I STARTED RUNNING AGAIN... WELL SORT OF.

It all started when we arrived in Florida and the guilt from not running for a month started eating away at me. Literally would have been lovely as it would have gotten rid of those lovely extra kilo's i've been carry consisting of cider, ribs and some interesting take on biltong only the Americans can do, called Jerky. But no, literally was not to be, rather more mentally as I was starting to feel very unfit and rather heavy. So I signed up for a 5km charity run and thought the best way to deal with this guilt would be to tackle it head on by making this 5km run a personal time trial. No easing back into it, no leisurely pace... light a fire cracker and run. Whilst this in not necessarily a very bad idea, it turns out it was maybe not the greatest considering only the day before I had  been given a flu shot, a tetnis injection, a TB jab and had copious amounts of my blood removed from my body (only to be replaced by numerous pints of cider) all in the name of immigration.

So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up the day of the run, with the flu! And possibly TB and lock jaw, but who's to say. And to add insult to injury and an already bruised and battered body,  faithful Mother Nature had made sure it was a perfect Florida winter's day. A cool 75 degrees fahrenheit with as little possible respite in the form of a breeze as possible! At this point, my confidence in the fact that surely I can run 5kms, had disappeared. Along with any possibility of escaping the madness as I was already standing in the 25 line deep masses to begin.

An interesting fact to note quickly before I continue my tirade is, that in America before each race they actually semi seed you into groups. 5 minute milers (WTF) up ahead and so on. So carefully placed at the back of the bunch, already losing half my body weight in fluid, we began! AAAHHH! seriously, what have I done!!! It's boiling, my limbs feel like lead and the small amount of oxygen I may be able to inhale is being used to try and rid my system of the germs given to me the previous day. Not good when you're trying to set a pace for a time trial! To say it was an uncomfortable run would be to compare having an anvil dropped on your head as having a mild headache. It was torture! But I suppose time trials usually are!

24 minutes and 33 seconds later I found a little peice of heaven. The finish line, some juice and a small patch of grass I could lie and write my last will and testament (assuming I could open my eyes).  It was over, and by george I have never been so happy to see the end of a run. You know your fitness has taken an island holiday millions if miles away from you when 5kms becomes your conquering Mount Everest. However, slowly but surely I regained my personality and blood supply to all limbs and smiled. At least I finished in under 30 minutes. I'm pretty sure my running family would have disowned me if this wasn't the case :-)

As it turns out, finishing wasn't even the best part. I won a prize. I know, I also fell over when I heard... but it's true. It true American style, I was awarded a 3rd place win for my age group, and the leader was only 8 seconds in front of me! And the prize... A Pint Glass! I'm starting to like America more and more!  So with my new found love of winning... I mean running... I have studeously kept up the training thus far and even thrown in a bit of cycling for good measure. (Yes, Thunder, our building does have one of those bikes you can sit on and read your book). But hey... it's a start!

I LIED...

I lied… the party never ends. This point was proven with fierce determination last night. The Perpetual Student, Thunder, The Jetsetter and I decided we’d had enough testosterone for a while and set about invading our favourite pizza restaurant with good old fashion pheromones and high pitch voices. Cue bubbles, boy talk, some pizza and more boy talk for a long overdue schmooze and bitch session, political banter and general all round good fun! With the voice levels rising exponentially in direct proportion to the alcohol consumption, a very good time was had all round.

As my name sake suggests, the lack of sanity coupled with the increased level of bubbles in my system, a decision was made to go throw name on a dance floor with Pint Size! Cue The Local up the road, a few tasty jaegerbombs and some stiff bum shaking on the dance floor. With the bewitching hour fast approaching and the remaining sanity slowly seeping away with the night a decision was made to make like a Shepard and get the flock outta there. Cue our very own personal body guard, a guided walk home and dreams of the Grease moves pulled on the dance floor.

Or where they only dreams… arg!

PHEW!

Say it with me… Crisis Peeps, It’s Friday! Whoop whoop!

We made it. The disastrous nasty little week is over and we’re all heading for a weekend of fun fun fun. Thunder I know can barely keep her excitement in check because it’s GP weekend. (GP stands for Grand Prix for all those not in the know – including moi!). The Chef is pretty much in the same state as the Sharks and Stormers are fighting to the death on Sat (Go Stormers!) and I’m bouncing off the walls because a) I survived my first week back from leave and b) running a half marathon on Sunday where as opposed to a medal, you get a real live miniature tree! And c) have mothers day breakfast with the running family and mothers day lunch with the real family… so it’s a gastronomic fest all round!

