Melbourne has scored the job of hosting the 2012 UCI World Track Championships. Woohoo!!!!!
Last time they were held in Melbourne (2004) I was in the crowd, as a new racing cyclist. I fell in love with this fast, exhilirating version of competitive cycling and was inspired to give it a crack. The following year I was on a track bike, and a year after that racing track.
So the UCI World Track Champs have a special place on my honour roll, having been the inspiration for me to give track racing a go.
Forecast for this morning was fog 'n' frost. Great! My first planned ride to work in months, pysching myself up through flu-infested brain fades and terrorising thoughts of leg failure, lung failure, hill-climbing failure and lots of pain from lost fitness and viral fighting endeavours. So I rugged up, gritted my teeth and readied myself to face the fierce cold and thick, damp air.
Within 5 km I was sweating up. Feverish?? Nope; hot in the uphill exertion, and lack of frost and fog. Ripped off!! But very happy. My ride was enjoyable (apart from the hills - what happened there?? I can't climb any more????) dry, mild. Apparently there is fog out there somewhere.... I I heard some planes somewhere are not landing in Melbourne as they are scheduled to, but in Sydney. Guess I got lucky!
It's been a week since I last rode, and I could handle another week off the bike, frankly. But I won't. I've just entered a race with some nasty hills in it, so I guess I'd better start training again.
The flu has settled down, and I am almost done with my first 4000 word assignment in many years. When this one is done, I have another in four weeks. O yay. Currently I am grappling with this article, which I need to critique, using appropriate theories and methodologies. That bit is fine, just keeping track of what the dude is trying to say in his 11 pages, so dense they would make a mississipi mud cake crumble, is the hard bit. With a title like that, what do you expect??
I hope getting a PhD is worth the grief of performative pedagogies!! My brain feels like it has had an hour with Marty in the gym.
There is no use trying, said Alice; one can't believe impossible things. I dare say you haven't had much practice, said the Queen. When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.