I'm not great with Christian holidays. There. I've said it. Bah humbug. Easter Schmeaster. Oh will the shops get over it and let us get on with a real holiday - like Labour Day or ANZAC Day. No, we have to tolerate tonnes of chocolate, bunnies roaming around the place and people moaning about putting on weight. It's silly.
I'm over it.
Maybe I'd feel more comfortable if I had something more than my favorite season and the clocks going back to celebrate. If I was Jewish, I'd have Pasach, if I was an Orthodox Christian I'd be living it up. But I'm in one of those funny groups - an amalgam of humanism, spirituality, wicca and paganism - I think I put Spiritual Agnostic on the census form. We don't have enforced holidays. Happy Oestara/Mabon doesn't have the same ring to it.
I'm regularly heard saying - why should I celebrate the cruxifiction of a Jewish reprobate on a Roman instrument of torture? I'm responsible for my wrong doings. Me and the big fella upstairs, we deal with each other. We don't need the middle man of the Church/Temple/Prophet. And yes, I get in trouble for my views sometimes. We're all entitled to what we believe. I don't slam or deride anybody for their beliefs - I just would like the same courtesy extended to me.
Thing is, I'm looking at this Easter and once again doing a blessing count. I've had some pretty crap Easters - last year's took the biscuit, but most of them have a theme of being alone, or being with my family waiting to come back to Melbourne. Last year, on Good Friday Eve, we found out about Grounded Dutchman's paragliding accident. I spent the four days fretting, coordinating and generally freaking over the fact that my best friend was unconscious, his pelvis in pieces, on a respirator, 1500 kilometres away. That was fun. The phone rang constantly - "How's the Grounded Dutchman? "How are you?", "What's going on?". It was pretty full on - but nice to know that people were checking up on me, not leaving me hanging.
So this Easter - with nothing to moan about, I sit here having a pleasant time. Grounded Dutchman is safely ensconsed at his mother's place in Holland - don't have to worry about him. I had a final breakfast with Reindert at the Mess Hall in Bourke Street - the best corn fritters ever - before he caught his flight back to Boston. He'll be back at some stage - or I'll see him in October on my trip. Not worried about that one. I haven't gone back to Adelaide this year and I'm getting a lot done. Yay.
I've set myself a new goal or two - I managed the 300 km in two month challenge - it was great - really proud of myself. So I've set a 220 km challenge for April - both walking and running. It's a bit of an ask, but as I'm in training, it has to be done. It's a worthy total. I also managed to only slip on a few occasions when it came to chocolate, chips and ice cream.
Also, after going for a run today in the gym, I want to see if I can get my five km time under 30 minutes. Today I did the distance in 34.45 - it's something to work towards along with the other distance stuff. The trick with this marathon thing is consistancy and a slow build up. I can do this. I'm sure of it. I owe Reindert a training plan by the end of the weekend.
Running might be a bit easier now too. Pinochet has made it known he's leaving the gym for definite - and it's final. He's taken down his photo and number and told all his clients that he's going. The other girls I train with are all a bit sceptical, but there are a few of us wondering what we're going to do - like I've been with him for three years now. He's helped to keep me on the straight and norrow. Okay, he's a bit of a musclebound, soccer playing meat head - but he's my musclebound, soccer playing meat head. It feels a bit like I've been served with divorce papers. He really has been the most constant of male relationships I've had over the last ten years.
I'm not sure if I wan't to train another trainer up, though I've had a preliminary talk with one of the other trainers at the gym - Erdin. Erdin's been watching us train for months - he works at the same time as Pinochet and he works his clients hard. Will talk to the rest of the girls and see if he might be interested in taking us on. Poor guy - Pinochet's old training team come as a job lot. A bevvy of attractive, very intelligent, hard working women who will give him hell. He's got to want to take us on?!
So it's now Easter Sunday Eve. Five years ago I was on Santorini, in a hotel room, alone, thinking World War Three had broken out at midnight. All it was was the Greeks letting off a king's ransom on fireworks at midnight. A bit of a tradition there. Although stationed on one of the most beautiful places on the planet, it was lonely. Walking along Perivolas Beach the next morning, at regular intervals along the beach men tended fire pits with whole lambs on spits. People were celebrating everywhere. All the shops were closed. I made a feta and tomato salad and read my book, wishing I was with people, celebrating something.
It's a pity you remember the bad ones.
This Easter is looking far more productive. I've nearly finished a writing job, friends are coming over to dinner tomorrow night and Monday I'm taking the leftovers over to Blarney's place, knowing that she's being a football widow for the afternoon and she's housebound, such is the size of her twinned up belly.
I think I like this Easter more than the others. No stress. No dramas - just have to run, cook and write.
That suits me fine.
Card of the Blog: Ten of Cups - Happiness.
Kilometres walked since 29 January: 192 km
Kilometres run since 29 January: 119 km
Currently reading: Ice by Louis Nowra, Marathon Running for Mortals
Weight lost since 29 Jan: 1.7 kg
April Kms: 11/220