It's true. Two really ARE better than one.

I know I did this big mea culpa last time we chatted but puh-lease. Cut a gal some slack.

Check this - in the last week - close family member had a heart attack; I was in a three way pile up in which a young man drove straight into the side (my side) of the ute; our new office flooded.

I don't reckon I'm being soft when I say I felt a bit stressed. But ! Good news, my great mate Michelle has brought me out of retirement. Well, a 4 week layoff. We're gonna run the HBF 14 race in May.

Here's the interesting thing about that. I don't know what you guys are like but I always preferred to run by myself. I loved the solitude, the fact I could go at my own pace, that kind of thing. But Michelle and I are in this together so for the first time in a long time, I have a running partner. And today I learned something...(which makes it a GREAT day)

We had a 45 flat mid paced run to knock off today but chose rolling hills instead. We are suckers for punishment. We got to the turn around point and there it is, the southerly...blasting away at 8.30 on a Saturday morning. Oh right! So that's why the first 4 ks felt incredible...talk about wind assisted.

Suffice to say, the run back was a right biatch. We struggled. The hills seemed higher, the road longer. But HERE's the thing. If Michelle had have been running right next to me, I undoubtedly would have stopped and walked. No question. I would have wimped out for sure. But I didn't. My friend and I chalked up our first negative split of this campaign under totally crappy conditions.

We celebrated by have a protein shake at my kitchen bench.

Good times!!

Love youse all

GT.

Oh and great news ! GP had his scan and the cancer is shrinking...it's looking much less grim. And BS is also on the up.

Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa...

I got an email from a long lost friend the other day and in it, he said "apologies that come with excuses are not apologies". So cop that GT. My apologies friends, it's been three weeks since my last confession...err...blog post. I have NO excuses. Zero. Zip. Nudda. Nil. I am on the verge of renaming this blog GT's rear grows exponentially each day...get the picture?

Where to start?

I write this from the charming surrounds of Melbourne's Qantas club, having just inhaled a kitkat and a glass of terribly nice McLaren Vale Shiraz. Note to self. Continuing down this path will realise my potential to turn into booze hag and read too many Woman's Days just to hear Lara Bingle tell "her story".

Second note to self. Three flights and three States of this grand country in one day, is a dumb idea. Repeat, dumb idea. Oops! Four states if you count arriving in the West.

Why am I here? Work.

We ran a national launch today for a fabulous client of ours and it was a roaring success. It's always flattering when the client insists on you making the trip to do the job yourself. It's a nod to the relationship we've built with them over the past four years.

I've said it before and I maintain that travelling for business, unless one is Beyonce, isn't something I covet. I do it because I need to and I am trying to do less of it. Not just because I miss home, but because sheesh it is HARD on the body baybeh...

So plane food..even at the pointy end, aint that flash. And the dehydration. And the lack of sleep. And the wah wah wah....listen. I'm not having a massive whinge for the sake of it, I'm actually acknowledging that people who do what I have done in the past 48 hours, on a regular basis, are amazing. Don't know how you do it. That's it - no chance I'm gonna be Prime Minster of Australia. No thanks. My client JN is amazing. He does 10 times my travel AND Training load. I honestly don't understand how he manages it. Is it just getting used to it? Is it just habit? Do I need a teaspoon of concrete?? Probably yes.

I took my runners on this trip and yesterday evening I went for a really long walk through the Botanic Gardens and around the harbour to the Opera House. By the way, am I the ONLY person who freaked out when I realized how many bats were hanging from the trees? Creeeeeepy.

But I digress. Again.

Historically, I don't function well without good sleep. By historically, I mean since my mamma pushed me out in 3.5 hours flat. I just neeeed my sleep. No sleep, not a happy GT. No sleep, GT finds it hard to function, let alone to train. Case in point? I just referred to myself in the third person.

