Why I love Wellington

Here, courtesy of Nic, is why I love Wellington. This was the view from Nic's office window yesterday. The Orongorongo mountains are in the distance, with Frank Kitts park and the wharf at the bottom of the photograph, with Roseneath and Pt Jerningham off to the right. A regular running squad training session would involve intervals in front of Frank Kitts, or a stamina session around the bays.



Now one from our place. This was taken from our East-facing veranda in Mornington at around 7.30am on the same day. Again, the Orongorongos are in the distance. The houses in the middle of the shot are in Newtown. Also in the middle of the photo is a small flat patch of green grass. That's the top of the hill I wrote about a few posts ago, where I was passed by a woman who had just run up the path behind me. I drove past on Sunday, and the hill seemed tiny after Mt Vic!



Another shot taken from our veranda, this time looking South across the bottom of our neighbours' gardens. You can see how lovely and green it is. I don't think it's really visible in this shot, but there's a sliver of Cook Strait in the distance.


The great sunshine lasted all day, although the wind got up a bit. It was sunny for most of today today as well, but by mid afternoon the rain had kicked in and the temperatures had plummeted. It is spring after all.

Also on the positive side, I had a fantastic Body Balance class today. I really feel like my body is lengthening out in the forward folds now, and my downward dogs are getting better and better. The balance on the right side is still atrocious though. I will get the physio to do a general 'state of the nation' check on me tomorrow before I go running tomorrow night...

A Good Day

Day 3 of no running. Dare I say it, not running has been good for me. This knee is recovering, with no real stiffness today, and my IT band is loosening up. There's still a little tightness through the butt, but nothing major.

My goal for today was to sleep in. However getting up to go to the bathroom at 7am made that a real challenge. From the bed I could see a telling yellow glow wafting down the hallway, and my suspicions were soon confirmed. Standing in the hallway I looked through the window in our back door out to the warm morning sun and the stark outline of the Orongorongos. Wellington had turned on one of those perfect spring mornings.

It was tough, but a good book and Media Watch on National Radio kept me in bed till 9.30. Cooking bacon for breakfast took another half hour. However the obvious kept cycling through my mind. This was the day of the Pelorus Trust 10km run in Petone. This was supposed to have been my day. The weather was perfect, and I had no idea whether Allie was running it without me. I'm obviously doomed to never run a successful 10km event.

Finally I was dressed and driving to the landfill. This is one of the amusing things about my new life in Wellington. When we were Auckland apartment dwellers Hamish and I wondered obnoxiously (true Jafas) about why anyone would want a garden. Now we are the unwitting owners of 600sqm of garden wilderness, and the landfill's green waste facility has become my most-used council service.

If you'd have told me a few years ago that I'd be spending my weekends at the tip I would have laughed in your face. Yet there's something about the long drive down Happy Valley, and up the winding road between bleak exposed gorse-covered slopes to the dump site that is strangely compelling. Even the staff manning the weighbridge are oddly friendly.

As I approach the sickly waft of decomposing waste usually compels me to switch the air conditioning to recycle. Yet the exposure to the sheer mass of human discard is a sobering reminder of how large our ecological footprint is in this country. Think about where all those disposable nappies are going, people!

I'm happy to be able to report that the worst component of the majority of my landfill loads is the odd flax leaf hidden in the middle of more legitimate green waste. I try to pretend I haven't seen the large signs stating that flax is not welcome in what will eventually be sold back to me as compost. I try to pluck most of it out, but some still slips through. Today's load was thankfully flax free, and within minutes, and $4 poorer, I was on the way back down the hill again.

I decided to take the scenic route to the Newtown supermarket, so turned left and drove till I reached the Southern coast. The Kaikoura ranges seemed close enough to touch, with only a light sprinkling of snow already, despite our punishing winter. There were scores of people out biking, scuba diving and drinking coffee outside The Bach. Island Bay was swarming with couples out walking, children wading and dogs running across the sand.

I turned inland again and got stuck behind a big ute that crawled at 30 to 40 kmph the whole way to Newtown. If nothing else it gave me the chance to look around at the Island Bay shops (must go to the new theatre, and check out the local butcher, and Black Rocks deserves another visit). I tried not to feel impatient, resisted the urge to overtake, and pondered at my sense of urgency, when it was a gorgeous Sunday with plenty of time to take in the scenary and no place in particular to rush to. All the same, I was glad when the ute finally turned off shortly before I reached the supermarket.

A flight of whimsy led to the inclusion of a bottle of pink bubbly in my shopping trolley. That was accompanied by beer and cider, and my resolution to give up drinking for a month went out the window. A bunch of asparagus soon followed, to celebrate the beautiful spring day. Unfortunately the asparagus never made it onto my shopping receipt, and having seen a bunch in the groceries piled on the counter behind me, I suspect someone else ended up buying my expensive fresh produce.

A brief interlude spent reading the paper out on our East-facing veranda in the sun (with Gaffer curled up on the seat behind me), and then I rounded up the Tivoli and headed into the garden. Active was playing some really bizarre tracks, but they were excellent distraction as I hacked back ivy and ripped out weeds. I'm really glad someone had the foresight to plant our garden with natives.

When I moved here I spent a lot of time ripping out Wandering Jew and other weeds, uncovering a hidden rock garden in the process. Since then the natives have continued to grow, and now all I need to do is plant some native groundcover to prevent the weeds from returning. Eventually Hamish and I want to turn all of the lawn at the top of the garden into native garden. It will be far lower maintenance, and as long as we include a couple of paths leading up to a park bench, it will be just as usable. It's so sheltered and sunny up there, and the views out to the mountains are so tranquil, that it's a part of the garden we really should use more.

There's something about working out in our garden that is both physically and spiritually fulfilling. It amazes me in part because before moving here I was the only non-green thumbed member of a very horticultural family. I was very much a city chick. We didn't even realise until we'd already gone unconditional exactly how much garden we'd bought into, and it's been a bit of a steep learning curve.

I've written before about the energy that comes from the mountains, but every time I spend an afternoon out there playing in the soil I'm amazed at how palpable it is. Once I'm there I never want to leave. A connection forms that goes far deeper than the roots of the weeds in the dirt around me. When I'm old and someone asks me about my fondest memories I will reminisce about sunny Sunday afternoons spent in the garden listening to the Americana show on my Tivoli, followed by cider on the veranda.

However today before the familiar Pat Green lyrics kicked in:

"I gave up on Nashville a long time ago
Well here I go, Lord once again,
Oh here I go..."

... I was with Hamish in our little Polo driving back around the coast to Chocolate Fish. Leonie was due to fly out to California, and we were meeting her and Nic for coffee and cake before she left. They had scored a beach-side table in the sun, and coffee (for them), OJ (for me) and cake (carrot, passionfruit and chocolate caramel slice) were on their way.

The sun was shining, but a stiff Northerly kept the temperatures at a 'yes it's still spring, and this is Wellington' temperature. Leonie had 'duck bumps' on her goose pimples, but was typically staunch. Behind us small children ran into the water and squealed at the bracing Cook Strait currents. The cake got eaten, the coffee got drunk, and before long Leonie was leaving on a jet plane and Hamish and I were back at home, where I drank more cider, Hamish drank unseasonal Monteith's Winter Ale and we polished off the pink bubbly and way too much Whitakers Dark Ghana.

All in all it's been a pretty perfect Wellington day. I have to regard it as a good thing that this knee kept me out of my running shoes and off my bike. Resting has restored some much needed balance into my life, and I'm feeling emotionally and spiritually replenished.

Oh, and Allie DID complete the Petone 10km, despite me thinking she might give in to the temptation to sleep in (sorry for the lack of faith). She thinks she did it in around 55 minutes, which is a good indication of the time I would have done it in. Tragically, I completed a 10km by proxy. Never mind - who needs a paltry 10km event when there's a half to run?

Though if anyone in charge of Wellington running events reads this, could someone PLEASE organise a Wellington half with some decent hills? This is a great city with some great trails. Let's actually use them!

Sunday Scribblings: Researching Rata

This week the Sunday Scribblings suggestion was to research something we were interested in. In the Sanctuary yesterday I walked past a research area, where conservation staff are trialling planting Rata epiphytes in different varities of native tree. I decided I would do some research into Rata, given that I know shamefully little about New Zealand botany.

Northern and Southern Rata belong to the Myrtle family. Other members of the Myrtle family include Eucalyptus, Feijoa, Clove and Guava. The Northern rata is an epiphyte. That means it grows perched on a host tree (commonly Rimu), which it eventually overwhelms. The Northern Rata grows up to 25 metres tall, with a trunk up to 2.5 metres thick. It is found all over the North Island, and in the South Island to Westport. The Southern Rata grows from seed, to about 15 metres.

Rata grow very slowly. They display beautiful red flowers from November to January, but may only flower every few years. Native bees, Tui, Bellbird and Kaka all feed off the trees' nectar. Rata honey is exceptionally sweet. Hamish and I tried some Golden Bay Rata honey last Christmas, but although I could see the attraction it was too strong for my taste.

Birds such as the Kaka rely on the tree for holes in which to nest. In the Sanctuary Rata are too small to provide suitable nesting sites for Kaka, so introduced Pine are being retained until such time as the Rata are mature enough to take over. As it is the Pines are reaching the end of their natural life, and each bit storm threatens to topple a few more.

