Prep Work
Well, that's the longest training run done now. From here on, it's tapering off, up until 21 September, when I'll run 10k further than I did today. I gotta say, my only hope at this point is that the taper does the job, resting me, but still keeping up whatever little stamina I've developed these last 15 weeks, because the 32k kicked my butt today. I took the Gu(tm) the Counselor thoughtfully shipped past Customs, one shot before I went out, one at about 10-15k, and another somewhere around the 20k mark (all distances are approximate, based on my vague recollection of where the markers fall while I'm drafting the route on Map My Run), but the first on-route shot fell short of helping within the next 5k covered, and I can only hope the last one was what enabled me to shuffle through the remainder of the run. By the time I was on the last 2k, I was thoroughly done in, unable to accomplish any chores, which will now all have to be done tomorrow, along with some swimming or bike-riding. Given how my back and neck were seizing up over the last 10k, maybe I should go for weights and push-ups and the other exercises the trainer I'd been working with over October-March set out for me.

Racing
Yesterday's 23k felt o.k., and that may have been helped by the contribution of a case of Gu(tm) from the Counsellor. It couldn't have hurt. I'll carry some with me for the remainder of the training, especially next Saturday's 32k, the longest training run of all. I'll probably carry some on the day, too, just in case they're not handing it out with sufficient frequency to support my caloric requirements to complete the race.

Meanwhile, speaking of races, did Obama really choose Biden? I mean, not to be unduly rude, but WTF? It's better than Gore's Lieberman choice, but, still. It's a little Bush-istic, isn't it? Picking the old guy to add gravitas/experience? I'd have been happier with Richardson. I'll admit, Biden plays well on the news here, asking the hard, pointed questions. That can't hurt. Anyway, Democrats, go figure.

American Humor
Monday, M. took me to see David Sedaris. I guess the Counsellor and others of us had spoken often enough of how funny we found Sedaris' material that she thought it would be a special treat, given I'm such a fan. He is funny, and I enjoy his memoir pieces and so forth in the NY'er, but a book launch and reading was probably more effort than I'd have gone to on my own. Strangely enough, he was originally booked into a theatre venue, but things took an even stranger turn when they moved it to the Opera House. Nevertheless, it was packed to the rafters, nearly. I didn't hear many American accents, so he must have a following of his own. No doubt Sydney's gay population would have had something to do with it. The readings were very good. He got a lot of laughs. In fact, and in keeping with one piece that's never been published, he's better out loud than on paper. The interview with Judith Lucy, an excellent Australian comedian, was perhaps less successful, but mainly because it took some time to warm up, so that Sedaris spent a little time repeating himself, essentially. He's good, though, despite the odd nervous tic of introducing each piece with "I wanted to read something from [x]," as though apologizing for reading something different. He wanted to, and he did. I particularly enjoyed a Thurber-esque animal fable. Dead on. A nice treat, in the end, and I may have recruited a new member to Democrats Abroad.

Yes, It's Boring, But There's Nothing Else
29k yesterday, and it took just under 3 hours. I'd pretty well psyched myself out regarding my chosen course two weeks ago, doing the erroneous 32k, but now that I had some landmarks, it actually went pretty well, getting out to the Olympic Park, anyway. Somewhere along the trip back, though, with enforced stops to wait for traffic lights, I started stiffening up badly again, so that - again - by the time I got to Leichardt, I was reduced to jogging a K or two and walking a block or two, which seriously ate into my hoped-for two-hours-and-forty-five minutes intention. Not too bad, but it pretty much put paid to the rest of the day, which was spent largely in hobbling out to the laundry and back and watching the Olympics.

I know that NBC back in the States had a hand in the scheduling of the swimming, but the coverage here seems largely to consist of water polo, basketball, soccer, and archery. I think you've got to be pretty die-hard to stick with any of these, let alone badminton and ping-pong. Sheesh.

Meanwhile, so far so good for Michael Phelps, superfish. Eight today? Alas, I'll be out watching the Rabbitohs take on the Manly Sea Eagles, one of the best sides in the premiership.

Navigational
For this week's long run, 26k, I decided the best option was to run straight out Parramatta Road until I reached a reasonable cut-off to the Olympic Park. Easy to navigate, I thought, and a bit of a change. It would mean crossing some traffic intersection choke-points, but that oughtn't to delay me more than a couple of minutes here and there. However - and there had to be a however, didn't there? - I missed my turn. Suddenly, I was right behind the park, just the same (o.k., not suddenly; by this point it had taken damn near forever), so I swung in and started looking for the interior loop I'd plotted. Never did find it. Nevertheless, on the theory that I should do one anyway, I ended up following a longer loop than expected. By the time I got back on track - and stopping to examine a wall map helped me reorient myself - I was nearly done in. When I got home and replotted the route according to the path actually travelled, I'd done nearly 32k. What's killing me is, despite walking a lot of the path home, I did the course in two-and-a-half hours, i.e., 148 minutes, which works out to something like four-and-a-half minutes per k. I gotta be doing the math wrong, because I was very deliberate in keeping a "reasonable" pace, and probably walked most of the extra 7k. Even better, somewhere along the way, my ankle wallet unzipped, and my house key fell out. I had to spend 30 minutes waiting on a locksmith, while the salt of my perspiration dried in snail trails along my arms. I'm well sore, too. What a day. Swimming tomorrow will be just the ticket to loosen up, but I've also got to do the shopping, and bring my bike in for repairs.