So I am not, repeat, NOT doing Darlington this weekend. No dice. No chance. I am catching up with Budgey on Monday cause I need a program which is going to fit in with what is an incredibly busy period for us. We've just moved into our new gtmedia digs in Northbridge, I have a steady and growing number of speaking engagements on the cards, and growing number of our clients are coming from the east.

I can't afford to stop training. It's a non negotiable but my training load does have to be realistic and achievable otherwise, you know where I'll be? You got it. Curled up on the couch in front of Dr. Phil watching a weight loss special and shovelling CC's into my mouth at a rate of knots.

To mitigate that threat, I've got my first Kick Boxing lessing this Thursday night with a bloke who was a former Mr Australia and is a current Mui Thai blackbelt. Cue kick in the aforementioned expanding arse.

So here's the tip kids. Don't quit. If you need to tweak your training load, then do it because there's no better motivation than seeing results.

Promise I won't be away so long next time...

Love youse all!

Chat soon

GT

Foxes, ducks, sleep and other stuff

It's been a week or so since I checked in. And WHAT a week. My lord. Best description of the last seven days is that I put my head down, and someone whacked me around the head with a wet mullet.

Not really sure where to start..

Have you ever heard people talk about the need to rest well in order to train hard? Well I can officially vouch for that. Picture this. Friday night ...after the a monster, mullet-slapping week. It's around midnight, house full of people... all on the couch (world's most comfortable couch, by the way). One minute I'm looking at a frock on line. The next, I wake up, and the house is empty, save Jessie D and AmyAnna. What the heck? I apparently crashed and burned...the emphasis on crash. So I sleep. Lots.

On Saturday, I wake up with a sore throat. Achy. I have a massage, intending to go for my 90 minute run around 5. I put my head down at 1.30pm. I wake up at 5.30pm. Feel like a stoned porcupine .... I go to bed at 8pm. Yes, 8pm. Sleep through to 6.30am Sunday. Wake feeling like a new woman. Like Barbie, fresh outta the factory.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Sleep is often the only weapon against feeling-like-crap-itis.

Along comes Monday. This 90 minute run is haunting me. I know i have to do it, because if I skip it, I can kiss goodbye to Darlington.

I wake at 5am on Monday and head out from my place.

It is a GORGEOUS morning for a run. A touch humid, but still as bro...

I run around Herdsman and it's just incredible. The sun coming up over the city, and across the water. About 40 mins into the run, I'm in the bowels of the reserve, kinda deep into the wetland area and there he is. A fox!! Fantastic, Mr Fox I presume..

A russet red, beady eyed, bushy tailed fox. He stops in the middle of the path, about 10 metres away from me. We stare each other down (kind a feels like Home and Away, right?)

All the ducks and swans are going bananas ....Channelling my inner 4 year old, I rip my earphones out and screech..."RUN AWAY DUCK, FOR GOD's SAKE ...RUN AWAY...!"

As Lozzie often says, I'm not that good in a crisis. And seeing a fox maul a duck / swan / water bird would have definitely counted as a crisis. But! My insane screaming scared the stuffing out of Mr Fantastic and he jumped into the stream, ignoring the floating buffet in front of him and race out onto the embankment.

By now all the birds (me included) were still screaming and the next thing I know, Fantastic gave me one last glare, before ducking away into the reeds. I know he was a man, because Fantastic couldn't stand the sound of ladies yelling at the tops of their lungs.

The rest of the run was boring by comparison. and it hurt. I'm now more afraid of Darlington than ever before because I know how hard it is. i remember. And this run was flat.

I'll spare you the violins because while I was running I did think about GP, who is not well. He is doing quite badly actually so I kept on shuffling, really thankful that I can shuffle.

So there you go. Let that be a lesson for all of us. Get enough sleep. Yell at a fox and he will run away, regardless of how fantastic he is. When you're doing it tough and wanting to quit, there is always someone, somewhere who wishes they were in our (running) shoes.

Chat soon

GT

Love Life. Love it NOW!

