I live a 2 minute drive from uni. And though you would think that this may in fact encourage me to walk the mere 1.4 kilometers every day, my laziness prevails and I continue to pollute the environment by driving my car whilst putting all my vegetarian, recycling, 4-minute showing taking efforts to shame. I should be penitent but that's what 2 solid months of Star Trek watching will do to one's fitness levels. While I was training to climb to Mt Everest base camp, a fellow loon (aka those who wake up at 6 in the morning, put on a pair of hiking boots, fill a backpack full of water bottles and various other heavy stuff to then proceed to Jacob's ladder in Kings Park and scamper up and down a concrete stair case until it's time to go to work) told me that you can lose your fitness in a measly two weeks. It took me almost a year of training to get fit for Everest and after I conquering that mountain all it took for my newly found fitness to fail me was a couple of weeks eating Nepalese food with my hands, spending most of my time in a taxi/rickshaw/any mode of transport not involving my own personal movement and eating more Nepalese food with my hands. In fact I think that was the only time I moved. Hand from plate to mouth. All the while I was thinking that I would return to Perth a wonder woman and everyone would want to date me as I ran past them, my high altitude-trained lungs working at only half steam propelling me forward like a super hero. When I arrived home I found myself puffed as I struggled to pull my suitcase, visions of Super hero-dom vanishing swiftly like of those plates of food I had consumed only days before. I have never regained that fitness, there's nothing quite like the tallest mountain on earth to get you motivated and funnily enough running the city to surf really didn't cut it for me, so I remain teetering between exceptional laziness and a more moderate laziness. And getting back to the point, Star Trek marathons, involving superfluous snacks, encourage the former kind. Hence the driving.
As it takes me only minutes to drive to uni I often go home in the breaks between classes to make myself a sandwich that costs me only $1.40, instead of spending $7.95 for a funny tasting salad, a big tray of chips, or the world's most expensive apple. I have to save money to fund my eBay habit somehow. And today was one of those days in which I had drove to and from uni a couple of times. After my last class, iPod in, and with a swagger in my walk I strolled in the direction of the car park. Singing along to Marilyn Manson, wondering if it would be possible, like in the movies, to have a soundtrack to my day to day happenings. Cursing the hills as my calf muscles ached reminding me of the cringe you feel as a opera singer hits that high note. Uncomfortable and wondering if an injury will ensue. As I closed in on the car park I realised that I had no idea where I had parked. I had parked in two different areas that day and my surroundings were looking vague and unhelpful. Was it the first or second time that I parked illegally on the median strip? A red Saab caught my eye and I thought maybe I had parked next to it, subconsciously remembering it to avoid such a calamity. Alas, no. There was no car graced with an Apple sticker in sight. I began to worry that I would be forever traipsing the university car park, begging for extensions from passing tutors trying to get to their own cars, because I had never made it home and I didn't have all my books on me. Each row of cars looking identical to the next, I began to jog. Marilyn Manson began to fade in my ears and the strains of a new song began to emerge. I was hoping for something inspiring like "Your Car Is Just Round That Next Corner", you know, that country song by Ima Fullo Shit instead I got "We're Not Going To Make It" by the President's of the USA. My only response at this time was to sit down were I stood and refuse to move, oddly childish of me, but somehow cathartic. I felt my strength returning and as I lifted my head, and leaned on the nearest car for support I realised that that car was mine. I wiped away a tear, gave the tyre a small kick and went home.
The moral of the story....be childish. It works.
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