Happy New Year!

So I've been skiving off for three weeks of fun. I had a really nice Christmas/ New Year/ Birthday. If I can remove myself from my jetlagged stupor long enough I can tell you about it.

Andy and I spent Christmas with my parents', which is always really nice because they get excited and argue over who has the most presents and let me eat Guillian Chocolate Starfish (but no hotdog flavoured water) for breakfast. They bought dive knives for me and Andy, and dad visibly winced every time I took mine out of its sheath. I think the potential it has for cutting me out of fishing line or fending off an angry shark might be outweighed by the likelyhood of me impaling myself on it. Nice bit of kit though, oh I do like my gadgets :).

We managed to see a few family and friends this time, and it was nice that Andy got on with Beccy and Mark, it's always good when you can tell your friends aren't thinking 'god what a pr*ck' when they meet your significant other. I even got up to see Jacqui in Scotland. Thankfully, most of the flood waters have receeded so I didn't need to swim there clutching my shiney new dive knife between my teeth. We chatted and drank wine, and she dragged me up a bloody big hill. On the plus side, I discovered I'm not as unfit as I thought, on the minus it was freezing. The wind was so strong it was hard to walk, and much to Jacqui's relief I couldn't talk because everytime I opened my mouth my teeth instantly froze. Which is suprisingly painful. We also had a mammoth Mighty Boosh watching session. I won't be able to hear the phrase 'fiery biscuits' without thinking fondly of her. Although, to be fair, it doesn't come up too often.

We spent New Year at Andy's nan's house. She is very lovely, but I must be getting old to enjoy seeing in the new year sipping sherry and watching hootenany. I am now thinking fondly of bouncing up and down with hundreds of drunk 15 year olds to auld lang syn then some random cartoon theme tune in Stairways back in t'day. I'm not that old- you can't see my wrinkles when I look miserable.

On my birthday we went for a meal. Charley got in touch just in time, which was brilliant because I didn't think I'd manage to see him. We went for a greek (risking the 'food lottery') and I drank to much, but I think a good time was had by all.

My favorite comment of the night was from Adam : This is the first time I've seen you wearing clothes that don't have gortex written on them.' It's so nice when people notice you have made an effort :-P.

I'm now back in Laramie where it is all snowy and lovely. If you like retenal burns and frost bite. It's about minus lots out there. I'm trying to defrost a fish for tea, no bloody chance. Actually it's quite nice because there is no wind chill right now. I am using it as an excuse not to go running though- hopefully we'll get to go skiing soon.

Damn, I've inadvertantly stayed in work until after night fall. Bad things happen to people who go out after dark here, even people wearing sleeping bags with arm holes and snow boots gauranteed to keep your feet alive after even the hardiest of your huskies has kicked the bucket.

I'm going out for a walk, I may be some time. 'Bout 15 minutes usually.

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Most random jetlagged/insomniac thought: could I market an adult version of pin the tail on the donkey called 'p**t in the c**t'? I disgust myself, I really do.

Abuse and music..

My body was recovering nicely from the champagne cork boob bruise and the marathon-induced scabs, so it was time to abuse it some more, this time with alcohol. I've drunk at least ten times what I would in a normal week in the last 5 days.. Appaling.

Some of those units were consumed with a nice curry and some where drunk while watching Sinnerboy, the superb Rory Gallagher tribute band. The guitarist is absolutely note perfect, but has a real passion and energy usually lacking in people playing covers- he plays it like it his own music, which I think is the biggest compliment he could pay to Rory. The rhythmn section are superb too- tight and lively. I was a little aprehensive- surely there can't be many Rory fans on the Wirral? Luckily I was wrong- there was a good crowd. Brian sat reading a magazine through most of the gig, but he was definately in a minority. We all got to hear our favorite Rory songs; dad was happy after an extended version of WALK ON HOT COALS (happy dad?). I was hoping to come home and find out we had won Euromillions and I could fly the band out for my wedding reception- dad pointed out that it would be a bit selfish to have a band playing music I like rather than something middle of the road, but sod 'em I say- if you can't be selfish on your wedding day, when can you? Unfortunately we are still poor, so it won't happen :(. I feel inspired to go home and get my guitar out... if only I didn't have so many damn thesis corrections.

