Bucket

Oh you'll be proud of me. I've .. been ... running. About once a week over the past few weeks... except for the weekend just gone - the beer-food matching 'course' I did pretty much put paid for the weekend, not because I was hungover, just felt the theme was there, and the body was a bit far gone. Still went for a run down the coast, but really dragged myself around. A round of golf on a hilly course almost qualifies as harder exercise, which it certainly felt like, but it was an enjoyable round at 7am with the roos on the course, etc.

Of course any good deeds on the track and course were off set by the incredibly good (created more by nostalgia than quality) chips and gravy at the local chicken shop. A swift bucket on the way out of town makes the first 15 minutes of that 4533 hour drive bearable.

And, its official. The bike is on its way. Its been a massive palaver trying to get the thing out here, but the saving is undeniable, and am looking forward to hitting the road! No longer is it a pipe dream, or worse an excuse. Now for the lengthy education process on clothing, accessories, jargon, middle-aged male conversation etc.

Lesson 5 - Jogging behind a set of houses that back onto state forest is not 'cross-training' or 'eco-warrior-ing' - its perving into peoples private property whilst having a mild heart attack.