I'm thinking about starting a training diary again.
I kept training diaries on and off from the age of about 14 to 22. I think it was orginally for my coaches to keep tabs on me. It also fed my teenage hyper-organised-compulsive-list-making-slash-coloured-pen-disorder. This often overlapped with study procrastination.
In theory the training diary was motivating because I could see my progress in the gym and focus my sessions and thoughts. More often, however, it was motivating because a blank page equalled a lazy day and the guilt got me out on the water.
This time around though I think I'll keep a training diary so I get twice the satisfaction out of the session. This way I feel self-righteous after the session and equally as proud of myself when I write it down.
If I think of a third way to milk that post-session-feeling, I'll let you know.
Two weeks ago, the stars aligned (good weather, time, mood, no one better than me on the course) and I went for a paddle at the stadium in my slalom boat.
Although I really enjoyed messing about and being on the water, I think I'm hardwired to try to perfect everything if I'm paddling in a slalom boat.
So last week I got in a plastic boat. It helped that I was paddling with a severely hung over friend, which would have been entertaining enough, but I had a whale of a time. Seriously. I caught myself just laughing because I was happy pratting about and getting worked. I think I was laughing just because smiling wasn't cutting it.
Oh, and the Jackson Happy Feet system is soooo much better than slalom foot pegs.
So this weekend I'll see be in plastic again. I can't embarrass myself more than last week. I was, after all, mostly giggling to myself in holes/eddies/waves.
We went to see a selection of films from the Banff Film Festival last night in Katoomba.
The feats and the cinematography were equally b.e.a.utiful.
I left feeling inspired by the possibilities but slightly downcast by the fact that I could train my whole life and never reach these levels of skill.
I was left with that Jonathan Livingstone Seagull feeling; when those you are watching are so much more practised and skilled that they seem divine but at the same time watching your own kind achieving those feats is incredibly motivating.
The traffic on the drive to work today was horrendous and apparently for no other reason than the fact that I had hoped to be early today.
To pass the time I entertained myself making a mental list of all the things I won't miss about Australia (the list of stuff I will miss was too easy). The following is the non-mental version of the list:
- spiky grass that looks like regular grass until it bites you
- hot cross buns only being available for 3 months of the year
- ants that are the wrong size (big) and shape (spidery/bulky/evil)
- drivers sitting in the middle lane
- 'tasty cheese'
It's not a long list but don't underestimate how much those things irritate me.
Especially the middle lane thing. It's the dark side of Australia.
I have had such a great three days.
On Sunday, I bundled Kip into the car and we set off to Canberra to meet Ben after the Outdoor trade show. After the three hour drive down, we had not only travelled to a different state but to a different season. There were leaves on the ground, acorns scattered across the grass and a seriously British chill in the air that took me by surprise.
Luckily I had thrown my down jacket and merino gloves into the boot - not because I believed the legends about how cold Canberra could be but because I hadn't worn either in earnest yet and wanted to take up the excuse to put on new toys.
Once I had layered up, Ben and I walked the dog around Lake Burley-Griffin on a perrrrfect sunny autumn afternoon.
I had forgotten how good fallen leaves smell. The actually have a scent, and it's so fresh and homely and crunchy. Hmmmmm.
Then we ate Nepalese in an obscure suburb in Canberra because all eateries in Canberra bar Gus' and Essen are in obscure suburbs.
The next day we had breakfast with Ben's sister at Lonsdale Street Roasters. Apparently the coffee is so good that Ben had to mention the visit 3 times in the following 24 hours. I don't drink coffee (oh shut uuuuup already, yes I still have a great life) but I can still recommend that place for the slow-roasted-pork-panini. Happy breakfast. It's so good that it makes up for the hipster vibe in there and even partly for the bikes hanging on the walls.
After walking the dog again around a different part of the Lake because I was so enjoying the autumnally-yummy-ness, we drove to Braidwood to see our wonderful friend Sam. That afternoon included (and I'm not making this up, it was this good):
- beef and sauerkraut sandwiches,
- a bike ride with all accompanying larks,
- lemon myrtle tea in front of a wood burner,
- pizza-pizza-pizza,
- apple crumble
- and we even fitted in a BBC drama.
I'm sure living in a small town of 1,100 like Braidwood can't be as perfect as it looks but it can't be far off with a bakery like Dojo Bread. Those chocolate fruit buns (think hot cross bun with a kilo of melted chocolate inside) would make up for a great deal of nosiness/inbreeding/early closing hours.
I got to explore the town some more whilst Ben and Sam played golf like grown ups before meeting me at the Lolly Store and sharing their NINE packets of sweets like children.
Friends, bread, and the smell of fallen leaves. Thank you life.
