. How wrong of me.
The race is a huge challenge over the distance and merits the tag and has the makings of bringing an imposing event onto the trail running map (hopefully now it’s back on there’ll be no more difficulty with permits).
My day was quite adventurous as it turned out. There were one or two teething problems with the event, namely the tide being a lot earlier than anticipated and a lot higher due to the full moon (as a CP volunteer said to me after my travails, “Maybe we should have come up yesterday morning to check the real high tide time”) but no real harm done.
After covering the first 18 km through some beautiful trail to the beach very sedately, my ‘comfortable’ 5 hour plans were scuppered by the ‘losing’ of my legs running along the beach to the lighthouse (the heavy sand as a result of the high tide just took it out of me, walking or what was loosely described as ‘running’).
The fantastic views up to and from the lighthouse lightened the mood (the colour of the ocean was spellbinding and just sucked you in). When I got back down the other side I had some misgivings and had no option but to go across the sandbar as I was already cut off from the main beach on the inlet, knowing I’d have to cross the inlet somewhere.
After a couple of km’s, I reached the inlet where the tide was rushing in at a furious rate. I decided to go for it and waded, tested, swam a little before realising it wasn’t on - It was well over my head and coming through quickly enough that I couldn't keep my footing. I was more concerned about Rhys’ camera getting buggered than anything else (admittedly, this feeling wasn't helped by the signage I saw at Inskip Point the night before warning me of the presence of estuarine crocodiles in the area - a salty on my arse would have severely hindered my already precarious chances of finishing!!).
I was fortunate in that a family on the other side were out enjoying the sunshine and he had a kayak on his roof. Anyway, the guy yelled over to me that he'd come get me and so it passed. I got a kayak ride across and, by the time I made it across the rest of the sand bar and doubled back to the checkpoint, I had added about 3 km to the trip. It was only about 12 km from there I think but it felt like a long way home. Possibly could have been 5½ hours instead of the trudge that my morning became but there you go (6:28!)
One thing though, Donna arrived at the finish expecting me to be there. She asked Ian Javes if there was any word about anyone’s whereabouts and he simply said, I’m sure with sneaky grin and a twinkle in his eye,
"This course isn’t as easy as they all seem to think!”
I put this to Donna yesterday and she confirmed – she was sure he looked pleased with himself ... good for him!
To cap off a sincerely enjoyable weekend, we had a full blow out in a fully laden 4x4 at 110 km/hour on the way home ... at least I got to lied down in the grass while digging the jack under the car!
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
It's not the means, it's the end ... result that is.
Ok, first things first, contrary to my post of 28th, I’ve ignored one of my foibles and eaten a veggie burger. If I call it a patty (which describes the shape and consistency as opposed to the content) then I think I can get away with it. Donna and the kids were getting dinner from Hungry Jack’s and I was coerced, a little. Anyway, it was nice.
There, I’ve done it ... feels so good to get it off my chest!
Oh yeah, almost forgot. I accidentally ate a couple of pieces of ham from the fridge the other day. I was just looking for something to nibble on and the last pieces were there so I had them. Nice too. Just a slip up.
Here’s the low down: I’ve stopped eating meat, not because of my moral views on the methods we use to ‘care for’ and slaughter our livestock (though it’s a concern), but because of the scale on which we produce it at as much as any moral issue I have with its consumption. Take a look at these figures for Australia for the month of September, 2011:
Not so bad you may think, but that's 0.14 of a beast for each of the population (½ of that number being lamb). This includes infants, the elderly and, let's not forget, vegetarians, vegans and those of that ilk. What's missing? Chickens!
Don't take my word for it, these figures come straight from the Australian Bureau of Statistics.
You should check out the figures for civilised nations such as the UK and the USA in particular (182 animals per capita per year), they're frightening.
The real damage, apart from the health care burden (as for the individual who's dumb enough to allow themselves to get 50+ kg's overweight I have no sympathy, though I do have admiration for those for whom the penny drops and they make efforts to turn it around), is done to the environment - and it's not just the methan (which is more damaging than on a global scale than global vehicular emissions).
Our planet cannot support the level of mass production that the meat industry engages in. It's not about vegetarianism it's about what's natural. There's plenty of information out there, go see for yourself ... or ask.
It's a cliché I know, but in a world of such excess, how the fuck are there so many starving?
There, I’ve done it ... feels so good to get it off my chest!
Oh yeah, almost forgot. I accidentally ate a couple of pieces of ham from the fridge the other day. I was just looking for something to nibble on and the last pieces were there so I had them. Nice too. Just a slip up.
Here’s the low down: I’ve stopped eating meat, not because of my moral views on the methods we use to ‘care for’ and slaughter our livestock (though it’s a concern), but because of the scale on which we produce it at as much as any moral issue I have with its consumption. Take a look at these figures for Australia for the month of September, 2011:
Current Population (November 9th 2011): 22,757,314 | ||||
| Cattle(a) | 620,057 | 0.03 | ||
| Calves | 91,710 | 0.004 | ||
| Sheep | 465,725 | 0.02 | ||
| Lambs | 1,562,921 | 0.07 | ||
| Pigs | 396,152 | 0.02 | ||
| 3,136,565 | 0.14 | |||
| (a) Excludes calves | ||||
Not so bad you may think, but that's 0.14 of a beast for each of the population (½ of that number being lamb). This includes infants, the elderly and, let's not forget, vegetarians, vegans and those of that ilk. What's missing? Chickens!
Don't take my word for it, these figures come straight from the Australian Bureau of Statistics.
You should check out the figures for civilised nations such as the UK and the USA in particular (182 animals per capita per year), they're frightening.
The real damage, apart from the health care burden (as for the individual who's dumb enough to allow themselves to get 50+ kg's overweight I have no sympathy, though I do have admiration for those for whom the penny drops and they make efforts to turn it around), is done to the environment - and it's not just the methan (which is more damaging than on a global scale than global vehicular emissions).
Our planet cannot support the level of mass production that the meat industry engages in. It's not about vegetarianism it's about what's natural. There's plenty of information out there, go see for yourself ... or ask.
It's a cliché I know, but in a world of such excess, how the fuck are there so many starving?
- 7,001,760,663 current total world population
- 916,405,551 undernourished people in the world right now
- 1,548,527,792 overweight people in the world right now
- 516,175,931 obese people in the world right now
- 19,261 people who have died of hunger today
- 9,578,142 people who have already died of hunger this year
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