tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24535343215584635752024-02-19T17:08:15.384+11:00This Whole SoulLeonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-31078351016731808342016-05-31T09:29:00.000+10:002016-11-30T10:13:37.931+11:00My first ultramarathon: Ultra Trail Australia 2016 race report<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5syU2Q0AMzf5dA53PM6nbPq2yr7nlmzNOOlivkZuzNk27Uz4FOupH1TaZH0QVowNGQAefn-Znn5w3Kxw_bziJiO4CUEXAtTXGB0NPWIGhJ6yvKmq3N4LybLmZazfObscpsJ_khljUG0K9/s1600/UTA1609_0435.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5syU2Q0AMzf5dA53PM6nbPq2yr7nlmzNOOlivkZuzNk27Uz4FOupH1TaZH0QVowNGQAefn-Znn5w3Kxw_bziJiO4CUEXAtTXGB0NPWIGhJ6yvKmq3N4LybLmZazfObscpsJ_khljUG0K9/s320/UTA1609_0435.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam and I at the start line</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Well after 12 months of dreaming, 6 months of dedicated training, 4.30am training sessions, 2,400 metres of elevation, thousands of stairs (including 951 of the bastards at the very end!), 3 litres of water, 1 litre of electrolyte, a vegemite sandwich, 4 gels, half an energy bar, 2 mandarins, handfuls of red snakes, 2 bags of chips, after 50 kilometres; after 11 hours and 2 minutes I can say I'm an ultramarathoner!! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">UTA was just amazing, the support, the camaraderie, the friendship, the pain, witnessing the feats of athleticism by every runner, and just the atmosphere of the whole event. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijGRNPQ-lMrr3snQ3XtuebrnpjOFOxtOFecFgWGriuWq7D2wt2I3G7Pug2CkVZMBz752DAX1x9Q26yfm2GACX8S6kSat_djrHdk_L1PmdXvbbhbCogTaEj6VkRLtdke2UoouI5Xy5OJ9d/s1600/20160514_084238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgijGRNPQ-lMrr3snQ3XtuebrnpjOFOxtOFecFgWGriuWq7D2wt2I3G7Pug2CkVZMBz752DAX1x9Q26yfm2GACX8S6kSat_djrHdk_L1PmdXvbbhbCogTaEj6VkRLtdke2UoouI5Xy5OJ9d/s320/20160514_084238.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Couldn't have asked for better weather</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Being in the mountains on any day is a gift, but to spend an entire day from dawn till nightfall experiencing all the moods of the mountains; from the crisp morning to the brightest, clearest day I've seen in ages to the burning pink of the sunset on the cliffs and the 3 sisters silhouetted against the darkening sky, I couldn't help but be swept up by the beauty of the place I feel blessed to be able to run in. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIldLRydSz0PMAl4zCbO8CVZ4iFPKXaMCDr8jZRu2faozW81hN-jLGABnyAbKqvKSslSNAjxsmzpYsdhSr7Z2ddyqYAnl3OoQklJDg2zCiLd0KM1r6cz-zXwkAVrdvSTVrjuAInq29Iw7I/s1600/UTA1654_0713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIldLRydSz0PMAl4zCbO8CVZ4iFPKXaMCDr8jZRu2faozW81hN-jLGABnyAbKqvKSslSNAjxsmzpYsdhSr7Z2ddyqYAnl3OoQklJDg2zCiLd0KM1r6cz-zXwkAVrdvSTVrjuAInq29Iw7I/s320/UTA1654_0713.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nice and cool in Leura forest</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The day started well, after a lot of organising and double checking and triple checking the night before, I headed up to Katoomba as the sun was rising. After wandering around looking for people I knew, I spotted Lindsay who'd run the 22 the day before and wished her hubby well for his 50. Then I found Lisa, Mel, Jenn, Booz and Tracey, Gemma and a bunch of the other girls, and we yelled and cheered and clapped for the waves of 100km runners coming over the start line, especially the crazy smiling Tova :) My start wave was creeping closer so I wished the girls luck and headed towards the start line and found Juliana, and Sam who was also in wave 4. I spotted Nicole from BMF who I'd trained with and wished her luck, and all at once it was time to line up under that awesome Ultra Trail arch. A quick selfie, and we were off! I lost Sam almost right away but knew if I was going to get through this I needed to run my own race so I went nice and easy from the start. Almost immediately I saw handfuls of people I knew, saw Lindsay again and Jenny volunteering, Melinda yelling out hi, Tony from BMF carving it up, Lucy Bartholomew giving the cowbell a workout, Lorelai and Wayne, and all day kept coming across more RMA legends, running, volunteering, spectating, and lets not forget the 10 or so RMA dads who gave a quiet 'go RMA', obviously patiently waiting to see their other half go past. I high fived every kid and yes, pressed the 'button' for power (thanks kiddo!). </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jiKLm862efD_FiVZFNQiLPrFB9sKvueZKgf7tnLhqJ30KyZi0JtWKCI1Ip1JHdnCTYLFew1acuebpCBKkCM3RkoPix0b4nYW8U2UxV2cgO7pfcFuGldOaUUFsij4EcYBuvF2hyphenhyphenWoEsFG/s1600/IMG_20160515_092503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jiKLm862efD_FiVZFNQiLPrFB9sKvueZKgf7tnLhqJ30KyZi0JtWKCI1Ip1JHdnCTYLFew1acuebpCBKkCM3RkoPix0b4nYW8U2UxV2cgO7pfcFuGldOaUUFsij4EcYBuvF2hyphenhyphenWoEsFG/s320/IMG_20160515_092503.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">POWER!!</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a bit of frustration on the giant staircase; my strong suit is going down stairs fast so it was a bummer to be amongst the conga line, but it was over with pretty fast and of course when you're stuck going slow, why not take a few photos lol. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeLmrkgJEsj6cUiWPUQvqEuyhWHAQpiMBNeggRHN_-5iDWSB_pOPNOKelzuHA2s1_rMSF_O4CH8ehZmqmVn2vdrx61cwcpEx9AfFE8m0EIov7xEOQb7O6dXEkRmAb_KMS93GGf_uoVC3p/s1600/20160514_084342.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZeLmrkgJEsj6cUiWPUQvqEuyhWHAQpiMBNeggRHN_-5iDWSB_pOPNOKelzuHA2s1_rMSF_O4CH8ehZmqmVn2vdrx61cwcpEx9AfFE8m0EIov7xEOQb7O6dXEkRmAb_KMS93GGf_uoVC3p/s320/20160514_084342.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ugh traffic jam</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I felt so lucky to go into this race uninjured, just getting to the start line is an achievement, especially after seeing so many friends struggle with constant pain and injuries over the last few months, especially Tracey in her moon boot, Kelly who had to readjust her race plans after 6ft, and Mel who was clearly in the hurt locker when I found her before conservation hut. You're a tough cookie Mel. It was a hot day for the mountains, and being an early morning runner I'm not used to the sun burning overhead. I took a few short breaks, and came across an older guy who I see running every afternoon when I drive home from work. Small world! We talked about all the annoying trucks in St Marys. At one point I moved to the side to let a lady go past and she ran full pelt into a low branch, so I stopped to help her up and checked she was ok and not concussed. I was feeling good but just hot, craving watermelon and a pine lime splice, or at the very least some cold water. My hydration pack had warmed up and I was over the sickly sweet taste of gel. Lesson learned: pack fruit! This was about 17km in, just after I'd seen the crazy smiling Maz, near the Fairmont checkpoint where I finally saw Rita who I'd hoped to see at the start. She was looking strong but hot, like everyone! Thanks Fairmont Resort for the use of your classy loos. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDk9FZyq3BmSIQypt3ryxDajJJaThD5_6Qi80Jwa4qci0kYSOy5qMTge0ryKRVrXPaCuWLNYkK6fwVcEVMOoo1-g4qQwQbcD3kVooJw6sji7jL7kz9VdkzF-PL36n_pMEuHL9zUmmMbhr/s1600/FB_IMG_1463288123889.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTDk9FZyq3BmSIQypt3ryxDajJJaThD5_6Qi80Jwa4qci0kYSOy5qMTge0ryKRVrXPaCuWLNYkK6fwVcEVMOoo1-g4qQwQbcD3kVooJw6sji7jL7kz9VdkzF-PL36n_pMEuHL9zUmmMbhr/s400/FB_IMG_1463288123889.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers from the crowd giving me a boost</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWBLZTPxDBW09jtxM00408jJUSUHms4TDHz88hdK3WvkPgU952gYyqTdKI56RoPc3tEjioUdriiz0XuAptQk2J-mOQnY8dwSEDb5c_uJP9hDZ2YmdJVfIQC8DNPzIKgxTdbGRbE5w3x4f/s1600/20160514_131723.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghWBLZTPxDBW09jtxM00408jJUSUHms4TDHz88hdK3WvkPgU952gYyqTdKI56RoPc3tEjioUdriiz0XuAptQk2J-mOQnY8dwSEDb5c_uJP9hDZ2YmdJVfIQC8DNPzIKgxTdbGRbE5w3x4f/s200/20160514_131723.jpg" width="111" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the first aid tent</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I refilled my pack with water but it warmed up again fast. And I stuffed my pockets with red snakes. But of course, I bent over later to stretch and they all fell out into the dust lol. Again the support from the volunteers was awesome and gave me such a boost. Heading into the main checkpoint at 28km, I'd planned to stop for no more than 10 minutes but my brain wasn't working and I may have been longer. There was no watermelon as I'd hoped but I scoffed 2 mandarins and restocked my lolly pocket. I took a moment in the first aid tent to put sunscreen on and get fresh Vaseline and fixamol tape onto my toes which were hurting pretty bad. I knew the 10km downhill of Kedumba would be rough so tried to tape up as best as I could. It didn't work lol. Got some pretty purple toenails now that aren't long for this world. The afternoon sun was making me sleepy, and I started to seriously consider a power nap on the side of the trail. It was quiet and still after the buzz of the checkpoint, and I found this part the hardest mentally. I just wanted to sleep. Then some lovely random girl from Brisbane started up a conversation, and we struggled slowly together for a little while. It was tough going but I was still in a good place and didn't go into the pain cave: at no point did I want to give up or get into a negative headspace. I'm proud of this as I thought the mental side would get to me here. Another lady started chatting a little further on and I discovered she lived 3 streets away from me! So many people had trekking poles and I wished I had some coming up that long climb after Jamieson creek. I was mostly power hiking now, the 2 mandarins I had back at QVH were giving me tummy cramps every time I broke into a trot. This was frustrating as my legs felt ok, but my tummy refused to cooperate for a while. I was still enjoying the beautiful scenery and checking out this part of the mountains that I hadn't seen before. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iCx1UmNkXlqKtkmwzr6G56fr3VmQUFmVbvDcmAgdbvAuFUkZRCQzbmv3zn1hQCmpMsXNjaofiPkDx8HBVpaufynlf-OdsG2TaVmkd5_P2-_KNGCdpM_w5jI9RFX3KtBhkX-JfmWkc0Hl/s1600/20160514_165210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0iCx1UmNkXlqKtkmwzr6G56fr3VmQUFmVbvDcmAgdbvAuFUkZRCQzbmv3zn1hQCmpMsXNjaofiPkDx8HBVpaufynlf-OdsG2TaVmkd5_P2-_KNGCdpM_w5jI9RFX3KtBhkX-JfmWkc0Hl/s200/20160514_165210.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A side of these cliffs I hadn't seen before</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As soon as the sun was over the yardarm and the heat subsided I got my second wind. By this time Scotty Hawker, Pau and the other awesome 100km front runners had whizzed by looking fresh as daisies. How do they do it?! The afternoon sun on those cliffs was magic, and as I came through the 41km aid point for more water and lollies, Beth Cardelli flew by pausing only to ask 'where's the next female behind me?'. I heard black cockatoos overhead and thought of David King's beautiful words at the race briefing. It was starting to cool down a little so I put my thermal and my headlamp on ready for the dark of Leura forest. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I realised there was now less than 10km to go and I was still smiling. I didn't know what time it was, my garmin ran out of battery after 40km so I was trying to do some calculations in my head but simple math was impossible at that point, I was a bit confused. I ran through the last timing point down in the valley and was jealous of the two vollies snuggled together in a blanket, they looked so comfy!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDQ9z1t3snj6gP6KQGCAVS9lRfT7F1wV2j5Q7oT50gKL3zAl6YZDYb8Y5qrBipPQWeI2FveaIPPtTuPTGT3mDmnTxJyyi1a-F93VNTdwCq8-5mJK-32ndbDhvy2m4H5UjMsKyhsmEpQMS/s1600/UTA1605_0133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUDQ9z1t3snj6gP6KQGCAVS9lRfT7F1wV2j5Q7oT50gKL3zAl6YZDYb8Y5qrBipPQWeI2FveaIPPtTuPTGT3mDmnTxJyyi1a-F93VNTdwCq8-5mJK-32ndbDhvy2m4H5UjMsKyhsmEpQMS/s200/UTA1605_0133.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This image will stay with me for a long time</td></tr>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I squelched through a massive mud puddle and got wet feet for the first time that day. No leeches though! Winning! Then a little creek crossing and there was just faint light in the sky, the stars were coming out, headlight was on and I was laser focused on that little pool of light ahead of me. I couldn't see anything else. Those last 5km seemed to take eons. I'd run this part in training so knew roughly where I was but my eyes were playing tricks on me and I kept thinking Furber was just around the next bend. I glanced behind me and saw a trail of headlamps snaking all the way down into the valley, and realised how much elevation I'd gained in that last little push towards the finish. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPlS21GlANIJf5AaopWaDMeIqVJk5iCvSi4Jta8jZ6cYHmE0BohfEOYcYsUOCrdLcttuypLKKYB84JdCXnRL_vZFsudu9H_YC7FSbyYt5tsNgTOTgodbJ9z9S8AtZw_wSUnvHz4XlgW40i/s1600/20160514_160417.