Nobody stands guard to warn us of the real horrors we are sure to face. Nothing prepares the unsuspecting or inexperienced commuters of the abhorration that is the new and devolved 21st century teen. Nobody has thought to post signs on the side of the bus proclaiming "Here There Be Monsters" or "Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here". Or maybe they did, and these demon-children have torn them down to place on the walls over their beds.

Shortly after on a train, teenage boys abuse, insult, and belittle a group of girls who dress a little differently to them. Yeah, man, I'm cool. I just called you a whore and a dyke. I'm tough too, because I did it in public.

I make it sound awful, but really it isn't a ride through hell like I might make it sound. Days like this are the exception here, but it still seems unmistakable clear that discipline is lacking more these days than I seem to remember it, and the education system lies bleeding, broken, and worn down, mostly ignored by those it is meant to help. When the current troop of illiterate monkeys become the standard, and the few remaining graduates who know how to spell "where" are considered genius, how many will bother to notice?

Hang out your signs, if you have some, because even if you don't see them every day, the monsters are here and they're multiplying. If we can teach some of them to do that with even a calculator there may still be some hope... just don't hold your breath waiting for them to catch on.

* Annual rants may unfairly distort the perception of the author's state of mind. Author may be less jaded and sensationalist than he appears.

So, now that I'm settling in to the new studies, new job, and new life with a very cool girl, it's time to cultivate an effective training plan and sift out the noxious weeds that have grown in its place.

One thing making this easier is our mostly inefficient public transport system. I've started taking the train to my new job lately, and since the closest train station is more than 9km from my house, I've been grabbing a bus to the station in the morning. It's no extra charge, and I don't arrive at work too hot and sweaty. The catch is when coming home. The train arrives barely two minutes after the connecting bus leaves, so I would have to wait for nearly thirty minutes for the next bus home (which then winds back and forth for another twenty-plus minutes).

Simple solution : I can run/walk 8-9km in less time than that!

I tried this for the first time a few days ago, and it'll work out nicely. New shoes are in the mail (still no running store close to me, and I don't like the Footlockers, etc), but the current pair will hold up until they arrive.

As my fitness picks up I'll be able to work in some cycling commutes to work, and since cycling with a backpack doesn't bother me, it should be a great way to ferry my work clothes back and forth. The bike could use a service after sitting for several months, and given my work hours the soonest I can get that done is on the weekend, but that's fine so long as I get it done THIS weekend. Somebody give me a prod so I don't forget. ;-)

Swimming and gym work will be a little more tricky considering the long commute, but I'm thinking I'll just have to start doing those at night rather than the mornings like I'm used to. Once my current gym membership expires I'll shift to a new gym that I can use during my lunch hour.

Update:
Shortly after I posted this entry I received an email about a Cycling club my employer is starting up for staff. 'Coinkydink'? Or is someone trying to tell me something? ;-)

While I'm not exactly a fan of the big mouse, he's certainly amusing. I'll only be stopping to watch Scooby Doo and leave the rest for others to see, but it's nice to see some of the old names coming back.

Could it be that the powers that be behind free-to-air TV no longer require the short bus to work, and have finally realised after years of dreadful children's TV programming that modern cartoons just plain suck? I guess we'll see next weekend if it's just a once off moment of clarity, or if there's positive change in the winds.

I've decided to try my hand at internet development and use the skills that I've acquired while learning a thing or two about this whole 'interweb' thingy. Over the years I've tinkered on and off building sites as a hobby, so I thought it would be nice to learn first hand with some proper training and commercial experience. While I'm at it, and while change is in the air, I thought I'd take another shot at seeing what this whole 'girlfriend' thing is all about, since I've been single for too many years.

As well as studying, I've lined up some work with the Website team at Virgin Blue - a company filled with opportunities and potential. As a result, I've been a little busy lately and had to postpone my training (and am becoming rather pudgy!), but I expect to be back into full swing by the end of this month.

I'm quite excited about what the future may hold, and am looking forward to sharing oodles of great news in the months to come.

I'll spare you the boring details regarding my absence for the past few months. I'm back now, and the future is where all the opportunities await us. Things are about as normal as ever (that is to say, not very) and I'm training.

I have decided to work more resistance training into my schedule and began that a couple of weeks ago. The trick, I guess, is to continue to run, bike, and swim as well and not burn out.