So by now most of you would have heard me talk a bit about my friends GP and BS - both staring cancer in the face right now. By way of an update, GP is right in the thick of his fourth course of Chemo. It's s**t. We wait until there are more tests. Then we wait some more. It's cruel and it's heartbreaking. BS is doing better. All reports are positive.

So without being morose and melodramatic, because neither of these two people are, it HAS changed my perspective. I don't get as cranky about the dogs scratching my floorboards. I am a lot more thankful for small things. I don't care as much about what people may or may not think of me.

Which leads me to today. I ducked into Leederville this morning to have a quick breakfast at Cranked, and there she was. My 5 year old neice, out having breaky with her Dad..my big brother.

Get one thing straight. I ADORE this child. I love her beyond words. We have the best time together. So we have a good old chat and then she asks me if we can do our normal thing, which is where we lie down on the grass together outside of Cranked and take a photo on my blackberry. It's kind of how we roll. Now this usually happens after work on a weekend. Not first thing during peak hour when I'm all frocked up.

Ahh what the hell. I kicked off my shoes, hitched up my frock and lay down on the lawn with my niece. Strange looks? Who cares. Life is precious and so is she. Long after she's too cool to hang out with me on the lawn in my work frock, I will cherish this and so many other moments like it.

So that's how the day started. And it finished with a quick 7km around Lake Monger. I ended up a sweaty, happy mess after shaving 1 minute and a half off my 7km time.

It was also super fun because I drafted off my client (without know it was him) for half of that time...

Running around the lake is great fun because, if you actually take the time to notice, there is SO much going on. Like the bunch of school boys doing pre-season, TEARING around that lake as if there were free beer waiting for them at the end. Oh. Hang on...

Like ducks. Have you EVER noticed how ... functional they are? If I didn't believe in God as a creator, I would swear they were made at Ikea. I mean, all their bits just fold away neatly. Ingenious.

Like the bloke walking his two Great Danes. Man, those things were bigger than the first Shetland pony I ever rode.

Like the the really fast people who LOPE past me without so much as a puff, making me consider (albeit momentarily) how i can trip them up without getting caught.

So much to notice. So much to be thankful for and so much to love about life.

Chat soon.

GT

Things I love and hate about running.

Here's my list - feel free to add yours.

Things I Love

Wicked endorphins

Helps me clear my head and gives me space to think

De-stresses me

Gets me fit and strong

Gives me perspective

Shows me what my body can do

Increases my capacity at work

Easy to do, even when I'm traveling

Seeing lots of other, happy runners out on the track.

Things I Hate

Chafing from my bra and my heart rate monitor

Arguing with myself when the run gets hard

The easterly and the sea breeze, respectively

Shows me what my body can do

Wearing the wrong socks and getting a shocker of a blister

Getting a salt encrusted face.

When fast people run past me and they're not even puffed

My Body is a mystery to me...

I am making a serious effort to get to know my body. For the past 30 odd years, I've done my best to ignore it. I mean, I have a degree in politics and journalism - what do I need to understand my body for? Its better for everyone if I just continue to ignore it unless it gives me reason to do otherwise, like Gastro. Yep. That's a good reason to notice my body...

This morning - classic case in point. 5.30am and I'm strapping on my heart rate monitor. My resting heart rate is a little high. Not a good sign. My client and friend, JN, is an experienced athlete. To put you in the picture, he celebrated his 50th birthday by doing a FULL iron man distance triathlon, and backed it up 10 days later by running the New York Marathon. He knows a thing or two about training. He told me once that the legend that is Robert De Castella did a lot of his training load based on what his resting heart rate was when he woke in the morning. High heart rate meant his body was recovering still, or fighting something off. Normal heart rate meant go hard.

True? No idea but I have found that in my world, it can be true.

This morning, my body punished me for 7kms. It hurt. I found it hard to find my pace and my heart rate was through the roof for the whole run. Though I shaved another minute off my 7km time, it was neither pretty nor fun.