Meanwhile, tonight's the Rabbitohs, so I'll spend some time out in the wind-chill just to top things off. The way I feel, they'd better bloody win, or I might not make it through the 80 minutes.

More Gloating About the Marathon
My running mate at work has pulled up with microfractures along his right shin, requiring rest for at least a week, if not putting him out of contention altogether. He's very committed, so I hope not, as I'm also looking forward to beating his time, since our runs together tend to be just a little slower, more often than not, than my solo runs. Still, he's twenty years younger, at least, so I won't feel bad about a different outcome.

I screwed up my Saturday run, though, when I was supposed to do 24k and only accomplished 22, as a result of not studying the mapped route carefully enough in respect to the final 4k, which led me to cut off a loop at the end. It's actually getting rather difficult to find longer and longer runs that aren't just loops around the same stretches of road, with a couple of final turns around a couple of local blocks, which also led me to a really difficult bike ride across a few bridges up north, and which probably won't end up as an new route, simply because I got so thoroughly turned around trying to find the bike paths.

Of course, I also recognize that all these marathon-related posts must be getting dull, a failing I think that inevitably occurs in those of us who train for such things, but it does become an obsession, so please don't think it's all just gloating smugness at how fit I'm becoming. I am pleased to go have some trousers taken in, just the same.

Long Weekend
I planned my weekend around a Saturday afternoon Rabbitohs home game, and the fact that I had to go to the bank, the post office, and visit a doctor to have some stitches removed (minor kitchen incident). In the end, since the knots had come undone, I did the stitches myself. The remaining chores, at opposite ends of the city, presented similar levels of difficulty, but provided plenty of opportunity for riding my bike. It was only having to navigate the crazed Catholics meandering through town with absolutely no awareness of anything around them but themselves. Nice they had a good time, I suppose, but there were more barricades up than for APEC, and not all of us were headed for mass at Randwick Racecourse (where, I suppose, a trifecta bet could only be Father-Son-Holy Ghost). I’m not a little glad to see the end of “World Youth Day”.

The Rabbitohs game, however, turned out to be on Sunday, which meant I had to do my 16k run and head straight out to Olympic Park. (Speaking of which, Olympic Park, where the various venues left over from 2000 have little to occupy themselves, was used as a gigantic shelter for many hundreds of WYD pilgrims, sleeping on the floor of various gymnasiums and so forth, serviced by semi-trailer showering and toilet facilities.) But the Bunnies lost, badly, outplayed by Wests Tigers, and I returned home tired and a little muscle-sore, in rather a bad mood, facing a large load of laundry to complete, exacerbating the gloom of the evening.

Wascals
The Mighty Bunnies won last night, against the Parramatta Eels, in what was probably one of the most fun evenings I've spent at a sporting event. It was a bigger crowd than usual, which may be attributable in part to (a) their winning streak, now at 5-in-a-row (for the first time since 1994); and (b) World Youth Day, for which a special seating section was on offer, although I can't say that there was any evidence of Catholic pilgrims visible.

Talking Down
I never voted for the man, but I have had little, if anything, against the Reverend Jesse Jackson, even admiring him as a candidate for President, perhaps especially in knowing he never stood a chance. But he’s a showboat, and known for his inappropriate commentary - remember “hymie town”? I’ll bet there a lot of Jewish NY’ers who do. Unfortunately, like the Reverend Al Sharpton, Jackson is regarded as an African-American spokesman especially when he does or says something harmful to himself or his community, a situation you’d think he’d recognise and try to mitigate, rather than offering the Bill O’Reilly’s of the world more ammunition. It’s not going to hurt Obama among his supporters, but it’s going to give aid and comfort to those who will irrationally oppose his candidacy, which will have the inevitable effect of swaying the weak-minded into a knee-jerk vote for Bomb-Iran (with cigarettes) McCain, just when they might very well be willing to try something different, as well as to support the disgruntled Clintonites in doing something equally stupid. Why do Democrats seem so intent on shooting each other in the foot?

