Letting a Little Colour Back In

No bones about it, it has been a tough week since Murphy's sudden passing last Friday.  However, we are coming out the other side of the initial shock and grief.  I am now able to have a conversation about her without breaking down.  We still miss her and her familiarity enormously, and the house is eerie without her in it.  C2 has already decided we must get another dog....like now.  I put the kibosh on that desire, however, as I would really like to wait a year, tick a travel box or two without the worry of animal care for the first time in 20 years.   His head agrees, but the heart wants what the heart wants....so does J's.

Halloween was a good distraction and it is beginning to really catch on in Australia.  People either fully embrace it or mutter about the Americanization of Australia.  Some older kids probably inclined to mischief-making anyway use it as an excuse to cause problems.  Fortunately, we didn't see any of that.  Of course it is nearly summer here and all the kids were wandering the neighbourhood under bright sun and were done by 6:00 but that's just how we do it down under.  J's school had an awesome Halloween disco later in the evening where the boys boogied while I hung back at my girlfriend's house and sipped wine.

 Australians are still working out what to give as Halloween lollies and many are clearly baffled.  Too much is unwrapped candy (straight into the bin) but my personal favorite this year were three dried Apricots....ewww!  I think they beat the banana and packet of TimTams from two years ago.

Another great distraction was Perth's annual Swisse Color Run which J and I ran yesterday along with 19,000 other runners.  The Color Run is a unique concept whereby every kilometre or so, you are pelted with paint (coloured starch) in an effort to become as kaleidoscopic (is that a word?) as possible.  Frankly, it's the only 5k race where I pretty much laughed from start to finish, and then danced along with thousands of others at a great post-race party.  The run was around Langley Field in downtown Perth between the city and the Swan River.  It was picturesque and fun and EXACTLY what J and I needed though I didn't need the reminder that J continues to run a 5K faster than me.

We were nice and clean in our Color Run kit.  I couldn't convince J to lose the sweatband.  Didn't matter much once we got to the race site since everyone else was wearing one too.

Selfie immediately post-race.  I am such a cheeseball whilst J is waaaay too cool for school

The post-race dance party - yep that's J dancing!

Clouds of paint

Yes, we rode the train home looking like this!

We had fun, and we were happy and that was the goal of getting through this last week.

Exercise for Everybody!

It's no secret that exercise is a big part of our lives.  I  principally do it to indulge my well-documented Tim Tam addiction, but the endorphin high doesn't hurt either.  We've managed to include J in many of our activities and he does love the outdoors, running on the beach, climbing dunes and hills, hiking, and bushwalking.

Last weekend, we went on a bushwalk with our neighbours in the Yanshep National Park, about 50km north of Perth.  The Australian flora is always a treat, we were surrounded by Gum trees off all sorts, Tea trees, and gorgeous blooming Wattle.

 It was a glorious Winter day to bushwalk 12.5k though my feet didn't feel so glorious 4.5 hours later!

We really didn't expect this Croc to leap out of the bush at poor J.  He managed to fight it off thankfully.

 Gum trees galore!

 Deep in conversation, probably about something Minecraft-related.

Then we saw this fella, we were terribly impressed to see him, but I don't think the feeling was mutual.

Meanwhile, it is important that my mum continue to exercise in order to maintain good health whilst visiting us down under.  She's been working very hard!

Footy FAQ

With references in my last blog post to J's participation in Footy, I thought it might be time to explain what Footy is and what it isn't, so here is a quick FAQ (that's Frequently Asked Questions, mum!)

1.  Footy, or since it is customary in Australia to shorten every word in the Websters Standard Dictionary, is short for Australian Rules Football or Aussie Rules.

2.  Footy is not rugby, nor soccer nor American-style gladiator football.  It doesn't resemble any of the aforementioned.

3. Footy is played only in Australia, though there are teams that play for fun in New Zealand, France and probably a handful of other countries.

4.  Footy is followed in  Australia with a passion akin to extreme madness, and one "barracks" for the same team that one's great-great-grandfather/mother, great-grandfather/mother, grandfather/mother, father/mother, great-great Uncle/Aunt 3 x removed,  barracked for.  Get it?  There is serious family loyalty to a team.

5.  There are 18 teams in the Australian Football League (AFL) and 9 of them are based in Melbourne where the sport originated.  Think having 9 professional hockey or baseball teams from the same city!

6.  There are two Footy stadiums in Melbourne: Etihad Docklands Stadium which accommodates 53,000, and the mecca to all things Footy in Australia, the iconic MCG or Melbourne Cricket Ground or well just the "G", which accommodates....wait for it....100,000!  Both stadiums sell out regularly.

