Bloody Long Walk

For anyone who has been following my other blog, you will know that I was planning to walk The Bloody Long Walk with some friends, Purple Lady and Design Diva. Well, we did it, and here are the photos to prove it. We started at the beginning, which is a very good place to start, but a horrific ear worm. See how we are all smiling at the top of Red Hill, before we get blisters and exhaustion. 

 

We were given caps and water bottles at the start line, which was a little annoying as we had been dropped off and I had not planned to carry anything - now I had to wear/ carry these items until our first meeting with our support crew. This is really a minor quibble. I appreciated the clear markers and signs that indicated we were on the right route. Although we have reccied it before, it was nice not to have to keep referring to a map and just follow the signs. 

We had arranged for a support crew to meet us with encouragement and sustenance at regular intervals. The crew comprised Him Outdoors, The Luminosity and TT. At our first stop at Lennox Gardens, about 8km in, they provided us with cheers, energy drinks, water and TT's superb sausage rolls. 

The walk potters round and about through the embassies and posh suburbs, calling past the Southern Cross Yacht Club, where we had phoned ahead for our coffee order from the support crew, much to the envy of other walkers (that's the goal, right?).

I did note that some teams were walking with loud music playing through speakers - I found this pretty annoying, and it didn't help that they were generally playing stuff I don't like. I understand that you might need music to motivate yourself, but that's what headphones are for - not everyone shares your penchant for noise pollution and it's pretty inconsiderate. That is not a point for the organisers, as there is nothing they can do about the selfishness of others, but it's a fairly large quibble. I would go so far as to say I was feeling peeved.

One team, on the other hand, had a stack of questions with which they were quizzing each other as they read them out from cards. As we passed them we heard them ask, 'How many toes have most cats got?' I love the way that question is phrased (to make allowances for three-legged felines and furry freaks, I guess), and we learned the answer is 18. I knew they had four on the back paws but had forgotten about the extra tree-climbing toe at the front. Educational exercise - what a great thing!

Halfway through the official Bloody Long Walk, we paused at the Yarralumla Nursery for further support from the crew. This station included frittata from The Luminosity and fruit cake made by Patience Itself. Design Diva assures us that, contrary to appearances, the cake was awesome. "I was part way through chewing in this picture and trying to smile at the same time and it came out as me looking unimpressed."

There is some pain here, mainly in the foot department; Purple Lady will be the first to admit that this is more of a grimace than a grin. At this point we were half way around Black Mountain Peninsula - the 25km sign says, "Hey, at least it's not a marathon". My, how we laughed! (Joke explained later.) As to why we are crouching in the photo, I've got absolutely no idea. Delirium perhaps?

The next 10km were tough. Purple Lady was in agony, almost tears, and was loosing her will to continue. She swore she would finish (actually, she just swore) and at one point asked us to just talk any old nonsense to her to take her mind off the pain in her feet. For the final 5km around the central basin of Lake Burley Griffin, we played a game whereby we picked a category and ran through the alphabet, taking a letter each. At one point we chose 'dog varieties' and we started out well: Alsatian; Beagle; Corgi; Dachshund etc. Things were flagging towards the tail end of the alphabet however (do you see what I did there?), as we got to Terrier; Ugly Dog; Very Ugly Dog; Weimaraner; Xtremely Ugly Dog; Yorkie; Ze Ozzer Dogz. Well, we were very tired...

But we finished the walk, and here is the proof - The Luminosity celebrating wildly with us as we crossed the line. 

As mentioned before, Him Outdoors pointed out that if I continued for another 7.2km at the end of this Bloody Long Walk, I would have walked a marathon. I felt I had come this far, so why not? Design Diva agreed, so we walked through the finish line, went to the toilet, and carried on our merry little way. Purple Lady could not walk another step, so we arranged to meet her at the conclusion of our unofficial 42.195km at Capital Brewing. 

Him Outdoors parked there and came back to meet us, jollying us along for the final stretch - as our own jollity was stretched a little fine by this point. We had to do a lap of the carpark to make up our distance, but reader, we made it. I know we look exhausted; we were. There are easier ways of getting a pint, but the beer at the end was very satisfying. 

It was a long day, but very rewarding. To 'cap' it off, I soaked in the bath and had a glass of bubbles. Cheers to my walking chums and the superb support crew. Here's to us all. We achieved a thing. 

Hard work doesn't pay

Last weekend we went down to Invercargill so that Him Outdoors could run the Southland Marathon. It was celebrating its one hundredth anniversary and is the oldest full distance marathon in the Southern Hemisphere.

