OK. I’ve been busy.
Life just does that to you sometimes and you need to take a break from blogs and stuff to get other things done. I’ve been flat out for the last 6 months and a lot of things have been neglected.
And you begin to think of these things at 10 minutes to midnight on New Year’s Eve… you begin to formulate an idea for a New Year’s Resolution.
You see it’s far enough away from New Year’s Even now for me to admit mine because I’ve bucked the trend and stuck to mine.
I decided that this year I’d look after myself more. I needed to. I was beginning to get puffed just standing up. Putting a sock on was like doing a full yoga class. And over 50% of my shirts were useless because they’d ‘shrunk’.
So this is a ‘me’ year. And I’ve discovered the latest fitness trendy thing for those of us who understand that not everyone looks good in lycra – the Sunday Morning walk from Waterfall Gully to Mt Lofty.
Yes. I’ve joined the crowd who have committed to the climb for reasons of fitness. And I’ve done it twice.
The biggest laugh for me though, is listening to the conversations of those descending while I ascend. You can’t talk to people going up… you just can’t talk; your mouth is too busy gulping air into burning lungs for conversation. So I listen to snippets going the other way and they combine into strange sentences…
“with our third girl doing Year 12 this year…”
“not realising they were married…”
“I find they make me burp for days.”
“University isn’t everything, is it…”
“…you need to turn them more often.”
“I doubt they’ll flower this year.”
And when I do find a little spare air to mouth a ‘Good Morning’ at at passing ‘Thirty Year old Woman Who Is Pretending to be a Teenager’ I get glared at as though I’d made some outrageous obscene comment. Ladies, I can assure you the heavy breathing is a genuine attempt to ward of unconsciousness.
4 Chinese women, wearing shiny tracksuits zipped to the chin (no pun intended), strolled past down hill. It’s 38 degrees for heavens sake.
3 young guns in training for the Norwood Football Club bounded past at Bay Sheffield speed, surefooted and totally in control. In stark contract to the mid-school boys who followed all lose ankled and gangly; as if the great puppeteer, Gravity, had strummed their marionette strings.
EventuallyI made it to the top after stopping to admire the view and embarrassing amount of times and light-headed, I mingled with the tourists, cyclists and other walkers. The queue for coffee is far to long.
59 minutes up. So my goal is to make it down in half that time. I can jolly close.
You see, I’m not trying to turn back the clock. Just beat it.