Rata are endangered, primarily thanks to the introduced Possum. Before human settlement the only native New Zealand mammal was the bat. Native flora and fora stood no chance in the face of introduced pests. Possums browse heavily on Rata and can kill a mature tree in three years.

Early British settlers to Wellington hastened the Rata's decline by burning it from the young city's slopes, then planted fast growing Pohutukawa when the hillsides seemed too bare. Unfortunately Pohutukawa are a pest plant in the Wellington region, taking over space Rata would once have occupied, and hybridising with the local plant. However Rata can still be found in the Tararua and Rimutaka Ranges, and keen local conservationists are tracking its survival in more urban areas.

Project Crimson is working with the Wellington Counsel to plant over 7,500 Rata on the Tinakori Hills over a five year period. A huge storm a couple of years ago felled hundreds of settler-planted Pine trees, and a large cleanup project left the hills again looking bare and scarred. Debate has raged here over the political correctness of planting only natives. It's true that the Rata will take a long time to replace the lost pines, but in one hundred years or so the approach to the city centre along the motorway will be spectacular. With a riot of red on one side and the harbour on the other. I only wish I could be there to see it.

In Maori mythology Rata sets out to avenge the death of his father at the hands of an ogre, Matuku. Matuku's servant advises Rata that the ogre comes out to eat people at each new moon, and can be killed at the pool where he washes his hair. Rata goes on to kill the ogre, and uses his bones to make spears for hunting birds.

Rata then searches for his father's bones. Before he can begin his quest he must build a canoe. He cuts off the top of a tree to begin carving the canoe, but when he wakes the next morning the tree is again whole. He cuts down the tree again, but in the morning the tree is again whole. This process continues, until one morning he hears the tree spirits, who tell him he has offended Tane, the God of the forest, by not performing the correct rituals. Rata is ashamed and apologises. As a result he is allowed to complete his canoe.

Rata then hunts down the people who have his father's bones. He kills their priests, and retrieves the bones. However the villagers chase him, and overwhelm him in battle. When everything seems lost he remembers the priests reciting an incantation as they tapped his father's bones together. He repeats the incantation, and immediately his dead warriors return and slaughter their attackers.

A rather bloody tale, but then Rata is also said to have given the tree that bears his name its red colour, so probably also appropriate. I'm glad now that a previous owner planted our hillside with natives, and that I resisted the temptation when we first moved here to transform it into a model of colonial cottage garden style. I'm going to go out and buy some more indigenous flora so that I can ditch the lawn!

Chasing Birds...

Today was spent chasing birds in the Sanctuary. Specifically, today was spent chasing this bird. I've been trying to work out whether he has an established territory or not. Today he turned up at two different nestboxes and one feeder. I'm sure he's just toying with me. At the moment I don't think he's set up home. Instead I think he's dashing around playing bachelor, checking out all the other males' pads, trying to work out whether he can break in and steal their girlfriends.

Hihi males are known for their slightly less than desirable sexual behaviour, which includes opportunistic bird rape (face to face). However they can also be very accepting of blended families. Thanks to the aforementioned bird rape issue, one male may end up raising chicks of mixed parentage. His female may lay up to five eggs in a clutch, fertilised by more than one bird. Hihi males will also take over the raising of another male's chicks, as happened last year when one of my males died.

Other than trying to work out where Mr No Home is hanging out, today I had a long list of other feeders and nestboxes to monitor. Thankfully the weather was actually springlike, and unlike last week at no point was I at risk of dying from the cold. As a result I monitored for around five hours.

Early on in the day I was watching a nestbox where it was known nesting activity was taking place, but not by whom. Suddenly a Hihi male landed around a metre away from me. He sat next to me for around 10 minutes, preening and eyeballing me, before flying off. He remained in the area for the whole time I was there, flying around, checking out one of the nestboxes, and dropping to the forest floor occasionally to eat, before returning again to perch nearby and keep an eye on me. Unfortunately there was no sign of a female, and the next puzzle for the day became "where are all the females"?

As if the close contact at the last nestbox wasn't enough, the male at the next nestbox wanted to get even more up close and personal. As I sat watching he siddled up a branch at my head level. He stopped a few inches from my face, looked intently at me, paused, took a deep breath, opened his beak, and before I could take evasive action, let out a piercing teesaavee call at the top of his lungs. That's okay, I didn't actually want to be able to hear anyway. Looking smug, he backed off and continued calling as he flew around the area, just to make sure everyone knew he was at home.

Towards the end of the day, when I'd decided all the females must have been off at a Hihi hen party somewhere, one quiet female turned up at a feeder, and then an adjacent nestbox. She hopped around on the ground, chortling quietly to herself, but did not appear to be in the right mood for nestbuilding. After a while she disappeared back off into the bush, and that was my dose of female Hihi spotting finished with.

All up a great day, although it didn't really do my poor knee any favours. I'm looking forward to a good sleep in tomorrow, followed by a cooked breakfast, and I might try to get out to an art exhibition or two. Or perhaps I'll sneak in a yoga class. A whole day to myself - what a novelty!

As I was walking around the lake today I became more and more determined to come back again after the half and slot in a bit of trail running. I think I could lead the jog squad girls on a fun run. How about it Sarah? Down the Te Mahanga track, up the gentle Swamp Track incline, onto Round the Lake (walking the stupid steep bit up from the bridge), down via the gentle Beech Track, and back to the entrance via the road. I wonder how long THAT would take...

What's Missing?

I've been thinking a bit this week about how, although I'm really enjoying all the training I'm doing at the moment, it isn't leaving a lot of time for the other parts of my life. If I join both the next Jog Squad and Women's Multis that means I'll be training four nights a week, plus one day a week at the Sanctuary. That means no time for art lessons, and no meditation evenings.

I really haven't had any writing inspiration lately. I think all my mental energy has been going into my running. I've been a little one dimensional. This week's Poetry Thursday challenge was to write in a different voice. I liked the idea, but I just couldn't pull myself together to actually do it.

So instead I decided to give some time to seeking meditation inspiration instead. I found this poem, written by Buddhist teacher Christopher Titmuss. It's very simple, but I like the intention behind it.

A DAILY REFLECTION

I vow to remember that today is a new day
Full of new beginnings and fresh moments
Today, I will not cling to events of yesterday nor yesteryear
But stay connected with what today brings.
I will not madly pursue my desires at the expense of others
Nor flee from challenging tasks.
I will remain true to the unfolding process of today
Without losing myself in thoughts of what was or what might be.
I will treat today with awareness and sensitivity
Even in the most ordinary of tasks.
I will apply myself wholeheartedly to the fullness of today
For I know that today holds the resource for authenticity.

Broken Pip

And it's all my fault. My knee hasn't been right since storming down Mt Vic on the weekend.

I had a physio session yesterday, with some ultrasound on my knee to help break up the inflamation. Ironically my back and butt are now feeling really good. By last night and a couple of applications of anti-inflam cream my knee was feeling ok. This morning it was still a little stiff, but not too bad. There was never a question of doing interval training last night - it would have been madness.

Unfortunately it was perfect running weather this morning. By that I don't just mean it was a nice morning. It was one of those 'you'd be mad not to miss it' mornings. Well, the physio said I could run today if I was feeling okay. I spent some time warming up on a crosstrainer and watching a really obese woman walking slowly on a treadmill, wondering why the heck she didn't just go for a walk outside and actually enjoy herself.

Though I was still harbouring doubts about the wisdom of running, Duck greeted me with "so, are you ready for a run?" and it was all on. As we were leaving the gym I had the satisfaction of running past one of the EAs at work. It's nice to be seen out and about! Ok, so I'm still a recognition junkie...

We ran up Molesworth, down Tinakori, along Thorndon Quay, and around the waterfront. Right on 15 minutes my usual 'difficult patch' kicked in. I had felt like I was flying, then suddenly I was crawling. We kept going regardless, turning at the Rowing Club and returning to the gym. We ran for just on half an hour, and did slightly over 5km. Not bad given that I felt like I was plodding for the last half and felt a bit queasy for a while. It's the whole 'running in the morning when you're usually an evening runner' thing. Well, the half starts at 9am so I'd better get used to it. As long as I get up early enough, eat a good breakfast, and take my meds early enough I should be fine.

The aftermath of the run has not been good. For a while there today I was really hobbling. Now I've just got a bit of an ache, but the IT band has spasmed up halfway up my thigh. I've had another go with the foam roller tonight and I'll rub on some more anti-inflam before bed. I'm not running until Wednesday now, given that the problem is not my fitness level but getting my poor body to the starting line. I am still going to do RPM in the morning, but I'll have to keep the resistance really light. I'll do some yoga over the weekend, and spend some time in the Sanctuary.

Michelle, if you read this, I had meant to say that I've done a lot of work to strengthen my quads. Duck's a really good trainer, and she and I spent a month or so focusing specifically on quad strength before shifting the focus to my core strength. I can leg press more than some of her male clients, and I'm 5' 4 and weigh 57kg, so I'm a fair bit smaller than them as well! This really is all a result of my hips being all out of alignment, and because I've pushed myself so hard to get from not being able to run in February to doing huge hill runs.