I’m also due to fit some shopping in, some polite and elegant dinner conversation and sleep (bottom of the priority list at the moment!). Pint Size and Relax with Dax are coming round for dinner tonight to elaborate on the delectable qualities of wine cultivar and everything else that goes with those delicious fermented grapes we enjoy so much. Thunder and The Barman and joining the dinner on the basis that, although we don’t know how to talk about the wines, we certainly know how to consume them! And as is becoming to wonderful trend in my house, The Chef will be cooking for us all!

So a big cheers to everyone for this weekend ahead! And Happy Mothers day to all the mom’s out there who make our lives so special!

0 DAYS TO GO!

OMG! I just ran 56kms! And tripped over a cat’s eye while watching a dancing gorilla, and finished in under 6 hours, YAYAYAYAYAYAY! It was amazing. All the training, sore knees, absurd amount of carbs was totally worth it! I, Crazii Redhead, managed to complete the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon, battered and bruised, weak and with my most unhappy face on, but I did it. And by George I would to do it again in a second!

Thanks to SuperMom and all my running family, I made it through. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you guys, or The Chef, The Barman, Thunder and Pint Size. My amazing support crew kept me going for the glorious/agonising/heart breaking 56kms… I wouldn’t have wanted it to be any other way!

Thank you all, next stop, London Marathon!

1 DAY TO GO!!!

In less than 24 hours I will be starting the 2010 Two Oceans Ultra Marathon with 9000 other people. There is currently an interesting debate going on between the runners and none runners as to whether or not you can actually call us people. Other names being bandied about include Crazii’s, Freaks, Cuckoo’s and my personal favourite, Machines.

In exactly 24 hours, (this crazii machine, hehe) will hopefully be running along Rhodes drive (after triumphantly having conquered Constantia Nek) cursing about the severe camber in the road but thanking my little speed racers, my running family and the crowd for getting me this far.

I think what I’m looking forward to the most is meeting SuperMom at the start and running together, seeing Thunder and The Barman off for their first half experince, getting through Death Valley unscathed, doing the executive shuffle up Constantia Nek and then finishing, arms raised in triumph, having run with some of the most incredible running names in history.

Good luck to my wonderful running family, Thunder and The Barman, I promise to see you at the finish smiling like the Cheshire cat while hobbling to the tent for an energade and some hot cross buns!

1 Day to Go!!!

HUMP DAY

Today is Hump Day. Ordinarily a rather exciting day because it indicates that the week is not as big and scary as it was on Monday and can therefore be managed and beaten. Except, it doesn’ feel like Hump Day today at all. It feels like a big and treacherous Monday that won’t go away. I usually like Hump Day, it gets Thunder all excited and usually means we’re doing something to glide us into Friday. Not tonight. Tonight I will be mainlining cigarettes while sitting on the kitchen floor cursing the fact that I didn’t buy 100ply tissues and smartie eggs.

CHILDISH WAYS

So, definitely feeling less fragile today, got to do my run last night and the agonizing argument between my iliotibial band and my knee cap was totally worth it! Have resorted to Lesson 101 in parental teachings, ignore the noisy children and they will eventually go away. Thunder and The Chef think this might be a juvenile way of dealing with the matter, namely that my ligaments and bone are not in fact children and can therefore not just be told off. My argument to them is that I am still a child (hence the manner in which I am dealing with the situation) and therefore my body and its parts are still childish and can therefore be treated as such.

I fear the retort coming hereafter will be not unlike being told off and asked to stand in the corner and think about what I’ve done. Except I’ll probably have to hobble to the corner, crutches in hand and a very miserable look on my face while being told ‘I Told You So’ and having my prized speed racers taken away! Thunder even went so far as to make up horrific scenes outlining how the ligament could start pulling away from the bone and eventually tear, causing excruciating pain and months on crutches… I mean, really. Really? Crap!?!?

Anyway, the point of the story is that today I am less fragile than yesterday, which is a good thing, especially when you receive an sms like this: Notice Issued on SARS eFiling. Miss Crazii Redhead. Balls! What does the most effective money siphoning system in SA want with me again! Apparently it would appear there is a discrepancy between my submitted return and what SARS thinks my return should look like. (insert a variety of colourful swearwords here). Really?!?!? Well Mr SARS big man, you can take your presumptions regarding my apparent tax return discrepancy and shove it up your ***!

