The Next (and Past few) Blocks #8-9
What an interesting 12 months it’s been.
Geez blog world, it's been a long wild minute.
Seems as I have finally ‘found time’ to sit down and recap on life post 101 days out of Australia last year, including the 78 days spent out at sea.
A guess this is a very brief recap on what’s been happening post sail and pre ultra.
(September 21)
Post 14 days hotel quarantine Zack and I spent 3 nights in Cairns running an absolute muck. Silly amounts of muck. But it's expected to happen after being isolated for 92 days? And oh boy it was so fun. Hours of laughter, so many beers, new friends and wholesome 3am chats on our walk back to the hostel about the past 101 days. Coming back to the ‘real world’ was interesting and quite intimidating. Out at sea we had no service, no updates on what’s happening in Australia (mid pandemic at this time), no jobs lined up, both Zack and I were somewhat poor. So once we got to land and had our 3 days of muck it was a thought of, ‘mmm, now what?’ We said our goodbyes after living in each others pockets for the last 4 months, that wasn’t an easy goodbye. Few tears were shared. I flew to Townsville and Zack headed to the Gold Coast to see family.
From Townsville my friend and I, Jasmine, drove from Townsville to Adelaide in 3 days so I could see my family and friends before heading back to Streaky bay for the summer. Not sure why I was so drawn to going back to streaky bay. Maybe it was the fact I knew I had a place I could call home and an enjoyable job to look forward too, I guess spending 5 weeks there the year earlier in summer before I knew I wanted to go back and enjoy the small town living.
Enjoying the morning sun on our faces as we paddled out, the fresh summer's water as you dive under the first wave of the day. Mornings over summer sometimes, not all the time, were waking up from a good night sitting around a fire drinking red wine and dancing with some of the most beautiful people I've ever met. Sore heads, laughing at what happen the night before. The sound of old van doors lifting up on on the non-oiled gas struts, gas cookers coming to light to boil some water for a morning brew. A bunch of randoms that felt like family. Each person, couple or solo. Van or 4x4. On the road for 2 weeks or 2 years. All had different stories, views on life, views on the world. And despite what happen in their past, whether it was good or bad. It didn’t matter.
One thing we had in common was knowing that each day was going to be spent outdoors in the sun (when it wasn’t 40km winds lol) eating good food together and just being in the moment. Nothing really ever worried any of us during this time of our lives.
Like everything in life things can’t stay like that forever. Summer was ending. It was time to keep the wheels moving for most. We were all in different seasons in life. Some of us, me included, were in our ‘grind’ mode. Saving to get back on the road. Some did that months ago so it was time to say see you soon to most, all heading in different directions.
A surf trip to Fiji in February meant my time in streaky bay would be extended due to financials. I wasn’t ready to be back on the road yet, plus it was the first time in 2 years I had my own room and space - that wasn’t an airbnb, Jess’s mums house or a van/troopy/bus. I had a weekly income, again for the first time in 2 years+ I knew I had money coming in. Prior to that it was very irregular.
Change was needed. A few very beautiful months went by. Some of the best months the year had seen, so far. The cafe I worked at was getting a bit slower. Streaky bay was busy but the younger crew had slowly left and the grey nomads had well and truly moved in. The 1/5 strength, skim milk, dash of hot water, extra extra extra HOT, flat white orders were coming in.
“That wasn’t hot enough” “is this a latte or flat white??”
Shut up, Jenny. Your husband won’t know the difference.
I was looking at moving on. It felt right. My time to leave the cafe was coming to an end. I applied for a few mining jobs up north and on the west coast, until I seen a local fella on the EP looking for a ‘drillers offsider’. The ad said something like. “Pick your own roaster. Stay as long or as short as you like. Good pay.” Seen that and thought yeah bloody perfect. Whatever a drillers offsider does Im sure Ill be able to pick that up..
A few weeks went by and I got a call at 9:45pm asking if I could start tomorrow.. the organisation of that would probably annoy some people but it was how my last few years have been so I thought nothing of it. Fast forward a few months and I'm still with these guys. I’m basically apart of the furniture at their house now and I couldn’t had scored a better job with the most beautiful family.
As time went on I was still enjoying the work but wasn’t feeling like I had a purpose anymore. I wasn’t running as much. I hadn’t picked up my camera in months. Hadn’t opened my journal in god knows how long. My bank was filling up nicely but Im never too fussed amount the money, especially if I’m feeling flat inside.
One afternoon I get a WhatsApp call from Tom from Bali Hope. Asking if I’d like to be apart of the crew team for the September 22 Bali Hope Ultra. Was asked to fly over - be apart of the Bali hope family and help get runners across the line, 84kms of running overnight.
Geez that sounded good so I was in and booked a ticket. As weeks went by and I was at work just sitting there thinking ‘why don’t you train for it Jonathan? Its 15 weeks away, that would be enough time to get yourself in shape for it!?’
Every single excuse on why I wouldn’t be able to do it came over me.
Things like: nah that’s too much. When would I have time to train. Works to physical. You work long days and mostly 7 days a week. I wouldn’t be able to do my Sunday long run so there’s no point.
We all have that one thing that keeps us up at night. A goal. A dream. It’s always there at the back of your head, eating at us.
This was mine. Then I made the call.
“Hey Tom, got room for another runner?”
As I write this I’m 14 days from racing from the most northern point to the most southern point of Bali. A double marathon, overnight along the streets of Bali.
And overnight 15 weeks ago I flipped a switch and started training again from that day. The power of the mind is incredible. Strong enough ‘why’ and the ‘how’ just happens.
Early mornings began earlier and some nights got later. And I couldn’t be any happier with the decision I made to train for this event. More than just a race.
So far I’ve fundraised over $8000 for Bali Hope. From helping build a recycling centre on the island of Nusa Lembongan in 2018 to now in 2022 helping local children of Bali get a good education for years to come.
I look forward to the post ultra recap.
Big love.
a few favourites from 21/22 summer.