I've booked our accommodation in Masterton for the half in October. Now I just need to send in my entry form. I've also just found out that there's no Special K duathlon next year. I'm really disappointed, as I was looking forward to smashing this year's time. Fitter, faster, stronger and nearly 10kg lighter. It would have been a blast! Oh well, I pretty much remember the route, so I guess I could do a mock duathlon of my own.

Oh, and I think I just gave Duck an idea for a really gnarly long weekend run. Allie, Sarah - think up Adelaide Rd all the way to Island Bay, around the Southern Coast, up the long slow climb through Happy Valley to Brooklyn, down the hill on the other side, and back to the gym.
I might head out in my car this weekend to measure the distance. If I get too tired on the day I can always peel off back home when I get to Brooklyn!

No poetry today. I may go through my study and see if I can pull out someone else's poem to publish. I've been too distracted with training to sit down and focus on my writing. Naughty Pip.

Yay and Grrr Simultaneously

I guess this is now officially both a running blog and a writing blog. So, together with today's inspiration, a running update.

Yesterday our running group was down for a flat endurance-building run. Ingrid assured us that it genuinely was a flat run, not a "Duck" flat run. It's a route we know well right now, and psychologically that familiarity can make it difficult if you're not having a good day. It was that same initial route that left me struggling to Baleana Bay on Saturday.

Last night, however, I was not struggling. From Te Papa I could sense the strength in my legs. My quads, far from being wiped out from Saturday's run, had responded with increased power and speed. Unfortunately Allie wasn't so lucky, and by Pt Jerningham I was pulling ahead.

As I ran past Freyberg Pools I could hear someone right behind me with an unfamiliar footfall. Looking back I saw a rather tall athletic guy running at my pace. As we ran through Oriental Bay he began attempting to chat up Lisa. We all got talking, and he commented on our good speed. However there was a Southerly blowing, and as predicted, once we rounded the point we were hit by an arctic blast. Us tough Wellington chicks braced ourselves and kept going. Our visitor from Tauranga, however (for that was where he was from) turned tail and headed straight back towards town. The guy needed to harden up!

The distraction over, and now running on my own with Lisa slightly ahead and Allie behind, we all continued at a good pace. The 30 minute turn-around point came at Cog Park, with me still pumping away trying to beat my prior performance. On the way back I concentrated on catching Allie, who had turned around before me and found her second wind, and then put in additional bursts of speed to pass other, slower runners.

I timed a kilometre through Oriental Bay and estimate I was doing around 5.5 minute kms. I only started to flag a little as we passed Te Papa, but was barely flushed when we got back to the gym and wasn't really breathing hard at all.

Our run last Monday up to Kelburn was 10km and I did it in 56 minutes, which means I knocked nearly 15 minutes off my Shoe Clinic time in June. Even though I 'bonked' on that day and ended up run walking when I should have been able to run the whole thing, that is an amazing improvement.

Unfortunately my right IT band has decided to do the tight rubber-band thing and I've been hobbling around all day on a bung knee. Thankfully I have a physio appointment tomorrow and I'll spend some time with a foam roller tonight. However I decided it would be stupid to try to run 75 minutes today. We've got interval training tomorrow night, and hopefully I'll get my knee into shape enough to run my homework run on Thursday. Then I'll do the Petone 10km fun run on Sunday as my other homework run.

Instead of running today I did Body Balance. I'm really loving the new release. It's very hard, but very fulfilling and targets all my problem areas. I was able to make the most of the relaxation today, and had a wonderful visualisation involving amalgamating a spirit guide's strength into my own self. Given my usual grasshopper mind I was quite pleased with myself.

So, progress all around, and Pip continuing to feel pleased with herself!

Running on Mountain Power

DailyOm sent through this inspiration today. With the exception of my year in Holland I've always lived within sight of mountains. In Auckland we lived at the base of the Waitakeres. In Wellington we look across to the Orongarongas. I have written before about the energy that radiates from my mountains and the strength that I draw from them. When I come home on the bus at night I look to my left when we reach The Ridgeway and acknowledge them. I'm going to try and incorporate this meditation into my weekly routine.

Experiences To Savor
Magical Moments

Throughout history, humankind has stood in awe of mountains. The strength and sturdiness evident in the rocky crags and smooth slopes of peaks around the globe have from time immemorial inspired creativity and kindled courage. Mountains have been venerated by many cultures, which worshipped great summits as gods and sacred beings. In their looming presence, humanity has seen power, steadfastness, and resolve. Yet you needn't live near a mountain to tap into this vast energy of commanding grandeur. Conversely, since mountains are as unique in form as human beings, your locale may exist under the unwavering gaze of a small mountain without your knowing it. As you practice mountain meditation, the power that lurks in the heart of all mountains will flow into you while their essential beauty reminds you that you, too, are a creature of the earth.

If there are mountains in your area, plan to spend some time enjoying the peaceful embrace of Mother Nature, which can be a potent meditation aid. Likewise, grasping a rock or stone in your hand will enable you to easily tap into earth energy. If you are prevented by circumstance from visiting a mountain, however, begin by visualizing yourself at the base of a towering summit. Holding a rock can be helpful to tune into mountain energy. You may find yourself picturing a steep and majestic snowcapped peak or a lush, tree-covered mass that rises gently from the earth. Sit or imagine yourself sitting at the mountain's base and spend a few minutes simply coexisting with it. When you feel tranquil, express your intention to commune with your mountain and ask to receive its energy. Project your consciousness onto the mountain's peak, and look down upon the flatlands over which it stands guard. Send light to the flora and fauna that call the mountain home. You may discover that you ! feel wonderfully immense and unshakable as you delve deeper into the meditation.

Finally, ask the mountain to serve as a guide and give it your sincerest gratitude. If you have literally visited a plateau or summit, pass time with the mountain by camping, hiking, or picnicking upon it. Or, if your journey has been a spiritual one, use your imagination to survey the sights, sounds, and scents of your mountain. As your explorations progress, you will become ever more grounded, growing gradually into your personal power. When you are finished meditating with mountain energy, give thanks to this strong and powerful energy for sharing time with you.

If I write it, it will be so

My half marathon is on 15 October. Last night I drank a bottle of cider and two cocktails. Today I've had two bottles of cider (and too much dark chocolate). The chocolate I'm not so worried about. I very rarely eat chocolate. However I feel like I'm drinking too much at the moment. All those empty calories keep translating themselves into Weight Watchers points in my mind. It's also possible it could be damaging to to my running performance.

I've decided that, from 15 September I'm giving up alcohol for a month. No more quenching, cold Brightstone Dry after a long run. I won't drink again until after the half. Yes, that does give me a couple of nights to finish off the last of the cider. However it also means I won't be able to touch the lovely Fiddleback wine we have stashed in three places around the house.

I won't be able to drink at my sister's 30th birthday either. Is that ok Shaz? Anyway, what ARE we doing for your celebration?

What Could I Still Become?

I wasn't feeling terribly inspired about this week's Sunday Scribbings theme, and wasn't going to write anything. However last night I was out with Hamish, Nic and Leonie, and decided instead to write about a dream I used to have that I hadn't really given much thought to in a while.

What could I still become? I could still become a member of a jazz band.

This idea came to me while we were sitting in Chow Cabaret drinking cocktails, eating Blue Cheese Wontons (mmmmm....) and listening to Twinset. We had scored a great table up against the low stage, and I was loving the music and the retro Cabaret atmosphere. The long red Twin Peaks curtains and orange carpet take me back to my childhood, spent running around the (now demolished and turned into nasty apartments ) Mandalay Reception Lounge in Newmarket, Auckland.

Dad started working at the Mandalay when I was still at primary school. During school holidays he would take us into work with him. We would hide under the long white table clothes that were set up for weddings, or one of his workmates would turn a spotlight onto the glitter ball and we would chase little white lights all around the dancefloor. In the changing rooms upstairs from the stage we would crawl around looking for the sequins that dropped off the gowns of the ballroom dancers. However my favourite thing in the whole wide world was to sit up on the stage and pick out tunes on the grand piano.

Sometimes, for a special treat, Dad would allow us to go to Cotton Club shows on a Sunday. I loved the Queen City Big Band (my music teacher was a singer) and would beg to be allowed to see them perform. I shook hands with pianist Oliver Jones and sat above him on the mezzanine level watching as he rubbed powder on his huge fingers before playing. I developed an unnatural fondness for Dixieland music for someone of my generation.

While still at school I took piano lessons and learned to play the saxophone. My teacher talked about me joining a youth jazz band, but unfortunately when he left for America the lessons stopped. I was also a member of the school choir and the school orchestra, but jazz music wasn't exactly part of our repertoire.

Eventually Dad left the Mandalay, I left home, and the playing stopped. My piano stayed at Mum and Dad's until Hamish organised for it to be trucked down last year. It still hasn't been tuned and both it and I sound terrible! I do still sing, although not as often as I would like. Instead Hamish and I have gotten into the local underground dance music scene. For several years we have helped put on dance parties around Wellington. We have also crewed some of the big outdoor New Years festivals in Golden Bay.

