Friday, 11 April 2014

Survival tips for the MMSL

That's modern mature single lady, didntcha know, here are just some of my tips.

Whether it's with a tradie on Tinder or the guy who just made your skinny, weak latte - a little flirting, smiling, chat is good for the soul.

Use your friends
They said they would be there for you, to call them if you needed anything and they meant it. Don't be a lonely martyr - call them, tell them how you're feeling, catch up.
Get a massage
Take care of yourself, treat yourself, you are probably feeling a little tense and without sounding too crass, someone is feeling you up for an hour, that's a win.

Get it in the calendar
If you have a night free each week - plan - for example, book a friend in every third Thursday. For something, anything, just get some activities in the calendar.

Keep moving
Whether it is a run, yoga or a regular gym session (get a buddy and a regular date) keep moving. You won't feel like it, you'll be tired and feeling low but it will be worth it. Those endorphins are delicious plus you'll feel great and look amazing.

Work towards a goal
A race, a project, a weight. Something that you can focus on and celebrate when you achieve it. 

Try something new
Sailing, paddle boarding, running, crocheting, stand up comedy! Try something new, even if it is to prove to yourself that you are a big, bit special and can do something you never thought you could..... and you are likely to meet new people.

Go out
If you get asked, go. Whether it is a blind date or with a group of friends, do it, you'll feel better and its good practice. Practice? Yep, socialising with new people or person takes practice, even if it is working out who buys the next round.

Watch a Ryan Gosling film
For no reason other than he’s really hot. You can also alternate it with a Ryan Reynolds film. This is a perfect example of when ‘two Ryan’s definitely make a right’.

I’m busy crocheting a cover for my paddle board whilst I wait for Ryan to finish my massage...... but in the meantime, I would love to hear some of your suggestions for the MMSL.

Saturday, 5 April 2014

Oh Vlad

I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you pop up on my Tinder feed. Naturally I am sad for your conscious uncoupling, but secretly I am dancing like a pickled Babushka.

I remember the day long ago when I first saw an image of you, shirtless. I’m pretty sure you were shirtless - your trousers were so high it was like they were supporting that rock hard chest of yours.
Image source
And now - here you are. 

I feel like I have finally found the parallel shirtless Facebook feed I was looking for, so many pictures of you with bears, horses, tigers (!!), blowing shit up.

The high waist, the small features, those tiny eyes, that stern look.
Image source AP
We don’t have any mutual likes which confuses me, I’m surprised ‘Destroy the Joint’ is not one because I heard a rumour that’s what you like to do. 

I’ve just got my fingers crossed that you are not a sexist, homophobic, misogynist  megalomaniac, ring thief ...... am sure you’re not, because that sort of thing would be written in your profile, wouldn’t it?

Perfectly safe to swipe right, right?!

Tuesday, 1 April 2014

Love me Tinder

The other day someone told me I should now be on Tinder. 

Tinder what now?

Apparently all the singles are on it. But it’s not a dating site. 


It is based on your Facebook information, so using information that is already “public”.


So, purely for research purposes, I thought I would have a look and I went man shopping. 

For all the oldies out there or those out of practice, like me, here’s how it works. 

You log into the app each time through Facebook (but apparently, as the little disclosure says, nothing is ever published to Facey, thank god, how embarrassment!!), you choose a few images of yourself, add a bio if you want, then put in your settings. What are you shopping for? Age and location, so for example 38-42 year old men in a 10km radius.

Again, remember kids this is all just research.

And then like magic, men appear on your screen and it will tell you if you have shared Facebook interests and shared friends.

If there is someone you like, you swipe right, if it’s a no, swipe left. 

Now here’s the tricky bit. No one knows which way you have swiped, unless you have both swiped right. If you have, it comes up with a match and you can you can start chatting.


This is what I have learnt.

The first time your phone vibrates and flashes up with ‘its a match!’ you will shit yourself, maybe squeal, throw your phone across the room whilst running as quickly as possible in the opposite direction.

When you see the ex-partner of a friend pop up you will quickly ring that friend in a weird hysterical panic and explain everything whilst forgetting you are on the tram and the passengers are hearing all about your research.

So many guys don’t wear shirts. I have lots of male Facebook friends, but they all have their shirts on in profile pics, so I am still confused where all these naked men come from. Still trying to work out if there is a parallel naked Facebook universe out there.

Tigers. Tigers. Tigers everywhere. I never knew Siegfried and Roy had such wide appeal but apparently having a pic of you with a tiger is the done thing. Is walking around with a giant pussy cat on a leash a euphemism? Who knows, just looks silly.