But here's the thing....I ALSO woke up this morning feeling like I couldn't breathe very well, with a bit of a sore throat. I THOUGHT about staying home decided against it. My body flipped me the bird while I ran around Lake Monger. It yelled abuse in my ear.

Thus begins the dawning of a new day. I'm going to listen to my body a bit more and see where it gets me...even though I may have to occasionally tell it to mind the language.

Chat soon

GT

Hello GT , remember me? I'm Reabold Hill...

When we were in Maui last year, Langer and I drove to the summit of the Haleakala Crater. I remember it so well for so many reasons. Primarily because of the altitude sickness. It knocked me for six. One minute I was cruising along in the rental Jeep-of-Glory, then next I was passed out with a monster headache...

Secondly, because it felt like we would drive in the clouds and the rain forever, but then, when we least expected it, we burst through the clouds and there we were...10 thousand feet above sea level, right on top of the world. It literally took my breath away.

Haleakala means "House of the Sun" ...check out these pics and you'll see why..

I thought about that trip this morning when I was out running.
It was my first hill session in about a year. I knew it would hurt and it did. It hurt. Did I mention that i really hurt...?
Before you get all funny on me, I'm not about to draw a metaphor about ascending the Haleakala Crater and running Reabold hill.
That would be a totally bollocks analogy.
No, I just remembered the trip while I was running and wanted to share it because it was one of the most amazing things I've ever had the pleasure of seeing.
So back to this morning. Reabold hill is NOT a volcano. It is Not 10 thousand feet above sea level. At 93 metres high, it's the tallest peak on the Swan Coastal Plain. The track I run there is the old road that used to be single lane but both ways.
Anyone who grew up around that area like I did, will know it well. Now, the road is a running, walking and cycle track. It's 800ms to the top and it's steep as bro..
This morning I knocked of circuits ascents. It hurt but it felt good. And when i got to the top, I could see the whole city. Such a beautiful morning as the sun came up, and rather than being a hot, stuffy morning, the air was clean and crisp. In a word stunning.
And even though it hurt like a poke in the eye with a blunt twig, it was one of those mornings that made me so glad to be a runner.

Have an amazing week.

Chat soon
GT

I met this man while running

I would best describe this morning's run as a one hour poo-shower. My first 6o minuter in ..well ages actually. But it is now done and I even managed a negative split (-3 mins over the back half hour..pretty happy with that given how hard it found it)

But that's not why I'm writing today.

You see, I met this guy on the last 1 km of my 9kms. It's NOT what you think!

So I was struggling through my last 2 kms or so ...just before the start of the last incline.., the one that starts just before Karrinyup road and heads down into Trigg beach..you know the one?

I chucked a quick glance over my shoulder to see if there were any bikes coming and instead I see this PUNK drafting on my tail. So I stepped on the gas baybeh, thinking that I would toast his badass and leave him in my wake.

Err...no. He accelerated and ran next to me. A quick peak sideways and he's a bloke in his 50s..grizzled, grey even - a beard, running VERY comfortably. I suspect he was either a super human or on the start of his run rather than on the end of it.

We ran together for a while. I was annoyed because I had to adjust my pace to keep up. I was listening to Mutemath (Electrify, for fellow fans..) and I had hoped they were enough to help me keep up with this guy. Who WAS he?

Then a strange thing happened. After a couple of minutes, I stopped caring and started enjoying the company of my anonymous pace-setter. A couple of times I feared he'd take off and leave me so I ripped an ear phone out and spluttered "See that black ute up ahead? That's me - can you stay with me till then?"

He smiled and nodded. He did stay with me, and when I slowed to a stop, he waved and wished me good luck .

What a champion! I can say categorically that everyone I have ever met through running has been the same. So encouraging, so happy to help, so keen to give you a leg up along the journey.

