Nathan Vs. The Marathon

So, I've been training for this marathon-thingy for a few weeks, thinking - as you do - that I never put in this much training before, and I've always been okay, but neglecting to consider the fact that the first marathon was something like 14 years ago, and while that's not very much time in geological terms, in the life of someone who, given a choice, would be a completely sedentary being, it's actually time for quite a few changes to take place.

Atrophy of the sense of humor, for one, and also a tendency to run-on sentences (looking back at that first sentence makes me cringe, but I'll leave the words as they are to lend an air of authenticity and a stream-of-consciousness sort of Faulkenerian...damn, doing it again).

Two weeks ago, when a pipe burst under the sink, causing water to spray an outlet, causing a fuse to blow which, when I went out of the front door, the resulting chimney effect caused the back door to slam shut, and breaking it - well, that sort of Chevy Chase morning would usually have me rolling on the floor. But not during marathon training.

Instead, it took series of totally bizarre, classic Fremantle (the town we live in) events to bring it all back to perspective.

1) On a run later that morning, I spotted a group of people in white pajamas and red belts chasing around one of the parks, wrestling with what appeared to be a bear. We are talking like, a couple-dozen people here, and splashing around in a 50 degree drizzle. In pajamas - or did I mention that already? Intrigued, I ran a little closer, and discovered that they were enacting the running of the bulls in Pamplona, with the part of the Bull being played by a guy in a rented costume and no audience - just out there having fun.

Interesting, but I still needed more.

2) That Same Day - we boarded a train into the city, and found ourselves on a carriage of 25 or so guys in their late twenties, all dressed as characters from Harry Potter, complete with broomsticks and wands, using the don't-fall-over straps to hold themselves up and pretend that they were flying on the broomsticks. Other than loud, they were a pretty pleasant bunch, and actually gave a broomstick to a little boy as he was leaving, cheering loudly when he "flew" along side the departing train car.

Surreal, yes, but not enough to re-align my sense of humor.

3) Later That Night - on the way back from the city, our train was boarded by a jungle. A dozen or so people dressed variously as foliage, big cats, and intrepid explorers got on board. No explanation, just having a good time.

Okay, okay! I surrender! All this in one day? Really! Somebody is telling me something.

All in all, this sort of day - starting with the burst pipe and continuing on through George of the Jungle's appearance at the end of the day, was enough to keep me smiling all through the marathon yesterday - well, most of the marathon. It took a long, long time, and nobody can smile for that long, I don't care which infomercial they work for.

Audience poll: First thing that pops into your mind when I type the new word usement I'm structuring, "Marathong"
I kept typing it by accident, then started wondering if it was really for some, non-freudian reason that I would need your help divining. Or maybe it's just the obvious...

Nathan Vs. The Puck

Kris has been trying to get me to re-enact my last trip to the US, and the misadventures of an episode of my life which we will think of as Nathan Vs. United Airlines, but it is actually fairly boring. A standard litany of airline ills, any one or two of which you may well expect on a trip, but ALL of which occurred on the trip from Perth to SFO. So, start with the phrase, "We're sorry Mr. Mannix, but you don't actually have a ticket..." being uttered at 5:30 AM, and use your imagination from there.

No, I like to focus on the other painful things in my life.

So, before you have a look at the photo below, you need to know 3 things;

1) I don't bruise. Ever. I have had one slight bruise in the last 5 years, and that was a broken finger.
2) I am very shy, so it is rare that you will ever see my bare flesh on the internet.
and,
3) It is very difficult to capture bruises on camera. You get the general sense of contrast, but it is difficult to highlight the halo of sickly, yellow discoloration around the main bruise.

So, without further delay...


It is worth noting that I don't play in a hugely competitive league or anything, and this is from the kick-around session on Monday nights.

damn - I should have flexed.