Fella’s what’s with that little bit of fluff under the bottom lip?! Soul patches, fanny ticklers, douche tags. Call them what you like, unfortunately they are out there in abundance.

The mutual likes are usually pages like Ricky Gervais, Russell Brand and Runners World...... not many guys seem to like The Design Files or Pinterest. More’s the pity if you ask me. 

Unless you are looking for a quick root, you lose interest very quickly - there is only so many shirtless men with douche tags walking a tiger whilst on a jet ski that can keep you interested.

To me, Tinder, feels a very shallow, superficial way of meeting someone. It is completely based on a filtered selfie, a few witty lines and some shared Facebook interests. However, it's like flirting with someone in a bar, you know nothing about them but obviously something about the way they look interests you.

However, for all the single 38 year old women out there, I will take one for the team and I will continue logging on every once in a while to window shop - ha! the things I do for research.

Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Motivation to reward

Running has been a bit of a struggle this year, my motivation has buggered off some place else. 

Last year I tracked 1,000km and my brain has sort of gone “nice one, you’ve done that running thing now. What’s next? How about sleeping?”.

But I have a plan, a few half marathons booked in, training goals each week that are being modestly and mostly ticked off.

The last three Sunday’s I have done my long slow distance (LSD) of 10km, ready to build up again to 23km and beyond. Each time waking up knackered after not sleeping well, a little mental ping pong before getting out of bed. 

Do you really want to do this? 

Yes, it will be great once I’m out. 

But you’re knackered and this bed is snuggly. 

I have a new mix I want to listen to, it will be good. 

But your hip/ankle/knee/heart is sore. 

It will loosen up. 

And so I go.

Go and spend the next hour singing, bad singing drowning out my over analysing of too much shit. Epiphany's flying back and forth, amazing revelations and plans that seem nuts once I get home and wipe the sweat off. 

My own runligious experiences. 

Rewarding myself, not running to punish for that bagful of Maltesers, rewarding, strengthening, getting leaner, healthier. Physically and mentally stronger.

Doing something I don’t think I want to do but knowing I do. Remembering how good it will feel even when it feels shit. Looking for the motivation to reward.

What’s your run?

Friday, 21 February 2014

Waiting, not anticipating

My airspace is currently filled with a nondescript classical score. The chirpy violins are trying to take me to a happy place, dancing merrily in my ears, aurally enticing me away.

Is it fek. 

Maybe another time and another place, but not today for I’m on hold to CentreLink. Last time I was on hold for over 50minutes. This time, who knows. 

I’ve just come off the back off a half hour interview with one department, and now I am mid concerto awaiting another.

The personal loss and feeling of desertion is one thing. Financial anxiety is a whole other thing. But this is just one of the added bonuses of a separation - the paperwork, the government departments, the total head fuckery, all the waiting on top of the emotional purgatory. 

There’s so many new things to get used to, new routines, an empty lonliness, also a new strength. Filling up the calendar with friends, running and the gym. Pushing myself to keep on moving, keep on doing, keep on laughing, though it just feels like wading through shit half the time.

But, there have been moments when things feel good. Things feel lighter, I feel like things are going ok.

Then I realise that I have just watched Magic Mike (again) and filled my shopping basket with ice cream and root vegetables.

Seems still a little way to go.

Image source c/- Pinterest

Friday, 7 February 2014

Konichiwa Bitches

Things I’ve learnt over the past few weeks:

Breaking up is hard to do.

Breaking up is hard to do is quite an annoying tune when its on repeat in your head every time you reflect that breaking up is indeed hard to do.

A family holiday during breakup is fekking hard work.

Singing Konichiwa Bitches in your head, to tie in with the holiday location and the occasional ‘fuck you’ moment is a nice change to your mental playlist.

Not being able to share the biggest thing that is happening in your life with the person who has been your best friend for so long because they are the cause of it is so tough.

Some times answers are best not known.

You find out very quickly what amazing friends and support you have.

“Well, that was awkward/uncomfortable/fucked up etc etc” will be on repeat...... along with before mentioned tunes.

There is no rule book or how to guide.

It’s shit, but like a lot of things, it will pass and hopefully get better.

Just keep running.

Sunday, 12 January 2014

Did unruly pubes lose me a husband?

I read an interesting blog the other day. He (yes, he, there are boy bloggers out there in parenting bloggyland) blogged how his wife getting a pair of glasses suddenly renewed their sex life/relationship/naughty librarian activities.

Nice one. Congrats.

I’ve been wearing specs for years. There’s only so many years those naughty librarian story lines can be stretched out.

