another aimless blog

yes, another blog to add to the millions out there already – but why not.

running to the corner August 15, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 7:24 am
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Today I ran 8kms in 47 minutes. Go me. My goal is to run 10kms in 60 minutes and then 50 minutes. Apparently this is what sorts out the runners from the joggers. Joggers I read, just jog about aimlessly.

I've been following this programme on a site called Time to Run. You can basically start from never having moved from the lounge and end up running sub 40 minute 10k's. And it all sort of happens so gradually that you don't even notice your pace or fitness getting better until you realise you can run 8 kms in 47 minutes.

There's a lot to think about when you're running. Head up, shoulders down, hands relaxed, hips forward, land on the ball of the foot.  I used to think so hard about it all that I'd almost fall over but now I just sort of let it happen. And anyway have you seen Paula Radcliffe run. She has the weirdest style with her head banging about all over the place yet she keeps winning marathons. I felt a bit like I was channeling her the other day.

I do my running on the treadmill because there's nowhere to run here. I've been around town looking but can't find a suitable track. This means I spend a lot of time watching music videos. Which has lead to me developing a strange crush on the lead singer of Gyroscope. I don't even know what his name is. But they have a new album out so I've seen a lot of them. And their music has a pretty good running pace.

For a while there I thought he might replace Tex in my affections.

But. Nah. Ain't gonna happen just yet.

Gotta love a man who can wear a pair of brown slacks

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there was a crooked man January 20, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 8:37 pm
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This morning I discovered that my toenails are so long that my joggers don't fit.

I've known that they needed cutting for a while now, but its one of those things I only remember needs doing when I almost get one of them ripped off.

Like I knew they needed cutting on Sunday when I went grocery shopping wearing my thongs and my big toenail kept getting caught on the hem of my jeans.

Well they won't be getting cut today because my back siezed up on Tuesday and I wouldn't be able to reach them. I'm like the crooked man at the moment. I'm stuck in what I call the lawnmowing position. Not that I ever mow the lawn mind you. But thats how I'm stuck. Kind of bent over a bit. You could call it pushing the pram as well. And then one hip is bunched up a few inches higher than the other.

Its very annoying. It usually happens about once a year for some reason. When I was 14 I bent over one night to pick up the dogs bowl and that was the first time it happened. Last time it happened I had to use a walking stick.

It was the bloody plane trip that did it. Sitting there for over 8 hours. I could feel it stiffening up.

Towards the end of last year I was running every day and doing some pilates and yoga and my back had never felt better. But then I had the whole suspected heart attack thing so couldn't exercise for a week. Then the plane trip. There and back. And then it decided to just chuck it in.

Walking, slowly, helps when it happens. I have to either be lying down or walking.

Maybe I could just walk on the treadmill all day and watch movies. And lie down for food breaks.



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fighting genetics November 19, 2009

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 12:11 am
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I have come to the conclusion that no matter how far I run, how many lunges I do, how many upward dogs and downward dogs, three legged dogs or pigeon fuckers I do, I will always have my mothers legs.

It has been a disappointing realisation.

By the way, there is no yoga position called a pigeon fucker.

Its just pigeon. But I used to work with a guy and his nickname was The Pigeon Fucker.

Not that he did mind you. Well, not that I know of.

He was french. Its a long story. And I think you had to be there.

Anyway the point is genetics suck.

Its a constant battle fighting them.

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go hard or go home October 17, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 9:38 pm
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When I woke up and stood up, every muscle in my body screamed


And as I took a few steps towards the kitchen it was followed by


See years ago I did a womens self defence course and that lead to me taking up kickboxing, and that lead to the instructor writing me out a weights programme. And I managed to beat myself into pretty good shape. But then about two years ago I developed a shoulder injury and had to give up the weights. And although for the past twelve months I've been doing the running, the biking, the pilates, billy blanks dvds, yadayadayada, nothing really makes me feel as fit as when I haul weights.

Because I like being strong. I like the way my posture feels so much better and nothing jiggles around. And I want to remain strong as I age. I don't want to have a dowagers hump and walk around all hunched over as if I'm searching for coins on the ground. I don't want to be falling and snapping bones because they're so brittle and weak, and I definitely don't want my triceps waving good bye to someone when my hand does.