Even at my first half marathon at Darlington, where I finished 3rd last, a similar thing happened. A stranger ran with me for 25 mins or so, encouraging me, geeing me along and telling me to hang in there. Even the marshals on the road shouted encouragement at my right down to my dying moment.

I know I'm not a competitive runner and if I were things may be different, but that's not why I do it. I do it to keep fit and to keep sane. The generosity of spirit I have encountered is an added bonus and a fantastic inspiration.

Happy weekend folks...oh and happy 21st to Jessie D - gtmedia's fabulous intern. I promise to wear my highest heels tonight Jess, that is, if I can walk...

Chat soon

GT

My brain is powerful so I should use it...

Tonight I was listening to this guy called Dave Gilpin talk about a whole bunch of stuff. It was so good. But one of the things which really grabbed me was a statement he made: "Attitude is 90% of life."

I love that. I LOVE it.

We've all heard it right? The whole, mind over matter thing..? How many stories have we heard from champions in life and in sport about the mental edge. I know a lady called Barbara Oldfield. She was, in her heyday, number 2 in the world in Squash. Squash is not a game I have a lot of affection for. It's bloody hard and I always used to get smashed by those hard black rubber balls. But I digress...

Barbara is an amazing woman. She told me once that she reckons she won 80% of her games in the dressing room before she even got on the court. She would simply psyche her opponents out.

She would unleash the formidable power of her mind and the majority of her opponents would surrender before they ever got onto the court.

Attitude is 90% of life.

I remember a time when I was afraid of running. I remember a time when I would look at Lake Monger and think I would never be able to run the entire 3.5km around it without stopping. It just seemed too big and too scary and I was too unfit. And I remember as if it were yesterday, the day I woke up and thought, I'm going to try and I actually think I can. It took me nearly half an hour to shuffle around the 3.5 kms - a distance that now takes me around 18 mins...barely a warm up.

Attitude is 90% of life.

My running coach, Budgie, is a wise man. When he wrote my first ever program he told me not to look beyond the week I was working to. Now that's just silly. I am the kind of person who reads the last page of a book first. Yes I do. Don't you judge me...

So of COURSE I looked ahead to weeks 10 and 11...I saw 90 minute runs. I saw 6k interval sessions. I broke into a sweat at the thought of it. Budgie told me that my perspective would change....and it did. Now, I think of anything under 40 minutes as a short run. Now, I look forward to my long 90 minute sessions. It's a chance to clear my head and blow away the cobwebs. Oh and I think I may have developed a serious addiction to the endorphins...

So attitude is 90% of life. Because I have done two half marathons, I KNOW I can do a third...and a fourth and a fifth. It's a no brainer. My perspective has shifted. What was Mount Everest is now just a warm up jog.

Cool, huh?

Chat soon,

GT

If only there was a pill.

Let me preface this post by saying this: Drugs are not the answer.

Right, now that's over with, I sometimes dream of being able to take narcotics to keep me skinny, as long as they 1. wouldn't cause me to have an addition 2. wouldn't get me arrested and 3. wouldn't do any long term damage to my body or mind. Clearly I am already out of my mind.

I lovingly recall that old line from Absolutely Fabulous where Patsy says to Eddy "Sweetie, you need to lose weight the traditional way...cigarettes and laxatives." I love that line...probably a little tooo much.

What I'm getting at is that it's days like today that I wish there was a pill. Not just a skinny pill, but a motivation pill; a consistency pill; a determination pill; a self confidence pill. Get my drift? I was supposed to run this morning but slept in instead. Went to bed too late. Felt a bit meh when I got up. Took the easy way out.

But instead of a pill, what I really need is a teaspoon of cement. Last weekend, I watched Dodgeball with a bunch of friends. It was a stupid, hilarious and super funny flick. Totally juvenile and great. There's this scene in it where Lance Armstrong randomly runs into Vince Vaughan's character, Peter La Fleur, at an airport, and gives him a royal kick up the bum for bailing out of the of Dodgeball championship. It goes like this...