Every grown up knows that variety is the spice of life. Keep things interesting. Add a fantasy here. A special massage there. 

But things slip, life happens. Kids happen. Legs a little hairier a little longer than they used to be, bits not so tidy as they once were, a Brazilian purely a dream from a holiday pre-kids. 

He was lovely, the Brazilian guy. Such nice skin.

There are dips in every relationship but I am asking “is contentment confused with complacency”?

After decades together there will be less sex, of course there will be, even if you are Michael Douglas there’s going to be less sex, but there will also be less fireworks, less excitement than when you first started dating. 

More monotony, more family stuff, more just.... m’eh.

But doesn’t something much stronger develop, some crassly refer to it as the ‘comfy slipper’ syndrome.

Not the best way to get yourself laid referring to your partner as a slipper, but there is a beauty in being together on a level deeper than just carnal rooting. 

This is where I will lose any male reading this, I know that, but isn’t there something magical in feeling that you have this mate, hopefully for life, that makes you happy on a deeper level.

Sharing things together, being at ease together, changing together, not having to try too hard. 

Maybe that’s the problem. It’s all too easy? 

Maybe that’s a chick thing. This post isn’t supposed to be about sour grapes but unfortunately being content wasn’t enough for us and maybe that’s where it was confused with complacency. Doing new things, keeping things fresh wasn’t enough. So after 13 and a bit years we are no longer Mr and Mrs.

Perhaps women are actually from Mars and men really are penises.

I don’t know the answers, do you? What's the secret to longevity or do you just take your wins where you can get them?

Tell me all you know.

Ms Sabbatical xx

Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Happy Hogmanay

Hey you, how’s your year been?

For me, this year has been a bit mad, so busy, but good busy.

Work has been really enjoyable but it has kept me from being all bloggy which I need to work on better for next year.

A highlight has definitely been watching my baby girl, Crazy, grow up and be all legendary. She’s amazeboz.

Two and half crochet blankets, bunting, decorations and loads of other crafty shit have kept me hooking like mad.

I learnt to ski (well, stay upright for a bit, fell over loads more).

We went hiking which was way more fun than I ever thought it could be, 2 snakes and peeing on the tent perhaps a highlight/lowlight, I’m still deciding. Crazy thrilled that she could say she has hiked marathon distance.

I did some running. Loads of sweaty shuffling, slow and steady I knocked off two half marathons and 1,000 (recorded) shuffling kilometres. That’s a bit mad, isn’t it?

And I met, and spent time with, my amazing friends doing some crazy fun shit together.

Next year will be a tough one, probably one of my toughest yet. I know that about 2014 already. But I also know that I have an amazing team around me, some fabulous moving challenges and I am going to attempt to stop staying 'awesome', which will be fekking hard work.

Enjoy 2014, fabulous party peeps xx

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

I know this

With all my fannying about of late I haven’t blogged. Boooo!

I felt it a bit bad about it for my poor reader so I will do this instead. Not really a blog post but a nice big series of points imparting some of my vast wisdom and knowledge..... hoping there will be enough words so it looks like a substantial post.

This is the gospel according to me. Right now. But probably not tomorrow.


Scooping olive dip out of one’s cleavage with a nice clean biscuit is totally acceptable in your own home.

If a child asks you if they are pretty - always say yes.

Watching reality shows like ‘The Bachelor’ and ‘Geordie Shore’ is called car crash telly because a little bit of your self respect and pride dies every time you watch an episode.

It’s ok to change your mind about life lessons.

Never, ever smell someone’s fingers.

Don’t talk about Australian politics because it is not nice to say the c-word over and over again.

Its OK to pee in a public pool as long as you are not standing on the edge at the time. 


Boys will always piss everywhere but the toilet bowl and rarely clean it up.

Dust bunnies aren’t real pets, even if you have loads of them in the house.

You can never use too much toilet paper, especially if it stops your finger going through. 

It is universally known that ‘breakfast for dinner’ is in fact a thing and can double up with Meat Free Monday.


When doing a midnight alfresco wee make sure you walk a decent distance from the tent, you may find mid-stream (or be informed by the no-longer-sleeping tent inhabitants) that you are in fact on a slight incline.

A run is a run is a run  - enjoy it.

Bush wee’s can be extremely liberating, but be sure to check the ground. Sometimes that stick is not really a stick.

If you see a snake stand still, and encourage others to do the same, to stop the snake moving towards you as they excitedly try and get a look at it.

A camel toe is never cool regardless of how much money was spent on running gear.