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPlS21GlANIJf5AaopWaDMeIqVJk5iCvSi4Jta8jZ6cYHmE0BohfEOYcYsUOCrdLcttuypLKKYB84JdCXnRL_vZFsudu9H_YC7FSbyYt5tsNgTOTgodbJ9z9S8AtZw_wSUnvHz4XlgW40i/s200/20160514_160417.jpg" width="110" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The smile is getting a little forced now</td></tr>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Finally, with some fantastic encouragement from a caring vollie, the stairs appeared and it was up, up, up, on leaden legs, 951 steps, and all of a sudden there were volunteers everywhere yelling '20 more steps! Through the boardwalk and you're there!' There was lights and cow bells and more kids to high five and I was DONE, I was in the chute, Tracey ran out and high fived me and I was done, all of a sudden it was over. Olivia gave me my medal and I saw Clare and Steph and Christy and some other girls whose faces I knew but I'd never met, but it didn't matter, it felt like falling into the arms of old friends, and finally I got that watermelon I'd been dreaming about since midday and it was the BEST watermelon ever. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oHb1qygp4nsK14altxUhzuP15HzaE0dOAgmlVYi7gqsh3dp8jz0UgTmiVWTLsLxpWqhhSteLpG7CwETfrs_UPkmw3-YIm-uxAyiK_-lAWEmcLonbzpXPkM9vpIj_OiJXWh3sXgaiiSZz/s1600/Resized_20160514_200428.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oHb1qygp4nsK14altxUhzuP15HzaE0dOAgmlVYi7gqsh3dp8jz0UgTmiVWTLsLxpWqhhSteLpG7CwETfrs_UPkmw3-YIm-uxAyiK_-lAWEmcLonbzpXPkM9vpIj_OiJXWh3sXgaiiSZz/s320/Resized_20160514_200428.jpeg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holly was just after some Tailwind</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I grabbed my drop bag and wandered around bewildered for a while, glancing about for friends, not feeling the cold in my singlet and shorts, getting hugs from randoms, trying to work out whether a shower or coffee was first. Coffee won. For a girl who's on her 3rd cup by 9am I was HANGING for one and OMG it was good, and the shower was amazing, thanks KCC, then I had a cookie and rang Richie who brought the kids to pick me up, which was unexpected but hugely appreciated. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I got messages from my boss and my family and friends, who were watching the live feed of the finish line. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglNWzTbVCBgMWi7B5dO84pBGhmgqskms8G4TnUlqgJoD2OYNSjFXDyG25jlPZjMAdSRmXMFGuEvuEfAFJV9ZnEyvpaywJv146C5VSkTzOaFXbWKw7A7sJwm8mmhN_oTN97ptq6yFP1g0hX/s1600/20160514_210946.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglNWzTbVCBgMWi7B5dO84pBGhmgqskms8G4TnUlqgJoD2OYNSjFXDyG25jlPZjMAdSRmXMFGuEvuEfAFJV9ZnEyvpaywJv146C5VSkTzOaFXbWKw7A7sJwm8mmhN_oTN97ptq6yFP1g0hX/s200/20160514_210946.jpg" width="112" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kids couldn't hack the pace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Standing around for a little longer and watching ordinary mums and dads doing this extraordinary thing, crossing the finish line hand in hand with their children who'd joined them in the finish chute, I couldn't help but cheer and hoot and clap, the atmosphere was one of elation and joy and partying and the sense of being held tightly in this wonderful warm community that is TRAIL RUNNING. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 12.666666666666666px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And that feeling is why I'm certain this won't be my last ultra! </span></div>
Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-18128336190000328622015-10-26T09:11:00.000+11:002015-10-26T09:11:17.511+11:00Why I exited our startup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wrote this some time ago. It's been sitting as an unpublished draft in my blog for over a year now. I needed to process this physically, through my fingers clacking at the keyboard, through sifting through the order of events, through writing this down for posterity.<br />
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Sometimes it's really hard to just sit down and do the emotional processing work, but it suddenly became ready to escape, teach me a lesson, then dissolve into the ether. Something held me back from publishing it until now.<br />
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Eleven months ago, my good friend Patrik and I took the first tentative steps towards starting a company. <a href="http://www.aneo.com.au/" target="_blank">Aneo</a> was born out of frustration at our current work situation (we work side by side in a windowless cubicle farm), a drive to make something tangible, something creative, build something. To fix communication between tech devices. To remove devices altogether. To change the damn world. We had huge dreams: invent our own tablet computer, redesigned from the ground up. Manufacture overseas then eventually set up our own manufacturing operations in Australia.<br />
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Needless to say, it was tough to get a foothold.<br />
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Months were spent nutting out ideas, riding an emotional roller coaster all the while, where one day you have the world at your feet and the next day the idea coming out of your mouth is the most stupid thing you've ever heard. Amongst the low points, I got all passive-aggressive with Patrik, cried, overreacted, fought with my husband, lost sleep, lost motivation and lost focus. Amongst the high points I was massively inspired to make a difference, create a job that I loved, pursue personal growth and become a stronger person through pushing myself to network, sell, spruik, speak in public - all those things I'd always been afraid of. I felt I had come into my own, smashing through years of comfort and complacency, beating a path to self-sufficiency and success with my like-minded friend by my side. I imagined a buzzing team of staff, and bright offices with windows (<i>windows!</i>), but mostly I imagined what that success would bring: the financial ability to give back to animal and human welfare causes, something we were both passionate about, and financial freedom not to have more stuff, but to have <i>less</i>. I wished for peace and quiet; a self-sufficient life on a property in the middle of nowhere.<br />
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This was my driver, most times - 'If I can just get this next step up, that end goal is a tiny bit closer.' I convinced myself that I wanted to be involved in the tech startup scene; something I didn't really understand but wanted to be involved in anyway. I wanted to learn. I could bring a fresh perspective, the outsider's perspective. I could market (my profession). I could brand (also my profession). I could create (my profession and my life's work).<br />
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More than anything, I wanted to prove myself: to my husband, who is the world's biggest skeptic, and to myself. I knew I had it in me somewhere.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-exd-6MKrKU_EpJ06LafnZrTmZQHm3cWjwflDmkNVTE7L-tfrxCkAz8x0eT3j2ttXspiL03SQdpw1e2aHAiezR0wBPW27k-sz5e-Flkqjf3d2YIodNgJE_eUyqr4C6LMrOUUc4tzNGr1/s1600/Untitled-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic-exd-6MKrKU_EpJ06LafnZrTmZQHm3cWjwflDmkNVTE7L-tfrxCkAz8x0eT3j2ttXspiL03SQdpw1e2aHAiezR0wBPW27k-sz5e-Flkqjf3d2YIodNgJE_eUyqr4C6LMrOUUc4tzNGr1/s1600/Untitled-1.png" width="640" /></a><a href="http://thestoryoftelling.com/" target="_blank">Bernadette Jiwa</a> has a great tool for determining the validity of an idea and crystallizing what the hell you're actually doing. I filled out her 20 questions and found I wanted to do this because:<br />