I fear my childish attitude may not in fact get me out of this pickle, what do you think?

SWEAT AND SPANDEX: CH 2

Crises Peeps, It’s Friday! I know I say this with religious fervor every Friday, but I am especially excited about this one as it is the first Friday since I have been back at work and it has been hectic! Getting back into the work swing of things after a luxurious 3 week holiday is tantamount to having a root canal without an anesthetic! By a herbal healer. In the bundu’s. Using pliers!

Never-the-less, I have managed to survive and while I have no witty work horror stories to share, I do have a funny little trinket from The Chef. Thunder and The Chef train together. And by train I mean go to the hell hole sespit known as The Gym, lift weights, etc etc and act like proper healthy gyming professionals. They even sweat. (Refer to this to hear my thoughts on the matter). Thunder and I used to run together so she’s pretty much a super athlete. Anyway, it was decided between the gyming professionals that a new regime would be designed for 2010 and this would include cardio ie: running. Basically, The Chefs worst nightmare. I was rather amused at this whole thing as I would obviously run rather than step foot into hell, but I suppose the Chef feels that same way about gyming and performing the evil quad destroying sport I love.

Cue Wednesday evening and a very woe-be-tide looking Chef:

Me: What’s wrong?
The Chef: Thunder and I went running…
Me: Awesome, how was it?
TC: I don’t want to talk about it
Me: Wow, that good hey???
TC: Everything hurts
Me: It usually does when you overzealously try to do something you haven’t done in ages (grinning like the Cheshire Cat)
TC: And what are you smiling at?
Me: Nothing…
TC: You’re just smiling like that because I looked at you this way after you came back from gym, aren’t you!

Now, this brings me onto my gym experience. I know, I confess, I broke my own rules. But for very good reason. I am training for The 2 Oceans 56km Ultra Marathon. I’ve stepped over the Boundaries of Craziness, bypassed the Valley’s of Sanity and have dived head first into the realm of Completely and Utterly Bonkers. I’m okay with that, really I am. So the reason for gym was what is known in gyming circles as “cross training”. WTF??? Apparently “cross training” is good for my running because it’ll work on muscles I don’t necessarily use when running. Why would I need to work on muscles I don’t use!!! Anyway, I did it. Morally I wasn’t feeling great because I was breaking my own rules, but I was so excited at the time I just couldn’t resist. I had visions of being super-fit, hitting the pro-circuit and doing a Forrest Gump “Run Forrest, Run” without even glowing.

There is a downside to this, let me tell you. Lunging across the gym carrying weights heavier that a bottle of Champagne is clearly not ideal for my apparently ageing body. After my 3rd set of everything; I tried, with as much elegance and poise as possible, to escape the nasty mechanical filled area only to find I could not move! Elegance and poise out the window and a waterfall of profanity sweeping through the building, I clawed my way down to my apartment and waited for The Chef to arrive.

The Chef: Oh goodness Crazii, what now?
Me: What ever do you mean?
TC: I mean you've splayed yourself ala a spatch-cocked chicken across the bed and have every appendage raised as if you’re praying to the god of butterflied chickens everywhere.
Me: Your supposed to keep sore limbs raised about your heart.
TC: I think that's when there’s actually something wrong with them!
Me: There is something wrong, it’s called death by stupidity/cross training! This makes me feel better, rather that than the death inducing pain I was feeling earlier. It was like childbirth.
TC: Because you would know.
Me: I do now!
TC: What are you doing tonight besides being annoying?
Me: I'm thinking of teaching myself how to paint with only my mouth.
TC: Very funny. Well I'm going for dinner, want to come?
Me: Only if you have a wheel chair and promise to feed me?
TC: Sweet lord.

I haven’t yet broken the news to the Chef (or Thunder) that I think “cross training” is a bunch of bollocks and I will not be entertaining the idea again, unless of course I get to be wheeled around in a fancy chair and hand fed pizza and ice cream!

I'M BAAAACK...

Hello Peeps! Goodness I can’t believe it’s been almost three weeks of complete silence. Apologies to all those who needed a distraction because they started work before me, haha! Sorry, that’s mean! But never-the-less I’m back and we have a lot to catch up on!

Okay, where to begin? Well as most of you know, New Years Resolution no 1 was promptly thrown out the window due to impending pneumonia and a very important road race. Therefore the cancer sticks were promptly re-instated in order to alleviate the sore throat and body withdrawal symptoms! Needless to say I then ran another personal best for 30kms and was super duper stocked! Giving up Cancer sticks 0, Breaking New Year’s resolution 1.

