Got the jump on Trump...
As the world starts to foam at the mouth as the reality of Trump in Power seeps into the collective consciousness, I've tried to think of something smart to say about the situation. But I don't think I've ever been more flabbergasted by any political circumstance, to be honest, although the sacking of the Australian prime minister, Gough Whitlam, by the Governor General in 1975 comes close, but hardly as significant on the global scale. In hindsight and given the choice of candidates, perhaps the outcome is not so surprising, but it is still incredible to think America and therefore the planet has somehow found itself in this position. It makes Brexit look almost inconsequential by comparison, at least from this vantage point on the far side of the planet (and I assure you it is of no particular comfort to be at a significant geographical distance from both Brexit and Trump).
I watched Trump's inauguration speech as it happened only because I had to help ensure it went to air here from the government broadcast centre for all Australians to see and hear. Well, being 4 a.m. local time I doubt the audience was that great, the majority I'm certain being sensible enough to opt for sleeping through it and making do with a summary in the morning news service.
The inauguration surprised me with its old world formality, and in seeing the Trump entourage going through the motions with respect, certainly, but clearly just wanting to get on with the business of transforming the planet into a kind of spherical Trump Tower. That the Obamas and the Clintons endured the process with the grace they did actually made me sad: I don't know what they could possibly have done differently, but to my mind they seemed as vanquished, brutally overrun former leaders, and the process more akin to a bloody, enforced transfer of political supremacy rather than anything in the true, democratic sense. If the heads of the former presidents all turned up on the ends of pikes on display as a warning on the White House lawn it would hardly be surprising.
But perhaps that's just me and my overactive imagination. There's no way Trump would cut their heads off. I'm sure hanging is much more his style. And maybe Bush would get away with banishment to one of those small islands in the South China Sea?
Whatever the consequence of a Trump presidency, there's little doubt 2017 will be, at the very least, an interesting and memorable year. For me, it's going to be significant for reasons other than political ones, and is already off to a flying start, quite literally as it happens. My flight to Almeria is now only a little over a week away... crumbs, I'd better get cracking. I don't travel that much, so organising all those squillions of little things that need to be taken care before leaving the comfort of your own home base can be rather daunting, and now I'm almost out of time.
A little disorganised in terms of travel arrangements I may be, but where I have been soldiering on quite well is with my running, and today I really surprised myself. But let me set the scene...
Summer here just at the moment has gone a little overboard with the heat and humidity. When I left work this morning at 06:15 following another night shift, the outside temperature was 31C. It had fallen to an overnight low just a few degrees less than that at 01:00 and perversely had been steadily rising through the night, and heading for a forecast maximum of 38C. On the streets people were going to work looking already haggard and uncertain about the day ahead. Many, out of habit, were walking along with a take-away coffee in hand, but seemed less interested than usual in drinking them. There was one exception: a youngish man in a dark business suit, striding along with great purpose, a coffee in his right hand and one of those black-glazed doughnuts that are all the rage here at present in his left, happily munching and slurping his way through both and seemingly quite unaware of the boiler-room conditions.
I oozed my way through what has lately become a standard half-hour walk for me from work through Darling Harbour and Barangaroo to Wynyard station where I catch my train home, but this morning was a muggy affair, and I walked slower than usual, but still glad for the bonus effort. Every little bit helps, and this early morning walk is usually an excellent one, conditions more typically being cool and quiet at that hour.
Today however conditions were horrid, but I was amazed to see a larger than usual number of runners thumbing their noses at the weather, or perhaps in desperation getting their morning exercise completed earlier than usual before things became too impossible.
For myself, I was looking at having to complete today's scheduled hill-climb session in the heat of the afternoon. And that, my friends, is exactly what happened. Running is going so well for me just now that even night shifts and extreme heat are not dissuading me from the training schedule. I fell into bed about 07:30 and was up again less than six hours later. The temperature thankfully had not risen to the expected 38C, but it was only two degrees less, and in my groggy state hot enough to necessitate the implementation of plan 'B'. Well, in fact I didn't have a plan B, so I had to wing it a bit. Instead, I repeated my previous hot-day delay tactic of a quiet couple of cups of coffee with Mrs MLCMM, before finally changing into the running togs, placing a fan in front of the treadmill and just getting on with it. Once again the running was pre-programmed and all I had to do was keep putting one foot in front of the other until the machine said I'd done enough. This happened some 90 minutes later, having in the meantime completed an entirely uphill session, with the middle 60 minutes being non-stop running. To my great delight and surprise, it wasn't even brutal. Tough and sweaty, yes, but not especially difficult, and given that up until even just a few months ago I simply wouldn't countenance such a run in these circumstances, it was pleasing in the extreme.
It's strange now to think that already in 2017 I have covered nearly half the distance that I managed in all of 2015, my worst year of running since I took up the sport back in 2003. And while last year wasn't too bad overall, it was hardly an outrageous success, either. The spur of Almeria has been just what I need to kick-start my 2017, and already it's looking like a mighty year of running to come. Whether it's the planets that have aligned themselves, or my biorhythms are in sync, I don't know, but I'm aiming to make the most of it, and thus far, it's all green lights.
And after today's hot, muggy, uphill effort, I don't think even Donald Trump's plan to play the climate change denial card will stop me.
Outta my way, Mr President. I've a mountain to climb.
Jumpin' Januaries!