7.  Footy Rules.  Well as far as I have been able to make out, there aren't really any or if there are, they are only loosely complied with.  Players handball, kick, or run and bounce the ball down the oval-sized field.  The ball resembles a rugby ball but is smaller with rounded ends.

8.  Footy Scoring.  Kick the ball between any of the FOUR goal posts at the other end of the field.  6 points through the two middle posts, a single point through either of the smaller side posts.  Team with the highest score at the end of an hour or so, wins.

9.  Footy Cool Stuff.  Marking a ball which is when a player cleanly catches a ball kicked more than 15 meters without anyone else touching it or the ball touching the ground.  A specky (short for spectacular mark) is when a player marks a ball by climbing onto the back of another player, very very cool.  The players wear short shorts, I like that part.

10. Footy Singing.  Every team has a song that is played at the beginning of each match.  Supporters sing loudly, proudly, with hand on heart, and I swear with more emotion than the national anthem.  They sing again if the match is won.  Many of the songs are based on operatic melodies or other familiar tunes.  For example: the Geelong Cats club song is based on "Carmen's Toreador", Brisbane Lions "La Marseillaise", and Collingwood Magpies "Goodbye Dolly Gray"

11.  Being newcomers down under, it took a while to choose a team to barrack for.  As we couldn't agree and with limited influence, J chose the Geelong Cats, I chose the St. Kilda Saints, and C2 the Collingwood Magpies, a somewhat controversial choice.  One either LOVES or HATES Collingwood.  It should be noted that, unhappily, after taking my mum to a match this year, she now barracks for Collingwood too...though I think only because she loves their club song and now sings it with gusto at the slightest encouragement.

12.  Footy is a Fall/Winter sport played from April through August.  The entire country comes to a complete stop on Grand Final Day.  It's a one-game winner takes all between the two teams.  Cricket fills the footy void as the summer sport of choice in Australia, yawn!

13.  Footy is an equal opportunity spectator sport.  Women make up at least 50% of the fan base and are equally if not more rabid than their male counterparts.  Unfortunately, this has not translated to the grassroots level where it is rare to see girls participating in Footy.

 
14.  At the grassroots level, Footy is begun around age 4 in the local Auskicks program before moving into an actual club.  We are with the Caulfield Bears Club - go Bears!

Coach Matt debriefs the U10  Grizzlies

Got it?  Good.

Sports at 9

C2 and I are both dedicated to fitness and nutrition, we do our best to stay healthy and in shape.  Fitness gives us the energy to get through the myriad challenges of being older parents, and in C2s case, insane work hours and a grueling travel schedule.

We have tried very hard to shape J's view of nutrition in the direction of moderation, and the importance of fueling his body to fuel his brain.  Most of the time he gets it, the rest of the time he craves gummy bears.  He also sees us working out a lot, and carving time out of our every day to devote to exercise.  During the last school holiday, I had him do some circuit training in the park with me.  He occasionally runs with me, and mountain bikes, and skiis with us with an energy most adults would covet. 

A week ago, the charity I work with, Child Wise, held a fundraising 5K run.  J had expressed an interest in running the race some weeks back but I didn't really take him seriously.  Cut to the night before the event and on our way for Lhaksa (a Malaysian dish very popular in Melbourne that deserves its own blog post), whilst discussing the race, he insisted that he run it with me.  Reluctantly I agreed, as I figured I would be sacrificing a real run for a walk/run with J, but he was adamant.

Sunday morning, we were up at 6:30 and out the door shortly after for the race around Albert Lake in South Melbourne.  The speeches were made, the warm-up completed, the starters' pistol sounded and we were off...fast.  About every half-kilometer, I'd ask him if he wanted to walk, but he just shook his head and eyed the next runner in front of us to pass.  He threw back some water at the half-way mark water station and increased his pace.  With the final in his line of sight, we sprinted to the finish.

The gold standard for any adult is to finish a 5K under 30 minutes...J's time?  29.28.  He was puffed but very proud; so was I!

Olympic Junkie

I am and not ashamed to admit it!  I have followed the Olympics avidly since the 1976 Montreal Games.  They were held in my home town and I remember vividly the exploits of Olga Korbut, Nadia Comaneci and Alberto Juantareno.  The Hungarian swim team trained at my swim club, and I remember rising early every morning for a week to get to the pool and watch in awe as they went through their laps.