(and thanks to IMDB for the transcript)

Peter La Fleur: Uh, actually I decided to quit... Lance.
Lance Armstrong: Quit? You know, once I was thinking about quitting when I was diagnosed with brain, lung and testicular cancer, all at the same time. But with the love and support of my friends and family, I got back on the bike and I won the Tour de France five times in a row. But I'm sure you have a good reason to quit. So what are you dying from that's keeping you from the finals?
Peter La Fleur: Right now it feels a little bit like... shame.
Lance Armstrong: Well, I guess if a person never quit when the going got tough, they wouldn't anything to regret for the rest of their life. But good luck to you Peter. I'm sure this decision won't haunt you forever.

Am I the only one who has had these moments?!? A healthy dose of perspective can be a great motivator. I've mentioned a couple of times my friends GP and BS who are both in the fights of their lives at the moment - both against cancer. I think of GP a lot when I'm running because I know he wishes he could ditch the chemo and go for a jog.

I hope I'm not getting to preachy but here's the thing. Lives that look outwards are always going to be so much more powerful and impacting that those which are focused on self. It's just the way it is.

So the bad news is, there is NO pill (damn it). But the good news is, none of us really has to look that far to find some real motivation ...

Chat soon

GT

Oh no! It's the D word....

I am not one of these women who resents those of our gender who can eat whatever they want without putting weight on. Oh no. I am far to well balanced for such juvenile antics. And if you believe THAT, I've got some GREAT beachfront land in Kalgoorlie for sale...

I confess to occasionally wanting to poke one of these stick ladies in the eye as they sashay past me. I confess that from time to time, I have petitioned the almighty as to WHY He chose to give my Mother's ballet dancer DNA to my BROTHER rather than to me. But here's the thing. I have come full circle in this issue I really have.

Like most in our profession, I've watched and taken part in the great body image debate. But here's the thing. I have a pretty simple view of things.

That is, the most sensible, and really, the only answer can be found in one word. Health. You can NOT argue that carrying extra body fat, particularly around the belly (my personal nemesis) is healthy. You can't argue that doing no physical exercise is okay. And so help me God, someone please explain how any highly processed food can be good for our bodies. I could rant all day...

So yesterday, I tweeted and FB'd about the fact that I'd asked my running coach to put me on a diet. There was a mixed reaction. Some encouraging, some aghast...but you need to understand the context.

As I write this blog, I am at a healthy body weight, but to do the races I want to do this year, I need to lose between 5 and 7kgs. It's a simple fact. But I have been in a different place.

I was, at one (unhappy) stage in my life, 14 kgs heavier than I am. That's fullness of that yarn is a story for another day and if anyone is interested enough I'll tell it. But the short story is that in MY life, I wasn't happy. I was tired, I was grumpy all of the time, I had no energy, my self esteem was in the toilet and I was looking around for everyone to blame. The food I ate was mostly junk. Processed and fatty, lots of empty calories and stuff that basically was no good for my body. Oh and I generally ate tonnes of it.

Which leads me to this - my favorite - cause for which to crusade. Personal responsibility.

No-one held a gun to my head as I shoveled food into my mouth. No one held my pony hostage and threatened Buddy's life unless I downed a monster bag of chips. It was my choice. I did it. Me. And nothing changed in my life until I stopped playing the victim, and started doing something about it. (Just an aside, read Michelle Bridges' book Crunch Time - it talks a LOT about this subject www.michellebridges.com.au)

Not saying it was easy. It wasn't. It took a lot of discipline and determination, and if I can be cheeky enough to say, courage. I think the ladies will understand when I say I needed to slap my emotions around a bit, and stop being ruled by them (can I get a witness??). And of course it came down to that simple, yet magical combination of diet and exercise. Less in, more out.

So now I run as a matter of course. I eat clean as a matter of course. They are non-negotiable parts of my daily routine. It doesn't cost anything to wake up, put your runners on and head out the door.