Number 3 I’m afraid has also failed to come to fruition. Crazii’s bar has been open and pumping for the last few weeks and I can’t really see how a spaghetti spoon or wooden chopping board it going to assist my Cosmo making skills. Mind you, I wouldn’t mind a saber so I could ever so elegantly slice the tops off all the champagne bottles waiting to be consumed. Buying Kitchen Utensils 0, Breaking New Year’s resolution 2.

7, 8 and 9 are a bit dubious at the moment, but as soon as I have gotten through my plethora of work emails I promise to set up my site and then it’s up to you guys to get me there! Beg, borrow and steal where you can, I promise to bail you out of jail once I’ve complete the craziness that is the marathon! So at this juncture we’ll just give the resolution is pass until further evidence it collected.

New Years Resolutions aside, the holidays have just flown by like a speeding shooting star. They have been awesome, relaxing, crazy and all round pretty frikkin amazing and I’m still in slight shock that I’m sitting in front of my laptop surrounded by four bailey cream walls and reams of fabric and wallpaper grappling with the 105 emails I so effectively ignored over the last 3 weeks! So many wonderful people were here over the past weeks and Thunder and I have decided that their presence is now needed on a more permanent basis, not this flit in and out of nonsnese. No, no… we’re going to get Pop Tart and Glass and a Half to take up full residency in the City Beneath The Mountain come hell or high water.

That reminds me (talking about hell) which usually brings me onto the subject of religion, I heard the funniest saying the other day! Are you ready… Okay… Let’s make like a Shepard and get the flock outta here… bahahahahaha. I told it to The Chef who I thought would totally think it amazing, and he just smiled weakly at me and gave me the same look he gives me when I tell my cow jokes. Oh, oh, I’ve got a goodie: What do you call a cow in Alaska? An ESKIMOOO… how brilliant is that???

Anyway, it's fairly apparent from the above ramblings that the office environment is sucking all known sanity and oxygen from my body, so I will quit while I’m ahead and promise a more entertaining and enlightening post in the days to come.

Welcome back Peeps, crisis I’ve missed you!

CATCH UP TIME

Crisis Peeps, 2 weeks without any word vomit at all, you have to know its bad when… There’s just so much to fill you in on I barely know where to begin. The installation of death, the date that renewed my faith in romance and of course, the mystery golf eating truck saga.

I’ll start at the very beginning, a very good place to start… kidding. So it all started with the installation to end all installations. The coupe de gra of my career, the big cahoona, the one that was going to make it all worth while… and ended 9 solid days later after 14 hour slogs with the installation (due to last of 5) complete and me sitting resplendent in my site clothes at the airport chomping at the bit to get on the plane to George (literally praying this pilot knew how to fly) where I knew my bestest Thunder would be waiting cosmo and heels in hand, she did not disappoint! So now I sit, relaxed to the max, phone thrown into the sea and totally getting my chill on…

The past 10 days have been the most manic I have had in my little pin prick on this planet. It has literally been a case of “If it can go wrong, it will, and in spectacular fashion”. 1 house, 100 men, 1 woman with a seriously determined look on her face and the likes of challenges not even the big man upstairs could conceive when he created Adam (because let’s me honest, you have to make a rough draft before the final product :). It was awesome, terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, but I wouldn’t want to do it again in a while. It knocked me sideways and it took all the strength and determination I had to pull through, not to mention a little help from a few special people!

That’s where the date that renewed my faith in romance came in. Totally topped up my depleted reserves of faith, personal ability and confidence. Not to mention had this Crazii Redhead totally and utterly speechless. Yes, I kid you not, dressed in a little black dress and heels, this little know-it-all was completely stunned. 12 long stem red roses, private wine cellar, candles, scattered rose petals… I know, right! Men take notes! It was incredible, the Chef really pulled out all the stops and I’m still unable to find the words…

So that only leaves my poor little blue baby girl and her surgery. Yes Peeps, we took her in before I departed for the heaven that is Plett and she is currently undergoing what can only be termed as a very traumatic but necessarily bit of plastic surgery. Cordie, we’re all rooting for you my little one and I’ll see you in a few days, shining as new!

Ciao Peeps, Merry Christmas to you all! If I find some time in between the sleeping and beaching, I promise to update on the colour of the sand, sea water temperature and number of mince pies consumed in one sitting!

Hugs and kisses all, to a brand new year of fun, excitement and completed hearts.