Every two years I wonder if it's too late to take up Biathlon, Rowing, Cross-country Skiing, or Field Hockey.  Every two years I watch in wonder, in admiration, and cry at every high drama moment where life-time ambitions are achieved or dashed in a heartbeat.

This year, we've all cheered Usain Bolt and Mo Farah, the amazing results of Team GB.  I've alternated between rooting for Team Canada and Team Australia finding my loyalties swinging equally between the two.

I've seen the following advertisement from Australian telecommunications giant Telstra about a thousand times in the last two weeks, and all five of us in the Hendricks household are humming it constantly, perpetually setting each other off.   I swallow a lump in my throat everytime!

If I Can't Be A Soccer Mom, Can I Be A Marathon Mom?

You may recall from earlier postings such as "Where is Tim Horton's When You Need One", my lamenting of J's team sport playing abilities. To summarize again, he celebrates when his weekly football (soccer) practice is cancelled, flinches when the ball comes anywhere near him, and would rather blow the fluff off of dandelions than be caught chasing anything resembling a football. Apply the same analogies to hockey and baseball, and you get the general picture.

However, as I have also said, put the kid on skis, in water, or on a bike in the woods with logs, roots, and hills to climb, and I would challenge you to either catch him or match the volume of his 'woo hoos'.

He was equally impressive during his participation in the 1.7km Course de l'Escalade this past December. So, I was given to indulge his pleading to run in the kids race in the annual Geneva Marathon this weekend. Thanks to my friend Sher, I mentioned the race to him and the pleading ensued.

I gotta say, for a dandelion blower, he was darn impressive. Nerves of steel all day, cool as a cucumber at the start and smoked that girl in pink.


Receiving his medal

OK, so if the NHL and the 2022 World Cup are not in his future, maybe the Olympics or the Ironman, or the Boston Marathon, or the X-games...

Skiing in the Rain AKA Ski Week 2010

I know, I know, I have been silent of late. As stated in my prior post, January and February are pretty quiet months for us without much worthy of mention. Add in my Olympics obsession, and it all adds up to little time to blog.

The Point Nyon, highest point at Les Gets looking down to the village of Morzine

We did just return from our annual ski week to Les Gets in the French Alps though. The past few years, we shared this holiday with our great friends, the Millers, however, they abandoned us to move stateside last year, sigh. Marc and Nat joined us for the first weekend, and we had a great time exploring Les Get's pretty village on Saturday while C2 and J hit the slopes. Les Gets is part of the larger Porte de Soleil group of 12 linked resorts in France and Switzerland. This year, we skiied both at Les Gets and at adjacent Morzine.

Point Nyon again, J's first time skiing the challenging Aigle Rouge run

J started ski school on Sunday morning and we had beautiful weather all the way until Monday - yep a whole 2 days! After that, we had a spectacular buffet of rain, freezing rain, sleet, snow, punctuated by the odd clear moment. But you know, in spite of the less than stellar weather, we had a wonderful time. We holed up in our cozy chalet by the fire, ate well, drank great wine, ventured out when we felt like it (the big advantage of a ski-in/ski-out chalet), read, played board games, and kept the TV permanently tuned to the Olympics.

J approaching a jump in Morzine's jump park

Our routine was for C2 and I to ski hard during the 2 hours of J's ski school, then pick him up and at his insistence, ski over to his favorite restaurant on the hill to indulge his passion for a crepe complete et chocolate chaud avec creme chantilly. To translate, a crepe stuffed with ham and cheese with a raw egg tossed in for good measure, and a hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream.

The ubiquitous chocolate chaud avec creme chantilly

After lunch, we would do our best to keep up with the little skiing dynamo, who would literally ski until the lifts closed every day when the weather permitted. It's a good thing C2 can keep up with him because the non-stop top to bottom skiing on the steep red runs was exhausting (for me, not him). Still, I cannot explain the joy it brought me to watch this joyful 6-year old skiing moguls singing the White Stripes' "Seven Nation Army" at the top of his lungs.

J earned his deuxieme etoile from the Ecole de Ski Francais

Every evening, following dinner, J, Murphy and I would bundle up, and walk down our little hill to explore the chair lift in the dark, then climb part way up the adjacent ski hill to admire the twinkling lights and pretty chalets of Les Gets. On our final evening, C2 joined us, and we climbed very high and then rocketed down the ski run on our toboggans, the quiet night cut by our peeling laughter.

J taking a jump at the Morzine jump park

Where Is Tim Horton's When You Need One?

