...until I pound the pavement from Devonport to Victoria Park via Takapuna, Northcote and the Auckland Harbour Bridge. Twentyone kilometers of scenic route (well, scenic for the whole 1km over the bridge), although I distinctly remember the last time when I did this *without any training* I practically cursed at myself the whole way vowing to never do it again *without any training*. Well here I am, 4 weeks to go, still trying to get over the flu and feeling pitifully sorry for myself, and with only 3 "training" runs under my belt that combined don't even add up to 21 I'm wondering how on earth I'm going to pull this off? At this point the only thing I'm thankful for is that I didn't go with my original idea of registering for the full marathon! Of course there is the option of not doing it, but my Asian brain thinks it's a waste of $100. What's more if I go and get the race pack with the T-shirt (you can't pay $100 and forego your race pack) I could never wear it in public if I didn't do the event because everyone seems to comment about it, and I'd be embarrassed to tell the truth, or even worse - lie about it. So it all boils down to the fact that I paid some money and my ego is compelling me to do the event, so I will - even if it kills me!
Sunny Spring Saturday
We were busy on Saturday morning doing nothing in particular - it was another pity party for one going on in my head so there was no motivation whatsoever for anything. Jef had ducked out to the yacht at 6am to make sure it was still afloat and I'm pleased to report that it is indeed a seaworthy vessel. He reported that the sea was in a beautiful and glassy state of stillness, as evidenced in this awesome pic he took with his iPhone.
It would have been so great to have been out there with him, but I did not fancy such an early start for both myself and Kien. We were snoozing together on the mattress in the lounge (he woke at 5:15am, I didn't have the stamina to sit at his cot reassuring him for an indefinite amount of time, so it was a justifiable reasonable time to take him to bed). It's OK, we've got all summer to look forward to.
We did get out in the afternoon to Western Park.
The aroma of freshly mown grass mingled with the sweet perfume of Freesias are my favourite smells for Spring. It invokes such vivid memories of childhood innocence and the promise of an invitingly long summer holiday just around the corner stretching out for what seemed like an eternity.
I love being excited about something. It doesn't even matter what it is so long as I get that fluttering butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach when I think about it. My limbic system does an upstanding job with making me feel good, like I am being slowly drip-fed endorphines at no extra cost.
I feel this way when I witness my son's beaming smile.
I feel this way when I catch Kien looking inquisitively at something.
I feel this way when I can smell Spring floating through the breeze, soft and subtle, yet it packs such a punch to my imagination.
As such, my memories will be selective, and these are the good times I will no doubt remember and look back on through fondly tinted spectacles, rose coloured of course.
Rainy Winter Sunday
It was wet, and it was cold. Jef had escaped the confines of my grasp the night before to watch the All Blacks vs. France match in the city. It was healthy for him to be out with his friends, and I'm glad he had a great time.
We lazed at home in the morning, and went to our boat shed in the afternoon. I like Northcote Point, and I like our boat shed. It is rustic and quaint, just how a boat shed should be.
Kien helped Jef take measurements.
He thought it was hilarious to run off with the keys. We were a bit worried they were going to end up in the water if we let him get away on us.
I chased him around for a bit, then he discovered the joys of jumping up and down in the kayak.
We went for a stroll but didn't manage to make it too far.
Kien missed his daddy, and the further we walked the more upset he became. As the weather was already packing in I didn't want to be caught in the drizzle anyway.
Our Firedancer is out there, waiting for us to make the most of the sea that surrounds this island.
It's on the mooring, beckoning us to have wonderful adventures together. I can't wait, and I am excited about the endless possibilities.
This is our yacht - Firedancer.