I hobbled around the 10km on a dodgy knee, and Him Outdoors ran the marathon in a personal best time (2:52:15) – he doesn’t really ‘do’ marathons unless they are off-road and over mountains.

But this isn’t really the point. What I noticed was that he was equal 23rd overall and 14th Master (a ‘Master’ is over 35 on race day). Twelve of the top 20 males were Masters. There were 33 Open men, and 159 Masters. In the women’s category the top two women were Masters. The ratio of Open to Masters was 17:58.

In the half-marathon, Bernie Portenski ran 1:27:27, the second fastest half marathon ever by a woman over 60. She was just over a minute outside the world record. I don’t suppose you heard about it.

You probably did hear about the LG Text championships, because it was on national news. The national ‘champion’ won $10,000 and a trip to New York to represent NZ in the world championships where the winner gets USD100,000.

Despite all the talk about battling obesity and pushing play, sport is not really encouraged for young folk. Obviously the bright lights and big dollars have allure. In real sport (from which I am excluding X-games, Monopoly, poker and paintball), there isn’t any for anything other than rugby. Hopefully the fantastic All Whites victory (although they might have to change that moniker in South Africa) might change this. But I doubt it.

Apart from some nationalistic flag waving, the Olympic rowing and cycling medals had little effect on the youth psyche. Why? Because it’s hard work. It’s a hell of a lot of training for a number of years to perhaps get a medal, and you probably won’t be that good. Early morning starts, quantified nutritional intake, sacrifices of nights out drinking and partying, commitment and dedication… Why not just press a few buttons or throw a few dice instead?

Peter Snell, John Walker, Murray Halberg, Dick Quax, Arthur Lydiard, Marise Chamberlain, Alison Roe – these are legendary names and rightfully so. They earned their reputation and respect by quite literally doing the hard yards.

Times have changed and what kids want these days, according to career surveys and interviews, is money and the ‘fame’. Often they have no concept that they actually have to earn that fame.

A friend of mine who interviewed potential hosts for a radio station told me that when she asked the candidates why they wanted to be on the radio, they nearly all said because they wanted to be famous – not a good journalist, a knowledgeable presenter, a music lover, a comedian, or even (perhaps knowing that they lacked any aptitude) a personality.

With the comparable rewards that are being offered, no wonder kids would rather sit on their arses text messaging their friends than go out training for five hours a day, fitted around their ‘real’ job because they can’t get sponsorship to be an athlete. They may be lazy, but they’re not stupid.

Olympics: Disappointing ending

It's really no secret that I have loved these Olympics, and followed the antics and achievements of the athletes like a spectacular drama.

But I'm afraid to say that the finale was ultimately a let-down. Despite all the hoopla of the closing ceremony and the handover to Britain involving a double decker bus, David Beckham and some umbrellas, the events of the last day were all a bit ho-hum.

True, it kicked off with the men's marathon which was remarkable for its pace and style in that heat and humidity, but where were the rest of the athletics? I'm sure that the final day used to involve proper events and baton twirling - sorry, relay races. Now the baton twirling is not ironic, and represented by rythm gymnastics, with handball and volleyball finals also being decided. Add to this the spectacle of water polo and the whole thing is a bit of a damp squib.

So I am left looking ahead to the prospect of the next games in London. I really hope that we will dispense with the lavish ceremony and cut to the parade of nations, a couple of speeches and then everyone is entertained by a quick burst of morris dancing and a couple of stand-up comedians, and it's off down the pub - bring your own tankard. We could save a good thirty million pounds right there. Maybe we could plough it into sporting organisations or, and here's an idea, give it to the health and education systems!

I have heard a rumour that darts will be in an as exhibition sport - now that's pretty British. Let's not stop there. Why don't we include cheese rolling, fell running and pint racing? This has to be better than cricket, golf and rugby which are some of the suggestions for sports to be included. They have their own major, and highly paid professional, tournaments. They don't need to be part of our games.

I have also heard that baseball and softball will be dropped, and if there's any justice, beach volleyball will go the same way. If we must include it, why don't we make them play on Brighton beach with its not-so-soft shingle and it's freezing water? They'll rue those skimpy costumes then, although that would probably please the lecherous lads (the only people who actually watch this 'sport') even more.

And if we must have a closing ceremony, let it be along the lines of It's a Knockout. The athletes could race up and down on tricycles wearing comedy clown feet and royal family masks. They could play their jokers, wade through blancmange and carry buckets of coloured water with holes in the bottom. And Stuart 'As a Hatter' Hall could guffaw throughout proceedings. Now we just have to start lip-synching and crushing protests. I'm looking forward to it already!