Octobia.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Much of recent living memory in this part of the kingdom has been taken up with work, work-related travel, illness, drinking beer and ... moving house, and largely in that order. Yup, I have forsaken the side of the mountain with magnificent water views for a waterfront property complete with its own private jetty, and just 6 minutes from the CBD! OK, the house is a largely unmodified 1940s weather-board flu-trap, and the jetty has an abandoned sunken fishing trawler at the end of it, but you can fish from it (although the water is too polluted to eat any fish you do catch), but it's peaceful and has a nice view of the cemetery and the fuel depots across the bay...

I also have a sensational view of the mountain I am supposed to be running up next month. I say supposed because I have to admit the chances of it actually happening are now fairly slim. My training has been shot to pieces, but the good news is that there is good running round these parts. The cemetery on the other side of the bay is enormous, and the round trip from home with a loop around the body plot is 5km. Likewise, the run along the river to work is 5km. The bad news is that all of it is flat, making it les than ideal training for the mountain climb. On the other hand, it doesn't require a whole lot of motivating to get out there. There's even a beach just a few minutes jog from home.

So I'm pretty happy with the new home, less than happy with my training, but feeling optimistic about some joyous running to come through the summer months. In the meantime, I am left to contemplate the mountain that could have been ... when the rainclouds lift long enough to see it that is...