An Unlikely Ambassador

You may find that this is a bit of a lighter post. I should serve to equalize my blog a bit from discussing only the positives of life in Tasmania for a New Englander. This should provide a little equilibrium so the people at home don't think I've tore up my passport.

Lucy and I both had a busy week, and haven't really had much of a night life in months so we dressed up a bit and decided to head into the city for a drink.. it was 7:00pm.

There are several bars that we had to choose from, and we settled on one called "The Northern Club". Located on one of the main streets in town it was selected because it wasn't full of the post-work crowds. We entered into a very dark oak bar and glanced through their extensive cocktail list. Lucy selected a glass of champagne while I decided it was time I ventured back into Martini-ville. I asked the barmaid for Lucy's champagne and then for a Dirty Vodka Martini with Stoli, extra Dry. She cocked her head like a curious dog and said she'd need to consult another employee. I was then told that they didn't have any "stolichee" vodka (a terrible massacre of the name Stolichnaya), so I said that Grey Goose is fine, which it is not, but at this point I was trying to be magnanimous, and I didn't want to be that "picky American". She began making the drink, clearly unaware of what "extra dry" meant, using half a shot of vermouth.

She went out back and returned saying "We don't have any olive juice, only olives, is that okay?" I said that it was, although it wasn't. As I waited I brought out Lucy's champagne to one of the lovely tables outside that lined the street. It was across from the old Launceston post office, one of the more historical landmarks in town, home to a large clock tower that had me scanning the streets for Doc Brown.

I was back at the bar watching the glass of vodka and vermouth get progressively warmer when she returned with something in her hand. "These are the only olives we have, they are brown, and they have pitts". I could not hide my disappointment and said, well the drink as it is will be fine (no it won't). She returned the olives.. I presume to be used in someones salad later that evening and handed me my drink, and the bill. The glass of champagne and my drink cost $29.

Lessons learned:

-Never be shy to back out of a drink order if you see it is heading south.
-Always have a backup drink ready to go, in this case a double Johnnie Walker Red on the rocks would have sufficed.
-A Dirty Martini is a rare drink in Launceston, or Australia for that matter and I must take it into my own hands to craft that elusive mix of vodka and salt so delights my palette.

I've decided that going out in the future will see my ordering beer. If not for the cost, for the ease of ordering it. When we went to the next bar I confidently ordered a Guinness. Alas, they did not have it, in fact after a bit of research I found that nobody has Guinness on tap in Launceston. I ordered a "Crown Lager" which is a tall thin looking dark bottle with a gold label that extends up the neck. It looks to me like a beer bottle from the 70's. It was good, but not great.

After much deliberation I have decided that my new Beer of choice will be Boags XXX. It comes in bright red "stubbie" (bottle for westerners) and tastes quite good despite its vibrant packaging.

I can handle the fact that my DVDs won't play, that my electronics will need adapters, and even that I had to relearn to drive, but when I can't get Guinness on tap, a decent Dirty Martini, and of course.. clam dip, than I do realize that I am indeed quite far away from home.

Last night I decided that I would do something worthy of writing about.

I don't know why 1000 push-ups came into my head, but it was the first thing, and I decided I would stick do it. I am a man of my word.

As far as I know, nobody can bust out 1000 push-ups at once, so attempting to do that would be as useful as punching myself in the face. What I can do, is perform 25 with little difficulty, so I should be able to do 25 push-ups every 15 minutes. This will give me 100 per hour, and if I start the moment when I wake up I should get to 1000 push-ups by 5pm.

The alarm went off and I was up immediately ready to get started. The first 25 were rough, but they woke me up. I set my watch to go off every 15 minutes and went about my normal daily activities. Sure enough as the morning progressed the beeping noise would proceed my dropping to the ground and pushing out 25. As I reached the 350 mark I noticed fatigued setting in at push-up number 20. That number began to get lower. By the time I reached 500 at lunchtime, I was wobbling at number 16, and hesitating before commencing. Do a few more, rest before finally getting to 25.

Fatigue would case strength to leach out of me so rapidly, one moment I'm sticking to a decent cadence, and in just a few repetitions I would be gritting my teeth just to do one push-up. I could see that I was losing the battle, my muscles weren't able to recover in the 15 minutes I gave them. I dipped into my long distance running training and did what I would have done had I hit the wall on the road. I gelled. I sucked down a "Gu" and took an hour break.

As the afternoon went on I continued, slowly reaching 700, then 800. I felt confident. If marathon training teaches you anything, you know that the human body was built for the long haul. If you give it enough time, it can perform almost anything you ask of it. As I moved up the to the golden number I was again wobbly nearing 25. 5pm came and went, as any breaks, or hesitations I took cumulated in my original completion time being extended.

We had company at 6:30, and I had to excuse myself while I double-timed-it to the guest room to eek out my final few sets. Yes, it is embarrassing, how do explain as an adult that you are trying to do 1000 push-ups? My poor wife was not in an enviable position.

I was able to record the finish, so here it is in all its anti-climactic glory.


I did it. I can now say that I did 1000 push-ups in one day. It was not as hard as I thought it might be. I was only inconvenienced the next day when I experienced soreness in my pectorals so intense it felt like the muscle itself had the flu. Aside from this however, the challenge wasn't that challenging, and I may have to up the ante next time.

This is not a post about an exercise regimen, or about how you too can get a better workout in 6 minutes or less. This is a post about the idea of creating stories to tell.

I was inspired by the television series "The Long Way Around" to create something worthy of telling. The Show follows two motorcyclists as they travel east from London, all the way around the world.

It gets your blood going, and I asked myself what can I write about? What story would I tell? Truthfully I'd rather not bore my readers. If I were able to read these posts out loud and get yawns or notice people checking email on their phones or texting in would feel like i would need to up the ante some how. I'd do things like move my hands, be animated, and embellish facts in order to validate my time with you.

I'm sure I could spend an entire day writing a description of the mundane with every ounce of creativity and a dog eared thesaurus to open new insights into something that is in fact dull. I've decided that I am going to work for it instead. So i ask myself what I can do that will make for a good story to tell. What kind of adventure could I undertake that I could bring up at a party and turn some heads. I don't want to do this just for your benefit, but for my own.

Because I am currently unemployed, and have few limits on what I can do with my time, I'd thought I'd give this creative philosophy a try.

Tomorrow I will complete 1000 pushups.

Wish me luck.