Breathing whilst performing strenuous exercise, as you may have already heard somewhere, is of considerable importance. Despite my wishes I still had a touch of the flu this weekend, and being uncomfortably congested I found out just how tough a run can be with reduced breathing capability.

There's really very little for me to report about my participation in this race, so I won't be going into many details or stats.. Still aiming to finish in approximately two hours, I set out with Nikki from the starting line thinking I might pace with her for a while. Clinging to the hopes that maybe my airways would clear up after a couple of warmup kms, we set a decent sub-2hour pace, but it was evident after a mere 2km that I was really going to struggle with this race. I felt like I could barely breathe. I couldn't help stopping repeatedly for short walk breaks to catch my breath, and by the time I hit the half-way turnaround point I was already several minutes off target.

Around the 12km mark - possibly due to lack of oxygen intake - my calves were cramping. I found myself having to walk it out every couple of minutes as they kept cramping every 200-300 meters of running. Not even 2/3 of the way in I knew my goal time was shot, but I was determined to at least shuffle in to the finish and claim my shirt and medal.

I did finish - not that giving up was ever a consideration - but I owe the last km or so to a young lady called Susan whom I got to chatting with near the end of the race. She encouraged me to grit my teeth and fight off the pain to make a final run to the finish. Thankyou, Susan, and I hope you're happy with your race time.

I came in slightly faster than my Vegas time, but around 20 minutes to half an hour slower than I know I am capable of. Next year, for sure, barring further untimely illness.

On a lighter note, I did get to share a hotel room with two beautiful girls. What guy could complain about that? ;-)

With the Gold Coast on July 1 fast approaching I wanted to at least get a little bit of running in early this week in time to taper. I had hoped to do one last long run of around 15km today, but it seems I'm going to have to let go of that wish. It is still in my lungs, and breathing is tough.

I had to settle for a short run - it was all my lungs could handle today - so I decided to do some intervals instead. At least I get to push myself a little and still give my lungs a regular break. After all the long runs lately I'm sitting here feeling as though I haven't worked out at all today (although it was tough at the time).

I find myself wanting to go back out this afternoon and do a long run anyway, but maybe I should just rest for the next four days and let myself heal up for Sunday's 21km.

These are supposed to be one word answers. Forgive me if I bend the rules on occasion.

1. Where is your cell phone? Dining Table
2. Relationship? Warming
3. Your hair? Shortish
4. Work? Blah
5. Your sister? Different
6. Your favourite thing? RnR
7. Your dream last night? Forgettable
8. Your favourite drink? Fruit Juice
9. Your dream car? Classic
10. The room you’re in? Study
11. Your shoes? Saucony
12. Your fears? Heights
13. What do you want to be in 10 years? Early-retired
14. Who did you hang out with this weekend? Friends
15. What are you not good at? Flirting
16. Muffin? Blueberry
17. Wish list item? Car
18. Where you grew up? Brisbane
19. The last thing you did? Grocery shopping
20. What are you wearing? T-shirt
21. What are you not wearing? *cough* pants... no, wait! Watch!
22. Your pet? Waiting
23. Your computer? 'bitsa' (Chunkybits special - home assembled)
24. Your life? Busy
25. Your mood? Contented
26. Missing? Girlfriend
27. What are you thinking about? Running
28. Your car? Needs a bullet
29. Your kitchen? Old
30. Your summer? Short
31. Your favourite colour? Blue
32. Last time you laughed? Today
33. Last time you cried? Years ago
34. School? Yep, long time ago
35. Love? Chocolate

Having fueled up last night with burger, fries, and coke, I was indeed heavily oiled for my run today - though not in a good sense - and if the noisy clunking and wheezing racket I made all morning qualifies me as a machine, then I'll settle for that. It isn't the machine-like efficiency I'm striving for, but at least I was out there, and that's something.

With less than two weeks left for training before the Gold Coast Half Marathon, I know I should be eating more of the right foods. I'm not stupid, just pathetically weak. Well, okay, you got me there, but at least I'm truthful on the second point. One out of two ain't more than half bad. It wasn't just last night that I dined poorly, and I'll be carrying an extra 10kg over my target weight on race day because of it, and maybe that's enough to smarten me up enough that I stop sabotaging my training. Maybe.