This Little Light
M. & I caught the Rolling Stones concert flick, Shine a Light, over the weekend, about which I'll say, it's a well-done concert movie, if not necessarily a stand-out; the Stones are pretty much, by the evidence of the performance documented, very set in their persona, very much aware of themselves as performers, as The Stones, and don't offer much in any way new or fresh of themselves; Buddy Guy, who appears for one song, blows them all away, as acknowledged by Keith Richards, who, in a gesture of submission, hands his guitar to Guy, saying, "this is yours". I really have to find a copy of Stop Making Sense, now, to round out the concert movie experience, but I don't expect it to exceed Berlin.

Highways
I bought a bike last weekend, to help me figure out new routes around home, as the distances get longer, so I won't be left just doing loops of the shorter distances already plotted out on Map My Run. My specific first inspection tour, last Sunday, was to find a way, if such existed, across the Anzac Bridge. It wouldn't add much distance, per se, but it would mean crossing a bridge, which would be beneficial for race day, when, last year, anyway, the marathon crossed three bridges. Hill work, essentially. I didn't find the bike path until I was already well into highway traffic, at which point I discovered myself running parallel to the pedestrian/bike lane, separated by a concrete barrier. At the first break in traffic, I hauled the bike across and proceeded normally. All well and good, but this week, for my 19k run, I figured on hooking up with the bike path on spec; that is, I made an unfortunate assumption of where it started. Nope. It actually starts on the other side of Victoria Road, and has a overpass of its own to join up with the bridge's bike/footpath. So, as usual, it seems, I was left with bushwacking my way to a point where I could rejoin the plotted route. Less dangerous than the previous weekend, but frustrating. I'll have to make a trip into town, soon, to see about something similar for the Harbour Bridge, not to mention finding a way over the Lane Cove Bridge. That'd put me three-for-three on the previous route's bridges, although I hear this year the route's been changed. Apparently, international participation rates are low because the course has been considered too hard. (Too hard? These people run marathons for money. Wimps.)

Meanwhile, as we all know, intensive aerobic exercise shuts down certain autonomic processes, i.e., digestion, which I've discovered affects me rather dramatically, post-run, at distances more than 10k. We shall have to hope not to be "caught short" come race day. Say no more.

Sound and Vision
If I don't write about it shortly after the fact, it seems I just forget, but I'm finally getting around to mentioning the Sydney Film Festival screening I attended with M. two weeks ago, at the Metro Theatre, sort of an odd venue for movies, as it's a concert hall normally, but it worked out well enough, in a cross-referential way, as the movie was the concert film for Lou Reed's Berlin, performed live for the first time ever in Brooklyn's St Ann's in 2006. It played the Sydney Festival, the annual arts-around-town event, in 2007, but the tickets were terribly expensive, so we didn't go, even though M. is a long-time devotee of the album, as am I. A lot of people disparage it, and there are elements I find a little over-the-top, but nevertheless, it is as complete a concept album as was ever produced during the period when concept albums were all the rage. Because it was the follow-up to Transformer, I think a lot of people were just so disoriented by the album's thorough departure from its predecessor, that they never gave it a proper chance. And having seen this concert, or film thereof, anyway, I have to tell you it's time to go back and listen to Berlin again. Julian Schnabel did a great job as the director, capturing the concert experience quite effectively. Antony Hegarty, of Antony & the Johnsons, was a featured backup singer, performing an encore on lead vocal of "Candy Says," from the Velvet Underground's eponymous third album, and, it's rumoured, Schnabel's daughter was one of the choir members. What was most remarkable, somehow, was the pure emotionality of Lou Reed's performance. He was deeply involved in the story he was telling, and I even thought he was on the verge of tears. This is a concert film to stand up with all the best concert films. I may see about renting Stop Making Sense, well, after I go see Shine a Light, just to round things off.

Trail Mix
Wow, that mid-week 8k could have gone better. I went into the nearby park, following the road that winds along the river, crossing Delhi Road over into a small subdivision that more or less backs onto the industrial park I work in, intending to cut across a bit of the Great Northern Walk trail to loop back through and around. It amounts to nearly 8 1/2 kilometers, but that was about as close as I could plot, and a better route, on the map, than the 5-6k extension I'd worked out earlier. I didn't get lost, but still ended up having run for more than an hour, well beyond what my pace should have led to, largely as a result of the trail turning out to be far more difficult than anticipated. Having reached a rocky escarpment, I discovered the trail had disappeared, and had to spend some considerable time locating a marker. Once that was done, I was faced with a steep, winding staircase, cut in among the natural rock, leading back down to Delhi Road. By the time I got down, I was breathing normally, so the run back wasn't too hard, at least not until the final stretch leading out of the park, which, while not terribly steep, is a bit long, at least for that stage of the run. God only knows what I'm going to end up with once the kilometers really pile up mid-week, or where, for the matter. Tomorrow's 5k will have to serve as a muscle-loosener for the 16 on Saturday. I am ow.

