I think we all like to believe that we’re in good health, eat well and are reasonably fit. In a similar vein, our kids like to believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy.
Over the past few weeks I’ve seen the hashtag #C25K popping up in my twitter stream, but I only recently decided to investigate what it meant. Turns out that quite a few of the people I follow had begun the Couch to 5k running program. C25K is an interval training program and although that’s hardly a new concept, its popularity has meant that a bunch of helpful resources have been created to assist you to get off the couch.
This morning I downloaded a music mix that was designed to accompany the C25K program, with the beat changing up or down according to whether you should be jogging or running, from Podrunner Intervals and loaded it onto my iPod, found my barely used pair of sneakers and headed out the door. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the first transition from a brisk walk to a jog felt like it was going to make my lungs explode, but by the time I reached the cooldown part of the workout I was actually disappointed that I had no more jogging sections to come.
Three times a week for the next 9 weeks I’ll be following the C25K program, if all goes to plan I’ll be able to do a 5K run in 30 minutes, which seems like quite a feat at this point in time. The concept of ‘getting fit’ always seems rather nebulous to me, the beauty of C25K is that there’s a well defined goal and an obvious way to get there.
Update: Second session finished. Buster Boy woke me up just after 6 and I se out with all of the other nutters. Part way through I started to worry that my usually dormant asthma was about to make a comeback, but it turns out it was mostly my under-developed lung capacity that was causing the problem.
So it’s been a while between posts for me. Sure, there’s been plenty to keep me fired up, so I don’t really know why this particular story is what has got me blogging again. Blame it on hormones.
So it comes to this. Tiger Woods has been in the headlines for having a few mistresses. I’m sure they each have their own stories to tell however it’s one in particular that has grabbed the headlines recently. Jaimee Grubbs, dubbed Mistress Grubbs in this article from the SMH online, has decided to share her story on national TV, bless her. The article starts with her apologising to Tiger’s wife, Erin Nordegren, for the immeasurable hurt and emotion she has caused her. Right there I’m thinking ‘Ok, really, an apology on national TV? That’s pretty poor form right there love.’ Following that though, is a quote from her saying ‘If it wasn’t me, it was going to be other girls.’ So what, that makes what happened ok does it? Well, thank God you were there Jaimee to stop that from happening. Oh, wait a minute…
You might have noticed in the sidebar that I have a tumblr account set up now. What’s it for?
Stuff like this great song by Root, called “Joe Blogs“. It’s a bit TISM 2.0
A few weeks ago our Apex Club received a letter informing us that the fountain in the town’s main square was to be demolished shortly. The council wanted to let us know because decades ago our Club, along with some of the other service organisations in town, had raised the funds to build this elaborate fountain for the community. It set me thinking about the things in our towns that we take for granted, how they got there, who remembers how and why, and who’s making sure that these things aren’t forgotten.
The day of the race was as overcast and windy as the previous two. Rather than heading up to my seat at Lukey Heights I decided to walk around the track during practice. There really isn’t a bad part of the circuit, every corner has a fantastic view.
My personal favourite part of the track was probably Siberia, watching the bikes power up the hill before dropping back into the Hayshed. At this part of the circuit you can really appreciate the power of the MotoGP bikes. Even with incredibly sophisticated traction control trying to improve their behaviour the bikes buck and squirm around on the track, almost as if they are trying to throw the riders into the gravel.
Casey Stoner had a customised paint job featuring the Australian flag on his bike and a new set of matching leathers, which was a nice touch for his home GP. Despite the fact that he led from very early in the race Stoner was rarely far from Valentino Rossi. Each lap we’d see them coming over the hill from Siberia and try to judge the gap between them, then a few seconds later they’d blast past us on the hill at Lukey Heights giving us another glimpse of how close they were.
After Stoner clinched the win I took the opportunity to wander across the track and infield before leaving. One of the things that shocked me was the construction of the ripple strips, there was a step down of about an inch at the outside edge between each section, with the step becoming less pronounced towards the inside of the strip. Riding over this on a normal bike, while cornering would be fairly disconcerting, to do so on a MotoGP bike at over 200km/h is simply a frightening thought.
The following morning we left Phillip Island around 6am, and finally saw some sunlight. After stopping for breakfast at Healesville my riding companions headed towards the Hume Freeway, while I continued back the way we had come. It was a beautiful day, and one of those rides where everything just seemed to click, smooth and fast. The roads were filled with bikes returning from the GP, I’d follow along at the back of a group for a while before going my own way again. The ride was mostly uneventful, the only thing upsetting my trip was my luggage rack working its way out of the brackets that hold it onto the bike when I was about 70km from home. Thankfully, apart from a few scrapes on the outside of my bag, there wasn’t anything damaged.
A 900km round trip, my first visit to Philip Island and the MotoGP, it was all intensely satisfying. There is something very special about being out on a bike, even more so when you have the chance to travel with others. My Ducati is by no means a touring bike, no windscreen, an uncomfortable seat and no paniers are good clues to figuring that out, but that’s partly what makes it so much fun to take it on this sort of trip. Sadly Mrsdave doesn’t share my enthusiasm for discomfort and no luggage, so there will need to be a change or addition to the garage before she agrees to come along with me, I’m hoping for the latter.
I know that I’ve abandoned this blog for long stretches before, but that was usually because I didn’t want to write. This time it’s because I’ve been doing all of my wordy type stuff over at Pure Poison.
It’s been a real challenge trying to write regular content for Pure Poison, having fairly well defined subject matter is a double edged sword. What is gratifying is building a rapport with so many commenters on the blog, especially when something I’ve written completely surprises them. It’s nice to be unpredictable.
The down side to contributing to Pure Poison is that this little blog has become a quiet place. Hopefully I’ll get the balance a bit better soon.
Apart from the fact that it was home to an amazing race track and fairy penguins I had no idea what to expect when I reached Phillip Island. Therefore I was completely unprepared for the sight of cattle everywhere, and the fact that most of the buildings on the island seemed to have been slapped together out of fibro without much concern for aesthetics or building codes.
The house we stayed in was an interesting exercise in seeing how many rooms could be shoved into an incredibly small space, outdone only by the bonus round where an attempt was made to fit as many beds as possible into the afore mentioned small rooms. The only consolation for me was that as the Dave from Albury Compound has the smallest bathroom outside of a Collins class submarine, I had no trouble with the tiny bathroom in the rental house. The most important thing about the house was its proximity to the track, and on that detail it scored quite well, but I did wonder why on earth anyone would stay there during the 49 weeks a year that there’s no big motorsport events on.
The trip to Phillip Island commenced under grey skies and the threat of rain. While I had envisaged a leisurely departure my travelling companions wanted to be on the road by 7am, so that is when I found them, bikes mounted and engines started, ready to hit the road. As everyone else in the party was from Queensland I was informed that it would be my job to find our way to Phillip Island, so eschewing the freeway and the boredom of its long straights we headed for the back roads and the hills that they traversed.
I spent the weekend washing and shining the Ducati. Today she had a service to ensure all was well. Tomorrow I’ll be packing and repacking to ensure I have my bag exactly right. Thursday I’ll be hitting the twisty bits all the way from here to Phillip Island. Friday, the real bikes and their riders will begin to attack one of the best motorcycle race tracks in the world. Sunday, we’ll see who masters the island this year.
Caption comp time. What is the brains trust of the Federal Liberal Party saying here?
“For the last time Chris, you’re not the only one here who can wear a lilac tie”