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<ul>
<li>I wanted to support Patrik not just because I cared about him as a friend, but because he was so passionate about the idea and sure of his path. I wanted to bask in that surety and I hoped it would rub off on me. Making things is about the only thing I've been clear on in my life. I can't get any more granular than that; I still don't know what I want to 'be' when I grow up. I thought teaming up with someone so doggedly determined would act as ballast for my own wishy-washy ebb-and-flowy goals.</li>
<li>I wanted to start something. I love fresh starts. Continuation - not so much. Fresh starts are beautiful, clean, neat. Fresh starts fit perfectly into a box. Fresh starts have all their components neatly labelled and sorted into alphabetical order. Nothing is convoluted, confusing; nothing drags a legacy along like an anchor. I love fresh starts.</li>
<li>I wanted to make something I could be proud of. Looking at this now, I know what I actually meant: I wanted to make something that other people would think was worthy and therefore I could enjoy their reflected satisfaction and pride. My family. My friends. My co-founder. I do things now that I am very proud of, I just don't think other people see any worth in such things. When they tell me that they do, I don't believe them.</li>
<li>I wanted to use my skills for good. I work for a company in my day job where I market industrial supplies to the mining industry. This doesn't sit well with me; it never has. I love my team to bits, it's a great job in almost every respect, but after four years it's becoming harder to ignore that I don't necessarily agree with what I do for a living. With Aneo, I didn't understand technology but could see clearly how it could be used for good. To enable better communication. Better education. Better lives. </li>
</ul>
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By far, the toughest part was believing we could do this. Believing I could do this. Countless times I questioned my decision to be involved with Aneo. I loved the idea. I loved where we want to take it. But was I good enough to do it justice? Was I going to screw up Patrik's dream because I was stomping around clumsily playing the co-founder when I really wasn't good enough to just <i>do the work</i>?<br />
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I've always had the niggling feeling that I was going to be 'found out' one day. This looms large in my day job. Sooner or later, someone more extroverted than me, and probably someone in a position of authority, will stand up and point at me and say, "Look! She's not a real marketer. She's in a management position because she asked for it not because she earned it."<br />
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And worse: "She's a liar. And that makes her a bad person."<br />
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So these were the bad patches. And then, without warning, insane highs would strike again and I would tuck my never-ending questions and feelings of worthlessness back under the rug.<br />
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Throughout the many months we spent working on and in the business, Patrik and I regularly checked in with each other. We experienced many of the same feelings, though mine were perhaps more racked with self-doubt. And although we process differently, we are very much alike in personality. Often Patrik would give me an out, if I wanted it - he could see I was struggling at times and we were both extremely open with our thoughts.<br />
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When he asked if I was sure I wanted to continue doing this, I would tell him:<br />
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<span style="background-color: #a64d79;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i><b>"I need to do this. I know I'm not going to end up with Aneo at the end of the journey. But it leads somewhere. I can't see the end of the path yet, but it's important that I go through this. I know it's going to teach me something. It will morph and change, and at the end I know I will have more clarity. I might have an answer to something I've been looking for. But I need to go through this."</b></i></span></span><br />
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And it would seem, now that I have gone through this, that I do have a sparkle of clarity.<br />
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In April, after a particularly emotionally-wrought month, I told Patrik through a few tears that I would like to step away from the company. We had nearly finalised all the developmental parts of phase one of our business plan: to develop an income stream through an online store, any profits from which would be reinvested into developing that new device we first dreamed of. I had been working 7 hour days, four days a week at my day job, working on Aneo from 7 till well past midnight each night, and still trying to fit in strength training 3 times a week and 5.30am runs to train for the half-marathon goal I had set for Spring this year (<a href="http://thiswholesoul.blogspot.com.au/2014/09/art-journalling-my-first-half-marathon.html" target="_blank">which I smashed :)</a> ). Plus being a mum to a four and a six year old, and attempting to talk to my husband for more than five minutes a week.<br />
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I had burnt out. I had given my all and the cracks weren't just showing, they were crumbling to bits in huge chunks.<br />
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At work that Monday, it took me the better part of the day to summon the courage to tell Patrik what I wanted to do. I didn't want to let him down. He'd always given me an out, but I would still be leaving him in the lurch with certain things. Most of all, I didn't want to leave work that day having lost a friendship.<br />
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Turns out, he had anticipated long ago in his freaky semi-psychic kind of way that I'd exit in the early part of this year. He was cool with it. No biggie. We signed some papers; we crossed my name off the bank account. I put a bunch of files on a USB for him. And then it was kind of... over.<br />
