2017: 51: 6

None of those running people are me.  They’re all going too fast.

Day four of not drinking.  When I stop drinking two things happen immediately:  I get not-drinking hangovers where I wake up and it feels like I have been drinking, and I get a break out all over my face.  While these things are obviously good – the body getting rid of toxins or something? I don’t know, I’m not a doctor – it is discouraging.

I can remember when I first got pimples.  I didn’t have them really badly but I had them.  At the time I remember taking comfort in the fact that I would only have them for awhile.  It’s thirty years now so awhile has stretched out a bit longer than I thought it would.  The only times I’ve really been free of them has always coincided with my best health and weight from which I conclude that I would have had rocking skin if I had been a monk of some kind.  Too much prayer though.

I levered myself out of bed and went for another two kilometre run this morning.  I’ve decided I will do ten minutes of yoga one day and a two kilometre run the other.  Probably the most shocking thing is how much the yoga hurts afterwards.  Looked at from the outside I would be a man not doing much for ten minutes.  I do a set of moves that involve stretching up, then bobbing down, then into a kind of push up, downward-facing dog, then up again.  As a consequence of this gentle, slow movement over ten minutes, my shoulders and chest and arms hurt.

When I run around the park four times to achieve two kilometres this is roughly how my thought process runs:

  1. I made it to the park so that’s pretty good because I didn’t really want to do this but don’t congratulate yourself too much slacker because you haven’t done anything yet
  2. Better start running
  3. This isn’t too bad
  4. I wonder if those magpies will start to dive bomb me?
  5. This is quite unpleasant
  6. The grass is bloody dry
  7. If I stopped would anyone care?
  8. Shouldn’t a healthy(ish) man be able to run two kilometres without wishing he was dead?
  9. I don’t like the look of those magpies
  10. This is agony; is my breathing supposed to be like this?  Should I breath in through the nose and out through the mouth?  Or the other way?
  11. Every time I run past those pigeons they burst into the air in a wave of poop and warbling which is extremely off-putting
  12. I’ve done three laps now so there’s no point in stopping
  13. What’s the damn point of this?
  14. I hate being a man with a little pot tummy
  15. The magpies have gone
  16. Why is it ok for the council to water the soccer field for the Pheonix every single morning?
  17. Fucking pigeons
  18. Christ, I’m going to make it
  19. The whole of that bank of trees is full of rubbish
  20. […]
  21. God.  What’s best about this?  The smugness.  Definitely the smugness.


The wind has gone and the few clouds above seem becalmed.  Two sleeps until Christmas Rosamund assures me.


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I wrote a book called Kaitiaki o te Pō