CHAMPAGNE THURSDAY

So as it would happen I managed to have the wine, but the anger has not decreased and the preference for delightfully inappropriate words has not subsided! The enduring and apparently impossible quest to find the mystery golf eating truck continues, as does the constant communication from the mean little car beater about when poor Cordelia is going in for surgery!

On a lighter note however, it is Champagne Thursday and to celebrate in true style, Thunder and I will be attending the Jimmy Choo Launch Party tonight! Yes ladies and gents, an evening surrounded by stilletto’s, smoked salmon and Moet… I’d be wetting myself too! So the only real challenge for the day is… “What to wear?”

PERSONAL BESTS

I had a weekend of personal bests this last weekend. Had my personal best party with Thunder in a long long time. Had my personal best hangover because of Thunder in a seriously long time, and ran my personal best half marathon!

Let’s start with the half marathon, easier to remember and doesn’t have the word jaegermeister in the story, anywhere! It does however involve waking up at 4:30am to don running kit, sun cream and my new little babies that are my Redbull, because they give me wings! Yes, I’m talking about my pink and silver speed racers fondly known to the average human as running shoes! I love those babies. Anyway, up at the crack of sparrows to drive to Somerset West to run. Yes, crazy, I know. Thrilling and fun for the average runner (I’m officially allowed to be called a full blown runner now because I’ve done a marathon, it’s all very exciting), but seriously loopy to the average person! Lourensford Wine Estate here I come. With brand new white running shoes. To run in amongst the Winelands. On gravel and sand. Over water and mud… Can you see where I’m going with this??? My poor little speed racers were so upset their bright lustre was being destroyed with every pounding step that they flew to the finish in order to get home and cleaned! So there you have it, personal best on a trail run because my takkies are vain!

Onto the party… Wow, now there’s a story that involves lots of jaegermeister, zero flat shoes at all and a hellavu lot of bum shaking! It all started with the beach. I know, again… I think I might be addicted. But that’s another story. So I’m on the beach with the GBF and Thunder and we’re musing about the evening’s plans. Beach gets boring and we decide to move the musing to my house where there are lots of bubbles, which always assists in the creative process! 3 bottles of bubbles later and Thunder and I know exactly what we want to do… dance! 1 x call to Rikki’s, 1 x trip to Caprice and 1 x seriously amazing night! Now for all of you who know me, I’m not a Caprice fan. And that’s putting in mildly. But considering which shoes I was wearing and that I was a least a head taller than all the gorgeous blonds in the place, I put my insecurites behind me and toasted them away with many much loved jaegerbombs! Cheers Thunder! One small walk down the strip to St Yves (Old Ignite) and we were bum shaking until we weren’t allowed to bum shake anymore!

Sunday morning and OMG… somebody get us a cream soda, stat!

NIGHT WALKER

I went to the beach this weekend. Twice. I know, outrageous! Could it possibly be true, the night walker ventured out into the daylight clad in a two piece voluntarily stepping foot onto… SAND?!? Yip, I did, it is all true and I have witnesses to that effect. Thunder and Pint Size where both there and they can vouch for me… sort of… well maybe… kind of… a version of me was there…

You see, in my Craziiland where good ideas reside and crazii ideas actually happen I suggested the beach without really thinking the whole process through. Night walker, on the beach, bikini, blinding light, mass exodus, many ambulances, jail sentence for indecent reflective blinding etc etc. I think you get the point. So in a moment of wild panic “OMG, I’ve now suggested the beach and actually have to go, but how do I go without donning a long sleeve shirt and jeans and not looking like a complete Dutch Tourist…” I had an epiphany *PING* Spray Tan. Yes my lovely friends, this paler than pale redhead went from vanilla with choclate sprinkles to camel leather in a matter of minutes. Ask Thunder, she has lots of comments on the matter…

This it how the process went. Arrive at salon on time for transformation:

Spray Tan Angel: Hi Crazii, why don’t you hop into the shower and I’ll see you when you’re done.
Me: Sure…
(Ummm… water not getting warm, do you think you’re supposed to shower in artic temperature water, maybe it opens the pores)
Me: eek, wow, eish this is cold, right, you can do it, go!
STA: Crazii, you okay in there?
Me: Fine, just exfoliating (and freezing my ass off, WTF, why am I doing this again… right, jail sentence)
STA: Crazii, you done?
Me: (In voice 30 decibels higher than normal) Yes, on, grrrr, my, grrrr, way, grrr, out.
STA: Crazii, what on earth, why are you so cold?
Me: Shower… has… no…warm…tap…thought…it…was…all…part…of…magic…transformation.
STA: Crazii, it’s a mixer, left is warm, right is cold.
Me: Right…

