Townsville. Where Shecantry will not go swimming in the sea, thanks anyway.
To those who follow me on Instagram, I must apologise. I promised to blog about the run I did in Townsville on Monday morning as soon as I got home on Tuesday AND IT IS NOW FRIDAY so I suppose I am officially fired as chief blogger.
In my defence, I have been getting deep and meaningful, thinking about my spirit animal. I think I am going through a hippy phase, brought on by all the meditating I inevitably end up doing on my runs.
If you are like me and struggle to do the whole ‘ohhmmmmm’ thing but you kind of know that meditating could be good for your poor frazzled brain, maybe give running a go. I think there is something about the rhythmic pounding of the pavement and sound of your hot breath heaving in and out. Or maybe it is the faintness and lack of oxygen getting to your head that makes you hallucinate that you are meditating. Either way, it seems to leave me feeling more at one with Mother Earth or something.
SIDENOTE: Individual results may vary, etc. You probably should never take anything you read on this blog as advice.
So anyway instead of blogging I was thinking about my spirit animal and hoping it might be a dog, because just like Matilda the dog who features heavily in my writing, I think I am soft, cuddly and pretty cute. I also love food and sleeping.
But interestingly, the more I pondered the various possibilities, I realised my spirit animal is not a dog. Nor a wolf or bald-headed eagle, both of which might seem appropriate to a badass triathlete.
I couldn’t ignore the evidence:
1. I am soft and sweet on the inside.
2. Sometimes a bit hard and crunchy on the outside.
3. I am a bit fruity, sometimes a bit nuts.
4. No one can tell if I am really Australian or not.
5. You either love me or hate me.
So… My spirit animal is apparently a Pavlova.
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