Tag: running

True Colours

My friends from Melbourne have gone, leaving as they always do, a selection of olives, cheeses, sun dried tomatoes, cold meats and other delectable items which I’ve turned into a colourful, tasty and nutritious meal to suit me right now.  It’s a rainy evening, this Equinox, and I’m cosy after a 26km run and shower. Comfortable.

This boy unknown to me at the Grey Lynn Festival in November seemed very proud of his new colours!

Speaking of running, we had two marathon Seinfeld sessions and I’m continuing tonight solo. Jerry and Kramer have just run into someone who called Jerry a phoney five years ago. “Is Jerry still mad at me for the phoney comment?”. “Oh no” said Kramer “it’s water near a bridge!”.  “Maybe I’ll see you in another five years”, said Jerry.

At the risk of showing your true colours sometimes you feel the need to say something that has the potential to cause injury. In your own language, the truth might hurt. In the recipient’s eyes, you’re showing unpleasant, but true colours.

Last week I ran a great workshop on story telling (well I thought is was great anyway!). As you might expect I started with a story. The story started with the events of 22 February 2011 with my son Thomas and Dad in Christchurch. And somehow I went to a classic photograph of my parents in 1952 in Queen Street, taken by a roving street photographer and restored by me for their 55th wedding anniversary (actually the credit for the restoration goes to my talented former assistant Ivana Dimovski). The photograph stirs deep thoughts in me, of a young couple in love and makes me reflect back over the 48 years or so that my DNA has been part of that union. And because it means that much I like to be clear.  So in the weekend I had a ‘showing my true colours’  moment, because something challenged my values that I didn’t think had been properly dealt with.

So this blog is written I admit with a slightly bruised feeling – I’m the one that’s done the bruising – and I don’t feel flash for doing it. Funny how you can bruise yourself when showing your true colours. And I forgot the power of the story for a moment – I did the telling bit, but not the story with all it’s grit, love, rights, wrongs and meaning. And without doubt I made somethings that were actually good, not good, to justify my sense of wrong.

The story of life is gritty and true colour moments come and go.  With those that really matter they are building blocks to greater meaning. Nice words, probably true, but I need to tell myself, easy fella, make sure I don’t do more harm than good in my truth moments. And remind myself that the buttons that get pushed – mine is usually around transparency when the water is still near the bridge – are my buttons, not everyone elses.

And the couple in the photograph in 1952 are just the best parents you could ever ask for and if you don’t know that about someone special in your life, maybe you’re afraid of the true colour moment, maybe you never recovered from a true colour moment, maybe the water is near the bridge and you haven’t had the courage to let it flow. Whatever the reason don’t wait for the next Equinox to realise that it’s time to sort it. And don’t save up some crap until the next Equinox either.

I recently wrote about a cousins barbecue at the memory-filled Stanmore Bay where most of us there shared some DNA.  But remember, your DNA only lasts for so long.

Stephen

Need a holiday already?

I stopped on the footbridge over the Southern Motorway near the Newmarket Viaduct on my run yesterday, mainly to look at the construction of the new viaduct. It’s a fascinating project and as I gazed over the motorway I found myself mesmerised by the lanes of traffic speeding towards and under me. Feeling slightly dizzy I continued on my way. The run took me past six Auckland Volcanoes – Three Kings, Maungakiekie in One Tree Hill Domain, Te Kopuke (Mt St John), Remuera (Mt Hobson), Pukekawa (Domain) and Maungawhau (Mt Eden). On a more energetic day I have run up the peaks, but this run was about a steady undulating run.

I lot of people I know are feeling fatigued already having been back at work for less than two months. Increasing expectations on us all, limited resources, a recession, a terrible disaster in Christchurch are some of the things that might be contributing to this. I’ve noticed I haven’t been to as many movies as I would like to recently – there doesn’t seem to be time.

Always in a hurry. Busy people filling their resting time with activities (like running!), so not finding the time to be present with ourselves, reflect and recharge

And those we’re leading: are we putting the same expectations on them? Or maybe we’re holding onto stuff that could be delegated because we want it done, well, our way!

At the end of my run I took a diversion to pass my former maternal grandparents home. Having been at a cousins get-together the day before it seemed like the right thing to do. Grandma’s house seemed peaceful and inviting even now. A place where as a little boy I could sleep on the couch overnight. A peaceful oasis so close to the scene of so many volcanic eruptions.

I’m going to the movies this week. I’ll find something reflective, happy or even just funny. A holiday evening in the week.

Stephen

Oh the joy of running!

On 23 January 2005 I went out one morning and walked three power poles, ran three, walked three and a bit more until I had completed about 2 kilometres. It was a bit off and on the first year, but nearly 9000 kilometres later (well 8916 to be exact!) I do if asked, call myself a runner. I’m not fast, but I’m not too slow when I apply myself and in those six years I’ve completed 12 marathon events and my average run length went from 6km in 2005 to 15km in 2010.

It’s often hard but I’ve kept going with lots of support – especially from Michael Simons who I’ve mentioned before – and the other regulars on Monday and Wednesday: Julie, Maria and Froste. Mum and Dad have almost always been there to face my mid-marathon abuse! And recently my son Tim took the ferry to Waiheke to see me complete the Wharf2Wharf.

I’ve learned a lot about myself through running:  the space to reflect when going solo, pushing myself really hard to see what I am capable of, encouraging others and being encouraged when the going gets tough and of course a bit of healthy competition to make you go that little bit harder.

I’ve discovered a lot about our great city – you see so much when you’re running that you miss in the car or bus. Running knows no boundaries and the legs work just as good or bad in Marine Parade Herne Bay as they do in Massey Road, Mangere.

When I ask myself: what makes me a leader?, running is an important part of it. In fact it’s got many of the components of leadership in one neat package:  self awareness, communication, reflection, role-modelling, mental & physical toughness and resilience, it’s fun, builds teamwork and is eco-friendly.

Looking forward to the next six years.

Stephen

Death on holiday

It was the sight of raw grief on the edge of the forest near the little shopping centre at Matarangi as family and friends of the young man found dead kept vigil while the police did their business. There was a strange stillness with a couple of dozen police, lots of police cars, police talking in hushed tones, distant from the family. A stern, strangely familiar nod as I ran past. Wonder why they don’t ask me if I saw anything. Afterall, I might have been running yesterday.

Out on the highway, it was hot. You notice the empathetic drivers – some give you the entire lane if they can – while others assume the lane is theirs and runners and cyclists need to fit in what they don’t use up. Lots of police cars coming and going in and out of the township – they fall halfway between, giving you some room, but not a lot. You can hear their high speed tyres, almost as noisy as a four-wheel-drive.

Nearly 7ks out it was getting too hot so I stopped for a drink to see the funeral director’s stationwagon, speeding like there was no tomorrow. Strange, what could be the rush? And hasn’t he seen enough death to know what can happen when you push the limits? But I know that adrenalin-fuelled urgency from my days in the police, where you drove fast and sure-footed to and from the sober, still, scene of death. Something about death made you confuse importance with urgency, and urgency always won.

So, it was a death on holiday for the young man. Similar age to my big boys. Everyone agreed “how would you cope?”, “it’s tragic”. We feel it. We understand the grief and are secretly relieved it’s not someone we know. So what can we do to make value out of such a tragedy. If we came across someone in distress, would we call for help? Even if they said they were alright? I hope we would. We promised ourselves we would.

Give them all the space they need, but we’re on this distant planet all alone with only each other to rely on. Let’s make it a promise to look after each other. If we don’t, what then?

Stephen