I still love the smell of stale alcohol that wafts out from bars when they are closed and empty. It reminds me so much of my childhood. My early exposure to jazz has influenced the music I listen to, and I particularly like the jazz-influenced Wellington sound of groups like Fat Freddy's Drop. I think Dad would like them as well. But watching Twinset last night made me think that I would love to perform again.

I haven't decided what my instrument of choice would be yet. Jazz improvisation was never really my forte on the piano. I could always sing. I used to do a mean rendition of "That Old Devil Called Love". However I have a fascination with the sexiness of well-played sax. I would have to buy an instrument, and I haven't played in over 15 years, so I'd have a lot of catching up to do, but I'm sure I could do it. Hey, perhaps I could sing AND play saxophone. Just not at the same time!

Channelling Melissa Moon

If there's someone I admire it's Wellington mountain runner Melissa Moon. I admire her mental strength and physical toughness. Melissa has also talked about her Buddhist sentiments, so we share a common interest in that area. I have seen her running past once or twice on my Saturday mornings around the Bays, and she is another passionate Wellingtonian.

A couple of years ago I was walking in the town belt on a hot summer day. I had climbed to the top of a steep hill and was puffing and sweaty. A rather fit woman appeared at the top of the path and flew past me, before reappearing a few minutes later on her way back down again. I wondered how anyone EVER got fit enough to do that! Well ....

Last night I started to get very anxious about this morning's run. I think it stemmed from Wednesday and feeling that I should be able to run faster. I was putting pressure on myself and started to worry that I wouldn't be able to pace myself and that I would crash and burn like I did in the Shoe Clinic 10km. I started to doubt my own newfound mental toughness. That feeling built this morning, and I woke feeling very nervous and a bit stomachy.

Thankfully I didn't have much time to wait around at the gym stewing on things and we set out very quickly. Things started out in a straightforward fashion - around the Bays to Baleana, by now a very familiar route. It was fifteen minutes of hell. No rhythm and the beginnings of a stitch. The mental dialogue kicked in. What was I thinking? Why did I believe I was someone who could run a half marathon? I must be crazy. I should go home and go to bed. I later found out Allie and a number of the others were feeling the same way. I think we were all feeling a little intimidated.

When we got to Baleana the mountain climbing games began, and all mental dialogue was pushed aside in the face of simply trying not to die! The first stretch was a steep climb up a path towards a road. We were all made to walk the path, then ran up the steady incline before dropping down the other side. After a few minutes we turned onto the Southern walkway, and the trail running began. From then on we ran along gravel paths that threaded through bush and above houses, climbing and falling in steep gradients.

We all had to walk some of the steeper parts of the track, but what amazed me was how quickly I was able to recover my breath and pick up the pace again once things levelled out. I decided I liked trail running, particularly on the occasions when the track opened out and Wellingon opened up below us. It was a beautiful morning, slightly overcast but cool and very still. I would have liked to have been able to stop and take in the views, but that will have to wait for another time.

Finally we emerged onto the road that we had run up on our Mt Vic run a week or so ago. We stopped to regroup, which gave me the opportunity to try my Lemon and Lime gel shot. The trick is obviously to chase it with a lot of water, but I think I could probably stand to use one again, and the energy certainly did help.

The choice was ours - up or down. We chose up. We quickly passed our turnaround point from the last run, and then suddenly we were on the summit road. We had nearly been there! If we had run only a few more minutes we would have been standing on the top. We weren't going to let the opportunity pass us by again, although we did have to walk up the last flight of stairs.

No time to admire the view or feel too much of a sense of satisfaction - it was straight back down the other side. I have discovered my new niche - downhill running. I made it my mission to catch the front runners, opened things up and flew down the incline. Great fun! Halfway down the Lake Taupo squad came grinding up the hill towards us on their road bikes. Cheering and waving to Leonie and then Nic made a huge difference and gave me yet another big boost.

Down the hill, and then down into Newtown, past the greengrocers and people out shopping, past the hospital, through the Basin, down Cambridge Terrace, then suddenly we were on Courtney Place and back at the gym.

Physical rundown - breath even, legs still feeling strong, hip good, butt good. Less of the sweaty tomato even! Just a bit of tightness around the right knee. A bit of time spent with a foam roller sorted most of that out. The more I run the better my injury gets. I really noticed the difference in Body Balance yesterday. It was the first class I didn't spend feeling frustrated about the pain. I'm glad in retrospect that I took an extra 5mg of hydrocortisone this morning. I think I probably genuinely needed it.

So, back to Melissa Moon and that woman running up the path behind me. That's me! I did it! I ran for NINETY minutes and kept up the whole way. A half marathon on the flat should be straightforward by comparison. The word for today is 'achievement', as in having an amazing sense of.

Oh, and I am now the proud owner of a size 8 pair of board shorts. I've never ever been a size 8 in my entire life!

Poetry Thursday: Blue

Yesterday's Poetry Thursday inspiration was the topic 'blue'. Given that I've been thinking about home lately I thought I would continue the domestic theme and write about my bluest room - our bathroom.

Incidentally, this photo was taken before we went unconditional on the purchase of our house, so the towels and bath mat aren't ours. I've been looking through all the photos we took thinking "this is our house, but it's not our house". It's so weird seeing our place with someone else's stuff in it. The woman who lived here before us had moved here from England, and my main impression looking back is that we have a lot more clutter! Although I guess if I were setting my house up for an open day I would hide a lot of the day to day detritus I can see littering the lounge at this moment.

Blue

My bathroom is a shocking shade
of blue that catches visitors’ breath
as they swing open the door.
The paint extends the whole way up
the walls and covers the ceiling,
which in the narrow high room
serves only to amplify the effect.
The light coming from the one small window
is quickly captured and beaten into
submission and the room seems dark
even in the middle of the day.

When I moved here I planned
to paint it a more acceptable shade of eggshell
but the colour has grown
on me. I lie in the bath and pretend
I am at the bottom of some deep swimming
pool. I imagine I am curled up within
the lustre of a paua shell.

This room will never win any design awards
but its character has earned it the right to
a prolonged existence so I continue
to surprise my guests with the richness of
the palette of the place where
I live.

Sand Underfoot...

There are times in life when goals are being achieved and everything seems exciting. Not everything in my life is perfect right now. Work, in particular, is proving to be very stressful this week, which is probably why I’m writing this rather than typing up the minutes to the meeting I just attended or reworking my figures for the latest draft costings I’m finalising for a big project. But the fact that I’m feeling so good about other areas of my life is making the work issues a lot easier to deal with.

Last night the jog squad ran from the gym to the Fisherman’s Table, back as far as the Freyberg Pool, and then met up at the concrete steps at the Southern end of Oriental Bay. We spent the next half an hour sprinting along the sand and jogging slowly back along the footpath. The Northerly was still blowing, but down by the water we were sheltered. The famed golden sand was tinged with the black colour of diesel at the high tide mark, and fringed with seaweed.

From the waterline the noise of the cars was muffled by the seawall, the main sounds the waves as they washed in and the rasping of my breath. The sand has a surprisingly coarse texture that is more like crushed glass than you would expect. It crunched beneath my feet as I ran. I could smell the slightly fermented, sharp odour of inner-harbour sea water, and the breeze carried with it an occasional hint of the spilt diesel.

I kept as close to the waves as possible, trying to find a firm surface to run on. I was too busy trying to keep my footing and not turn an ankle to really turn up the speed. But I was lifting my legs and pumping with my arms, and that small stretch of sand started to feel like a huge distance after the first couple of circuits.

I remember looking at the faster girls all running together in a bunch and being frustrated that I wasn’t with them, despite how hard I’ve worked. I decided that it was perfectly possible for me to be running at their speed. So when we ran back to the gym I stayed at the front. I made it back in a reasonably intact state, rather smug with myself. Having said that, it’s not that I’m that far behind them, but when Allie’s not there I do tend to end up running in a little space of my own.

So that was the major chunk of this week’s running over until Saturday. I am blown away by the increase in my fitness and strength over the last couple of weeks. I can run these long hard runs, then get up the next day and do it all again. I joke that I feel like a machine, but it is obviously much more organic than that. My body is simply being primed to work at an optimal level.

This morning Duck took me through a quite intense hour of circuit-style weights training, focusing on the upper body and core. At the end of each circuit I did ten full press-ups. By the end of the workout I’d completed 100 in total. I remember getting out of hospital after being diagnosed with Addison’s and nearly bursting into tears because I was so weak I could barely do one. I’ve come a proverbial and literal long way.

On Saturday we are running 80 minutes, and I already know from Duck’s hedged comments that we are running up to Roseneath and that parts of the route are so steep we will be walking them. Why this is a prospect that excites me I am not entirely sure!

Plod!

Urk. 70 minutes of solo plodding around the waterfront completing my homework run. The lungs - easy. The legs - shot! My aim for the day - simply to keep moving, never mind the speed. That strategy thankfully worked. Other than a quick water stop at Baleana and a 30 second walk to stretch a cramped foot near Te Papa I kept up the same slow but steady jog the whole way. The mental dialogue was good as well - no begging to stop, just grim determination. It's a little humiliating to be running at a pace not much faster than the Loaded Hog walkers, but there you go. Yesterday I was the 'caning it queen'. Tomorrow I'm doing intervals. Time, not distance or speed, was the aim of the day, and I got there. Another run closer to the half marathon. Learning to keep going when the legs are dead is surely another important part of the lesson.