Because one stressful life event isn't enough...

So on friday I became Dr Chris, then sunday I made it to Dr Chris the marathon runner... all in all a very strange week. The viva was stressful, but I felt reasonably in control for most of it, and it wasn't too bad. Afterwards, I was happy and relieved and felt this strange urge to work hard and write lots of scientific papers. That feeling evaporated pretty quickly- the last drops vanished yesterday when I got my corrections back- they are fairly nasty. I was hoping to have them done by Christmas but it doesn't look like it will be possible. I'm trying not to think about it right now, I'll make a decision when I'm back home. Southampton was a bit of a shock after Laramie; I've never had a screechy obnoxious southerner shoulder barge past me in small town america, but it was really, really nice to see some friends.

I had the perfect excuse not to get drunk after my viva- the Snowdonia marathon looming on sunday. I spent saturday on a train then dad drove me to Llanberis where we spent the night dossing in a car park in his camper van. I was nervous on sunday morning when I went to pick up my timing chip. This wasn't helped when the woman cheerily handed me a leaflet with 'Britains toughest marathon' written across the front. Something small inside me whimpered.

The marathon wasn't all that bad- the spectacular views definately helped take my mind of the pain of this crazy thing I was doing. I ran a steady 11 min/mile for the first half, but it got exponentially more difficult as I got tired, and all thoughts of breaking 5 hours went out of my head. The first 4 miles where uphill, and I managed to run most of it- it was satisfying to overtake some of the people who'd burned past me in the first mile when they were walking knackered up the first big hill- the altitude training definately helped! After that we had 9 miles of steady descent, which was very welcome. I was able to relax and look around and run for me rather than the clock. A very nice feeling. The traffic was a pain, and I had moments of intense pain and a few 'mini-walls', but I never seriously thought I wasn't going to make it. The support was brilliant- people in laybys, locals and passing cars were all very positive. Even the other runners took time to say well done and chat a bit. The worst bit was the descent into Llanberis- very steep and painful for sore joints. A woman in pink hurtled passed me wailing something about not being able to stop and vanished around the corner in a blur of lycra. I overtook a couple of lads who tried to chat me up in broad yorkshire accents. They lost interest when I warned them not to get downwind of me..

I finished after 5 hours 14 minutes and went to rest and drink tea with dad. I never had a serious moment of 'I can't finish this' or 'never again'... maybe I ran too slowly... maybe it was just the right thing for me to do at the time. I really enjoyed it.

yum

So apparently the security restrictions on flights have eased, so I can take travel sized toiletries, baby food and up to 4oz of personal lubricant on board should I wish to do so.

All liquids have to be tasted in front of a security person... should I drink the shampoo or ky jelly first?

Crazy yanks.

grump

I'm having a mini-grump because we were planning on going diving this weekend, but there is a snow storm between here and utah, making the I80 dangerous. I was really looking forward to getting my number of logged dives into double figures too.. AND the vis is up to a huge 4.5 feet. Would have been able to see more than just the end of my nose *sigh*

But for some reason Andy didn't want to camp in sub-zero temperatures. Coward :)

I could do with the distraction- I'm wound up about my viva, which is a week today. I have been revising like a good little doctoral candidate, but I keep finding errors. Mostly just typos, but there are at least 2 big problems that if I get made to fix them it could take a while.. sucks. So, I'm not sleeping well, but I can't concentrate either.

So what to do? Read my thesis? Go to work? Go for a run in the snow? Or hit the freezer and break out the Ben and Jerries... might as well embrace the coldness :)

floaty stuff

Andy and I went to the rec centre to test out some new gear. Between us (and borrowing a fair bit from joel) we just about manage to cobble together enough gear for one person. I tried out my new reg and computer. The reg is excellent, even if it is so tiny I'm convinced I might actually swallow it at some point. I like the computer apart from when it is going nuts and insisting I am full of nitrogen before I've even dipped a toe in the pool- basically it is confused by being at 7200 feet. Can't blame it, it still confuses me sometimes. Andy was flaunting his lovely transpac bc. I'd steal it, but it doesn't fit :-(.

