Another little self indulgent moment, where I get to rabbit on
about what I’ve been up to lately.
one: I’ve spent so much time focusing on the round ball football that I’d neglected my one true love. AFL. There’s something pretty magical about being inside the ‘G. And it’s not because it’s the single greatest concentration of luke warm meat pies in the southern hemisphere. When you’re surrounded by 50,000 other screaming fans and there’s no red card to save Ronaldo’s hair from getting messed up – it’s something pretty special (thanks Bruce).
two: Remember when I told you about Hood To Coast? Wuh-ell. That shit’s getting real now. With only one full week of training left, basically I’ve taken to panic training, and me and my snazzy little running shoes are becoming firm friends. And speaking of friends, it’s extra radical to have some super speedy ones to drag my poor, tired butt around those hills, because lemme tell you folks, the Emma Energy tank is running on fumes this week.
three: I’m one of the lucky ones. I found my one true love, my best friend, so very many years ago, and we have one of those fantastic relationships where we’ve grown together. Through thick and thin, good times and hard times, we’ve been there for each other, and we only grow more in love as the years go on. Oh ice cream. You just get me. (These bad boys are from Messina and if you think I showed restraint and only got the one scoop you’d be all the wrong. I’m training, I earned it, orright??)
four: If you walked down the main street of Melbourne today, all you’d been greeted with would be tumbleweeds, blowing in the wind. (or sticking in a limp, wet mess on the ground I guess, if I’m being completely ‘weather accurate’. It just doesn’t quite make the same point so I’m going to screech JOURNALISTIC LICENCE at you and move along…) That’s because everyone was at City to Surf in Sydney. That’s right. Erryone. And when I woke up, oh sweet baby bananas did I have FOMO. Until I realised that I could stay in bed. There was no Heartbreak Hill in my Sunday morning, just the sweet, sweet freedom to make a cup of tea and bring it back into bed with the latest glossies. Needless to say, the FOMO was more FO-WHA? before I’d even finished the Editor’s Letter. That’s absolutely what Sundays were made for.