Define Rolling Hills!

I'm so happy with myself after tonight's run that this post is going to wind up being a bit of a self-appreciation session. I have to keep reminding myself that at the start of this year I could barely run 500m without dying.

Tonight we ran from the gym, up Dixon Street and the Dixon Street steps to the Terrace, then up Salamanca Rd to the Kelburn shops, over the viaduct, and back down past the Botanic Gardens to Tinakori Rd. Allie and I made it to Bowen Street in under 30 minutes, well before the cut-off time of 40 minutes, so we had to run to the bottom of Tinakori, then along Thorndon Quay, and back to the gym via Jervois Quay. We made it back in just over 55 minutes.

Tonight's workout was advertised as a 60 minute rolling hill run. For the record, this was NOT rolling hills. From the gym it was essentially all uphill for most of the way. Thankfully it wasn't as steep as I had remembered, and my hill running has improved beyond belief, so I was able to keep up a good steady pace and at no point did I feel like stopping. Lisa was around 100m ahead of us the whole way, although the front pack did disappear off into the distance as always.

The downhill leg was so much fun. It felt like we were, to use a term from my Westie youth, caning it the whole way down, and it was a LONG way down! We didn't slow down that much once we got to the waterfront, so I'm really pleased with our time. Tonight was one of those runs where my mental dialogue was pretty much "my God you've improved - look at what you're doing", rather than "stop, stop, stop, stop". I still ended up looking like a sweaty tomato, but I was a smiling one!

I can really feel how much stronger my body has gotten in even just the last two weeks. Running an hour isn't an issue for me now. My legs really look the part as well. I have that nice little runner bulge thing happening in my quads. Definition - nice! Not bad for a 33 year old...

Add to that a few of the jog squadders telling me I was a machine, and that they were absolutely blown away by my story of how much I've improved, well...

So I'm in a good frame of mind going into the rest of the week's runs. Our homework run, which I need to get out of the way before Saturday, is a flat 70 minutes. I'm going to try to do it tomorrow, even if it kills me and makes the intervals on Wednesday an instrument of torture. That way I'll wind up concentrating on upper body and core with Duck on Thursday, a light RPM (sniff, farewell Jocko) on Friday, then our 80 minute run with the squad on Saturday.

Runner Pip!

I had what will go down in history as a defining run yesterday. My 10km demons are well and truly vanquished!

Allie and I met up at Les Mills at 8.30 and headed out around the Bays. It's spring, so that of course meant a blustery North Westerly. At times we were being blown to one side, then we would round a bend and suddenly we would be pushed along faster than our legs could move. There were a few genuinely frightening moments.

Running round Oriental Bay we could see wet pavement and sea spray ahead of us. There was nothing for it than to run through the waves. Thankfully we didn't get too wet. One woman who came running towards us was quite drenched.

A quick stop at Baleana Bay for a toilet stop and drink of water, and another to strip off in Hataitai Park. No more wearing polyprops on morning runs - I was roasting! Somehow I've also managed to lose all but one of my hairclips, and my hair was going everywhere.

Before I knew it we were at the turnaround for the bike leg of the Special K duathlon, so I knew we'd done over 5km in just on half an hour. From there it was no time at all to the Wind Wand and the turn right to the climb up over the saddle to Newtown. After the Mt Vic climb this little hill felt like nothing at all. We hit the top of the rise and then had the joy of knowing it was downhill all the way to the gym. Running past our reflections in a shop front I even noted that we LOOKED like runners. No shuffling and dragging of feet - body held erect, long stride, good knee lift. Now that's a bit different to a few months ago!

As we hit the one hour mark I started thinking ruefully of Duck's instructions to bring along water and gel shots. That's the last time I'll go out for over an hour without fuel. Still, even running against the Northerly with tired legs didn't dampen the enthusiasm, and the last little stretch down Courtney Place was postively joyful! We made it back to the gym in under 70 minutes. 10.6km with a hill and a few stops for traffic lights etc. If we'd set out again and repeated the route we would have had our half-marathon polished off. I estimate I'm running roughly 6 minute kms, which is still slow compared to some but about where I wanted to be, so I'm pretty contented.

Allie took me back to her lovely little rented villa in Mt Vic for a shower. Thanks to the central city gas issues the Les Mills showers were cold. With my complexion I looked like a sweaty tomato, while Allie's olive skin just had a bit of a rosy glow on. After she dropped me back in town I had half an hour till I was due to meet up with Hamish for brunch, so I dashed back up to the gym to dry my hair off. The gas had just come back on, but the showers were still lukewarm and I had to keep explaining to other questioning women that I hadn't actually used them.

Brunch at the Matterhorn had never tasted so good. A gorgeous garlicy, buttery potato soup with crostini, and I didn't want to think about exactly HOW MUCH butter! A quick wander around town and I headed back home to a cider and a paper. We had grand ideas about theatre or a Soundline thing, but after dinner I crashed on the sofa and slept soundly till 10pm. I woke only for long enough to stagger groggily into bed.

All that sleep did me good though, and I was up and awake early this morning to head into the Sanctuary. In case you haven't already figured as much out from my previous posts, it's SPRING. The Tuis are in full-on mad, crazy, chasing each other through the sky breeding mode. The Hihi are getting the idea as well. The males are claiming their territories and defending them voraciously, even the ones that don't yet have females. I visited ten nestboxes and managed not to kill myself climbing up the stream bank or sliding down into the gully. I even managed to do a spot of writing (see previous post). Not a bad day.

Sometimes I wonder whether I should be more sociable, and whether it is bad for us to be spending so much time on our own together at home rather than out on the town, but then I think I am still busy, just a different kind of busy. I am still socialising, just in different ways. I'm not exactly a recluse. Vestigates of still being too hard on myself.

So, tomorrow rolling hills, Wednesday sprints. Oh, and at some stage I need to call a swimming instructor. Err, yup, ok then!

Sunday Scribbings: Fortune Cookie

As I write this Sunday Scribbings post I am sitting on the ground leaning against a tree in the middle of a stand of young Kauri trees and Mamaku ferns. The Tuis have returned for the start of the breeding season and are calling and chasing each other all around me while Kaka squawk and Tieke alarm call in the distance. Every pore of my body has registered the change in the seasons. I am in tune with the birds and the young growth on the shrubs brushing up against me.

My fortune cookie would say something like "do what you know makes you happy, not what is easy". for doing what is easy may lead to some kind of initial, surface gratification, but pursuing a greater goal, no matter how much it scares me, will always lead to the greater reward of genuine satisfaction.

Another Wellington Poem

Southerlies Again

A Taniwha takes on its wind form
and stampedes in from the south
races through Berhampore and
crashes into the side of our villa on
this ridge where our heads try to sleep.

I think about Dorothy but Hamish
says this house has been here for
ninety years and will outlast us yet.

The retaining wall below us
leans peering down towards
Macallister Park. We
joke if this house slides
down the hill we will simply build
an ecohouse over the ruins
but in winter as others, less stubborn,
slide off piles beneath sodden slips
downwards motion loses its humour.

I remember clinging to our bed at 2am
during a 6.4, wondering whether this was
the big one. Hamish woke to my
swearing, dreaming cats were chasing
birds squawking on the roof.

I want to see this house turn
100, if only I could feel
we were permanent here in this city
where gravity has such a
fickle humour.

Crunch Time

Phew. I've really been too busy to post anything this week, which is a real pity, because it's been a pretty good one. Most of it involved running, so here's quick summary:

Monday: One hour run from the Taranaki Street gym, along Jervois Quay, down Thorndon Quay and the Old Hutt Rd to Placemakers and back again. Allie couldn't make it, so I ended up running with some of the faster girls until Capital Gateway, when I finally had to slow down a little. I ran a LOT faster than I did when we did our hour-long run last week. I really enjoyed myself. I didn't have a watch to time myself, so had no idea when to turn around. The target was to run to Spotlight, so when the girls ahead of me got there and kept going I just kept running after them. Well, we seemed to just keep going and going and going and going. It was such a relief to see them finally turn around and start running back towards me. When I turned around there was a domino effect as all the other women behind me did the same. I managed to overtake several of them on the way back. I've found it really helps to have a target. If I push myself to overtake someone I can.

That run did a lot for my self-confidence as a runner. I got that 'could keep on going' groove on. I even managed to sprint the last couple of hundred metres.

Once back at the gym a group of us took part in a strength training session focusing on legs and core. It was rather difficult to go from run to weights, so none of us were really up to much. Then I missed my bus home, and ended up having to walk from Brooklyn in the dark and the cold. I got home rather grumpy!

Tuesday: Beautiful running weather. I spent all day hanging out to get out there, but work and duty called. Dot on 5pm I was out the door. I ran what was supposed to be a fast half-hour, but turned into a fast 15 minutes and medium 15 minutes. My legs were pretty shot. On the way back I ran past the Loaded Hog runners on their way out. Boy they are fast - Allie and I are going to have to leave with the walkers if we want to get back in time for our complementary drink! The slowest runner did the race in a time that for me would really be pushing it!

A quick shower and I met up with Hamish and Andreas for dinner at Little India. Fantastic food and great conversation with Andreas. I really love the guy, and he seems particularly contended and well at the moment.

