Once in a blue June.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

[place holder]

I will write something here soon.

Meantime, in keeping with the apparent prime purpose of the internet, here's a picture of a cat.

[Charliecat5]

[place holder]

I will write something here soon.

Meantime, in keeping with the apparent prime purpose of the internet, here's a picture of a cat.

What cat?

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I am the greatest!

My earlier posts re boxing have now been put into sharp relief by the untimely demise of that legend of legends, Muhammad Ali. It would not have mattered what sport Ali chose as a youngster growing up, he would have been a formidable champion, of that I have little to no doubt. Some people, as many have observed are simply destined for greatness, and Ali was one of the chosen few.

Of all great sporting champions, Ali would have been the first that impacted me as a youngster, his mix of sporting greatness, self-belief and gift of words had him simply towering over everyone else. It wasn't just me as an impressionable youth of course. People of all ages and from every walk of life were awed by this man, and rightly so. Whatever you might think of boxing as a sport, Ali's formidable presence on this planet could not be ignored. That he should die at 74, an age surely too young in contemporary society, particularly for a superior athlete, may or may not be attributable at least in part to his chosen sport. It is never the less once again a timely reminder to us all that even the greatest of athletes can draw their last breath way too prematurely, and that life and all its fullness should be lived and enjoyed to its maximum. Muhammad would have insisted on nothing less for any of us.

This is not the greatest obituary ever written, but Ali must have come close to being one of the greatest athletes of all time. Will he rest in peace? I suspect not. He will go on fighting, fighting for freedom, fighting for basic human dignity and fighting to bring out the champion in all of us.

Box on!

“I am the greatest. I said that even before I knew I was. I figured that if I said it enough, I would convince the world that I really was the greatest.”

[marathondan]

Thanks for sharing, MLCMM. The media here has been full of statistics and counter-statistics, accusations of exaggeration and downright lying, list after list on both sides. Personally I can't see how anyone can really know what would happen in either scenario, so I'll be going with my gut instinct, which hasn't changed in years. Must pencil in a long run for Thursday night - anything to avoid the analysis.

One thing is certain - after last year's general election, Corbyn, Trump, and Leicester City, nothing is predictable.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Brexit AU

It might interest some British and European readers that the Brexit vote, to be held in a few days has attracted huge media coverage here in Australia. Indeed, last weekend’s newspapers (if you remember such things as newspapers, ghastly oversized things stinking of printers’ ink and staining your hands) were full of double page, closely typed spreads with no photos, no charts or graphs and inviting serious consideration of the intellectual arguments on both sides. Meanwhile, our own federal election campaign is in full swing, but is generally reduced to a sound bite, a cost of living chart or a handful of dot points outlining rather dull policies designed, it seems, to reduce Australia to a nation of snorers, so uninteresting is our own ballot by comparison.

The whole concept of the EU is somewhat baffling to those of us with British heritage but not resident there. To visit requires a 90 day visa, easily and generally automatically granted. To want to stick around and maybe work for a bit on the other hand, is extraordinarily difficult even if your parents were both English (as were mine), and requiring the outlay of significant sums of non-refundable monies for mysterious visas which may or may not allow to you stay, work and perhaps vote in the EU. Or not, as the case may be. Pay your migration broker another chunk of cash and they might tell you your odds, but nothing is certain except confusion and doubt, such is the complexity of British immigration law for non-EU citizens.

It’s weird then to visit charming, rustic parts of England and stay in a B&B owned and run by a Polish couple, and have your full English breakfast cooked by a Romanian chef and served to you by a Hungarian. There’s nothing wrong with that of course, and I have to say I couldn’t really see any indication that the influx of people from other parts of the EU did anything to seriously diminish the local culture no matter where we went.

What is interesting, and perhaps not a little perplexing is the contrast between the difficulties of members of British Commonwealth nations trying to attain residency in Britain whilst EU members have no restrictions at all. This is rather frustrating for us, not to mention expensive if we choose to apply for and receive the necessary visas, which aren’t cheap.

