Border Run Pikkies

I know you want one ; )

Border Run

This is a mix for all you secret cocktail lovers.

I stole the idea from the Siam Sunray, featured in Air Asia's inflight magazine... but the Siam Sunray looked a bit too complicated for me (1 kaffir lime leaf? lemon grass? huh?!). The Border Run is...

1 shot vodka
1 shot Malibu
1 spoon of sugar syrup (dissolve sugar & water in equal parts then let it cool)
1 lime
1 chilli
Fresh, fresh ginger

I don't have any specific tips for mixing this ingredients.... Chuck it in together however you feel like. It's gold. Try it. You Can't Go Wrong!

Lessons from Canberra

Last Sunday I ran 42.2k's in Canberra. My time was 20 minutes slower than last year when I ran my first full marathon in the US. But I don't count it as a failure. Here's why:

Finishing is better than starting
Patience is better than pride
(Old Testament Proverb)

I started training for this race on January 5. I was hoping to runner a bit quicker than last year, aiming for around a 3:40-3:45 finish. During the first couple of months I stayed closed to my training schedule, despite several minor illnesses. Then, on March 19, I realised that I'd done something serious to my leg when I came home from a regular 16k run, sat down on the couch and couldn't get up again. I'd torn a muscle in my quad. Strange. I'd run on it for almost a week because although I felt a pull one day it really wasn't too painful. Finally, my leg screamed at me to stop. I stopped. I thought training for a marathon was difficult but I went a bit nuts as the days went by and I couldn't run at all! Ok- now this hard luck story gets worse: Two weeks before Canberra I had a minor motorbike accident. Two days before the race I got a cold : (

I spent more time in April limping than I did walking! My only exercise in the final month before marathon number two was cycling, swimming, stretching and light weights at the gym.

Anyway... the day of the marathon I lined up with over twelve hundred runners. I felt like a fake. I had the shoes, clothes, hat and a grin that if you knew me read: "how ridiculous is this!?!" The gun sounded and we started running. Perfect weather. Great course. Amazing views around the lake. Running past Parliament house. Stomping the streets of the Capital. Many hundreds of people ahead of me. A few hundred behind me. Whatever. I was happy! Coz by midday I'd learned that finishing is better than starting.

And patience is better than pride. Pride says quit if you can't be competitive. If you're not able to run at your best, don't bother. But I tried to find the voice of patience as I wrote my journal pre-race. I scribbled things like this:

"I need to believe that I can run 42.2K on Sunday morning. ...It's not about time. It's about finishing. It's not about style. Who cares what you look like? If you look like you're injured, that's because you are. ....It's not about pain. I can run with mild pain. I will rate the pain if necessary. I can run with moderate pain. ...I will ignore discomfort. Cold doesn't count. Heat doesn't count. Blisters don't count. Frustration doesn't count. Disappointment isn't necessary. I will feel a sense of achievement when I cross the line."

Patience. Pace don't chase. Enjoy it. Finish well. (Or just finish any way you can!)

Today I went for a 15 minute jog. Even a Cambodian non-runner could tell I wasn't really in form. He slapped his right thigh and asked, "sore leg?" Yep, buddy, you got it! It's been a week and I'm still not yet recovered. But I'm learning that we can achieve some amazing things when we put aside pride and persevere.

Finishing is better than starting.

I love painkillers

I just got my third wisdom tooth pulled today. It's the first time I've been to the dentist in Poipet. The dentist was Thai. He spoke Thai. No English. No Khmer. Thai. His assistant was Khmer so we did the whole convo about my tooth through translation.

We chatted about how I heard he was a good dentist and had cared for many children who live in a local orphanage. Since I heard he was a good man I decided to come and see him about my tooth. I said that the clinic looked very clean and asked how he cleaned the equipment. You have a machine? That's very good. (I didn't know what else to ask about the machine so I just prayed....) Next we talked about the tooth.

He looked in my mouth and agreed that it would be no problem to pull my tooth. Just under ten dollars for the extraction, a couple of dollars for pills (NGO special price) and fifteen minutes later I was done.

