I'm in pain, in a good way

Eliot certainly is a cruel and unusual gentleman. Most parts of my body are sore. My muscles will most likely be on fire tomorrow at work.

I've been conditioning again. For starters a brisk 2km run done in 10min 2 sec, I need to get faster. After that a side of wall sits goining in 1 minute, 45 second and 2 minute sets, I didn't make it all the way through. I need to make my legs stronger. The plank. The plank is a c**t. 1 minute, 45 second and 2 minute sets again just to set the 'ol abs on fire. I couldn't do it all. 5 X 100m sprints with a 30 second gap between. I did it, but I could do it better. Push ups. Due to my wrist being a dick I haveto do them on my fists which is harder. 40-50 I lost count. 50 back raises. Well I did that with relative ease. I guess I have a really strong lower back. Basically I'm still comparitively weak compared to the others. Need more training.

On another note, before conditioning I was getting some sweet vaults. They were awesome. Over big stuff not just little walls. But due to that ball at the belconen library beeing gnarly as fuck I took a chunk out of my hand doing it.

Good times

Apparently I'm interesting

I have my first follower. Horay I guess. Look forward to more random posts about me climbing things, hurting my self, getting drunk then cimbing things, getting drunk then hurting my self, yelling at lecturers, breaking my car ect. Good work Alberta! If I had any form of prize pack one would be dispatched you way via horse back courier with minimum delay.



On an unrelated note my wrist is still that of a 12 year old. That is to say its still weak as hell. I've taken to waring fashionable clothing to reduce the likelyhood of me going training and hurting it again. I don't really own fashionable clothes so this method will only last so long.

This is a picture that has been amusing me greatly for the last few weeks. I can't help but laugh uncontrolably when I see it, or even think about it. So I thought I'd share.

My god I'm bored

I've spent most of today beeing bored. I had to go finish that damn group assignment for Waterhouse, which was sadly the highlight of my day. After that I went home, forced my self not to go training because I need to rest my wrist, played portal, generally wasted time on the internet (still am) and tried to do more work for Waterhouse. And that's where I'm at now. I'm listening to Ensiferum and blogging. Fuck blogging is gay, but no other form of ammusement/procrastination has presented it self yet so blog it is. Mostly I'm wasting time till my excellent roast dinner that I won't be able to enjoy due to being full of subway. Mmmm... that was a fine sandwich. I'd like to go out and climb something but I really can't (God damn wrist! man up you pansy bastard!).

Andrew MacKenzie, Super lecturer

Andrew MacKenzie must be the happiest man in the world. And why wouldn't he be when he gets payed to give a lecture about how excellent he thinks he is? Having had two units run by this fine example of pomposity I was prepared for a lecture with no definable benefit to my education or life in general. But it would seem that MacKenzie is so clever that he can not only ramble on at students for an hour about how he went to victoria and took some pictures of the bushfires and not have me know what the point was, he has managed to make the university think that he is so smart that they give him money to blather on about topics such as these full time. But I digress, the main thing I picked up from this lecture is that he thinks he's some sort of environmental design superhero that's going to fly in and save victoria just like he saved canberra. Sadly this was my first MacKenzie lecture to be endured without Tim. I can only wonder what amazing carachters he would have concocted in that lecture? Would a carachter rivaling the excellence of Dungaree Mouse have arissen? Who's to say? All I know is that Andrew MacKenzie is clearly the greatest man in the world and that this is why I have a Poster of him on my wall.

I think I may write some sort of fable about MacKenzie later. Perhaps "the Adventures of Andrew MacKenzie and the purple shoehorn"

You've hurt it again you silly boy

After some absolutly spiffing nature training (see previous post) I was all keen for the weekly thursday conditioning/training that has been happening of late. Since most of the others were either busy, injured or just soft (or hard in the case of one if he's to be belived ;p) it was just me on my own. So I decided to try to work on my cat passes (there's a tale about why I've only just learn't them, that will come all in good time). So I head to my favourite block to practice them and to my surprise I work them to a point that I could probably say that I can do one now. In my new found abillity to do them I get excited and keep doing them to try and nail the technique. And wouldn't you know it? my wrist (I hurt it a while ago. But like I said before that's another story) starts to hurt. "Ok" I think "I'll rest it and do some less wrist intensive things" so I go away do a bit o' conditioning and climb-up practice. Now that I look back climb-ups were a bad idea. But I digress, I went to play on my favourite cubes. I jump onto the shiny metal chunks of excellence, all good, I start my speedy traverse and as soon as my wrist becomes bent back past about 45 degrees, mass pain. I decided I'd trained enough for tonight and went home. The bastard is still sore when I put too much weight on it or bend it the wrong way. Oh well give it a few days and it should be right as rain.

Some form of training afoot

Well, it would appear that wednesday has been my most productive day of the week parkour wise. Rather than the usual "go to some urbanized area and muck about" thing that most people associate with parkour I tagged along with Elliot and Juzz to do some nature training. We met at the designated nature reserve type place, did the whole warm up thing and then begun. This training really highlighted the areas of my limited abillity that I need to work on. Mostly I'm not confident enough with how my body moves to be able to aply various techniques on the fly. One minute we'd be hopping along the rocks of the river and then Elliot would quickly duck off into some barely visible gap in the greenery without so much as a thought and I'd have to stop and figure out what I was going to do to get over. Also the not knowing what was coming made me feel all the better when I actually mannaged to take it in my stride. Basically I have to try and become better aquainted with my body and how it moves so that i can concentrate more on where I am and what's coming next rather than where my feet are and where I'll have to put them to get over that next log. I'm going to try and do some of this type of training at least once a week if I can. I may try and find some new wilderness training grounds too.