Wednesday: The dreaded Mt Victoria run. We left from the Taranaki Street gym and basically ran for 20 minutes straight up. We didn't quite make it to the summit, but weren't that far from the final turnoff. I ran slowly, because my legs REALLY were shot, but I never felt like I had to stop. Turning around my calves felt like they were going to kill me. However as I recovered I picked the pace up and overtook a large number of women. Seratonin overload kicked in, and suddenly I loved everyone and everything. The views on the way down were stunning. It was a clear still night, and the Wellington harbour lights shone out over the water. Funnily enough, on the way up I hadn't noticed the views, only the gradient in front of me!

Once back at the gym we did a half-hour stretching session and I managed to get my aching butt and ITB to loosen up a bit. At least today it's really only my quads that are sore, and that's not really surprising. I'm pushing my recovery to the limits alright, but I think I can keep the damage at an acceptable level. My physio has given me a number of ab exercises to do, and I'm looking at going to a physio in Karori who specialises in remedying poor running technique.

Today: Weights with Duck. Thankfully there were no treadmills free for my warmup, so I got to wimp out of the 2km warmup run, and stuck to a bike. We stayed away from my legs, but did lots of upper body and core. My core is really getting a lot stronger, and my arms are starting to muscle up.

Tomorrow: Duck and I were in consensus on this one - no RPM in the morning! I've got to run for 75 minutes on Saturday and my legs really need the break. In fact next week may well be my last Friday morning RPM for a while. We've agreed that I need to learn to swim, and Friday's going to be my swimming day. So I actually have to take some action, and I am, to put it bluntly, shit-scared. But I'm still going to do it, so stay tuned for Pip's adventures in trying not to drown!

A Poem in My Pocket

This week's Thursday Poetry task was to carry a poem I loved around in my pocket. Well, I didn't even get a chance to check out what this week's task was until yesterday, so there wasn't a lot of carrying time, and no pockets.

Funnily enough, I only recently found the poetry book this poem comes from last week, when I was sorting out some junk in our study. I immediately noted its presence, and made a mental note to pick it up and do some reading. Then Thursday Poetry prompted me to actually do it!

I changed my mind about which poem I was going to post though. This week's poem is by New Zealand writer Ian Wedde, and taken from Big Weather, Poems of Wellington, Selected by Gregory O'Brien and Louise White. Incidentally, I also love the photo on the jacket of this collection. The photo is taken from Mt Victoria, and I ran up there from sea level last night!

The poem I have chosen I love most obviously because it is about Wellington, the source of most of my inspiration. It is a poem of winter, but also of the hope for spring. Coming out of a long hard winter as Wellington is at the moment, it really resonated.

I love the way this poem implies that change is something that happens when you are not looking. I like the way that the writer's mood is so firmly tied to the atmosphere around them, even though they do not immediately realise it.

I identify with this poem because the route the writer takes is a route I often run, so I am familiar with the sights, sounds and smells described. I like my poetry physical, and this is a very physical poem.

Here
A combination of exercise & insomnia is best
for keeping you in trim (falling in love
helps, but don't be surprised
if her response to your high condition
is a mixture of weariness & self-pity.
Well what did you expect, the
Liebestod from Tristan?

Study this sadness, give it some time,
it's real & it's 'just happening'
don't put it down
to autumn blues, in certain places the underground
cells of narcissi are preparing their banners
a wintering gannet slaloms the gales
down Evan's Bay, something else
is certainly going to happen

and one day in winter
you'll see someone whistling
as you put your dawn coffee on
checking out that baleful glint in the clouds
listening with half your attention
to a jock babbling on the pre-breakfast programme.

As you go to work in the grey light
the cold breeze off the bays will pour down your throat
chippies and steel-fixers blowing on their fingers
as they jump from the purple & red Fletcher Construction van
at the muddy Greta Point building site

a stink of diesel & fish will hit you
where some boat is up on the skids
getting her rust chipped

further on
by the new Hataitai Beach bathing shed
you'll notice a pale-blue item of underwear
chucked up on the toilet roof

at the Evan's Bay yacht marina
the same flash hulls will be wintering in their cradles
among rotten rope-ends and splashes of orange marine
paint

everything that is the same
will have changed while you weren't looking
and if you listen
carefully, around about now
you will hear
that it's you
that's still whistling.

It seems I really was running in a phenomonal downpour yesterday. Two more houses evacuated following slips, and a train on the Johnsonville line derailed. Driving to the Sanctuary this morning there were small slips all the way from Aro Valley to Karori. At the Sanctuary water was crashing through the dam overflow outlet. The stream had reached river proportions and was pushing roughly underneath the Te Mahanga boardwalk. From the aftermath it was clear that the steep Union Mine track had become a waterfall at the rain's peak.

Hamish was asleep in bed, having returned home from another of Aviel's parties at 6.30am. Such is the life of a superstar vj, so I got up at 8am and left him to it. The weather forecast suggested that the storm was over, but as a precaution I stopped off at the Warewhare and bought a cute little $19.95 rain parker that zips up into a zip pouch. Who knows whether it will actually provide any protection - thankfully the predications were accurate and the clouds failed to release any more ammunition. BTW: pity the poor Warehouse staff who have to be at work for an 8.30am opening. Who really needs to go to the Warehouse at that time of the morning on a Sunday? Oh, um, me. Oh, okay...

I think I'm going to have to get into orienteering. Armed with nothing more than some slightly dodgy written instructions I have managed to find 18 nestboxes over two weekends, some in rather remote locations, without getting lost or seriously maiming myself. That's despite the instructions to the first nestbox of today's nestboxes being completely incorrect. Confused, I bushcrashed my way to a brightly coloured piece of tape in the distance, hoping vainly it would lead me in the right direction. Unfortunately all it did was lead me to a completely wrong transect line. Frustrated and a little anxious I eventually managed to bushcrash my way back down to the track again. Thinking a little more clearly, I realised that the directions referred to the wrong Hihi feeder. Once that issue was resolved locating the nestbox was a piece of cake. In fact all of the nestboxes I visited today were , although a long way from the track, relatively easy to find and access.

After a while I was able to dull the sense of anxiety and self-preservation that had been dominating my emotions, sit down, and calmly enjoy my environs. The bush in the area of the Sanctuary I am working in now is truly beautiful and tranquil (when its aura isn't being disrupted by Angsty Pip). When the start-of-the-season nerves abated I was able to remember why I do this again. Already I have noted several promising signs of pair-forming, and hopefully this will be a good season.

I really enjoyed the walk back down the Round The Lake track to the ops shed. Walking down a well-maintained track always feels so easy after crashing through the undergrowth for over four hours. I also had that 'hanging out in the bush' glow on.

The Eastern RTL is full of Hihi testosterone at the moment. The feeders are being mobbed, and males fighting for territory are using the track as a flight path, hot in pursuit of the enemy. It's all very exciting, because I haven't really seen that many Hihi in this particular part of the Sanctuary before. It feels like they've all turned up specially to entertain me!

I always LOOK like I've been doing something hardcore after a nestbox session in wet weather. I wind up muddy EVERYWHERE. Hot showers aren't just good after wet runs. They're good after long cold damp days in the bush as well.

This is going to be a hugely active week. Weights and a one hour run tomorrow, a Mt Victoria hill run on Wednesday, training with Duck, RPM and two homework runs. Let's see whether I manage to survive!

While I remember, just how do people with the IQ of National MP Bob Clarkson get into politics? And who on earth votes for them? Okay, this is Tauranga we're talking about, but really?! So exactly where is the country of Islam, Mr Clarkson? While we're at it, if you have an issue with gays and lesbians 'shoving it down your throat' (unfortunate terminology), do you then also object to the public display of affection between heterosexuals? And why should my gay friends not be able to express their love for each other in public when you're perfectly comfortable with discussing your testicles with poor unsuspecting, and certainly less-than-impressed women?

Why is a nun wearing her 'habbitat' (oh, come on!) fitting in, when someone in a burkqa isn't? Couldn't someone hide a gun under a habit? Or under a long woollen coat either for that matter. Should every shivering Wellingtonian be made to go around wearing close-fitting clothing, to ensure that they're not packing a hidden weapon?

If only trying to debate with someone like Mr Clarkson on these issues weren't so pointless as to be boring.

You know you're a mad runner when...

• You get up at 6am on a wet Saturday morning to do a one hour powerbag workout at the gym with your running group;
• You follow that session with a 35 minute run in TORRENTIAL rain; and
• You add in another 15 minutes on a crosstrainer, despite being soaked, because you didn't complete your full homework run.

Note: This photo was taken by a Wellington photographer, Phillip in December, but captures the essence of what it was like to run outside today. Bloody insane in other words!

The three highlights of today's run were the bemused looks on the faces of people passing by all rugged up against the elements, the knowing smiles from the two other runners I passed, and the sheer freedom and nuttiness about being out there in what must have been one of the heaviest downpours this year. I had on a short pair of running tights, a short sleeved polyprop, and a t-shirt. I elected not to wear a rain parker because it wasn't that cold and I prefer to get wet than overheat. Add to that no hat (and thank goodness for contact lenses), and I was about as exposed to the elements as it was possible to get.