Image Source

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Why aye man

I watched my first episode of Geordie Shore today.

My verdict - less of the ‘aye’ and more of the ‘why’? 

Image source

SWTF are these guys up to.

I’ve seen a few episodes of Jersey Shore (same same but different format) but, ermergerd, these lasses make Snooki look like a saint.

I got the banter, I could understand that (I have Ant & Dec and watching countless episodes of Alan Shearer on MotD to thank for that *hat tip*), but it wasn’t how they were saying it, it was what they were saying.

Any program where you can say “It’s like she was sewing my fanny flaps together” has got to be a bit off. Hilarious, in the spluttering, oh my god can you believe it kinda of way, and that was the tame bit.

You also got to see a bit of “knob sucking”, a couple having a pissed root in the shower then a hand shandy under the covers. 

Seriously - they know there are camera’s right? 

Based in Newcastle Upon Tyne it has been running since 2011 on MTV and follows a group of Geordies out having loads of fun at home and abroad, whilst wearing very little clothing, a lot of bronzer (not gender specific) and drinking loads of shots.

Oh yeah, in this one episode there was also some pissing in a box, Charlotte I think,  and one of the girls smacking her boyfriend across the face, which then prompted him to go out and drop £10,000 on an engagement ring. Classy.

I felt hung-over just watching it, you know that queazy feeling where a little bit of bile keeps coming up, but I couldn’t turn away. That. 

Now the episode is over I feel hollow and a wee bit grotty, with a hankering for a kebab. I’m not sure if I will ever recover my moral high ground, I'm thinking I should probably watch another episode to check.

Image source

Monday, 14 October 2013

And I ran

Not sure if I mentioned it once or a bazillion times before, but I have been planning on doing a half marathon and well, this weekend I did it.


Seriously. OMFMFG.

It was mental. I haven’t felt such a spectrum of emotions over 2 plus hours as I did yesterday. 

Before the race there was a bit of shaking with excitement and anticipation as well as waves of anxiety of the sphincter clenching variety. 

Overwhelming joy where the tears just want to flow standing there with my team as the starters gun goes off. Joy and bliss as I cruised along for the first 10k’s. Contentment as a cool breeze gently caressed me around Albert Park.

Breath taking joy and a lot of arm waving when I saw my team along the route. A very brief bit of boredom somewhere around 16kms. Pain for a while as I wondered if I was losing a toe nail. 

Confusion as I experienced waves of weird butt pain. Concern when I realised I am going to do another half marathon in December. Pain as I pushed through the last 3 kilometers. Love as I listened to my tunes and thinking of those that suggested them. 

Anger at the person who decided to have us run over a feking bridge at the 19+km mark. Disappointment when I knew I wasn’t going to make my desired time. Determination as I pushed it up a notch running into the MCG.

More joy, pride and tears as I strided onto the hallowed ground that is ‘The G’. A bit more disappointment as I realised I still had to run around the bloody oval. Humour as a fellow competitor informed me it was best to walk this bit “because are you ever going to be able to walk on ‘The G man’!!”.

Determination at pushing it harder to beat those 3 people in front of me through the big red arch. More tears of joy and relief and grit as I crossed the finish line. Bit more disappointment at my time followed by complete and utter joy at seeing my family and my team mates.

This was probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. But I did it. And I will do it again, taking from this, and those around me, so many lessons.

The day after I am not so hard on myself, I ran 21.43k yesterday for 2:24 (but the Garmin said 2:22 for 21.1ks and I’m taking that). Non-stop, I’m proud of that.

When I first started running a few years ago, 300m was as far as I could go before I needed a break. My first kilometre was amazing. My first 5km was amazing. A year ago I was still recovering from my broken foot. I still can’t believe I ran a half marathon. 

Me, the person who said she never ran, would never run. But I have an amazing family, friends and a team (who I now call my dear friends) that believed in me, who encouraged me.

And all I needed to do was run. Just run.

Monday, 7 October 2013

I’ve got nothin’

I wanted to blog. Blog about something other than running and body and mind transformation. 

But, I’ve got nothin’.

I’m sitting here listening to a podcast. It’s about running, pacing, negative splits. (Another Mother Runner - love it!).

I went to the amazing Finders Keepers craft market on Saturday. So many of my favourite exhibitors were there, but didn’t buy anything as saving my money for a social and inking blowout with my OperationMOVE pals.

I have a very special relationship this week with my foam roller that I could share but I swear that’s running related also. 

There are some gross pictures of the bones they removed from my foot - but I will turn that around to make it about running. I couldn’t run, now I can. Hallelujah! It’s a miracle.