After a couple of weeks of bad weather it has been nice to see the sunrise again lately. My running routes are planned to make the most of the bay views around home, and although the glare and headwinds can make things a little uncomfortable at times, the negatives are dwarfed by the sense of peace and the amazing eye-candy conjured up by the early morning sunlight hitting the ocean.

I did Warren proud today, with deposits of salt streaking abstract patterns over my shirt, pants, and as I discovered afterward, my face. Start to increase the distances and I too become a salty runner. Never fear though, Warren, I don't aim to challenge the king. Still, if I keep upping my mileage like I have lately, Victoria Point may soon need a new name. "Chunkybits' Salt Flats" comes to mind.

Without a celebrity to fart in public or light up a cigarette in a popular cafe (or, heaven forbid, both at the same time - wouldn't THAT be a story!), the media struggles to fill its time slot or find material to assault us with its seemingly endless army of full colour glossy magazine pages. Similarly, those celebrities would have to rely on their often meagre skills to gain popularity if the papparazzi weren't there to do it for them. It's a good thing for both of them that we provide such a perfect, loving, and comfortable breeding ground in which they can thrive.

Maybe I suffered a few too many knocks on the head while I was still developing, but for whatever reason I just can't seem to get my head around it. I'll draw some puzzled looks, but I have to ask... why?

Why are the day to day lives of such relatively uninspiring strangers so deeply entwined with the lives of so many? Why, for example, do so many have an opinion on the brief incarceration
of someone like Paris "Living Proof That Darwinism Doesn't Always Pan Out" Hilton when there are people all around them in everyday situations doing great things that garner no notice. Why do so many women line up yearning to be used by (or to use?) known womanisers like Robbie Williams - the same women who whine about being used; that all men are bastards... never mind the nice guys, they're just "friend material" and that doesn't count.

Like him or not, we would all recognise a picture of Tom Cruise, but how many know what a Medal of Honor looks like or how many have been awarded? Who was the guy who suffered severe disfiguring burns while pulling strangers from a burning car - not in a hollywood blockbuster, but for real - and would do it again fully knowing the consequences to the remainder of his life. Do you spare more thought to the latest celebrity in the latest media sensation or to the local guy who, despite a lifetime of personal tragedy and grief, is always friendly, upbeat, and helpful with no thought of personal gain?

I know which one I admire, and he's not in magazines every other week. The real heroes rarely are. It's a shame that they don't occupy more of our thoughts and inspire better actions from the rest of us.

There's something about a tale of triumph over stacked adversity that always wins my attention. More to the point, when that same success story is of a person with a positive attitude, I'm captivated. Considering my interest in athletics, it is no surprise that some of my sporting "heroes" have this kind of story to tell.

Such is the case with Anne Garton, a truly inspiring Australian Triathlete who is fighting a battle against mental illness. I had heard her name come up on occasion in the media in the past and I became interested in trying to follow her progress, but there has always been surprisingly little said about her. Even now the internet hasn't managed to keep up with her, and Google tells us little beyond the recent and teriffic news that she will be representing Australia in the world championships in Hamburg later this year.

Had I not been driving a friend to the airport at the end of his spur of the moment vacation, I would probably have been asleep rather than sitting in traffic. Had I not been experiencing car troubles that caused a short that drained my battery recently, the settings in my car stereo would not have been wiped. Nor would I be listening to the radio (which I almost never do while driving), and certainly not on a radio station I haven't listened to in a number of years. I never would have heard the fund raising event that the radio station was assisting Anne with that morning, and I wouldn't have learned about the seminar planned for that very night.

While the topic of the mental health seminar was of interest to me, my recent return to triathlon training (setback due to illness) coupled with the fact that Anne was going to be speaking barely TEN MINUTES from my house more than piqued my curiosity and limited my night's options to precisely one. The opportunity to meet and talk with her afterwards came as a pleasant surprise, and was in fact a first for me - my first time face to face with one of my sporting heroes*.

"Triathlon is my chocolate.", says Anne, "... once you have your first taste, you crave more".

And I can relate to that when it comes to exercise (although I'm guilty of indulging in the other type from time to time). Exercise - something I was never encouraged to become involved in when I was growing up - the training, the journey toward the next athletic event... you can never stop at just a nibble.

"It's not about the medals... not because I have won races, but because triathlon gave me my first taste of 'the other side'." Anne goes on to explain that 'the other side' is "the happiness and pure pleasure I feel when I ride my bike beside the ocean watching the sun rise. It is the feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction after finishing a tough run - feelings I never had before."