Running in the rain is FUN. So is being dedicated enough to actually get out there and do it. Splashing through puddles and feeling the rain trickle down the backs of my legs has never been so rewarding. Peeling off sodden running tights and jumping into a blisteringly hot shower was pretty satisfying too...

I LOVE running, because I've proven to myself that I can do it. This is a whole side of me I've always wanted to own. Roll on 15 October (half marathon d-day).

My first full week back running with the jog squad came with some beautiful, "that's why I run" moments. On Monday Allie and I found ourselves running to Greta Point and back, an hour's return trip. It was a clear, cold night. I was aware that I was really testing my recovery, so I was cautious about going too quickly. The faster girls quickly took off ahead of us. We ended up in a strange little bubble of space on our own. Going out we had a tail wind that sent us scuttling along like tumbleweeds. Turning around we began paying pennance for the wind assistance. Allie kept getting blown towards the road. On a couple of occasions I found myself stopped in my tracks by the strong wind gusts. However neither of us gave in and once back in Oriental Bay we were able to pick up the pace again.

The next day's aftermath wasn't that severe. A little achiness around the hip, and strangely achy knees. If only I'd been able to match that achievement on the day of the Shoe Clinic 10km I would have been home well within my target time. My confidence in my abilities has grown so much since then.

I didn't run Tuesday. I had a group of women coming over that night and looming deadlines at work to keep me busy. On Wednesday the jog squad had an interval training session down by Frank Kitts Park. Duck stood there with her whistle (she's getting way too fond of that thing) while we ran backwards and forwards along the waterfront. We started with a warmup job to Frank Kitts from the gym. When we got there we were ordered to do another 'warmup run' to the Shell station and back. There were several comments along the lines of "I thought we were already warmed up", but everyone complied (as you do). I really wasn't in the mood for a big session, and I found it really hard to push myself to keep up with the front pack.

Once back at the park we started doing short sprints of a couple of hundred metres, at increasing intensity. I took part guiltily, having not been given the go-ahead to do speed work yet. I kept nearly running into people and felt very un-co. However when we finally hit 100% exertion something kicked in. Suddenly I found myself pumping down the tarmac near the front, yelling from the effort as I neared the end. From that point on the rest of the evening was fun. My body finally woke up from recovery downtime.

Running with 30 other women can have its amusing side. The poor pedestrians traversing the walkway between the waterfront and Frank Kitts found themselves pursued by us all at high speed, and nowhere to go. Some took fright. One man commented, with a huge grin on his face, that he'd never been chased by so many beautiful women before. Most simply looked kind of confused. One yelled out "why not walk"? Well, running can be so much more fun...

Thanks to a stretching workshop after the interval training, a missed bus, a walk from Brooklyn in the cold, and a very late dinner, I didn't get enough sleep last night and ran out of gas half-way through my personal training session this morning. However not before running two kilometres on the treadmill in just over 11 minutes. I would never have thought at the start of this year that I would be running at 12kmph. Once 8kmph was it!

I elected not to run tonight, figuring I needed the sleep more. Besides, my quads are killing me from doing lunges with one foot on a weights bench. Tomorrow morning I'll be up for a solo RPM (Nic and Leonie are in Auckland), and on Saturday we have powerbag training with the squad, followed by the 50 minute run I didn't get in today.

Yay - back into things! The stretching session did explain a few things for me though. I'm quite a flat footed runner and my left leg splays out to the side. Although I've always been told I have tight calves I've always felt that the reason I couldn't push my feet towards my shins when stretching was more to do with the front of my feet (where the foot connects to the shin) than with the calves themselves. Well, turns out I was right. The physio who did the workshop is going to give me some stretches that will hopefully lengthen out that particular muscle, enable me to heel-toe run more effectively, and help my left foot to land straighter. It's all good, because although I look more like a runner than a shuffler these days my poor and inefficient footfall has been bothering me.

Oh, and my brand new running tights are falling apart in a rather embarrassing place. I'm definitely taking them back, and there was NO running commando on Wednesday night! VPL be damned, I was forced to wear some old-fashioned, conservative underwear to protect my modesty!

Time

This week's Poetry Thursday topic was "time". In a week when I had very little of the ticking stuff I messed around with a bit of word play and came up with something that was quite fun and frivolous. However in the end I decided to post this poem, written a few months ago. It's indirectly related in that it tracks the passage of time, though it doesn't explore the theme of time directly. It was a very personal and significant poem for me at the time, although I hope it also has some general appeal.

This Body Has Borne You

This body has borne you,
Carried you down the birth tunnel
Out into harsh hospital daylight.
Lifted you onto all fours,
Two feet…
Sent you running on grass -
Over hills,
Through sand,
Squeezed between your bare toes.

This body has borne you,
Broken bones under monkey bars,
Fallen from your bike bruises,
Gravel grazes.
School hallways,
Shopping malls,
Pyjama parties,
Blue light discos.
First kiss on warm spring night.
Furtive caress in movie theatre darkness.

This body has borne you,
Pulled by the moon,
Nudged into womanhood,
Swelled you with passion,
Drowned you with tears.

This body has borne you,
Midnight furtive binges,
Repentant mornings.
No-carb diets and
Liquid detoxes.
Protein shakes,
Weights routines,
Long weekend runs and
Downward dogs.

Through illness,
Flush of health,
Wilful neglect,
Good intentions,
This body has borne you.

This body is not your enemy.
This body has loved you,
Stayed with you,
Suffered through your worst excesses,
Responded to your tentative
Attempts at reconciliation.

This body is your story,
Your road map.
This body shows where you have been.
If you allow it
This body will take you to
Where you are going.

This body is your friend.
This body is you.

I'm on a roll. My first Sunday Scribblings:

Our two Burmese, Gaffer and Ede have always been fairly easy to read. Their eyes are so large, their faces so defined, and their attitude and intent so clearly reflected in their body language that it has always seemed like the communication between us runs both ways.

Here's an average Gaffer train of thought over the period of a few minutes:

"Love me, love me, love me, love me. You don't love me. Love me, love me, love me, love me. Cuddles, I want cuddles damn it. Hold me, hold me, hold me hooooollllllld me. Pay attention to me, pay attention to me, pay attention to me. I'm going to hide behind this sofa and claw at it, and THEN you'll pay attention to me. Haha, you paid attention to me. Love me, love me, love me, love me, love me. Cuddles.... Cuddles.... Cuddles... Aaaaahhhhhhh, cuddles. I love you, you love me, I love you, you love me, I love you, you love me.....

Ede is the dignified elder female of the household. She rules with a quiet dignity. This is a cat who knows what she wants, and how to get it. Ede wants, primarily, to live in peace. By day she wants a warm spot in the sun. By night she wants to lie under the duvet up against my side. When we brought our Tortiseshell moggy Tissy home, Ede nearly moved out in protest. It is clear that Ede regards our little ball of fluff as being well and truly beneath her.

Tissy, unlike our spoiled pedigrees, is a cat impossible to read. She speaks a completely different language to the other two. In full her name is Fortissimo. When we brought her home she was tiny, fluffy and vocal. Gaffer took about an hour to realise that this little brown dustpuppy played, and from that point on he was smitten. Ede declared war on sight.

Although unreadable, Tissy is also the cat of 1000 identities. She is Madame Chin, mistress of Kitty Foo. She is MC Tissy in the (kitty) house. She is the secret shadow, Ede's spy and tormentor. She is Tissy Tiss Tiss, running around the house emoting to nobody other than herself. She is the small cat with the ridiculous possum tail.

I have no idea what is going on in Tissy's mind, but I suspect there is something of the calculated observer in her under-the-radar small cat presence. Our scatter cat is quietly scoping us out. One day she will call in enforcements, take over, and eventually rule the world.

When you gotta go....

I'm sorry, but you just GOTTA go... Again, I'm sorry, but it was warm, calm and sunny all day. I wanted to be out running with every sinew in my body. And the chance to run with Allie on such a fine evening was too good an opportunity to turn down.

Sure, I had to negotiate. Only an itty-bitty run, only half an hour. I was negotiating my run with you, but I was also making a bargain with my hip. Let me do this little thing and I won't run again until Monday. Well, unless it's as beautiful on Saturday, and then I may have to test a little trail run around the Sanctuary.

Oops - did I say that?

So, a gentle amble up Bowen, a saunter down Tinakori, a crawl down Thorndon Quay, and a few minutes spent dodging pedestrians during rush-hour on Lambton Quay. 28 minutes, 43 seconds. I kept up my end of the bargain, and I stretched. I even kept the time up on my stop watch incase I was busted on my return.

So the damage? My hip is slightly sore, but the foam roller after the run helped, and it's actually better than it was this morning. The chocolate and two bottles of cider I had tonight almost certainly did more harm.

And received in return? The peace of mind that comes from asking of your body and having it respond. The satisfaction of a goal well met.

So I don't regret a thing. Not one itty bit.

My first Poetry Thursday post...

This week we had the freedom to post anything we wanted. I did originally write a poem about freedom itself, or rather, freedom of choice. It struck me at the time that the fact that I could sit there and ponder choice in itself meant that I am leading an incredibly privileged life.