And I want to beat my husband in an arm wrestle. I know, it's terribly romantic, but before the shoulder injury we used to do a fair bit of Saturday night arm wrestling. And although I hadn't beaten him yet, I could tell he was scared. Man, when he's about eighty I'm going to kick his arse.

So on Monday morning I pulled out the weights programme and hit it hard.

And thats why this morning, you would only need to tap me anywhere with the point of your little finger and I'd fall in a screaming heap on the floor.

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Thunderstruck June 10, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 4:24 am
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Today Operation Thunder Thighs began. I'm not trying to find some, rather prevent some from arriving.

It all started about a year ago.

My mother had two knee replacement operations and I went and stayed at their house to look after her. One of my jobs was to put on the compression stockings. And they aren't joking when they use the word compression. So she'd have a shower and stand in front of me. I'd kneel on the floor and wrestle the stockings onto her. After a few weeks doing this I could have killed a person with only my thumbs. It's a tough workout.

Anyway the point is, that one time while I was doing this, I glanced up at my mothers legs and thought –

wow – they sure are chunky thighs.

But it wasn't a huge shock as she's always had terrible legs.

However, last week I stepped out of the shower, bent down to dry my toes, glanced at my legs and thought –

OH MY GOD – those babies could turn into my mothers thighs.

They definitely have the potential. They're still slim, but I can see a similar shape emerging.

Lizzie is also going to begin Operation Thunder Thighs. I was going to say that at 16 she has different goals than me, but I don't think she has actually. I think we're both trying not to turn into our mother.

My friend Jem is going to start Operation Fat Guts. Thats because her mother looks like a ladybeetle. Or a bee. She has the tank middle and skinny legs.

Bloody mothers – pass on all their faulty genes – why can't they be perfect.

My parents between them have already warned me to look out for varicose veins, glaucoma, haemochromatosis and schizophrenia. And now they expect me to deal with fat thighs as well.

So basically the routine will just include more of what we should all be doing.

Less grog – I must say Four Corners scared me off binge drinking (almost) last night with the brain damage angle. Was much more frightening than ManWoman.

Less fat – twisties, chips and gravy, pastry – basically all the tasty stuff. 

Less sugar – no actually I don't eat much sugar – that can stay.

More exercise – I'm excellent at making excuses to get out of exercise, so no more of that. Definitely more leg work.

I was going to take before and after photos but common sense prevailed. I did that once before. I had Daz take some polaroids of me in my undies and bra. I couldn't be bothered taking my jeans off so I just had them bunched around my ankles. So I told him to cut that out of the photo. But he didn't – he put them in and cut my head off instead.

I don't remember if I actually cried or not when I saw them but I knew they must be destroyed instantly. Do you know how hard it is to set a polaroid alight.

So here we go. Operation Thunder Thighs has officially begun.


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Cut the Fat February 11, 2008

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 2:46 am
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I'd like to introduce you to Nancy. Hi Nancy. I don't actually know Nancy but I saw her photo in a fitness magazine. The reason I cut Nancy out is because she is 50. FIFTY.

I'd like to get inside Nancys head. I want to know how she stays so focused. Being that fit at any age takes some hard work and determination. But hard work and determination get so boring after a while.

Nancy looks happy.

But I decided there is only one way to go about this. I only want to lose 4 kilos but they are showing strong signs of resistance. They just seem to love living on my waist. And the article I read that was titled Just Say NO to Cellulite was crap. I've said NO to it every day since and it's still there. So I made this. I think it's the only way. Shame really, I'm good at making excuses.

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the scales never lie November 12, 2007

Filed under: Uncategorized — panthergirl @ 11:55 pm
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Thats unfortunate then. That means the 5 kilos they say I've put on since the throat thing began are definitely not in my imagination. The trouble began in September,  when all I felt I could swallow were chocolate thickshakes. And who'd have thought they had so many kilojoules in them. Oops, not me. 1910 to be exact. And if you add the fries to that, well it's no wonder really. So I have to work on that now. But it's ok, I've been watching The Biggest Loser. And watching that always makes me more determined, because I don't like watching extra large people being able to run further than me. So I'm going to pretend I'm on Jillians team. And I'll imagine she's in my face, screaming abuse at me, telling me I'm a useless, no good lard arse and to MOVE IT, or she'll break my arm and make all my children do 100 push ups before I can finish.

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