TEXT: Hey Zo Troy wants to know if u r still running tomorrow morning?
J xx
TEXT: Yep – will meet him at your place 6am, will try to be quiet so don’t wake you and Dash.
Z
TEXT: Z, Troy told me to ask you about your hot box. WTF????
J x
TEXT: Painfully (literally) running story – will tell all Friday, my place 3:30? Z xx
TEXT: K C U then J 🙂
In contrast to Luke who has I-phone, I-pad, Blackberry, for work, 2 laptops, dongle, dangle, this, that and the other (you get the drift), Troy doesn’t even carry a mobile phone so sends his SMS’s re running plans to Zo via me. Annoying much! Anywho, spring has technically sprung according to my mulberry tree and the calendar but seeing that Zo and I are cold frogs, the log fire (albeit gas), is on and warming up the house in readiness for the habitual Friday visit. There is Hewitson Barossa Valley “Miss Harrey” Grenache-Shiraz-Mouvedre breathing, yummy wholemeal Pita Crisps for the Berenberg chili relish and Carr’s Peppercorn water crackers for the Wattle Valley Sweet Chilli creamy cheese, Norwegian Jarlsberg plus, Kenilworth hot chilli cheddar. I’m feeling so gluttonous today, I have also opened a packet of Red Rock Sweet Chili Chips. I do a little giggle to myself, as every Friday we sit together and lament over not being able to look hot like JPT, as we stuff our face with cheese and wine.
I’m still setting up the cheeseboard, as Zoe arrives and I ask her to grab the wine glasses and tell Harry to close the door, for the torrential rain outside. Spring – my ass!
“Okay Zo, you have to tell me what’s with Hot Box?”
“Well, you know how Troy’s been using Finalgon on his knees and calves before runs, well he suggested it might help with my abductor strain.”
“Abductor? English Zo”
“Inner thigh/groin region. Anyway I tried it but went up a little higher than planned, I didn’t wash my hands, I transferred some unintentionally to my underwear and part of my running shorts and…well…. it’s damn hot Jay. You feel me?”
I recover from half spitting out a mouthful of my Jarlsberg, laughing, choking, trying to get air….no I can’t take it ……. I run to the toilet clutching my crotch for fear of wetting myself on the way – this might not be a little bit of wee, but a lot, if I don’t get there in time.
When I finally return I ask “You mean you burnt your vagina?”
“Not funny Jay” Zo half chuckles, trying to keep a straight face, “yes it got a bit hot and uncomfortable in the perineal region”
“Oh for christ-sakes Zo just say vagina, so now I get it – that’s why Troy mentioned your ’hot box’, I was beginning to think you may have been having an affair!” I speak in jest, but do I?
“So how’s the running with Troy going anyway, Zo? Is he keeping up with you?”
“Actually, we’re pretty even paced, he doesn’t talk as much as me, don’t know if that’s a sign of cardio overload, but seems to have it in him for a big sprint at end which I can never match…could be a guy thing, Shallow Mike from the gym is same in city to bay training”. (Shallow Mike is JPT’s on & off again boyfriend from our gym who earned his nickname by self proclaiming at a gym Christmas dinner that if he saw a wedding or engagement ring on a girl he never looked at her again). A good example of how superficial Mike, he once spent a whole aerobics class 2 people away from JPT but didn’t notice or acknowledge her as there was a hot chick (with no ring of course) in between them. He flirted the whole class with the poor girl.
“Ha, that sounds familiar, like Troy in bed…” Poker face from Zo, I continue
“So what do you talk about during running, Zo?”
“Oh you know, mainly you Jay and of course I update him on Harry’s Auk-kick achievements and sometimes fill him in on Dash’s skating adventures”
Sometimes Zoe takes Dash to skating lessons (like when I’m feeling a bit seedy after a big Friday night, I can’t face an early start plus backed up by a double class at the gym on a Saturday morning). It reminds me of old times. We used to skate on Saturday nights as teenagers. On one particular such Saturday night of our miss-spent (or well spent depending on who you ask) youth, we signed up for some lessons. First lesson, the teacher can see we can skate so sends us off to the big ice to practice our T-stop. Unlike a hockey stop, where both feet are facing the same direction but the front foot uses the inside blade edge and the back foot uses the outside edge, the T-stop has the front foot facing forward and the back foot 90 degrees coming to meet the front heel on the outside edge. As I use to stop using the toe pick and a dicky version of the snowplough stop, I had no idea how to coordinate this, so I started copying others. Not realizing the back foot had to be manipulated onto the outside edge of the blade, I was scrapping the back foot along on it’s inside edge and then dragged it in hard and fast, slammed my back foot against my front heel, knocked my front foot out from under myself and landed flat on my back. FARK……Winded. Could not breath or catch a breath. Like landing on fucking cement. I got stretchered off the ice on my first lesson. After being stretchered off, I was to learn this is the most difficult stop to learn! I’m a master at it now though.
