Thursday, January 01, 2015




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Out bright & early (earlyish) for a brisk walk à deux while the girls remain snoring in bed. Chilly around the ears & frost underfoot. Each step works off a measly calorie or two of last night's feast. The head still cloudy with the dregs of perhaps one glass too many.




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The pond is frozen over. Not a duck in sight. Or maybe they prefer to keep a low profile during the festive season. (Confit anyone?) 



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Today is technically a 'rest' day - throughout December (in case you were wondering) I've been maintaining the jogging routine. One day on, one day off - weather & work duties allowing. The mid-to lower back pain has eased due - or so I'm told - to my 'core' strengthening. I'm now slightly less of embarrassment to L & E in my (new) lightweight jacket, merino wool 'tube', and colour-coordinated bobble hat - all Christmas  presents (along with the ironic January edition of Runner's World. Ha ha.). 





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& while on the subject of jogging ... I did find time over Christmas to get through the 180 pages of Murakami's essay after a tip-off from a colleague. I'm not a great fan of his work - I ground to a halt in Norwegian Wood a year or so ago & haven't felt the temptation to give it a second chance. Having read What I Talk About ... I'm still far from clear what the fuss is all about (a bit of the Bolano effect?). Still, Murakami's feats of stamina and self-discipline are bloody impressive - making my gradual build to 30 minutes without gasping seem positively insignificant. He lists the days, months and years and staggering accumulation of miles. It's clear that he's a driven man & racked with self doubt. Running like writing seem to be ways of constantly testing himself and proving his existence. However, there's a humility to it all which I find appealing. 

Try this from page 86 ...

"My muscles can be as stubborn as - or more stubborn than - I am. ... This is my body, with all its limits and quirks. Just as with my face, even if I don't like it it's the only one I get, so I've got to make do. As I've grown older, I've naturally come to terms with this. You open the fridge and can make a nice - actually even a pretty smart - meal with the leftovers. All that's left is an apple, an onion, cheese, and eggs, but you don't complain. You make do with what you have. As you age you learn even to be happy with what you have. That's one of the few good points of growing older." 

Which is no bad way to begin a brand new year ... while renewing efforts to transfer the energies from j-o-g-g-i-n-g to j-o-t-t-i-n-g ... & learning to make do with what's in the fridge. 





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