Not the way to do things...

Hamish and I turned up too early at the Coldcut gig last night. The tickets said 8.00pm. Not 'doors open at', but 8.00pm. So we wandered in right on the dot, only to encounter a mostly empty Opera House and a few also-tricked punters looking vaguely ticked off.

Our seats were kind of interesting as well. We were fourth row back from the front, but at the end of the row, and the speaker stack in front of us was blocking our view of one of the video screens. The potential for a bad let down was hovering before us.

Thankfully, a night that could have gone horribly wrong ended up being pretty much perfect. Within seconds of Pitch Black coming on we were dancing right underneath Paddy's nose up against the stage. The sound wasn't so great, but it was a great opportunity to watch the experts at work, and we had an excellent line of sight to the two screens. Plus, Pitch Black were seriously going off. So much for preserving my legs... I had some serious moving to do! See Pip dance ... a lot. Somehow the knee pain faded away as the adrenalin of the music kicked in. Oh what a short hour. God is the proverbial DJ.

I held our possie until Coldcut came on. I spent most of that time fending off a drunk teenager obsessed with my cleavage (see photo above for evidence of said cleavage). Thankfully H came back with water and rescue, just as Coldcut wandered onstage.

The legends started up with a slow, vaguely Radioheadish number that must have seriously thrown some people. The first track was not however indicative of the rest of the set, as they seriously cranked up the pace. Cue more dancing. To see a Coldcut set is to be taken on an epic journey. These guys truly are Gods, and their formative role in the industry shines through. This was some serious talent.

Hamish later had an interesting conversation with another Wellington VJ about the set. The guy took offence to Coldcut using what he regarded as a lot of anticapitalist visual material. He felt that it was hypocritical for them to be projecting that message while performing in the Opera House at $60 a ticket. It was an interesting argument, but I'm not sure I buy it. I read their work not so much as a criticism of capitalism perse, but of corruption and lack of regard for humanity and the planet. If you're in a position to be able to put that message to an audience that might not have had those ideas put to them before, then more strength to you.

I for one left the gig high on the thrill of a good dance, fantastic visuals and loud, stonking beats. From there it was a quick dash down Courtney Place to Sandwiches for the Coldcut afterparty. My superstar VJ husband had scored himself a place on the lineup. There's nothing like being the + one on the door, and walking past the queue of shivering punters...

My ego stoked, I left a party-pill amped husband rendering clips in the vj booth and caught a Wellington Combined Cab home. Wellington cab drivers can be so much fun to talk to, and I learned all about my Cambodian friend's young wife and two children on the way home to Mornington.

And yes, I gave in to the Mrs Macs chilli and cheese pie craving, flicking between Fox News on Three and BBC World on 1 at 1.30am. Bed by 2.00am then. But....

Up the next morning to run 20km...

This morning dawned a little overcast, mild and slightly gusty. No huge nerves today, just a slight sense of being the tiniest bit daunted by what was ahead of me. Running tights, my Shoe Clinic running shirt, a gel shot... and no pink hat incase it got too windy. We were quickly off. No speedies today - Sarah and I led the pack until Lyall Bay, where she deserted me when I stopped to fill up my waterbottle. Faced with running on alone for one dark moment I felt like bursting into tears. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

This was one SERIOUS run. Up the undulating Wallace Ave to Adelaide Rd, from Newtown over the hill to Kilbirnie, and here Sarah and I took a wrong turn and ended up running more like 21km than 20. This time the long straight road to Lyall Bay felt, if not effortless, then at least half as hard as last week.

As the knee pain kicked in the pace dropped off and I was overtaken by a couple of other women, but buoyed by Kate flying past me on her road bike. Duck ran with me most of the way to Island Bay, and rejoined me half way up Happy Valley. From Owhiro Bay it was a 5km climb up to Brooklyn. Hard at the best of times, it was positively cruel coming near the end of the run. It was my idea to go this way, but I was thinking of it in terms of a 12km route, not 20! The small child inside me threatened to throw a temper tantrum...

S I lost the mental battle and walked a couple of short stretches, and yes I was annoyed with myself, particularly when I was caught by some of the older women in the pack. This is my theory about older women. They are mentally tougher and are therefore much better on the hills. Anne has the same ability to just keep on going, ably demonstrated on our last Mt Vic run.

However, in all honesty, it didn't seem to take that long to get to Brooklyn, and wasn't as hard as I had expected. Then it was a relieved run down to town. I would normally have put the foot on the accelerator and gone for it, but today a sore knee and the odd sloping angle of the footpath put paid to that. I only picked up the pace when back on the flat again.

We made it back to the gym in just slightly over 2 hours. So now I want to beat Deborah's half marathon time of 2.07. I figure with fresh legs (not having danced for 4 hours the night before), a recovered knee, enough sleep and a flatter course (no 5km climb) I should be aiming for under 2 hours. But if I go over that I'm not going to be too upset.

20km really didn't feel that far. How crazy is that?!