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So I withdrew. I cocooned. I spent almost the whole of this past winter (apart from work) either sleeping, reading, taking baths or watching tv. Everything came to a halt - clearly my soul needed it. I didn't have the impetus to write much, or even draw or paint much. I didn't want to cook. I wanted to put my furry dressing gown on the moment I walk in the door each evening and fall asleep on the sofa. An enormous, bodily exhalation has been occurring and I think it has finally runs its course.<br />
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And as for the lesson learned?<br />
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I have Asperger's. And I have closure.<br />
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I have been seeing a psychologist of late for various things, and the inkling that I had nearly a year ago (whoa - could this be me?) proved correct. Formal diagnosis in Australia is expensive at upwards of $1000 for many hours of testing, but through a long series of questionnaires, self-directed tests, discussions and admissions, my psych is damn certain that I'm 'consistent with' a diagnosis of ASD. I've written a fair bit about this so far, but until now hadn't covered the watershed moment that drove me to look deeper within.<br />
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Far from being a negative, I am feeling relief. Clarity. Peace. Understanding.<br />
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Self-acceptance? Not quite yet.<br />
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I will write many more words on this, I'm sure. But for now I am sitting with Asperger's as a sense-making narrative. Change is disorienting; and this is a big freaking change. I'm blogging through this newfound neurodivergent identity as a way back in, a way to process all this which can no longer be processed solely in my head. I'm getting too old for that; there's too much crap in there taking up space. I'm blogging because I don't want to forget things; don't want to forget how it happened, how this life-altering moment occurred circa 2014. I get the feeling life experiences will be remembered with the attached labels of 'pre- or post-diagnosis' though. It's such a powerful lens to peer through.<br />
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Had I not co-founded a startup, I would not have been massively stressed for a sustained period of time. Had I not been stressed so continuously, I would not have so deeply questioned my own direction / goals / needs / wants / desires / personality. Had I not questioned my direction, I would not have gone searching for answers. And had I not searched, I would not have stumbled across <a href="http://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com/2012/03/31/day-62-females-with-aspergers-syndrome-nonofficial-checklist/" target="_blank">the post that started it all</a>.<br />
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I'm proud of my intuition - it prodded me gently to work through the <a href="http://www.aneo.com.au/" target="_blank">Aneo</a> project and push my own boundaries, knowing metamorphosis would come in the end.<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-13516123535404660662015-02-27T14:44:00.000+11:002017-11-07T10:53:50.600+11:00New art journalling: 2015<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Art journalling is wonderful: it's there when you need it, but it can lay dormant till then.<br />
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In early January I had laid out my 'new year' starting pages, but until last week hadn't journalled any further than that, despite some lovely events and positive life changes within my family that would normally have inspired me to get my paints out.<br />
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Nevertheless, I've learnt from experience not to push my creative faculties if they are not forthcoming. I can sit with those moments and when the time is right they will manifest in paint and ink.<br />
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I have been training hard for my first triathlon, dealing with injury that is affecting my running, and adjusting to my youngest going to school and heavily reduced income on my part. No wonder I haven't been in the mood!<br />
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Another event that carries a great deal of weight is the bulldozing of my childhood home, a place my parents lived in together from well before I was born till I was around 12, and my mum still lived in up until late last year. Although I didn't spill any tears over it at the time, I know there's some emotional processing to do about the house being demolished.<br />
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On a more positive note, I've been listening to a great deal of <a href="http://www.richroll.com/category/podcast/" target="_blank">Rich Roll's podcasts</a> of late, and find them extremely deep, raw and inspiring.<br />
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This page was inspired by the <a href="http://www.richroll.com/podcast/rrp-113-david-clark-how-one-man-overcame-alcoholism-lost-150-pounds-conquered-badwater-the-worlds-toughest-footrace/" target="_blank">podcast RRP113 with David Clark</a>, a man who has overcome some insanely challenging obstacles to completely change his life, after challenging the limitations he put on himself.<br />
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Immediately driven to journal my own self-imposed limitations, I made this page as a reminder of how I box myself in with made up labels.<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-70000193783565077362014-10-15T13:45:00.000+11:002014-10-15T13:45:52.187+11:00Art journalling: Spring<br />
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Spring is finally here!<br />
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There has been a lot going on in our family of late. Nothing major; just normal busy family life.<br />
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Holly will be off to school next year so there is lots to organise for her...<br />
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Tyler has recently started karate and has finally given up the training wheels and loves riding his bike...<br />
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I put some art journal pages together a few weeks ago to note down the little day to day things that are easily forgotten.<br />
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We've been doing a lot of yard work and found some frogs in the down pipe...<br />
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I had been training long and hard for <a href="http://thiswholesoul.blogspot.com.au/2014/09/art-journalling-my-first-half-marathon.html" target="_blank">my first half marathon</a>...<br />
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...and I made some notes about Holly's school preparation and her starting Crossfit Kids recently.<br />