Sorry this is a fairly dull post, but I am so excited by diving and the feeling of weightlessness and freedom it gives me that I just wanted to talk about it. Yes I am a big, excitable child.

LEFT: never hold your breath while diving. Never. Unless you are pulling tounges at your girlfriend and don't want those pesky bubbles to get in the way.



RIGHT: Andy and Klaus. This shot could be straight out of a PADI manual.. If it was horribly pixilated and both guys were wearing colour coordinated gear (I can't possibly dive with a nitrox tank, the yellow and green would clash with my blue wetsuit dahhling)











RIGHT: turn your monitor sideways and this picture will be the right way up..


RIGHT: arrgh!! the giant pale hairy legged monster claims another victim

Silent Trails

Yesterday I ran the Silent Trails 10 mile trail race, which is a yearly memorial run held to remember 8 Wyoming cross country runners who lost their lives because of a drunk driver 5 years ago. The race took place up at Happy Jack, and the views were spectacular. I can't think of a better memorial to the poor students.

I was a little nervous because even though I managed to shuffle a painful 18 miles on monday (with much walking), 10 miles is still a long way for me. I did my usual pre-race ritual of sorting my gear, eating porridge and trying to time my fluid intake for maximum hydration and minimum bladder complaints. I messed the last one up hugely. Literally a second after Perry, the race organiser, shouted 'go' and around 120 hardened trail runners and a few not so hardened panicers (ok, me) lept forward gracefully, I realised I had to pee. The first two miles were down hill, so every step jolted my poor bladder upwards. After 2 and a half miles I realised I simply couldn't ignore my body for the rest of the race, and slowed to a walk while I scouted out possible pee locations. Eventually, I ducked off the trail behind a tree. Thankfully, this is Laramie not Birkenead so there was no laughing and pointing from the other competitors.

I rejoined the race, and set off at a more modest pace because unfortunately I had run out of downhill bits to pelt down. All was well until the aid station at 4 miles. Then I set off walking again because I had been warned that there was no point trying to run up the hill that followed, unless I wanted to look like someone running on a treadmill (i.e. not actually getting anywhere). The hill is called 'death crotch'... says it all really, although Christine affectionately calls it 'the bitch'. It's a mile of evil switchbacks, and worst of all, a false summit, so just when you think 'horray I've survived' and start to run again, you hit yet more switchbacks.

Eventually, death crotch was heroically defeated and I managed to set off running again. Pacing was difficult with no mile markers, and I hadn't really thought about how much more difficult 10 miles on a trail strewn with rocks and tree roots would be than my usual road/ dirt path running. Sometimes I would see or hear no other runners for a few minutes, and I would wonder idlly if I had taken a wrong turn. Then a cough or heavy footfall would break the spell and I realised my laboured breathing was blocking out subtle sounds.

I grabbed a drink at the second aid station (6 miles) and finally caught up with a woman I'd been steadily gaining on for about 20 minutes. We had a quick breathless chat, then I got a second wind. After that I had three miles of perfect, peaceful running. There was noone in sight, the views were fantastic and I felt relaxed and strong. I wasn't running to complete a race anymore, I was running just for me.

I passed through a gate we had passed a 1/4 mile after the start of the race, which lead me to believe erroneously that I only had 1/4 mile left to run. So I started smiling and speeding up. Big mistake. There was actually another mile so I suffered quite a lot. I started to hallucinate adoring crowds cheering me on just around the corner, but every corner just revealed more trail, trees and rocks. I thought about the marathon I am running in a few weeks and how much more pain I'll be in near the finish then, and how great it will be because my dad will be there with hot tea. I thought about how bloody stupid running is sometimes.

Then I could see the finish and I felt a whole lot better. People cheered and clapped and I decided that running was good after all, and that runners are nice people. I recovered with some great food and stayed to clap for the few people who came after me (I was pretty near the back).

It was a superb race, everything a race should be with great organisation, friendly competators and a beautiful course. Several times since I moved here I've thought about quitting running because the altitude makes it so tough, but this race was enough to make me realise not quitting was absolutely the right decision.

In 2 weeks I'll be racing again, this time a hell of a lot futher. I know it's going to be tough but I think I'll survive.