Airhead.

Airhead.

Phew! Let’s just say the world record is safe enough, for now.

It is hard to get back into a routine. Running is like any hobby. Like blogging, even. Once the routine is broken it can be quite hard, for me at least, to get back into it.

I am pretty sure being friendly would seem like a chore if I didn’t practice it on a regular basis. I don’t think there is any real knack to making friends or being friendly. It’s just one of those things, use it or lose it.

Another thing we will lose if we don’t use is the right to say “No”. As some of you will know I had my own experience of standing up to the man. 

The lack of foresight in most people today is scary. They don’t seem to understand that saying nothing registers in the mind of a government as saying “Yes”. That is the reality of politics today. And very very soon the “system” will be running the show, not the politicians, not the lawmakers, not the people. We will be all so brainwashed into a certain way of living that changing the system won’t even enter our heads. Having a choice won’t enter our heads.

I used to get so wound up trying to waken the world. Nowadays I just take it in my stride. I can’t compete with the might of the mainstream media and the 3D goggles. Perhaps if I didn’t have children I wouldn’t care so much. Being a parent I will always worry about my children and their children and the system we sign them up for.

All my worries and stress seem to vanish when I am running. Perhaps it’s the heavy breathing.

There’s nothing like gasping for air to focus the mind!

Air is the fuel I need to live. And yet I didn’t appreciate it, most of the time. It was only since I started running a few years ago that I started to see air in a different light. Now I marvel at the stuff, especially running uphill, I can’t get enough of it.

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The London marathon is on telly tomorrow morning. It should be a good one. A star studded line up in both the male and female categories.  My money is on the new kid. The eighteen year old Ethiopian, Tsegaye Mekonnen, ran his first marathon in Dubai back in January in a time of 2hrs 4mins 32secs. He won that race. Crazy speed for a first timer! Even crazier, he says he could have ran faster.

Luckily for Tsegaye I have signed up for a local half-marathon race tomorrow afternoon. I could have put the cocky little youth back in his place.

Dream on. But I will take comfort from knowing that we both use the same fuel.

Hey…just realised, we are all connected after all. All together, breathe in…hold…and breathe out.

Thank you for reading

Frankie.

In response to a few daily prompts (sorry) http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/why-cant-we-be-friends/ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/fight-the-power/ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/have-you-never-been-mellow/ http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/when-will-i-be-loved/

 

 

The honeymoon cherry.

The honeymoon cherry.

Maybe it’s a man thing but I could never get excited when the dessert menu was placed in front of me. I would skip it, if I had my way.

I share a house with four females. I can safely say the only thing they have in common is a love for desserts and all things sweet.

Last summer my wife and I were celebrating our twenty year anniversary. We didn’t make it public knowledge, probably because I don’t like publicity. In fairness, neither does my wife, I think.

We took a family holiday with a difference. We retraced our honeymoon steps. Don’t get excited, there was neither a coconut nor a grass skirt in sight.

We got married in 1993. There were no mobile phones, nor internets, nor skype nor anything. All we had were our imaginations, four wheels, and a map of Ireland. Plus, just about enough money to take us around the Island (I forgot to mention, no credit cards either). It was a great trip until we reached County Waterford, at which point my new wife got homesick.

It came about when she was looking at the map. Our county, Donegal, is at the far corner from Waterford. So the following day we made a beeline for home. She marked out the whole trip with a pencil, on a map, as we drove; no Sat-Navs either.

Last year we took that very same map on our family trip. She keeps everything! It sounds totally romantic. It was! And it was my idea…for once! The girls enjoyed the trip but not as much as we did, back in the day;  Remind me to tell you about the chocolate peanuts in Killarney.

The girls informed us that we were either delusional or flat out mad! The trip was a waste of their time and diesel in our little campervan, as far as they were concerned. Kids!

Getting back to desserts, I don’t care either way. But my better half would slice my throat if I declined dessert on night out. The idea is, she gets both desserts. Not that she’s greedy. It’s me. I don’t have a sweet tooth. I will happily skip on to the cup of tea at the end. All dinners in Ireland end with tea. True!

I remember a dinner during our honeymoon. It was a real swanky gaff; the moment I sat down a waiter landed at our table and before I could say “Easy on, Buddy!” he had whisked the napkin from off the plate in front of me and swished it onto my lap…in one fell swoop. I don’t condone this practice but I have to admit it was like a Kung Fu master plucking the still beating heart from a bad ass in a Bruce Lee movie. This dude was fast!

We ate like a Lord and a Lady. For afters she ordered Black Forest Gateau. The kick to my shin indicated that I would be having the same. The desserts arrived and for once, she could not finish both of them! I ate the remainder but I couldn’t bring myself to swallow the cherries. To be honest I sucked the chocolate from them, and left a half dozen shiny red cherries on my plate.

Our waiter must have seen this male/female taste bud behaviour before, because upon his arrival he announced “Oh this is great. These same cherries have lasted three days of being sucked clean. We can use them yet again.” He winked at me.

My wife, the one who ate lots of cherries, started to gag. Women! Where is a hidden camera when you need one? The waiter put his hand on her shoulder and goes “My dear Lady, I joke with you.” In his, Italian accent (I think it was Italian).

To this day, she still orders Black Forest Gateau. An addict will blank all negativities just to get the high.

The second honeymoon was great. But that’s a story for another prompt. Right WordPress?

Thank you for reading,

Frankie.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/03/15/daily-prompt-pour-some-sugar-on-me/