I thought I’d better do the right thing and just let everyone know that I’m still alive. I know someone is still visiting because my stats say that there have been over a thousand hits on the blog this week. It’s nothing like 4000 a day over at The Fat Cyclist. But then again, I’ve never been an over achiever.
So here’s a little bit of what’s happening. I’m teaching. I’m getting skinny. My muscles are bulging. I’m swimming. Here’s a closer look.
I’m in the middle of a teaching prac at the moment. That’s 3 weeks in a local school shadowing a teacher. The only problem is that my teacher mentor started a 6 (working) day break the day I started. I was pre-warned and there were lots of notes and resources left for me but it’s certainly a baptism of fire. Here’s the logic of their thinking. I’m a future physics/maths teacher. My teacher mentor is a maths/science teacher. When they allocated a substitute teacher (because I can’t be trusted alone with students until I have my final qualification) they didn’t bother much with what her teaching specialty was because I was, after all, a maths/science specialist. So I was supervised this week by a social studies teacher who only emigrated from Poland 15 months ago. Her grasp of English may be quite good but nobody can tell because here accent is so strong there’s still kweicz in every sentence. Now kweicz is a nonsense word I made up just now but you get the idea – just make a spitting sound while rolling your tongue. There’s lots of that noise in our conversations. Most high school students are a little mischievous at the best of times, but put a substitute teacher in the room and it goes up an order of magnitude. Then put a student teacher in front of the blackboard and it goes up another notch. I’m surprised we didn’t have to call an ambulance.
I’m skinny and bulging.
You can call me big mike, big Mike, Big Mike, BIg Mike or BIG Mike. I don’t mind. All I know is that I lost a lot of weight in the first half of last year but I didn’t hide in a good enough spot and most of it found me again in the second half. So I went from 126kg down to 109kg and back up again to 118kg this January. Then a friend asked if I wanted a personal trainer. I said yes except that I’m a student and all that it fiscally implies. That didn’t matter because his wife had just got her Master Trainer qualification and was looking for a person to practice all her new speeches and tortures on. So I’m now back down to 107.3kg as of this morning and when my arms and legs aren’t aching, they’re bulging (a little).
This same friend had a bright idea recently. We should do the local triathlon. Nothing silly, just the team section. He had some runners organised so all we had to do was find ourselves a couple of swimmers. That’s not as easy as it seems. Then my runner broke his ankle. That left us with 1 runner and 2 cyclists. Then Dave came up with another bright idea. In 1983 didn’t I swim for him in a triathlon? Why yes it did. How silly of me to forget such a significant and recent event. Would I like to do it again. Why no. How silly of you to ask such a question. Then a couple of weeks ago I got an email from the event organisers confirming my eligibility including a receipt for the $190 team entry fee. So at 6:15am tomorrow morning I’ll be jumping into the Pacific Ocean wearing nothing more than a speedo, a heart rate monitor and a bright yellow rubber hat. Approximately 25-30 minutes and 1500 metres later I will emerge from the surf triumphant, jog briskly up the sand and hand the timing strap to my former best friend who shall cycle off into the distance while I search for a towel.