I spent 2 cold, soggy hours sipping tiny, tepid cups of espresso standing in icy rain watching J play in his first tournoi de foot (soccer) yesterday. It could have been the same as watching my eldest nephew Justin, currently competing for the national university football (soccer) title in Toronto but it wasn't. It could have been the same as watching my niece Renee, a former elite national level Ringuette player, but it wasn't. Or it could have been the same as watching my 15-year nephew Jordan play football (soccer) with fire in his belly, but again it wasn't.

You see J is something of a sports mystery to me. From infancy, he was climbing like a orangutan up anything scalable. "Oh what an athlete he's going to be" everyone proclaimed. He could cross monkeybars with ease by age 2, and was riding a 2-wheeler by 3. He loves mountain-biking, mountain-climbing, and skiing, and is really good at all of them. He dislikes baseball, detests hockey school, and spends the last hour of football training yelling at me from across the field "Is it over yet?" When I told him at the beginning of the year to pick a team sport for the winter, he suggested tennis. See the pattern??? A team player clearly he is not.

I wasn't much of a team player myself, even now I prefer running with my iPod than a friend. Neither was C2, he ignores friends at the gym, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But still, when I look at the brotherhood of friends Justin has built from his early days playing with his Foothills soccer club in Calgary, I lament that J may not have that. Even much of the strong and loyal social network that my brother and sister-in-law enjoy was birthed from the shared experience of watching their children compete in team sports. Not that I lack friends or social networking, far from it but you get my point.

I will encourage J to find his passions in life and will enthusiastically support them no matter what they are. Still, is it wrong to secretly want J to have a tattoo over his heart pledging brotherhood forever like Jus's?

So, yesterday's tournoi was comprised of 6 teams playing 4 mini matches. J was fully engaged for the first two. By the fourth, he was picking up leaves and playing pretend sword fights. Sigh.

My life as a Tim Horton's commercial isn't looking promising.

La Grande Classique AKA a Pretty Perfect Party in Paris

Impressive alliteration aside, it was a most memorable weekend. My friend Cindy, otherwise known as 'she-who-got-me-off-my-butt-and-running-seriously-3-years-ago' and I spent this past weekend in Paris as part of a blisters be-damned, sore backs be-ignored, tight-hamstrings be-stretched all girls shopping, eating, site-seeing and oh yes running junket.

We joined up with a group of 8 other women from near or around Geneva and grabbed an early TGV train to Paris' Gare Lyon Friday morning. After a quick 3-hour and a bit journey, we settled into a charming boutique hotel in the 16th arrondissement with a wicked view of the Eiffel Tower perfectly framed between the twin palaces of the Trocadero.

After a bistro lunch, we split up for an afternoon of walking and shopping on avenue Victor Hugo and rue de Passy. I didn't know the 16th arrondissement very well with the exception of having had dinner at La Table du Joel Robuchon last April so really enjoyed exploring this part of Paris close to the Eiffel Tower. We later reconnected with the other women and had a fabulously raucous dinner at Restaurant La Gare on rue La Muette also in the 16th.

Saturday dawned sunny and warm and 4 of us from our group of 10 spent much of the day wandering Saint-Germain-des-Pres, the Latin Quarter, Les Halles and Ile St. Louis. That evening, all of us had a considerably tamer dinner at the charming brasserie Le Coq in place Trocadéro. Earlier to bed that night in order to awake bright and refreshed for the real purpose of the weekend. Although truth be told, does one really need a purpose to visit Paris???

Still....we ten joined up early Sunday morning with 20,000+ other running addicts at the base of the Eiffel Tower to run in the 32nd annual Grande Classique, a 16km route from Paris to the gates of the Palace of Versailles. Can you imagine the spectacle of standing for over an hour shoulder-to-shoulder with thousands of others in their running kits singing, dancing, and watching the early morning light glisten off of the immense girders of the Tour Eiffel towering over our heads waiting for our turn to move through the start line.

The race took us on a roughly 90 minute run out of Paris into Issy Les Moulineaux, up into the hills of the Cote des Gardes and the route Royale, through the forests of the Meudon, onto the long avenue de Versailles, up the slight incline of the avenue de Paris and into the finish near the gates of the Palais de Versailles.

It was a marvelous experience, a strong and positive run, and a great memory. After returning to Paris on the RER, we showered, and treated ourselves to a late lunch, a cold beer, and a giant profiterole as reward for a good day's effort. Cindy and I returned that evening to Geneva by TGV and were home by 10:00 pm.

Katherine, Cindy and one giant profiterole

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