Progress
I've been tracking my marathon training in Map My Run. I'm pretty satisfied with how I'm going, although Saturday's 8K was harder than I expected. I guess I didn't get enough sleep or went out too hard at the start, probably the latter, since I still finished within the 5:30/K range. I don't know that the MMR reports are particularly useful. I suppose if I was tracking calories or weight loss, maybe more so, but the bars seem to be pretty even. (I also don't know if that link will work for anyone, although I believe I've allowed my training profile to be public.) It's not reasonable to suppose that I'll keep up the 5-5:30 pace over the upcoming weeks, as the kilometerage (?) piles up, let alone over the actual race, but wouldn't that be something? This Saturday, Hal Higdon ups the ante to 14K, and the midweek runs go from 5-6-5 to 5-8-5, and pretty much every week thereafter just climbs and climbs. Ow.

Luck
According to the package insert, "Shisa" (talismans from Okinawa) are paired decorative sculptural images, more or less like a cross between a lion and a dog, which are placed on rooftops or flanking doorways or gates to one's home. "Shisa are wards, believed to protect from various evils. When found in pairs, the shisa on the right traditionally has an open mouth, and the one on the left, a closed mouth. The open mouth is to let good spirits in, and the closed mouth is to keep bad spirits out. Originally, pairs like this were called 'shisa and guardian dogs': the left, with its mouth closed, is the guardian; the right, with it's mouth open, is the shisa. Some people believe that one is male and the other female and provide various justifications for which is which. For example, the female has her mouth shut, as she should; or, the male has his mouth shut to hold in all the family's good fortune. The shisa is a variation of the guardian lions - fu dogs - of China. mine I picked up in San Francisco when I was there last.

Now, they're sitting outside my front door, helping me win the lottery or something.

Wooden Spoon Premiership
I reckon the Rabbitohs are pretty well assured of the wooden spoon this year, even if we're only just coming on to halfway through the season. Round 12, at ANZ Stadium, against the Dragons, started off with an early try by Souths, only to see the opposition take the lead, with only a (very) late final try to make the score remotely more even. Still, it was a good game, with only a very little of the kind of poor ball handling the Rabbitohs exhibited early in the season, and some remarkable moments of play on either side, particularly when Illawarra failed to capitalize on a series of knocking on advances in one that should have ended with a try, save for the persistence of one defender. That was one of those sporting moments that only come up rarely, and worth the game.

Go Souths.

Winter Morning Walk
This is the view as I walk to the bus station each morning. Kinda pretty, especially for one of the less attractive buildings in the city.

Tony Stark makes you feel, he’s a real cool cat with a heart of steel
But Iron Man, all jets ablaze, something something something. Yeah, I used to know all the songs from the original Mightly Marvel Marching Society so-called animations, but never mind. The Iron Man movie is terrific. Robert Downey Jr. nails the part, as does Gwyneth Paltrow (although I don’t recall her particular character from any of the comics I ever read, she’s does the role about as cartoonishly as possible), Jeff Bridges as Obadiah Stane, a star turn as a villain if ever I saw one. The movie manages the complete Iron Man history through the 1990’s, including the Iron Monger vs. Iron Man climactic battle, and moving straight to one of the better armor designs (Monger fought the interim red-and-silver Man), without the digressions thirty years of comic history inevitably require. I guess if they ever decide to do Captain America and Thor, an Avengers movie wouldn’t be far off, but I’ll settle for a sequel, and even a third, despite the screw-ups in the Spiderman and X-Men franchises.

New Camera
My digital camera gave up the ghost eventually, which was sometimes frustrating, but not disheartening at the prospect of having to buy another, since it was free, but it took me a while to get that done. I now have a baby digital SLR. O.k., it's not really an SLR, but you can attach lens adapters to it to achieve that effect, and it does allow manual overrides of f-stops and so forth, so it very nearly comes to the same thing. As far as I'm concerned, it's an SLR. Pathetically, the first thing I did with it was take pictures of the cats.


But I did get a nice autumnal shot the other day of some local eucalypts that I rather like.


I took a walk through Sydney University, too, but I'm not as happy with those. Still, the Newtown hipters always hand me a laugh. Funnily enough, only one guy in a triby.

Tracking
I suppose I ought to post my progress training for the marathon here, but it’s still early days. In fact, looking more carefully at my calendar, I discovered that I’m only now in Week One, so I’m a week ahead of schedule, having hewn to the Hal Higdon method’s recommended mileage last week. My clever little spreadsheet, which converts Hal’s mileage to kilometres, is apparently too clever by half, since I was recording distances covered last week in the next week’s row. Well, no harm in being more conditioned for the big day.

Which reminds me of something one of the other runners here said about days off: they’re “scheduled deconditioning” days. Makes being lazy sound better, doesn’t it?