Anyway, shower episode out of the way, magic transformation begins:

STA: So, what function are you going to?
Me: Function, no function, beach.
STA: You’re going to the beach?
Me: Yes…
STA: So why are you getting a spray on tan when you’re going to the place that will give you one naturally.
Me: Ah, you see, I have a theory. If I go to the beach tanned, I don’t blind anybody. While I’m saving the world from future blindness I’m getting a real tan under my fake tan. So when I get home and shower off fake tan, I have real tan left.
STA: Crazii, you do realize that you’re a night walker, night walkers don’t tan.
Me: I’m stripping you of you Spray Tan Angel status… pfft Thunder stealer!

Needless to say, I am back to night walker status with only a few hundred million more chocolate sprinkles! But still desperately set on hitting the sand again!

MATURED LIKE A GOOD CHEESE

Eventually one will reach a point when one stops lying about ones age and starts bragging about it. Hmmm… I do not think I will ever reach this point. I will forever lie about my age, always adding on (at this point in time, obviously around the 40 mark, I’ll be doing the opposite) at least one year. I am not sure why I do this, it’s like a built in mechanism that kicks in usually after the 6 month age mark. For example, someone asked me the other day how old I was, I said 26. Lie! Obviously my birth certificate and I have a differing opinion on the matter but truth be told I am still 25. I will be 25 for the next 36 hours and only THEN will I be 26. But as far as I am concerned, I was 26 on the day after the 6 months timeline from my 25th birthday. I think it has something to do with the way runners approach distances.

Me: So how far did we run today?
Fellow Runner: Garmin says 28.6kms.
Me: Great, so we ran 30kms, it feels wonderful!
Thunder: So Crazii, how far did you run today?
Me: We ran 30kms, isn't that awesome!

We like to round up; it makes us feels like we've achieved more! And really, who’s going to quibble over a measly 1.4kms anyway… pffft! Anyway, I disgress. Age is something that woman have spent many a sleepless night, age defying moisturizers and countless cosmopolitans talking over and trying to come to terms with. I for one am not afraid of ageing, I’m afraid that I will never be taken seriously and therefore tend to elaborate on my current tenure on this planet. Obviously, when I get MUCH older, people will of course take me seriously and then i'm sure at that point i'll be trying my darndest to be the funny/light-hearted/cool dude without a care in the world... ah, the joys of being female!

Anway, it has been awesome being 25. There were often moments when I actually shouted my CORRECT age from the rooftops. It was an age I had always wanted to be and I must say (excluding all the nasty things that have happened in 2009) being 25 has been great! I’ll be sad to say goodbye , but bring on being 26, a birthday lunch with champers, friends and family and being surrounded by the people that love you and you love in return!

Happy birthday to Me (And Crazii’’s Dad! Happy birthday to you too!)

SWEAT AND SPANDEX

Two of my most hated words as well as individual items. And when you put them together Oh Heavens Above I basically faint! I mean really, who in their right mind would voluntarily put themselves in a position where they have to a) exercise b) wear something that is made out of nylon c) wear something that is usually too tight and brings to mind the concept of marshmallows stuffed into a condom and d) sweat.. for fun! Seriously Peeps, this is not normal. So you must understand my complete and utter shock at my surprise out of body experience I had last night.

As a runner, you become very fit in the cardio vascular area of yourself. This leaves the remaining areas, ie: weight training, stretching, suppleness, core stability a lot to be desired. I can run… that is about it. Put me in front of free weights or anything heavier than a bottle of Haute Cabriere and a Butlers pizza box and I cannot lift it. In my youth I used to be rather bendy and always swore that should the day arrive when I was unable to do the splits I would shoot myself. So it was with great pains and disappointment in myself for not buying the .32 special I saw at the Pawn Shop down the road, that not only could I NOT shoot myself but my brain (left to it’s own devices is a dangerous toy) decided that my body needed to sort it’s self out, chop chop! I fear that my brain and body have yet to make up after their last interesting decision (see I Told You So.)