An olde tale

Here's a fine tale I spun a few weeks ago for all you fine people to enjoy. Not that there's actually any one but me reading this.

This is the tale of a young man. This young man's name is Eric von Haverstamp and he lives in the quaint village of Winkledale. On any one night in Winkledale the villagers can be seen feasting and dancing the night away without a care in the world. But tonight is different... tonight young Eric has disgraced the village in such a way that none feel it appropriate to be so jovial. What could this upstanding young gent have done? I hear you ask with a hint of cinamon in your voice. Well gather round and hear a tale of adventure, proposterity and hijynx.That morning, as Eric arose, he heard the most frightful noise. Wapwapwapwapwappppp wapwapwapwpapwpawpapppppp quwwaaap!. It was the sound of his neighbour, old Prfofessor Kaverdean's new invention, the triple layered iron cheese press, in full swing. The lad quickly jumped out of bed and put on the first bit of clothing he found in order to investigate the comotion. As he ran down the street it was only then that he realised "I'm in no condition to handle triple layered cheese!". So he made a swift about face and ran down the street to the local fermentation goods store. After a hasty greeting to kind Ms. Hammerfeild the shop keep he ran down the isles in search of the requiered cheese handling clothing. "Ms. Hammerfeild!" He hollered. "Where are the cheese gloves?" "They should be right in front of you love" The hearty mistress replied in a booming voice. "And your high molecular-weight pollyethelyne cheese tongs? Where would I find them?" It was at this point that Ms. Hammerfeild walked into the isle with her hands on her ample child baring hips and said "what mischeif are you up to today Mr. von Haverstamp? What need have you for such cheese handling equipment?" "Professor Kaverdean has finished his cheese press!" Exclaimed a slightly flustered and overly galivantagious Eric. "What business do you have with the professor's cheese?" Demanded the uncomfortably dimensioned woman. "I want to help with the cheese harvest!!" Cried Eric now desperate to get away from the store and its amply contoured owner. "There'll be no cheese for you this morining I'm afraid. I'm all out of wickershamps." Retorted the woman in all her disproportionate splendour. "Why should I need wickershamps?" Questionoed Eric."For the fermentational rights of course! You half-witted drompy scat weaver!" Shouted the puddingesque woman."A WHHHHAAAAATTTTTT!!!!!!!" Inquiered Eric."You surely are a fool von Haverstamp." Aritculated the expansive shopkeep. At this moment Eric fled the store deciding to risk serious injury over the grilling on cheese handling etiquete he was clearly about to recieve from Ms. Hammerfeild. As he ran down the street he stood on the leg of the pants he had so haistily pulled on. As he fell he felt the pants tore in a less than dignified place. As he picked him self up off the road, trying to reatain any sense of dignity he had left, he came face to face with Professor Kaverdean. "Mah chhheeeese press intrest ya does it boy? Intriuge ya does it? Fancy ya self a cheese smith does ya? Then come with me lad. And fix ya trousers, you'll catch ya deth a cold with a hole like that."Inside the professor's lab was quite a sight. There were things globbing, glooping, glubbing and grubbing. Things ticked and other things oddly enough didn't. Things that looked like they shouldn't move had an unnerving habbit of doing so, whilst normally mobile objects remained still as the ice on a lake in deep winter. Among this was the most beautiful thing Eric had seen. The triple layered iron cheese press. Of all the globbing, glooping, gubbing, grubbing, ticking, not ticking, mobile and immobile things this was the most globbing, glooping, gubbing, grubbing, ticking, not ticking, mobile and immobile of them all. It had pipes coming in and out of it all over the place, there were things spinning and wuring and steam issued forth from multiple chimnies encrusted with rivets. Eric noticed that there was a mouse in dungarees, waring a hat not unlike that of a train engineer's, franticly running around the machine with a large spanner. An adjustment here and a tinker over there. It all seemed necisary to keep the machine running. Excited, Eric ran up to the confangled contraption and stated pulling leavers in a frenzy of ill informed glee. The professor ran up and wrenched his hands away. "You fool. You've over pressurised the lactational compressing chamber. She's going to blow!" It was at this point that the mouse grabbed his metal lunch box and ran out of the lab. Just as Eric started to mouth the word "oops" the lactational compressing chamber combusted in a mighty colamity.Ms. Hammerfeild was still standing in her shop thinking about that oddly charming young man that had so recently run out of her store when it happened. A yellow flood of fermented mamary fluids came cascading down the street with Eric caught up in it. The wave contacted with the store's front window with a mighty wollop, contorting Eric in to quite a comical position. "Well you've done it this time von Haverstamp" She gumly stated whilst maintaining eye contact with the young man for a longer than comfortable period. "Now Winkledale will never be famous for triple layered cheese, only for smelling like a cheese sandwich for a whole week. I hope you're happy!" She gesticulated. "Yep I sure am!" Replied Eric. He loved the smell of cheese sandwiches.

So it begins

So I'm bored enough to start a blog that no one but the saddest people in the world will read. THAT'S YOU RONALD!

edit: I don't know anyone called Ronald but I figured it'd be worth it to freak out any Ronalds that come across this