Actually, this unease goes way back to 1973 when Britain first joined the ‘Common Market’, a trade coalition of six or so European nations that pre-empted the EU. This had a marked impact on my own family, then living in the southern Australian state of Tasmania. Back then Tasmania was famous for its apples, producing significant quantities for export primarily to Britain, and for which the island state received its moniker the ‘Apple Isle’. My Dad, who was a shipwright by trade made good money during the apple season by fitting out cargo vessels that would bring whatever to Tasmania, unload and then require extensive refitting of their cargo holds to take huge quantities of refrigerated apples back to the ‘mother country’. This work was exacting, physically demanding and had to be done quickly, hence the good wages for what was a relatively simple job for a craftsman shipwright.

Then virtually overnight nearly the entire apple industry was wiped out as Britain joined the Common Market and sourced its apples from its European trading partners rather than little old Tasmania.  Entire orchards were grubbed out and planted instead to soft berries and potatoes, and the extensive, lucrative ship re-fitting work for shipwrights such as my Dad evaporated to nothing. My father had to take a job as a general carpenter and nothing was ever quite the same again.

It is extremely interesting therefore to see what may become of Britain. From here I get no especially clear idea as to which way the vote will go, except that it will be probably quite close. About half the population of Britain are therefore set to be disappointed, which is never a good thing, no matter which way the result sits. What will become of the B&B-owning Polish couple, their Romanian chef and Hungarian waiter should Britain leave the EU would be interesting to see.

I would say this: during my two recent trips through Europe, whilst I saw an enormous cross-pollination of people ever-moving around the continent, local heritage and culture remained remarkably strong. People in the street might seem out of place and be speaking a strange language, but the local culture remained strong as ever, or so it seemed to me. The homogeneity of people that I saw and which I feared might destroy local heritage and identity in fact seemed only to strengthen it. Co-mingling cultures perhaps actually amplify all culture, not water it down as I thought might happen. This is a good thing.

On the subject of governance and trade though, I have no idea. Countries have successfully traded with each other without the need for trade agreements in the past and will do so in the future. Such agreements seem to me to only fix prices and reduce competitiveness, as we saw in Tasmania back in 1973. But as I say, I’m no expert, just perhaps a small victim.

Good luck, Britain. I hope you choose well and can live with whatever the outcome.

 

 

 

[Sweder]

You're right about the outcome. It will be close and therefore divisive. My issue is, this is what we elect politicians for. Our PM was blackmailed into handing this decision to the masses by a man unelected in the UK. Fear drove Cameron into this corner, now fear is being wielded like a mighty sword on both sides. I've never heard so much misleading bullshit spouted, again on both sides.

There is a xenophobic element to 'Leave' that sticks in my craw. In the 1950's and 60's Britain desperately needed workers to take on the jobs we didn't want or couldn't fill. We saw an influx of afro-Caribbean people. That created unrest and lead to Enoch Powell's infamous 'rivers of blood' speech in parliament. Poorly educated, chippy Brits moan about foreigners stealing their jobs today even as they spend hand-outs on beer and tabs, or down the bookies. They won't like it when Boris slams the door and says 'right lads, time to get to work'.

The UK is being asked to vote yes or no on a subject that is far from black and white.
Parts of the EU - bureaucracy, money distribution, Walking Dead-style open borders, lashing disparate economies to the same fiscal rules and currency, the Idealogs seeking total political union - are awful.

Others, the easy blend of cultures, human and civil rights, minimum wage/ equal pay, free trade, peace amongst nations previously at war, embracing Mother Russia's former satellites, are to be admired. It's all-or-nothing. I prefer to stand and fight our corner inside the club, others to turn away to be free to trade with whomever we please.

There's no right or wrong, other than the wrong of giving the general population this incredibly important decision to make. The whole thing smacks of political cowardice.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

55 ways to leave your blubber.

In a few months, I turn 55. This an age of significance for many in my workplace, the government broadcasting service here in Australia. Those who began working here prior to 1990 had the opportunity to join a particular government-run defined benefits superannuation scheme. Defined benefit schemes in general are like a golden goose for anyone intending to live to a very old age, because when you retire they pay out for life no matter how long you live, and then to your spouse if you die before them. Compared to most superannuation schemes which are simple cash accumulation funds and which run out all too soon unless you take a very meagre pension, these are schemes to (ahem) die for.