Cue Bikram Yoga. Yoga, performed in gym gear (ie: the dreaded “s” word), in a relaxed and calm environment where your body and mind can release all negative energy into a communal tranquil space. Plenty of stretching is performed and core stability is paramount. Oh, and did I mention all this is done while voluntarily sitting in a STEAM ROOM! So not only are you wearing the word-that-shall-not-be-said, you are sweating before… yes before… you even start exercising, SERIOUSLY! Who does that???

(The next section of this entry is never to be repeated, I will deny it was ever written, call you crazii and get you committed)

It was AWESOME! Not only could I feel my hamstring re-introducing itself ever so gently to my butt check, but I was sweating. And when I say sweating I mean I looked like a pedophile on a playground I was so drenched. And loving it! My clothes, my hair, everything felt like I had just stepped out from under a waterfall. Even Thunder didn’t neglect to mention that “OMG, look Crazii, you’re sweating, it’s amazing!!!” Yes Peeps, the reality is this a) I was exercising, b) I was sweating, c) all of this was being done in gym gear (yes, I do actually own some, but don’t let that get out) with my free will intact and my brain and body chatting away as if they were best friends!

I’m hooked and will be back again for more on Monday!

THE THREE MUSKETEERS

So I got an email from Pop Tart today, so frikkin excited! She’s tucked away deep in the nether regions of Pleasantville Alabama living the suburban life with her not so Pop Tartish Fiancé  and is chugging through Harry Potter’s faster than we could get through a fish bowl. Crisis, I miss her. Thunder, Pop Tart and I used to paint the town a daringly gorgeous colour of scarlet when we were all living in the same city (as well as continent). We did some crazii stuff, danced the nights away and left without so much as a regret behind us! We also all at that stage of our carefree youth had what one might refer to as ‘dubious tastes in men’.

Yes, our first official boyfriends were most definitely dress rehearsals for the real thing! Cue stage lights dimming, curtains parting and 3 handsome youths standing on stage. Boyfriend 1 belongs to Pop Tart, no dialogue. Boyfriend 2 belongs to Thunder, no dialogue. Boyfriend three belongs to Crazii, no dialogue. Right, well at least they all had something in common… lack of scintillating conversation and lustre! Enough said! Needless to say Pop Tart found her Knight in Shining Armour and followed him across the globe to live in White Picket Fence bliss. Yes, they even have pets.

Thunder on the other hand is still searching for her respective armour clad hero. My journey seems to be going in the right direction and I feel the sensation of spinning around really really fast all the time. It feels like that moment when you’re just about to fall and you catch your breath with a “uh” before you tumble to the ground in a fit of giggles like you have absolutely no troubles in the world! Thunder has butterflies at the moment too due to a certain mystery man and is smiling a smile we’ve missed for a while! So all in all, the three musketeers are at least all smiling at the same time, albeit across time zones and continents :-)

HALF THE DISTANCE, TWICE THE COURAGE

It is very strange in life how things work out. Emotionally very often, things that are within our reach are the hardest to see or grasp. Although we know they are there, there seem to be more obstacles to get across to them than things that we seemingly think are further away. In the same way, physically when we prepare for something we have never done before (ie: running a full marathon), once this is achieved small things such as a half marathon are assumed to be easy. This past weekend has been a very difficult journey for me. It evolved letting go of an immediate happiness in favour of a future greater happiness while at the same time running half the distance but experiencing twice the pain and resistance.

The Chef and I parted ways this weekend in what can only be described as a first for me. I have never broken up with someone before and didn’t really have any idea of how the situation was going to play out. It started on very amusing ground...

Me: Hi Chef, we need to talk.
Chef: What do we need to talk about?
Me: We need to talk about you and me.
Chef: Okay, why don’t you come round in about an hour?
Me: Ok, see you then

Now, as mentioned, I have never broken up with anyone before and therefore cannot take responsibility for what happened next:

Me: *knock knock*
No answer…
Me: *knock knock* again
No answer…
Me (in my head): Maybe he’s making me wait because he knows…
My Phone: *Ring Ring*
Me: Hello Chef
Chef: Hello Crazii, I’m here.
Me: Huh, what do you mean you’re there, I’m here?
Chef: What? I said I’d come to you
Me: No, you said ‘why don’t you come round in about an hour?’
Chef: No, I said 'why don’t I come round in about an hour?'
Me: Oh…
Chef: Oh…
Me: Right, so…
Chef: Why don’t you come back here and we’ll talk
Me: Right, okay!

Seriously, who does that! Who cocks up a break-up talk so badly before you’ve even had it. I called Thunder to explain the situation to her and her words of wisdom sounded a bit like this “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, only you Crazii, only you!”