Shit - I even went and saw Turbo during the school holidays and started visualising Snoop Dogg and Ryan Reynolds pep talking me through my half. God, those snails are wise.

Team Fox? Aye, right you are
(Image Source)
So I’ve got nothing. Running is what I live and breathe at the moment and like a born again evangelist who has just given up smoking crack, it seems I can't help but share the light I’ve seen...... constantly. To anybody that can read. Or who likes pictures of Ryan Reynolds.

Somebody distract me, with anything! But running boards on Pinterest are preferred.

I swear things will change soon, things will be more interesting, I just have another race after this, then there is another in December, then I am thinking about learning how to do a triathlon...... but for now, right now, there is a foam roller with my name on it wanting a bit special alone time. 

Yeah, he's running in this clip. I just can't stop myself.

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

It’s not a crisis sweetie, it’s a makeover

I reckon that I will live until 94 or there about’s. Much longer than that doesn't seem appealing. I can do without the excessive shitting of myself (highly probable), the drooling (likely) and the senility (pretty much there already).

Which means I am due for a mid-life crisis in 9 years time which illustrates that I am not going through one now. It’s what I like to refer to as a ‘pre-pre-mid-life-make-over’.

This follows on from my post the other day about working out who or what you want to be. Maybe it is just another transition in my life, maybe it is because I am spending a great deal of my time with 7yo’s who have very few inhibitions. 

Maybe, maybe. 

But like a rebellious teen I got my ear pierced again, there’s been more inking. More colour added to my wardrobe, my hair getting shorter and shorter with the clippers booked in for this week.

Maybe it’s because suits are a thing of the past. Maybe it’s because I don’t feel like a fraud around the boardroom table, wrongly believing I am out of my ill-educated depth. 

Maybe it’s because if there is a game of musical statues, goddammit you will dance like no one is watching and sing along like everyone is deaf. Maybe it’s the comfort from wearing trainers everyday spreading through me, maybe because I no longer feel I need approval.

Has this happened to you? Normal or just a bit laughable? 

Maybe, maybe not.

This is me, shit’s happening, things changing. I know things will continue to change but at the moment I feel like the best is yet to come.

Image source

Sunday, 29 September 2013

Let’s hear it for ‘Pants off Sunday, Monday, Tuesday.......’

Ricki, you seem to have lost your pants. Again.

Now, I love pants off time as much as any 2 year old, but I usually keep this to perhaps a Friday thing, an indoor thing, a home thing.

But it seems everywhere I look at the moment there’s Ricki in her undies. Is she still hanging out in just undies and kicks asking for a piece of apple pie? I’m not sure.

Billboards are telling me that this seems to be the natural progression from singing undie lover to singing undie seller for any “True Aussie Babe”.

Really?! This is our tweenage girls role model?

Excuse me whilst I go and spew in my granny pants.

'Oh mate, I got to tag Ricki's butt'

Sunday, 22 September 2013

Change in perception

Today many of my lovely team mates from OperationMove are running in the Blackmore’s Sydney Running Festival which is brilliant. In 3 weeks it will be Melbourne’s turn, my turn, time to meet more of my team mates for realz, time to run my first Half Marathon. 

It’s still all a bit mad.

The crazy thing, well, one of them because there are all sorts of bat shit crazy things about running 21.1kms, is that I feel ok about it. I feel ready. I don’t even feel that slow. 

Last week I ran my longest distance before the big day, I ran 19km. That’s right, I said it. NINETEEN kill-Oh-Em-Geee-metres. I did it so slow to hopefully avoid too much strain on my body, but still I did that 2:08 without stopping and I know I could have added on those last few km’s that will be required in a few weeks, and I know I could have done it much faster.

What is weird is how my perception is now changing. I have done the 19 now so I feel calmer, less fearful, there is less thinking about what I can’t do, visualising more what I can, more prepared, ready to start tapering. 

Tapering (lessening my distances so I’m not completely knackered come race day) means that today I am running 16km.

Firstly, I cant believe I am using words like tapering and secondly that I am OK about doing 16km’s. I know my route, I’ll take it easy, I’ll mix up the tunes and I will head out when I’m ready, thinking of my Sydney team mates. I’m not scared of it like I was a few weeks ago. 

It's just a run.

I feel like this has also altered more than my perception about running. I feel in tune with me, my body, my health. I feel like I am becoming more and more the person who I want to be, in fitness, in appearance, in mind. More comfortable in my own skin.


It’s taken over 38 years and and it feels amazing.

Image Source