And here's something that made me laugh. Recently, I was talking about this very subject with a friend who I've known for about a year and she said "It's okay for YOU, you were born slim."

Firstly, I nearly collapsed with delight. But then I gave her a snapshot of what I'm writing about now. It was hard to convince her, but I promise you this...I KNOW how hard it is. There are no secrets and no short cuts. It's all about consistency.

So here's the thing folks. It's a no brainer. Cupcakes and chips are treat foods not every day foods. Gin and Tonic is a weekend drink, not an every day, after work relaxant.

I'm not proclaiming to be a guru. If that's your take out from this, then you've haven't heard my heart. I'm just someone who has been there, done that. I've walked the road so I can talk from experience.

So yes, I'm on a training diet ahead of Darlington.. Yes, it's a little more strict than normal. No, it's not gonna starve me, it will nourish my body and help me gain strength.

And when I run that race, I'll be in the best condition I can be in.

GT

Ooooh ! A massage....?

You know when you tell someone you're going to have a massage and their eyes kind of glaze over? Or perhaps their pupils dilate and they kind of murmer involuntarily .."Oooh...a massage" like some kind off rhetorical question.

Well. I had a massage on Saturday. And it wasn't like that. No, it was about as relaxing as 12 years hard labour in a Chinese prison. Yeah. THAT kind of massage.

Langer, my husband, is a Chiropractor and God love him, he's got four awesome masseuses who work at his clinic. So I book in to see Kristie.

GT to Langer; "Is she any good? I've been really tight through the glutes and my left SI is really giving me grief?"

Langer to GT. "Yeah, she's strong."

Strong? STRONG? Saying that this woman is strong is like saying that Michael Jackson was a little eccentric. Kristie had me writhing on the table. I mean, if i could have levitated out from underneath her I would have. She dug into my glutes, she found so many knots in my back, it was like a workout just lying there.

Kristie to GT "You're quite the squirmer aren't you?"

GT "Ah, it's actually quite sore. Really sore to be honest."

Kristie to GT " Oh yeah, I can feel it. You're tight as. Your muscles are all stringy and they feel very twitchy to touch."

GT (in her brain) "Tell me something I DON'T know.."

An hour after it started, I was hobbling out of there, a broken shadow of my former self, chugging water like a schoolie downs beer. On Sunday, I woke up feeling like I did the time I took my horse to a three hour cross country clinic in 38 degree heat...sore from head to toe.

Kristie, oh Kristie...you have dished out a beating...

I whinged my way though Sunday, dreading have to get up today to run but then, a miracle.

As i strode out this morning, running was easier. My back was almost SINGING as I pounded the track between Trigg and Hilarys. All of that pain was, wait for it, worth it. And guess what? I'm going back for more.

The moral of the story? No idea. All I know is that pain is a symptom that something is not right. Taking a pill might make it go away but it will only mask the underlying problem for a short while. Running is an awesome way to burn fat and get fit, but it's also really tough on your body. So investing in some TLC for my muscles will become a regular event in my training diary, rather than something I do when I feel like I'm about to fall apart. Kristie can dish out the pain any old time.

Chat soon,

GT

Please check for signs of insanity

I am thinking of doing a full marathon. There I said it. Please check for signs of insanity.

Your thoughts?

GT

GT Driving

So I'm having a week off training to recover from my month o' illnesses. First the man-virus, then the gastro-to-beat-all-gastros. But!! The silver lining was all in the timing (you like my rhyme? I'm practicing for Lupe Fiasco in Feb...)

My cousin and his fiance arrived from Italy last Saturday (gastro-launch day - they were terribly good sports about it) but the good thing about not having to train this weekend can be summed up in two magical words.

Road Trip.

Yeah baybeh...it's a fair dinkum Tognini fest this weekend and I'm loving it. Down here in Dunsborough with my cousin Alessandro, his fiance Elena.