Needless to say we had the break-up talk and Chef was great. Although rather surprised at the conversation and resistant to the outcome I was going for, he understood the reasoning behind it and didn’t make me feel like a complete idiot and/or cow! I want to thank him for that as well as showing me that sometimes the things you want in life are right in front of you, they just take more courage to reach.

CONFUSION REIGNS SUPREME

5 days without a post, my most humble apologies. This week has been a creative disaster of cataclysmic proportions. I have, in the period of 96 hours managed to go through every range of emotion possible, seemingly settling on buckets of tears for the majority of time. My body seems to be comfortable in that state. I am Crazii’s over-excited tear duct. I am her inability to see through the confusion. I am here to dehydrate her over-worked and tired body and make sure I keep the tree felling tissue making business well and truly in the money stakes!

I am tired.

The Cyclist asked me why no posts, so I explained at this stage just the over-worked unpaid reasoning behind the lack of creative juices. And then he said something wonderful. He said he reads them everyday without fail. Everyday. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside to know that I had a fan. A real, in the flesh, true life fan who actually wanted to read my crazii ramblings. (Thunder, of course I feel the same way about you!) So, I decided to write a letter to say thank you...

Dear Cyclist,

Thank you does not cover what you thought was a seemingly simple comment on something that means a lot to me. Having someone want to read the mindless ramblings in my muddled head is wonderful and makes me smile. So thank you for making me smile, it happens too few times these days.

It is Friday Peeps, it happily never disappoints and continually comes round once a week. So let’s make the best of it shall we!

THE CRAZIINESS OF SUMMER!

Crisis Peeps, it’s Friday! Thank goodness! It’s only taken 5 days of crazy-mind-numbingly-tiring-work-hogwash to get here! And it’s summer! There is sun, there is wind and there are pasty white people everywhere! I think I even saw at least 3 wife beaters on my way to work today. Yes Peeps, burning to a crisp season is upon us and I intend to embrace it with 110% enthusiasm and sun cream!

My enthusiasm has reached such a fever pitch, that Thunder is even starting to get concerned. I am a winter baby. I love scarves, hats, coats and all things furry. I also only have 2 shades of skin colour, pale and a darker shade of pale. So when “OMG, look, the sun, let’s go to the beach” escapes my mouth, Thunder looks at me with such shock and concern that I’m pretty sure she’s ready to hit me over the head with a baseball bat and transport me to the trauma unit immediately for a frontal lobotomy!

Me: Dude, it’s gonna be hot this whole week, let’s go to the beach on Sat.
Thunder: Who are you and what have you done with Crazii?
Me: What are you talking about, I love the beach.
Thunder: Seriously, who are you and what have you done with her?
Me: What are you talking about?
Thunder: Sweetie, don’t you remember, you hate the beach.
Me: Pfft, NO I DO NOT! Who hates the beach?
Thunder: Crazii, you do!
Me: No Thunder, I don’t hate the beach, I hate sand.
Thunder: *Thwack*

Happy Friday Peeps, it gonna be a great weekend!

I TOLD YOU SO.

Dear Body,

While I appreciate your need to a) punish me for what I put you through yesterday by cutting off all natural endorphins to my now atrophied muscles and b) make me look like the hunchback of Notre Dame doing an Englishman’s version of the sokkie jol; do you think we could possibly call a truce? We are in fact part of the same team and although I understandably sense your current loathing for the part of my body comfortably housed above the neck line, you cannot in all fairness blame the entire situation on her. Yes, she is a brain housed in the head of a redhead, but that is not entirely her fault and therefore cannot be used as punishment against her. You may recall, when the discussion was tabled over a number of months (okay minutes, but who’s keeping track) there was a unanimous vote for Yes! Yes Patella, yes Ankle and yes, even you Hamstring decided that it was a challenge worth taking up. So while I so appreciated all the enthusiasm and gusto that you all managed to perfectly muster yesterday, could we all please get back on the same page and play nice with each other for today and maybe tomorrow… yes?? You see, we couldn’t have actually done it without each other and a pat on the back would be far more sensible than the current mind numbing sensation of having my knees trying so vigorously to disassociate themselves from my body! Any takers???

Oh who am I kidding… It was amazing and worth every single old granny hobble I’ll be doing until the next one! 1 down… and the world is my oyster/arena of blisters, energade and shortened calf muscles!

Thank you to all my wonderful supporters along the route, you guys were amazing and I can honestly say I would not have managed without you!