Work at your goals, strive for success, but remember to enjoy the journey.

Anne Garton is a winner. Not through lucky genetics - and not just in sports - it's in her character. She has excelled all thoughout her life, long before taking up triathlon.

In response to being referred to as a sporting hero, Anne states, "I'm not. I'm exactly the same as you, and you have it in you too."

Letting the hero comment slide, Anne is right about the rest. She seems very down-to-earth, and despite her struggles and successes she is very much like you and I. And, like Anne, we can all be winners once cease to play victim, or stop seeing things as "too hard", and begin to feed our passions.

* While I have never personally met The Amazing Hip, I have reason to believe that my friend Jeff is in truth his alter-ego, so Anne may technically not be the first of my heroes to be graced with my presence.

I aborted my cycling session this morning because a pre-existing injury raised its ugly head* and made it unwise to continue. Almost anything else I probably would have ignored and pushed through to the end of the planned training distance, but there are some things us guys are a little sensitive to, and perhaps at times over-protective of.

Yes, that's right of course, I'm referring to my boy bits. If that is likely to risk offense to you or make you squirm in your seat, perhaps it's time to flick over to another page.

Still here? Morbid curiosity at its finest, no doubt! Don't be concerned, as I'm not going to be delving into any detail. Sorry to disappoint those who felt the need to know all the nitty-gritty.

Anyway, I'm told I could have this injury corrected with surgery, but since it is basically harmless and doesn't affect the performance of said equipment, the surgery is considered elective and will not be covered by any medical assistance plans. That's money I don't have, and since it hasn't been a problem before, I've just ignored it. Until today.

The fine adjustments are important, especially when constricted by bike pants (compression shorts) and resting solidly on a bike seat. It hasn't affected my cycling in the past, but today there was nothing I could do. Hopefully it was a once off stroke of bad luck and not a more permanent development that will need to be addressed. I guess I'll find out in the coming days if I continue to have troubles on the bike.

The last thing I want (or can afford financially) is to undergo surgery that will make me unable to train for a few weeks (running, cycling, and swimming would all be impossible for a time). Hopefully that won't be necessary. If it is, then I guess it would be better now rather than later.

* no pun intended

It is a little disheartening, the knowledge that just a few months ago I felt ready to ramp up to regular half-marathon training distances, and now due to unexpected twists I'm back to struggling to drag myself around the block. It has been a long fall in just a couple of short months.

Some might say that I have a choice that I now need to face. I could call it a day and hang up my towel, knowing that at least I tried. I ran the half marathon in Vegas, which is something I am very happy to have achieved. Maybe that is all I was meant to do. Or, I could choose to start over - to fight through the pain of having to train at distances shorter than what I was doing a year ago, and put in an effort to give it another shot and risk facing further disappointment.

Some might say that. Many, in fact. On the surface it might even seem fairly obvious.

But really, there is no choice. If you go to the doctor with a chest infection, does he suggest that you just stop breathing? Does a dog refuse to scratch just because he knows that the fleas will still be there? I exercise. I train because it's what I want, who I want to be. To borrow and paraphrase an analogy I recently learned from Australian triathlete Anne Garton; exercise is my chocolate, and I cannot stop at just one piece. Heck, I'm not planning to stop at just one block.

So, as I attempt to make a new start, it is a struggle. It hurts. The distances and times are so pathetic I wonder if I should even bother logging them in these early days. I'm not well, but I'm going to get well. And I'm going to get fit again doing it.

What my body doesn't seem to understand right now is that I'm a triathlete. I may suck at it, and I may now have a long way to go before my next race, but the road ahead is one I'm going to enjoy travelling.

Congratulations! You've Been Quadripwned!

That's right! You are now qualified to receive a full weekend of sit the f**k down and STFU!

If muscles had the ability to grimace and laugh maniacally, that's exactly what you would see us doing. Let it be known to you that as we sit here twisting you into knots, we are officially on strike.

Signed,

L and R Quadriceps

I don't know about you, but to me this message seems to relay quite a hostile tone.

Well, since the brick workouts are here to stay they're just going to have to suck it up. As for my reaction to this morning's message? I'll just make them run 5km next time instead of Thursday's mere 3.5.