#operationmove

Phew! Christmas is saved…

Where’s my mojo?

So, here’s the thing. My tri mojo has gone on its summer holidays and hasn’t left word about how long it will be gone. I’m hoping it’s a holiday. I’m hoping it’s just a reaction to moving house. Or end-of-year-itis. Or something short-lived. I suspect it’s because I bought a new Garmin.

Last time I bought a new Garmin, (aptly named the Forerunner 235 because it is for runners), I immediately decided that I needed to do something other than just running. So got into triathlon.

Now I am the proud owner of the Fenix 3 (aptly named – oh wait…). Anyway, it’s a multisport device with so many bells and whistles I can’t really use it – successfully – most of the time. This week I have finally learnt how to set up “auto-pause”. This is a big deal people. I have failed to record most rides I’ve done recently, as I am incapable of turning my watch back on manually.

Club coloured face

The old and the new

Accessorise baby

And as the number of rides (or runs or swims) has been steadily dwindling, it’s disappointing not to have Strava evidence of the ones that actually existed. Because now I have a tri-specific Garmin, it seems I’m incapable of loving tri.

It’s the Garmin jinx!!!

Let’s get happy!

It’s Christmas, and we should be full of good cheer. And I had one of those days that I seem to be my speciality, and thought I might as well share. Because laughing is good.

This particular day, I had a genuine excuse not to be able to train: I needed to be at work for 7am to sit in on an interview. So, I obviously WANTED to ride that day. Being everso good, I packed my bag the night before, remembering to put underwear in. (Emma, I got to work on Tuesday after our run and realised I didn’t bring any clean undies! Lucky I keep a pack of clean knicks in my locker)!!!

Emergency knicks

I had planned my route, from Morningside to Bulimba, across on the ferry to Teneriffe and a nice flat ride along the Riverwalk into the city. Shower at work, time to cool down, grab a coffee, and be all fresh and radiant and as close to professional as I get in time for the interview.

So, I got to the ferry terminal only to find that I hadn’t brought my GoCard. Doom. And even worse, I store my bank card in the same pouch. NO COFFEE MONEY. ARGHHH! I realised at this moment, that I had forgotten to attach a water bottle to my bike, too.

To cycle home, or just head straight to the city along the south side and deal with the hills at Kangaroo Point? In the interests of time, it seemed wisest to head straight in, so off I pootled.

The ride occurred without further incident: I stayed upright and pedalled up all hills remembering Liz’s words of wisdom to concentrate on making big circles. And holding her budgies, so I didn’t crush them. (This is all technical cycling speak, for those not in the know).

I may have tried to take my bike into the shower room, before I remembered I needed to rack it in the bike cage.

Winning at Life

And when I got into the shower room, I found my GoCard in a pocket I hadn’t inspected. But at least that meant coffee, right!

Showered and dressed, I put part 2 of the plan into action, and grabbed coffee. Up in the lift, I needed to retrieve things off my desk, but as I tried to grapple my way through the glass door, I knocked my coffee, which flew into the air, flinging its contents over the doorway, then miraculously catching it again before it fell on the floor! There was still coffee in the cup and none actually on my clothes! And more importantly, no-one saw. #winning

Belongings collected, I made my way upstairs to the interview room, realising I was now a couple of minutes behind time. (Possibly due to trying to surreptitiously remove the evidence of my coffee chaos). Win #2 – I had beaten the interviewer and interviewee. My day was back in control!

Only the interviewer and the interviewee didn’t appear. I waited 5 minutes. I checked all the available rooms to see if they had popped into another office. I zoomed down in the lift to see if I could locate them on a different floor. I zoomed back up in the lift. BUT NO SIGN.

I regathered my belongings and went back to my desk to check my email. (I hadn’t previously due to time pressure – my email takes 33 hours to load – possibly a minor exaggeration, but anyway, way more time than is available when one also needs to scrub coffee off glass entrances…)

Lo and behold: the interview had been cancelled – at 5.30am that morning. Yes, really!! Did I mention I was supposed to be working from home…?

My life is never in control, so even though work things all panned out nicely: I got home at midday (having conducted the interview) – you’ve been here before. You know this story isn’t going to continue on a winning streak, don’t you… (It’s like Catherine Cookson, without the cold chill of the moors and the Geordie accent).

Piss and wind

Once home, I went upstairs and tried to get into the ensuite. Only to find the door had blown to with the storm, and the handle was broken. So suddenly, I was locked out of the loo. And despite my best efforts to remove the handle, it was not budging. Hmm. Husband at home to perform husbandly house tasks? Of course not, he was off being part-time. I mean, FIFO.

Besides, who needs a toothbrush? Or face wash? Or moisturiser? Or any other nonsense that you keep in a bathroom? And of course, our property manager was off missing in action. As was her replacement…

I tell you, world, don’t buy a Garmin. They’re a jinx!!

PS. There is luckily another bathroom in the house, so I’m not still full of wee, writing this. But thanks for your concern. And the door is now open. So, things are looking up.