Satellite

26 lumps of NASA space craft smashed into earth this weekend.  NASA asked that, should you find a piece of the 6 ton satellite, you shouldnt touch it, because it might be sharp.  And its theirs... hands off communists.  Chances of a piece hitting you are 3000:1, so make sure you're in a crowd.

Sunday morning, after a night staring at the ceiling counting segments I decided the time was right for a run.  I'd pieced together a route the night before, for the first time venturing into Beacon Bay.  I've never lived on the other side though, so many assumptions were made about distance.
I'm now intimately aquainted with everything you can see in Beacon Bay if you're staring at the ground; car mags, small dogs, verges, storm water drains and the wall I leant against while refuelling at the cafe where the N6 arrives in Slummies.

Vincent

Life wasn't overwhelming enough, so Nic and I decided to break camp and head for higher ground, and lower rent this month.  We now live in Vincent.  No longer do I risk a runner-homicide on the trip home along Beach Road, the new route affords little opportunity to kill anything, although that doesn't mean everything in Vincent deserves to live.
Enter the mini-circle user.

Admittedly, mini-circles are the stupidist, least thought out traffic device ever cemented into the tarmac... which is saying a lot.  However, they do exist, and choosing to ignore their unique rules, doesn't do anyone any favours.  Least of all people living nearby who frequent the circle.  Me. I do. I live nearby.

Then there's the peacock.  Yes, we're in Vincent now.  Vincent, home of exotic wildlife.  Gone are the mundane Border Colleys, miscriant cats and greyish/brown doves of Nahoon.  Nic and I have each spent time trying to pin point the bird's location, thus far vexed by the echo in dip we're living in.  But when we do find it...

Genesis

06:00 - Aaang Aaaang Aaang Aaaang...
06:00:01 - Fumble for 'Snooze'
06:00:04 - Wait for heart rate to return to safe operating levels.
06:04 - Stumble through to kitchen, put kettle on
06:05 - Return to kitchen, lean on cupboard and bend into fridge to get milk
06:07 - Lift kettle off stand before it explodes (kettle no longer stops when it boils)
06:09 - Fumble in cupboard for ginger biscuits. Retrieve two.  Return to bedroom.
06:10 - Sit down on bed.  Pull blanket over legs and stare at lap.
06:10:15 - Stick ginger biscuit into mouth.
06:10:20 - Chew biscuit.
06:12:00 - Slurp coffee.
06:12:10 - Dunk leftover half of biscuit and put in mouth. Chew.
06:12:20 - Dunk second biscuit.  Put whole biscuit in mouth.
06:12:25 - Feel regret over having eaten second biscuit so quickly.
06:13:00 - Slurp coffee.

And so it began.

Mornings - the less verbose edition.

And now, using less words following reader complaints.


I don't like getting up.  When it's dark I want to be in bed.  Sometimes I do - but it doesn't mean its easy.  I avoid all humans till 8am.  Ask Nic... he knows :)


When it was cold, it was even harder.  I hardly ran these last 3 months. Fail.  Now I spend 10 minutes negotiating my release from bed.


The plan of action:


The easy win.  Every now and then I just get up.  So I usually just mumble "OK, Let's go running"... in case its one of those mornings.


Isolation.  If I'm still lying bed, I talk through each of the excuses keeping me there.  This can take time, depending on how creative I'm feeling.


Go Time.  Once I've run out of excuses, and have woken myself up through the inner turmoil, I have about 15 seconds to roll out of bed and put the kettle on.

Mornings

I'm no morning person.  Depending on the definition, you might be fooled into thinking that seeing as I managed to leverage my ass out of bed, I might quaify for membership in that most despised clique.  But then I can't handle conversation before 8am and would rather remain unengaged.

Winter was tough.  I had logged an impressive number of morning runs through autumn, unfortunatley my resolve didn't have the legs for the month of June... then July and then August.  My bad.  This has lead to a lot of heavy debate at 5 in the morning (albeit only once a week).  Between me and my less keen inner man.

Methodology.

The easy win.  There have been a few moments of unforced discipline in the last month, so first stop is a simple 'OK, lets go running'.  Unfortunately, this remains an unlikely solution.

Isolation.  Phase 2 is a movement to isolate this run as a vital inclusion into my weekly excersize, and a systematic dismantling of all excuses put forward.  Seriously, I do this.

Go time.  Once I have motive on my side, the crucial 'Actually getting out of bed' moment arrives, and failure to act within the window of opportunity can be game-chaning, read game ending.