However, for those who joined the scheme I'm referring to, life is even better, because there was a loophole in methods used to calculate your pension which meant that if you resigned about one month before turning 55, and then announced your retirement one month later, the loophole in pension calculations meant you could retire on about the same pension as if you had continued working until age 60. So of course the vast majority of people in that scheme did exactly that, and over the last 10 - 15 years I have seen a steady stream of colleagues hit the magic 54 years and 11 months of age and say 'adios', disappearing into the land of retirement with a huge dollar-shaped smile on their face, still in the prime of life (or very nearly) and leaving those of us in other, less generous schemes pondering the unfairness of it all as we faced the prospect of working at least ten years longer whilst contributing into a different scheme for far less return. I mean, it just doesn't make much sense, but of course good luck to those that were fortunate enough to benefit from this odd but extremely generous gratuity.

So, with my own 55th birthday soon to come and go whilst I continue beavering away with no prospect of hanging up my dust jacket anytime soon*, it's time once again to consider my life's journey and the goals I wish to meet along the way. If I am to continue working for a living, then the old work/life balance takes on ever greater significance as the stresses and strains of shift work make life that much harder. Running is still a great joy, but the physical demands of permanent, rotating shift work are not to be dismissed lightly. The state of more-or-less permanent jet lag and the quicksand of accumulated fatigue ensure that motivation for anything, least of all running is never easy to find, and for that reason my running habit has never been a daily routine as work and the general demands of life constantly push the daily jog somewhere well down the to-do list where it often languishes unreached.

To help overcome this I generally enter a few races each year which gives me a goal or two to focus on and a reason to train, rather than it being just another item on the list of things that need to be done each day. Some goals, such as any form of marathon are often just too huge, requiring too much effort that is too difficult to find in the fog of general everyday living, but occasionally they manage to avoid complete disintegration and a modest collection of race bibs and finisher's medals have slowly accumulated over the years, and more importantly have kept me in generally pretty good health despite the rigours of work.

Some race goals motivate me because I know those particular races and enjoy competing in them. Others are a particular challenge, such as any full distance marathon. Still others are motivating simply because I have never raced them before, while others are such brutes that I am motivated to train for them and put in a better effort than previously. One such race of course is the 21.4km continuous uphill challenge that is the annual Point to Pinnacle. This race I have entered four times, and four times I have completed the event never being entirely satisfied that I gave it my best shot. On race day I did my best, of that I am sure, but the weeks of training leading up the race have never gone entirely well. This year's event is now 20 weeks away, and I have already committed to run it once again, mainly to encourage second son Stephen, who is entering for a third time to bolster his own fitness.

Just a few weeks ago I was on a bit of a runner's high, having recently completed two half marathons and in my enthusiasm I was then looking at a whole gaggle of other races to enter for the remainder of the year. Life however has a habit of getting in the way of grandiose schemes and the reality is that if I am not to burn out completely and disappear without trace in the Mary Celeste of training schedules, then I need to remain focussed on one major goal and work toward that to the exclusion of other extraneous and largely unnecessary races.

I am therefore as of today embarking on a 20 week programme designed to get me to the Point to Pinnacle finish line on top of Mount Wellington (now more officially known by its indigenous aboriginal name kunanyi) in what I trust will be a personal best time. Key to my training will be the treadmill, the only reliable and simple way of training on a continuous uphill slope. My new beast will even simulate the Point to Pinnacle course for me, and so I am toying with the idea of 'running' the course each fortnight, or even perhaps each week over the next twenty weeks as my scheduled long run. I say 'run' the course each week, but the truth is that I have yet to entirely run the complete course at all, as it is just too brutal. But also therein lies my thinking: to be sure large sections will need to be walked in the early weeks, and perhaps the majority of the course will even be at an amble. But perhaps also it will be the best method of actually gaining the leg strength and endurance necessary to finally run the entire thing. And if I can do that, then perhaps I may one day properly retire from the work force, knowing in my heart that at least once in my life I actually completed the P2P and ran the entire sodding thing.

Now that really would be something. In fact for me, that would be a huge something.

And so that's the plan. And in case you were wondering, I turn 55 just four or so weeks before race day.

Here we go.



* I don't really have a dust jacket. 

[Sweder]

They re-named the fucker??? Does that mean I have to run it again???
Bugger.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

They re-named the fucker??? Does that mean I have to run it again???
Bugger.

Technically, they only renamed the mountain, not the race. Besides, I think you have a certain marathon rather closer to home that you have to run first.