Everything was numb and beautiful until the drugs started to wear off... I couldn't remember what colour pill was for stopping infection and which one was meant to be for inflammation so I just downed a handful of Panadine Forte (well.. three of them) nursed my jaw with some ice and waited. Soon afterwards... bliss.

I often get questioned about this at airports because I do the Thai/ Cambodian border crossing frequently... but even if this sounds dodgy I want to declare: Drugs are wonderful.

Canberra Marathon

I think this photo sums up running in Australia compared to racing in Asia. In Oz I'm not one of the biggest runners in the field! Woo Hoo!

Coming back....

I've been on holidays over Khmer New Year. (More about that later...) Coming back I wonder if I've lost some of my ability to cope with the ordinary challenges of life in Poipet. I'm struggling. Catching a cold when it is 37 degrees. Finding worms in the first cup of drinking water I poured after walking through the door. Picking insects out of our sack of rice. Cleaning the balcony bathroom of lizard crap before using the squat toilet.

Yes... it seems that in two weeks I've become a Princess.

Seeing Jesus: The Lion and The Lamb

I saw a Lamb standing, as though it had been slain, with seven horns and with seven eyes. Rev 5:6

A lion is admirable for its ferocious strength and imperial appearance. A lamb is admirable for its meekness and servant-like provision of wool... But even more admirable is a lion-like lamb and a lamb-like lion.

The Lion of Judah conquered because he was willing to act the part of the lamb. He came into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday like a king on the way to the throne, and he went out of Jerusalem on Good Friday like a lamb on the way to slaughter.

This glorious conjunction shines all the brighter because it corresponds perfectly with out personal weariness and longing for greatness. We are weak, yet we dream of doing wonders. We are transient, but eternity is written in our hearts.

May the power of the Lion and the love of the Lamb make our faith in Christ unshakable. So deliver us from small dreams and timid ventures and halting plans. Embolden us. Strengthen us. Make us love with fierce and humble love. Let us share the confidence of the Lion of Judah that gave him the will to die like a Lamb and rise in everlasting joy. Amen!!

from John Piper, "Seeing and Savoring Jesus Christ".

Don’t Freak Out But…

Poipet had a statue in the middle of the round-about at the end of National Highway Five. It was a concrete god/ human/ warrior/ spirit being, painted all over in black and shiny gold. Weapons in both hands, it faced the Thai border as our symbolic protector.

A few weeks ago I was driving to the end of the Highway and I noticed something was different. No statue! Before I had time to process the thought, an idea flashed into my mind: “Maybe this is the
reason I’ve had a tough couple of days… no protective Spirit!”

I was a little shocked at my own unconscious reaction. I don’t put my faith in a lump of concrete! I don’t believe that I need to fear Spirits lurking in rivers, houses, trees and dark corners. Yet, these are the beliefs of many people I live amongst… and it seems that I've internalised some of these ideas without really thinking about it.

Don’t freak out, though… it is Easter coming up and I’ve enjoyed doing some reading and reflecting on the person of Jesus. I able to see something/ someone other than statues.

Conway on Memoir

I'm doing some reading/ learning about how to write Memoir. Jill Kerr Conway is my teacher for the weekend. Conway writes-

"Traditionally there has only been one female biography for every eight written by a male."

Comparing autobiographies written by males and females, she observes that among males there is a strong sense of them being agents of their own destiny. In contrast, women's autobiographies are less clear on the ways that they have shaped their own lives. Conway argues that one reason for this is that "the romantic plot has so dominated their narrative" that it obscures all else.

In thinking about the stuff I write I wonder what kind of hero I depict myself to be. I hope it is a sincere (if stumbling) protagonist.... someone who is able to risk leaping into life's river but also willing to be carried in the currents. I hope that maybe I'll be open enough to write romance... even with the discomfort of not having a safe, "happy ever after" ending. Lastly, I hope that the truth is an interesting read.