However sitting at my desk yesterday the elements hit me. Wellington City, so often my muse, struck again. The sun moved around and shone through the full length window in front of my desk, and that unmistakable feeling of spring reverberated through my body. Then, walking to the bus stop shortly after 6.30am this morning, it was so light that I didn't need to use my cellphone's torch. That, followed by another perfect Wellington day, led me to distraction from the final draft of a business impact assessmentI was supposed to be completing, and ended with the creation of the first poem I will post to the Poetry Thursday blog.

It's a rushed work, not my strongest work, but it's postable, and that's what matters! So without further ado ...

Wellington Spring

Earth turns the corner into spring;
And instinct switches on the rejuvenation button.
Wellingtonians on their lunch break feel the
Nerves in their spine tingle,
The hairs on their arms
Dance in preparation for the
Cycle of growth about to begin.
Before long every cell has
Switched into fast forward.
The public servants' brains register an
Exquisite sense of anticipation -
Opiates for the mammalian,
Cuing up a call to romance,
Love, adore, frolic, caress,
Luxuriate in new warmth
And renewal.
It is time for life.
Rejoice!

Moments from a weekend:

8.00am Saturday morning, running around the Bays with Sarah and the Jog Squad. Feeling how much better my injury is, feeling like I'm getting strong again. Enjoying the beautiful morning - the calm harbour, the cool air. Turning back to the gym and finishing up on the cross trainer, chatting to Dale. Watching Sollie and the other Combat trainers teaching the new release with the volume up and the studio pumping, wishing I had enough time to join in. Having a long hot shower, followed by baked beans on toast at the Les Mills cafe. Jumping in my car and driving to Taranaki.

2.00pm Saturday afternoon, sitting in my sister's warm little Lockwood on the cliffs above Middleton Beach in Opunake, sipping tea and looking out at the ocean as a squall blows through. Enjoying the carpet and the wood and the quiet.

6.00 Saturday night in Stratford, eating a roast chicken dinner, followed by apple pie, and drinking Chardonnay. Staying up till late talking with my parents and sister and watching interesting documentaries on tv while a hot fire blazes. Sinking into a soft futon with feather duvet and hot water bottle and dropping into a deep sleep.

1.00pm Sunday, sitting in Dad's car parked outside the mountain house on Mt Taranaki/Egmont watching snow falling because it's too cold to get out. Convincing him NOT to drive up the mountain when the advise given by the mountain staff is that chains or a four wheel drive are needed to go any further.

5.00pm Sunday, watching the Tararuas writhe in the mellow sunlight as I approach the Kapiti Coast. Listening to Piglet purring as she flies over the tarseal. Feeling the energy from the South Island as I drive towards Wellington, and the sense of being nearly home.

6.00pm Sunday, emerging from Ngauranga Gorge and marking the small Wellington sign as the city opens up in front of me. Arriving home to hugs from Hamish and cuddles from Gaffer. Enjoying a glass of Fiddleback and more chicken for dinner, before surfing through several new and interesting blogs.

While I think of it, following on from Leonie's own four things:

four things on entering the world

1. I'm an Aries, born 17 April 1973
   
2. I was born two weeks' premarture in National Womens (I think), Auckland, New Zealand
3. I have one younger sister, Sharilee (Shaz)
   
4. My grandmother Phylis named me.
   

four places i’ve lived

1. Henderson Valley
   
2. Ede, Holland
   
3. Ponsonby
   
4. Mornington, Wellington
   

four things i’ve done

1. jumped out of a plane (static line jump from 3000 feet)
   
2. lived in Holland for a year on student exchange
   
3. abseiled down a 100m tomo, then climbed up a 100ft ladder to get back out again
   
4. written a Masters thesis
   

four jobs i’ve had in my life

1. kitchen hand
   
2. paperback buyer
   
3. strawberry picker
   
4. business analyst
   

four places i’ve been on holiday.
(in New Zealand)

1. Lushingtons Bay, Banks Peninsula
   
2. Pakawau, Golden Bay
   
3. Whitianga, Coromandel
   
4. Oakura, Bay of Islands
   

four movies i could watch over and over

1. Magnolia
   
2. American Beauty
   
3. The Quiet Earth
   
4. Garden State
   

four of my favorite foods right now

1. Dahl
   
2. Chow Mein Cube spicy noodle cube
   
3. Cyclops strawberry yoghurt
   
4. Bogarts Maltese Falcon pizza
   

four things i love doing

1. singing
   
2. writing
   
3. running
   
4. dancing to uplifting music
   

four places i would rather be right now

1. watching dolphins on the deck at Lushington's with a glass of Pinot Gris
   
2. meeting my host-nieces in Hungary
   
3. Travelling through Canada on a train with the Cowboy Junkies
   
4. dancing in the sun at the source of the Riwaka with a fire bath waiting for me under the trees at night and a tent in a quiet spot in the shade.
   

four things i create in my life

1. physical wellbeing
   
2. creativity
   
3. wisdom
   
4. the courage to live without the need for security.
   

Well, I was going to post a Thursday poem, but after thinking long and hard I decided not to, because it could be read and interpreted in the wrong way by two people who are very dear to me. And partly also because posting it would have tipped this blog well and truly into the 'angst' cliche category.

Still, writing that poem stripped back a couple of layers that I didn't realise were still havning around. I'm feeling really light and free at the moment. I'm even enjoying not wearing my greenstone. Though I did take it into work today to talk to Angela about getting it restrung.

But I'm not in the mood for being seriousness, so instead some frivolity and pampering. Fancy a pina colada bath?

The Ingredients
1 can coconut milk
3 tablespoons baking soda
Shot of rum
1 1/2 cups pineapple juice

Pour coconut milk into a running bath. Add baking soda, then pineapple juice, then rum. Get into bath and lie there thinking about all those nights spent dancing on the bar at your local trashy nightclub, singing "April Sun in Cuba". Now you KNOW we've all been there...

Being allowed to run a little again has gone slightly to my head. The physio told me I could run for 10 minutes... so I ran for 15. Then she said I could run for 15 minutes, so I ran for 20. I'm hoping she's giving me really conservative times in the knowledge that I will probably do more than I'm supposed to...

So, since first being allowed to run again on Tuesday, I've done:

• 1 fifteen minute slot on a treadmill, followed by 30 minutes on a cross trainer
• A 20 minute run around the Bays with the jog squad
• A 12 minute run on the treadmill, followed by lower body power training with Duck that left me almost unable to walk...
• A mad RPM class with Jocko in which five tracks were hill tracks. And I did NOT take it easy... Oh - and a five minute sprint on the treadmill after that...
  

Today I rounded my week off with another 22 minutes of running around the Bays. It felt soooo good, and I really could have kept going, but I sort of behaved (given that I was only supposed to be running for 15), and went back to the gym. However, doing another RPM class could have been considered silly, and then stopping for an energy bar and a change of clothes before doing a Body Balance class could be considered over the top...

Oh well, after that and a quick stop into Subway I bought myself a new and badly needed pair of running tights. Then I wandered over to Pagani. Hamish is doing visuals at a While You Were Sleeping gig tonight and I wanted something new to wear. I'm so sick of my clothes. Either they don't fit or they're not bright enough. I thought Pagani would have something that was both sexy and colourful.

The lovely saleswomen at Pagani, which is after all only a bargin-level clothing store, deserve full credit. They were friendly, helpful, interested, and they REALLY knew how to find the right piece of clothing... I ended up with half the tops in store in the changing room with me. I haven't had so much fun in a long time. I bought two tops that fit the bill perfectly. Both have shoe string straps, are fitted around the bust, and then drape down over the middle down to the hips. One is an olive-green colour, and the other is green and pink. Both look fabulous, and I would never have even thought of trying them on a few months ago. I also bought a new size 10 pair of jeans, and a little black bolero top to wear over the other two.

So today I feel fit and sexy. Yay!

Leonie sent me a link to a great poetry blog, Poetry Thursday. Thank you so much beautiful woman. Yet again you have sent me just the right link at just the right time, when I really wanted to put my words out there to a wider audience. Unfortunately my first Thursday poem will never be printed here. It's too personal and may only ever be seen by my husband, if anyone. It's all about yearning, unfulfilled longing, and learning to deal with the knowledge that you will never get exact what you want. However I will make an effort to include a Thursday poem on my blog from this point onwards. I am finding that being creative does take time and commitment, and lately I've been giving all that commitment to my training. It's time to get a little balance!

Child of Earth

Child of earth.
Crawling through
Rows of strawberries
Wrapped in black polythene and
Cradled with straw.
Wandering home
Through tyre ruts and mud.
Sinking then falling
Into coolness and ooze.
Sitting under pine trees
Cleaning garlic as dust
Floats in the
Languid afternoon air.
Chasing eels in secret pools
By a bend in the stream.
Dankness and shadows
Mixing with the perfume
Of wild ginger.

A connection forged of
Dirt and stone,
Grass and twig.
A heart requiring
Air and sunlight
And space
To breathe.

I realised today that I am experiencing everything very physically at the moment. Everything, including memory, is touch, taste and smell. There's something of a reclaimation of self going on. It's not so much that I'm living less in my mind, but that my mind and body are communicating a little better than they used to.

I want to run again. I'm not fully healed, but mentally I'm ready. If the physio says I can, then tomorrow I'll be leaving her office and going straight to the treadmill.