Flit-Fluttering and Ironman Dreaming
When the lock down first started Steve and I were most
concerned with how we could manage to maintain a decent fitness level, let
alone keep ourselves ready for any of the events that we had already entered,
long before the killer virus took such a firm hold on the world. I left the
planning to Steve rather than making any attempt on it myself, since I am a bit
of a flit-flutterer-dreamer both physically and mentally. I have too many
things flying around inside the dark Tardis reaches of my mind.
Sometimes I am inclined to agree with the many people,
friends, acquaintances and others who have over my years in triathlon told me
quite bluntly, “You’re mad, you are”. I have never taken offence at that,
because it is just a point of view about one person, held by another. It was
never going to draw me back into or behind a line where I do not want to be
held, either in my sports or poetry/writing circles.
Triathlon has been a huge part of my world for thirty years
now and I have made so many friends and had such a great and very satisfying
time, travelling in a completely new way with the sporting direction.
The poetry and writing appears on the surface to have burst
out of nowhere when a had a fall whilst running while on holiday in Southern
Italy, when I ended up with three broken bones and was expected to stay still
and allow the bones to mend. I had to keep my brain busy too, and set myself
the challenge of writing a poem every day until I could compete again, so that
meant not just the six weeks in plaster but until I was on the starting line
again. The writing eventually brought me to starting the small poetry group of Scribblers
a few years ago now.
That is not the complete truth though. I have always loved
poetry. I was in the Speech Choir at school. My brother Peter also loved
poetry, books, plays and movies. He left home to work in a London hospital when he was seventeen. I was
over five years younger and I wrote to him all the time and continued to do so
regularly. When he was called up and went into the Air Force and was stationed
in Germany
still working in a hospital laboratory, I fully took over the link from home. At
that time I already had a number of pen pals because there was no such thing as
social media in those days but believe me, I had my own version of that.
Richard Shiff as Toby Zeigler in The West Wing
Now; dragging myself back to the keep fit in lock down eh?
What did I say about being a flit- flutterer. During one of the big sort out
missions my husband applied himself to just to keep busy, was to engage himself
on a big hit on the household shelves and cupboards and that was where he came
across the complete box set of The West Wing, that we had watched years ago
when it first came out. “This will do nicely for endless turbo sessions” he announced.
“We enjoyed it at the time it made it debut, it is long enough ago to enjoy it
again”. He was right. 44 DVD’s 154 episodes 5 hours of extras, interviews and
out-takes.
The bonus of this box set is, that every episode we watch
reminds us that on one of our many holidays staying with dear friends in San Diego, that we would
quite often do an event or two or three while we were there. It is also a most
marvellous place to get some training done. How does The West Wing remind us of
California when it is set on the other side of
the USA?
Something so simple that it won’t get out of our heads. On one of the many
great meals we have been out to enjoy with our friends, was to a restaurant
called Sbica in Del
Mar. We have been there lots of times and had terrific meals there. On one
occasion, I started to nudge Steve and the nudge spread around the table
because, sitting on the next table was Richard Shiff who played Toby Zeigler in
West Wing; he won a handful of awards in the years that he was in the show and
he has been in dozens of other TV shows and Movies. You would know his face if
you saw him too.
One of the top ranking events Steve and I did in the USA was Ironman California
that was based in the US Marine base, Camp Pendleton.
That is not the same race as the one I
mentioned the other day; that was California Man near Stockton. This race was organised, run and
marshal
There were also quite a few Marines also taking part in the
race. The only bad thing I can say is that during the swim it was quite rough.
At one point a huge hand took hold of both my of feet together and hauled me
right under the swimmer the hand had belonged to, who then swam right over me
and away. It was as a very fast and strong action but I was completely unhurt
and carried on regardless.
There were wetsuit strippers at the end of the swim and the
bike course was great on the first section because it was cool because there
was a sea fret as we call it, but in the USA it is a ‘marine layer’. Then there
was a big climb up into the sun and a hilly return to the start before the
second lap.
The run was not too comfortable for me because I had broken
two toes in my previous race the week before in Perth, Western Australia,
where I had got alone but was very lucky to have good friends there to stay
with. Steve had met me at the airport in Los
Angeles. I was almost last in and there was a troop of
Marines to see the slower people to the finish. Steve had a worse run that me
because at the start of the second lap he had twisted his ankle on a sandy
section he continued but very slowly and painfully and we found out later that
he had broken his ankle. In my age group I had qualified for Hawaii. There were very few older women
doing Ironman races in those days.
Sadly somebody dies in an accident on the bike course. There
was a hairy descent with a sharp turn that I think was the problem. The next
year the event had been shortened to a half Ironman which was a disappointment
but we did that one too. There was a speed restriction of the big descent that
year.
Flit Fluttering
They say, as a butterfly fly’s into your space
It is the spirit of someone you love visiting you.
I’m not sure of the origin, who set it in place,
but a lovely idea and I try to see a face
as it happens, I smile asking if it’s you?
Maybe a loved one, who is now far away,
unhappy, hoping once more to be a friend
the soul of a dear one remembered to this day.
I like the idea, whatever its origins may say
imagery suits sentiment. So let’s start a trend.
When next you go jaunting through the wood
as wings dance from a blackberry bush you past;
who do you miss most and what if they could
visit just to give their love, so you should
tell them how glad you are they came at last.
colour them by character so you would know
to show them in gay disguised warm flattery.
My brother a bright Red Admiral’s show
neat, armed with a ready joke he’d know
quick wit ready for verbal assault and battery.
Dad a humble pure Cabbage White viewed
no showing off, turning his hand in any way,
never boastful but proud of his little brood,
taught by example, working for their food.
Nothing in temper, or a bad word would he say.
My mum now, that’s a hard one for admission,
would never be what you wanted that’s sure.
She would change the flitting apparition
to be her just to choice, of her own volition;
I’ll say Dragonfly or something obscure.
I would be of my favourite colour tint
if you miss me and feel my warm touch
a dark green fritillary the shade of mint
something sparkly to make your eyes squint
shadowy Purple Hairstreak as tresses I clutch.
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