Here's Ale, enjoying a Guinness at the Settlers' Tavern in Margaret River this arvo....

It has been two days of verbal mayhem....seriously. I am the only one, my Dad and his sister aside, who speaks fluent Italian so my brain has been doing gymnastics - switching from English to Italian and back again. And get this! Today, while visiting the Yallingup caves, I successfully translated the phrase "prescribed burning". I'd call that a win...

It's so funny - Elena is a purist tourist. She will photograph anything that moves, and stacks of stuff which doesn't. Today, she took a photo of the sign at Vasse Felix which said there were ducks crossing the road. Get my drift? Alessandro, my cousin, has been to Australia twice before. He's mad for it. He has ordered eggs benedict every morning since arriving. It's not so big in Italy so he's trying to get his fill while he can.

We're so lucky to live in WA. All Alessandro and Elena can talk about is how much they'd love to live in Dunsborough. They can't get over it. They have travelled to the Maldives, Mauritius and Zanzibar and rate OUR beaches the best. Clearly Togninis have excellent taste.

Their favourite? Bunker Bay...I think my Havs look right at home....

And quite honestly, there's nothing better than a quick later afternoon kip on the beach...but being woken up from one is not so cool. Still, I managed to smile about it...

The best thing? Having my family here. You might not believe me, but our family is kinda like the anti-Italian family. There aren't many of us, and most of us are in Italy, so growing up, I never had that close sense of belonging like my friends did with cousins their own age.

Having Alessandro and Elena here, I feel so spoilt. It's wonderful. Hurrah for family, huh?

Oh and while I remember, a BIG shout out to the organic juice bar in Margaret River ... hands down the best juice I've ever tasted. Go there, buy one. You'll love it.

Tomorrow, the drive home. Monday. Training begins again.

Alla prossima

GT

Baby it aint over till it's over....

Good bye Busso, hello Darlington. Yep folks. I've been beaten by Gastro Gold. Yes ladies and gentlemen, not two, but four days of gastro. My crafty body lulled me into a false sense of security and I THOUGHT I was all better but then...ROUND TWO.

Half of Perth is down with this thing. So by my basic calculations, that would have left me with four weeks to get ready for the Busso half.

No. Dice.

But it's okay! Cause baby, it aint over till it's over (great song from the 90's). So it's straight to the hills for me....back to Darlington, the scene of my blooding as a runner.

I'm gonna spend the rest of the week seriously getting better...then, training starts again on Monday.

GT

oh...p.s. How GREAT is summer! I am itching to get back out on the track between Trigg and Hillarys ...specially at first light and late in the afternoon when the sun is going down. You can't beat it.

Did I walk under a ladder???

I write this on the couch, recovering from a brutal 24 hours of gastro. Did I walk under a ladder? If I was superstitious, I'd be racking my brains for evidence. But I'm not. And i digress. My point is, i JUST got over the man-virus and now this.

Seriously folks, without straying into the territory of a massive over-share, I had no idea the human body could behave the way mine did over the last 24 hours.

Put it this way. I am now confident of my status as a world champion spewer. Say no more.

I actually spewed into my own hair. This is true. I am over sharing and I don't care. Not one bit.

Oh how delightful this must be for you guys to read...I consider it a verbal purge, as opposed to the literal one, if you get my drift.

And I will say this, God bless the person who left a box of Jatz Crackers at my house after New Year's Eve. Those little critters have saved me today. And PowerAide. Thank the Good Lord for PowerAide.

What all of this points to is the fact that once again, I have missed my long run. And I'm running out of time. I don't want to diss my friend Winston Churchil, but I gotta be realistic. My coach says it will be touch and go to be ready for Busso with just five weeks left - four if you count my taper...

We shall see. Oh and a big shout out to Lauren T Gorton - gtmedia gal extraordinaire and currently fighting off the flu while on her fully sick honeymoon in the states. Get better Loz! The team is cheering for you!

Now, where are those Jatz??

GT