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Father's Day got a mention too; we had a relaxing day exploring Mount Tomah Botanic Gardens.<br />
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We have squash, lemons and limes coming along nicely, and beetroot and chillies ready to harvest. I just LOVE Spring! :)<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-63299768928709597042014-10-07T13:32:00.001+11:002014-10-07T13:32:16.563+11:00Gauche Alchemy October Challenge: LunarIt's been six months or more since I have been involved in a scrap challenge. My mind has been on other things! I've been art journaling regularly about some lovely happy stuff, but was reminded on the weekend how therapeutic art journaling can be for processing negative emotions.<div>
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<br />The theme for the <a href="http://www.gauchealchemy.com/2014/10/01/october-challenge-mixed-media-scrapbooking-art-journal/" target="_blank">October challenge at Gauche Alchemy</a> is 'Lunar'; and I thought the ever-changing cyclic phases of the moon and the dark/light sides were a great allegory for the ups and downs and love/hate duality of complex family relationships.<br />
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I was inspired by the old-school script lettering and dark moody palette. First I went nuts with my silver Sharpie getting all my thoughts out, and spilling white paint onto the page became the moon. My daughter was drawing next to me and wanted to add the bling and cut out the comet shape for me. This is what she was working on. :)<br />
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-44942263003404166642014-09-29T11:48:00.000+10:002014-10-29T12:01:57.348+11:00Red Rocket: Clean Wholefood Gel Fuel for Runners and Endurance AthletesAs per my <a href="http://thiswholesoul.blogspot.com.au/2014/09/cant-stop-wont-stop.html" target="_blank">previous post</a>, my body doesn't really agree with store bought energy gels for distance running. They tend to lead to, *ahem*, bathroom issues which, when you are 10 kilometres or more from home, makes for some very uncomfortable long running.<br />
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So I figured I'd try out my own clean whole food energy gel - full of all natural ingredients that my body is used to, plus it still contains a good hit of potassium from the orange juice, coconut water for electrolytes, salt to replace lost sodium, and honey for an energy boost.<br />
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I don't normally include nutritional info in my recipes as they tend to look quite unhealthy at first glance due to my love of calorie-dense ingredients like nuts and coconut oil. However in this case, I wanted to make sure this fuel is a legit alternative to running fuel that will actually do what it's supposed to. And just a disclaimer - I'm no nutritionist, this is just what I've worked out based on online calculators and such, it's more of a guide than a super exact analysis. :)<br />
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<h3>
RED ROCKET CLEAN ENDURANCE FUEL</h3>
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1/2 cup frozen blueberries</div>
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1 cup fresh orange juice<br />
1 tablespoon chia seeds<br />
1/2 teaspoon salt<br />
2 tablespoons honey (I used Manuka honey)<br />
1/2 cup coconut water</div>
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Put everything in your <a href="http://thiswholesoul.blogspot.com.au/p/omniblend.html" target="_blank">Omniblend </a>or high speed blender and blend away. It's that easy. Measure out one cup of the recipe to freeze for your next run and add the other cup to your running bottle.<br />
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You can defrost the frozen half in the fridge the night before your next long run.<br />
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Makes 2 cups / 2 serves<br />
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I created this recipe as a clean, wholefood Gu alternative - nothing against Gu, it just doesn't agree with me, nor do any other fuel gels I have tried. This whole recipe makes two servings. I've measured out a serving as about 1 cup which just fits in my Nathan bottle in my hydration pack (the other bottle has plain water). The idea was to have enough to sustain me for a 2 hour run, roughly a half marathon distance. According to the Gu site they recommend a gel 15 minutes before activity then one every 30 minutes or so, so assume that one serving of Red Rocket replaces 5 gels over this kind of time frame. So here's my comparison:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #414141; font-family: arial; font-size: 16px; line-height: 14.3999996185303px;">Nutritional Comparison</span></h2>
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Nutritional information for this recipe - Red Rocket Endurance Fuel<br />
Per serving - one metric cup (212grams)<br />
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Sodium: 590mg<br />
Potassium: 427mg<br />
Carbs: 40.7g<br />
Sugars: 35g<br />
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(The above was calculated using <a href="http://caloriecount.about.com/cc/recipe_analysis.php" target="_blank">this awesome online nutrition panel maker</a> - enter your recipe and analyse to see full nutritional information for any recipe - handy!).<br />
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If you take the above recipe VS Gu gel (assume you take one gel every 30 min on a 2 hour run, plus your pre-run gel making a total of five). I've used the Tri Berry gel as a comparison:<br />
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40mg sodium x 5 = 200mg sodium<br />
40mg potassium x 5 = 200mg potassium</div>
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20g carbs x 5 = 100g carbs</div>
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6g sugars x 5 = 30g sugars </div>
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Yes, my recipe is quite different, but it works for my body. And the good thing about a home made recipe you have put together yourself is that you can tailor it any way you want! I find I like the extra sodium as I have problems with cramping in addition to salt lost through sweat. And I prefer to keep the carbs down as I'm attempting a bit of weight loss too so would prefer my body to access energy from fat before easy-access carbs. The coconut water is a good source of electrolytes.<br />
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Also please note this is an adequate fuel for my body over this distance which is the upper end of my ability at the moment... if you are super hardcore and run twice as long or hard you may need to adjust levels to ensure you're replenishing what your body is using.<br />