“Speaking of running Jay, have I told you about my latest treadmill debacle? You’ll love it, it involves Jed.”
“Go on” I’m all smiles as I sip my wine, in anticipation.
“Okay, so I’m doing Tabarta interval training”
I interrupt with mouth half full of wine, tipping my head back strategically, so it doesn’t dribble down my chin as I speak, before I swallow “English?”
“Really fast twenty seconds at sixteen kilometers per hour, then jump off and straddle treadmill for ten seconds, then repeat, six times, one minutes rest, then start again. Five cycles in total”
“I’m with you, so what happened?”
“Well I’m due to train with Jed right after and he’s early for once so he hovers behind me. Typical Jed he ups my speed to eighteen K’s, saying ‘You can do this Zoey’. So of course I do, then instead of jumping off and straddling treadmill after twenty seconds, I turn to Jed who’s holding his hand out for me, I accidentally put one foot on the treadmill, still going at eighteen K’s, get catapulted off machine onto Jed, taking both of us to floor, me falling on his chest!”
“OMG, that’s hysterical” I splutter “Did anyone see?”.
“Only about twenty people including of course Jazzie Perky Tits!”
“Oh Zo, you poor thing” I’m stifling a laugh while attempting compassion. “That can’t have helped your treadmill phobia”. I think back to Zo’s other 2 incidents on the treadmill this year. One when she accidentally hopped onto a machine in operation (she claims the cardio room is ‘dimly lit’ I claim she was ‘seedy’) and got catapulted into a stationary bike behind. I’m laughing right now on the inside thinking about it. Another day she casually discarded her jacket while we were both on the treadmill next to each other before Pump class. The jacket got caught in the mechanism underneath, halted the machine, and sent her flying! Clumsy Zo – good thing she’s not a surgeon.
This is why she prefers running outside, however, that brings to mind the time she tripped on an uneven footpath and ended up with a black eye and severely bruised knees and elbows.
At this point Luke arrives (home before Troy, which is unusual) with a bunch of Gerbras for Zo.
“What are the flowers for Luke?”
“Just some impromptu spoiling” he replies to me as he gives Zo a kiss on the cheek.
I think that’s weird that he would do that on a day he knows he’s coming straight here after work but I don’t say anything.
He plops a bottle of Butterscotch Schnapps and Baileys on the counter.
“Where’s mine?” I joke
“In the car” Luke replies, in all seriousness, as he goes back to the car. I kid you not, he is one of a kind!
He also delivers mine with a kiss – I try to slip around to get him on the lips and pretend to slip in the tongue as a good will gesture.. he lightly punches me. I head off for some vases.
Luke’s in a great mood because it’s Friday, a long weekend and according to Zo, had a better than average week at work. Apparently he’s been a bit of a sour-puss lately with work gripes and grumbles. He tells us he’s called Troy at work, who’ll join us soon for take away pizza and a game of Taboo. Ok, make yourself at home I think.
We play a few rounds of Taboo, while the kids curl up in beanbags and watch Herbie Rides Again for the 100th time (a shared favourite). Us girls get into the Baileys and Butterscotch schnapps, Troy’s drinking his CC and cola with lime, using all the ice… again, and failing to refill the ice trays. A custom trait as Luke and Zo can attest to, cause he does it at their house too. Luke’s enjoying his Mexican beers.
We share some sidesplitting laughter during Taboo, as we try to guess each of our partners words, every guess degenerating to sexual references and other such ludicrously juvenile behaviour. I have the word Arena, Troy has to guess this word, while my forbidden words (and any part thereof) are oval, sport, pitch, crowd, grass. Easy I think to myself
“Tina”
“Turner”
“try another one”
“Aguilera”
“That’s Christina, think green”
“Tina colour?”
“For gods sake Troy, there is a famous Tina, what’s her last name?”
“I DON’T KNOW”
“She’s Australian”
“TIME!” Zoe shouts
“Tina fucking Arena” I acquiesce
While the three of them get the stitch from laughing so hard, I do a little wee in my pants.
Healthy, Happy & Whole 