My family are shit. I don’t think any of them even remembered it was my 18th. I invited some friends over to the flat I was staying at and we played cricket in the carpark, then drank beers for a couple of hours.
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Every opinion I have is my own.
Every opinion I have is subject to change without notice.
If you think my opinion is incorrect, change it with facts (citations needed).
Be kind. Be cool. Be yourself.
It’s a bit of a trope, by now, but, nothing new on race day! No new shoes, socks, shorts, shirts, foods, etc. Do the same as you do on training day.
Pee as late as you can before the start. A nervous wee before the race can save you queuing up mid-race.
Ignore the crowd. Make your first km your slowest. It will set you up for a strong finish.
Look around. Enjoy the sights. Say hi to your fellow runners: there are some amazing people out there and a good conversation can help you go the distance.
Years ago I worked in an inner city market. I had made friends with a person at one of the nearby market stalls. We spoke almost every day. She was an actress working at the market between acting jobs. I had never seen anything she was in, but it didn’t matter. She was just really sweet and easy to talk to.
For unrelated reasons, my girlfriend and I broke up and I moved to the other side of the city on very short notice, to my brother’s house, and didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to my friend.
My brother and I were watching TV a couple of months later and there’s my friend from the market, introduced on a popular TV show as the new season 2 “token annoying character” (think 2000’s, trendy, weekly drama).
“That’s <name of my friend>. She’s my friend. We used to chat every day!” My brother scoffed and called me a liar “just because we live out in the suburbs, don’t think you city folk can make us believe any old bullshit story!”
Two weeks later she happened to go to my brothers’ workplace for car parts and he recognised her: “My brother reckons he knows you.” Friend: “What’s your brother’s name?” Brother: “SkaraBr…” Friend: “What? Where is he? Is he okay? I’ve been so worried. Do you have his number?”
Good lad, my brother, wouldn’t give out my number, even to a TV actress, but she made him call me right then and there so that she could talk to me.
Twenty years later and I still laugh about that phone call and the sound of his voice when he said “she wants to talk to you”.
Australia:
The Homo Sapiens Cognitus Plummetus, or Drop-Bigfoot, larger cousin of the drop-bear (Thylarctus Plummetus).
They’re rarer than the drop-bear because they’re so easy to see due to their size that they have been hunted to almost-extinction. The last remaining specimens are only found in high, rocky, mountainous areas where they can hunt from the protection of cliff overhangs and large rocks.
I started playing Robert Koeneke’s roguelike “Moria” in around 1991. I still play uMoria (Moria’s spiritual successor) a couple of times a year.
That’s a good attitude. You will cut yourself. Probably requiring stitches at least once. Fear is a good way to keep the edge pointed away from yourself.
See! There’s always someone who just has to suck the fun out of it. Now I’m commenting wrong.
Gatekeeping. Anyone who tells you that “that’s not how it’s done” or " we don’t do it that way" or otherwise cramps your style just because they do it differently, or better, or with more expensive tools or materials, is an arse.
I have been put off so many hobbies because other people just have to suck the enjoyment out of it. Now that I am older and more sure of myself, I tend not to join the communities related to my hobbies because people are dicks; I just do what I enjoy, how I enjoy it.