Melburnians have been smiling in sunshine all week.
Weather determines a lot of things in our lives. For many it is the beginning, middle and end of all social interaction. My life is structured around a lack of precipitation from about 6.30–9am, and a break of two hours during the remaining 18 hours of my day allows my furkids and I to retain our exercise equilibrium.
The earliest morning hours are my clients. British breaststrokers are left gasping as wily sexagenarian ladies and a batch of male clients stream past in the efficient, streamlined strokes and drills undertaken in class. Should a spot remain free, it’s my turn. A few laps, a few ‘heavy things’ to pick up and put down in the gym, and the mind is clear and ready for work.
When the most miserable of all things Sydney occurs and it rains incessantly all day, my day becomes a nightmare. The moment the rain stops I dash, dogs in tow, brolly in hand, and beat a path from the door to the park. Melburnians smile on — this never occurs there.
Ten minutes into the stroll and all hell breaks loose as God momentarily forgets he promised Noah never again to flood the earth, and the deluge commences. Three drops later and we three are soaked to the skin and dash for home. Off come the shoes, hang up the coat, dump a matching casual walking outfit into the machine.
Ninety minutes later, the scenario is repeated, and again just before dusk. No personal goals for distance, time or heart rate are met.
It would have all been okay in my childhood, as a washboard to take care of three outfits would provide considerable upper body exercise. Furkids’ eyes would stop rolling backwards when the leads come out, and the dank smell of drying overcoats, wet umbrellas and drying shoes would not permeate my environment.
Perhaps it is possible to notice that pangs for the comforts of home and a former life draw on the heartstrings.
Smile Melbourne, the sun shines. Play in it with one of the great clubs available at QSAM: www.queersportsmelbourne.org