The Rock And Roll Health Tour
John has not yet had a heart attack. Despite our collective best efforts to the contrary. He is still in hale and hearty health, aside from his monumental cholesterol problem. Of course, his near death-by-Big-Mac pronouncement was a wake up call to ALL our mortality. All of us, in our own way, sat down and begun to compile a list of what we would like to accomplish before we finally shuffled off this mortal coil. That being said, he is still eating mayonnaise-and-cheese sandwiches before bed. Brandy is currently giving hims grief. I suggested skip the middle man and get a cheese burger colonic.
In my case, found the list to exceed the length of the gas station receipt in my pocket I was using. It surprised me in ways I didn't think I still could. I wanted to practice my tango dancing, learn Italian, seriously waist train with corsets, practice my magic tricks and up my game, train for and complete a triathlon. Of all of these things, my career rigours aside, there was one that cast the others in shadow and pulled away from the others. In know my 30th year I wanted to train for and complete a triathlon.
I grew up in a very healthy house. My mother, always the one to take a keen interest in all things physical activity related, was often pulling her offspring from in front of Saturday morning cartoons or plucking a book from betwixt my hands. Often we would go biking, skiing, skating, or swimming, depending on the season. She was appalled the day I flunked P.E. class in high school especially given her own highly competitive career as someone who made her living off of fitness and well being. The day I told her about my ambition to become a triathlete and I swear, she started to cry and said, "Oh honey, I'm so happy for you!". I doubt I could have dropped one of those Big Important News (engagements, baby news, major career promotion, coming out of the closet) to her and gotten and better response. So now my mom knows and therefor I feel totally committed at this point.
So yesterday we arrived in Wilhelmshaven, Germany, via Amsterdam, by way of Pearson airport in Toronto and starting from a hotel in Erie, PA. Suffice to say, it was a long day, in a lot of closed quarters and by the end I had a case of crazy legs. As I have been running every day on this tour (with the exception of two days where I was nursing MASSIVE hangovers) I have taken this personal pledge pretty seriously. So when we touched down on Dutch soil and up to Germany I was chomping at the bit to get out and get my stride on. I woke up, shook of the bits of jet lag, and happily pulled on my old Nikes and popped my headphones in and started my trek.
My goodness it's a fine way to find a good way to get lost! I love running in Wilhelmshaven, and have never done it in the fall before. All the components of fall I love with the backdrop near the North Sea. I saw on this one a number of interesting things: a giant dead seagull I mistook for an osprey, a guy walking two dogs that looked like carpet slippers that dragged him along as if he was on skis and fields and fields of sheep. Lots of sheep, actually. Being something of a child of the city (cue Glenn Frey's "You Belong In The City") I was enchanted by all these black faced baaing grass munchers. I rounded a corner and came across one large paddock of them and they all stopped and stared.
As I run I listen to a selection of songs on my iPod I will refer to my 'Cardio Blitz". Among these are many I sing along to to help regulate breathing. So there I was, in the middle of Madonna's "Immaculate Collection" when I happened on this grazing captive audience. They walked forward so I stopped and belted out in my best rock star version of the Material Girl's classics. Some went back to grass clipping, but the majority walked forward, held rapt in my attention. I was starting a very passionate rendition of "Open Your Heart" when they started to run off, slowly at first but as I really cut loose in the chorus, they all scattered.
I take my sense of pitch VERY seriously, so I was little miffed to be losing my audience. I looked over, turned the volume down and saw the Shepard there on his motorbike staring at this strange, sweaty Canadian chick serenading his flock. Imagine for a moment the roles were reversed. Your up, you've had your coffee, and your off to go collect the sheep to take to the shearing shed. You hop onto your bike and whistle for your dog and see a bedraggled, drenched foreigner singing at the top of her lungs to your sheep. The sheep, to their credit, are tolerating this concert. She notices you, finally, smiles brightly, and mentions something about Lady Gaga then bounces off down the road. You scratch your head and hope your day gets a little less surreal before lunch.
I hope I see the flock again tomorrow. I've got a great repertoire of Eurythmics for them and some stuff off of Annie Lennox's last album. I think it'll make for good brunch music for them.
Cheers.
Little Miss Risk