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Edit October '14: I've found some additional info <a href="http://running.competitor.com/2014/07/nutrition/whole-food-vs-sports-drinks-bars-and-chews_54277" target="_blank">here thanks to Competitor Running</a> if you're interested in whole foods vs gels data. Spoiler alert: it's much of a muchness. Personal preference and individual reaction to various fuels still seems to rule. So listen to your own body! :)<br />
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Happy running<br />
xx<br />
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-54345516428521903222014-09-26T21:41:00.000+10:002014-10-01T12:58:13.271+10:00Art journalling: my first half marathonI'm just going let the pictures tell the story here :) Suffice to say this was one amazing adventure!<br />
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-40109374673625692962014-09-18T14:03:00.001+10:002014-09-18T14:03:09.699+10:00Can't stop won't stopI love running. This is odd, because I am most definitely not a sporty person. However I've recently realised that what always held me back from participating in sports was the fear of letting my team members down. So, now that I've given a solitary sport a go, I love it. There is no possibility of letting anybody else down or being a disappointment, and the certainty of that has enabled me to push myself further than I thought I could go.<br />
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In two days, I'll be running 21.1 kilometres, my longest run to date. My training has taken me 18 kilometres so far - so with adrenaline, luck and the right fuel I reckon I'm set to kick ass at the Sydney Running Festival on Sunday.<br />
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Also, one of the great things about racing is that you get a cool running bib number that can be recycled into art journalling! Here are the pages from my journal covering this year's City to Surf in Sydney and the Blacktown Running Festival 10k</div>
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I've also realised that for distance runs of 10km+, store-bought super processed energy gels and drinks just don't agree with my tummy, so I have created my own clean whole food energy gel which I'll share the recipe for in my next post. </div>
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-72687632227006793362014-09-09T22:02:00.000+10:002014-09-09T22:02:36.381+10:00Spring time is here <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Hum<br />
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What is this dark hum among the roses?<br />
The bees have gone simple, sipping,<br />
that's all. What did you expect? Sophistication?<br />
They're small creatures and they are<br />
filling their bodies with sweetness, how could they not<br />
moan in happiness? The little<br />
worker bee lives, I have read, about three weeks.<br />
Is that long? Long enough, I suppose, to understand<br />
that life is a blessing. I have found them-haven't you?—<br />
stopped in the very cups of the flowers, their wings<br />
a little tattered-so much flying about, to the hive,<br />
then out into the world, then back, and perhaps dancing,<br />
should the task be to be a scout-sweet, dancing bee.<br />
I think there isn't anything in this world I don't<br />
admire. If there is, I don't know what it is. I<br />
haven't met it yet. Nor expect to. The bee is small,<br />
and since I wear glasses, so I can see the traffic and<br />
read books, I have to<br />
take them off and bend close to study and<br />
understand what is happening. It's not hard, it's in fact<br />
as instructive as anything I have ever studied. Plus, too,<br />
it's love almost too fierce to endure, the bee<br />
nuzzling like that into the blouse<br />
of the rose. And the fragrance, and the honey, and of course<br />
the sun, the purely pure sun, shining, all the while, over all of us.<br />
<br />
Mary Oliver<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-221974914688908622014-08-27T14:23:00.000+10:002014-08-27T14:23:24.448+10:00An open letter to Sir David Attenborough<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i>"Dear Sir David,</i></div>
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<i>Despite sitting cocooned in my daggy dressing gown in front of the computer, here on this chilly August night in Sydney, my cheeks are hot, and I am blushing. Blushing to think that there might be a tiny chance that you might actually read this letter some day and that I could convey how deeply you have shaped my passion for nature.</i></div>
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<i>Like many of the other people who have written to you, I too have the most wonderful childhood memories of that Sunday night tradition of watching <span style="background-color: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">The World Around Us</span> as a family, clustered around the little old Rank Arena with the dodgy aerial, looking through that window into your awesome world. Despite being mildly embarrassed when I saw antelopes ‘doing it’ or a little queasy when a lion tore a zebra in half, I was hooked, and your documentaries became my comfort food, warm and uplifting and inspiring. I’m not sure my parents and brother were quite as moved, but I would sit in rapture, thinking privately that this man in the blue shirt was just like me; he loved exploring and discovering new things and watching bugs and being in the bush – and I didn’t know anyone else quite like me at that age. The seed was planted, and I wanted more.</i></div>
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<i>It spurred me on, knowing that the almost unstoppable urge to See What’s Under That Rock was not unique to me. If this guy David on the telly was doing it there was probably other guys too; maybe even kids like me! How did I become a part of this magical world? I started asking my mum a million and one questions, and she encouraged me by signing me up for Girl Guides and helping me become a member of the local lapidary club. I went bushwalking in the Blue Mountains and saw birds I hadn’t seen before, and founded a ‘mushroom club’ at 10 years old which consisted entirely of myself and two like-minded school friends marvelling at the technicolour assortment of fungi growing on the trees in the farthest corners of the playground.</i></div>
