We had spinach and ricotta agnolotti for dinner tonight and got onto the subject of the origins of pasta. Noodles, pasta, history – some real, some legend (like Marco Polo bringing it back from China in the 13th century) all the italian names for the various types, and Deb says “so what did they [Italians] eat before pasta?”. I responded: “sauce.”
Bold as Brass
I’m an Auskick coach. Today while tying shoelaces for one of my charges (one of the unavoidable tasks when you’re coaching seven-year-olds), he said to me “You’re bold, like my Dad.” I’m thinking “what on earth is he talking about?”, so I say “what do you mean?”, and he says “you’re going bold, just like my Dad.” At this stage I realise that he’s looking at the top of my head, and I also realise what he’s trying to say. Now, fast forward to the evening where I’m recounting this tale to my lovely wife, Deb. Remember also, constant reader, that every year when I switch back from Daylight Shavings Time to Standard Time, Deb comments that my hair is coming back a bit thinner on top, in all the standard male-pattern-baldness places. So I tell her the tale, and of course she laughs and exclaims that she’s been telling me that for years. To which I reply: “So what you’re telling me is that you have all the tact of a seven-year-old?”.
Cyclists: if your chain is slipping, get it fixed.
Don’t be like me, ignoring it for weeks and procrastinating about getting it repaired. You’ll end up jumping up on the pedals to accelerate around a corner, suffer a major chain slip, lose the bike from under you and hit the road with a BIG thud.
Don’t end up with a skinned elbow and knee, and a bruise on your thigh the size of your outstretched hand. Trust me, it’s not pleasant.
Of course, Nick would just tell me to get it fixed, but that’s another project altogether. Which has commenced.
R4K
I ran in the inaugural Run for the Kids fun-run on Palm Sunday. I wasn’t sure if I would even start, as I had injured my hip two weeks before: I went to bed on the Saturday night feeling fine, but woke up on the Sunday morning and I could barely walk. Turns out I had somehow irritated my right hip joint, and the muscles around it had kicked in to protect it. In particular my rectus femoris was extremely tight. But with a few physio sessions over the following week with the amazing Steve Evans at the Alphington Sports Medicine Clinic, I was back running 3km the next Wednesday and 6km on Friday. The R4K was 14.7km over a spectacular course: over the Bolte Bridge, through the Domain Tunnel (which was very hot and humid) and through the City to the finish at the Childrens’ Hospital. I finished in 81m 39s, which really surprised me as I was expecting to run a lot slower. I honestly felt like I was running much slower than that – my average heart rate for the run was 157. I guess all the training is paying off.