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<i>Then I got a bit older and realised perhaps I could make a living doing something amazing. First I wanted to work in a zoo. I was happy to pick up elephant poop, as long as I could work with animals. Then I wanted to be a marine biologist, but I didn’t have a head for the science. It was the discovering and exploring that drew me in. I remember one of the most wonderful experiences in primary school – we were on an excursion to a wetland, now adjoining Sydney Olympic Park, and there was a nature exploration room set up for school groups. I can picture that room like I was there yesterday. It was filled with amazing things – seed pods, feathers, bush cockroaches, stick insects, charts showing crayfish species, mangrove lifecycle diagrams. It’s the stuff that makes my eyes sparkle. Another time, a lady from our local wildlife park brought a flying fox to our classroom. Most of the kids squealed in horror and asked if he weed on himself. I got to feed him a grape and watch his bulbous little eyes concentrating on extracting the juicy inside part from the skin before spitting the skin onto my shoe. I laughed in delight. My friends kept squealing, shouting out ‘Gross!’. I thought it was the coolest thing ever.</i></div>
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<i>Throughout my teens and early twenties the desire to be a wildlife carer was ever-present, then when I met a boy and learned he had always wanted to be a ranger for National Parks & Wildlife, I knew we were meant to be. We are both animal mad and hope to pass on our passion and respect for the natural world to our children who are 4 and 2. They are both showing promising signs with Tyler, the eldest, unable to bear throwing out the pockets full of leaves and sticks he brings home from daycare because they are ‘so beautiful’, and Holly with her uncanny ability to quieten animals, including our centralian carpet python.</i></div>
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<i>I’m now 32, and I never did end up making a living in the field I’m passionate about. I’m a marketing manager for an industrial manufacturer. But, your films are still comfort food. When I’m feeling down, I pull out Life in the Undergrowth, make a cup of tea, and get lost in nostalgia mixed with wonder – and it never fails to make me feel better.</i></div>
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<i>THANK YOU."</i></div>
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<i><span style="line-height: 1.5;">This piece was originally written for the site </span><a href="http://dearsirdavid.wordpress.com/" style="line-height: 1.5;">Dear Sir David</a><span style="line-height: 1.5;">, a beautiful communal outpouring of memories and stories that was begun with the intention of compiling a book for the man himself which was to be presented at his 2012 tour of Australia. It struck me tonight while I was watching his film on Madagascar that this letter was only published on that site and I didn't have a copy of it anywhere; so I'm republishing it here on my own site for posterity. </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5;">Not only that - but also, these childhood feelings of wonder arise so often in me now that my daughter is showing signs of following a similar path. I recently showed her a </span><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 18px;">YouTube</span><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5;"> video of baby orphaned flying foxes being cared for at a specialist shelter, </span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5;"><a href="http://www.tolgabathospital.org/" target="_blank">Tolga Bat Hospital</a>, in</span></span></i><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.5;"> Queensland. She said 'Mum, when I grow up I want to look after baby bats.' It was a beautiful moment - she did not know, but when I was young, after the flying fox school visit I mentioned above, I said exactly the same thing to my mum. EXACTLY. THE. SAME. </span></span></i></div>
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-62379107049503820032014-08-08T22:26:00.000+10:002014-08-08T22:26:10.289+10:00Art journaling, Autumn and Winter<br />
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Much artistic navel-gazing going on over the last few months. Who am I? How do I define myself? What is important? Where do I begin?</div>
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-34071504039383225772014-07-22T13:54:00.000+10:002014-07-22T13:54:02.625+10:00Sloth<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was on such a creative roll a few months ago. Drawing, writing, blogging, making things; it was all rushing out of my like violent rainbows.<br />
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Now - not so much.<br />
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I've done <i>absolutely nothing </i>for the last two months, and... it feels.... great. Weird, mildly unsettling, but great all the same.<br />
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I feel like for once, I am truly listening to what my body needs and my mind craves. <a href="http://zenhabits.net/slowchange/" target="_blank">I need to cocoon, retreat, withdraw and slow down. I need to breathe</a>.<br />
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I'm trying to really pay attention to my thought processes during this time of rest. It's tricky: obsessive interests have been a mainstay of my life for such a long time that it is difficult to see when I am falling into a perseveration vortex. Like some Aspies, my special interests fluctuate and switch all the time, rather than me having the one constant special interest. From as little as a few weeks to a year or more, these short term interests have a way of controlling me if I allow myself to wallow in them unchecked.<br />
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Hence now, I'm actively trying to avoid getting interested in anything, partly as an experiment, mostly because it's winter and I like to hibernate. :)<br />
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However: I already feel the tentative beginnings of the light beginning to shine into my cave again; the days growing every so subtly longer, the calendar once again over that dreaded winter solstice hump. I am nearly on the upswing to summer time, my mind starting to stir, my body starting to stretch out and yawn. Soon I will wake up from this long sleep of slothfulness and I hope to be more tuned in than ever before, and perhaps even able to have some level of control over my special interests instead them consuming me to the exclusion of everything else.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #c27ba0; color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">So, in a nutshell</span> - I'll be back to regular programming in a month or so. :) I would like to experiment with food again, creating some more lovely nourishing recipes, as well as working on my drawing practice. There will be more posts about adult Aspie diagnosis and how I am working through that. Thanks for reading. xo<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-52943458021452515072014-06-17T13:05:00.004+10:002014-06-17T13:05:52.352+10:00Art journaling, June: obstacles<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: magenta; line-height: 19.31999969482422px;"><b>"For a long time it had seemed to me that life was about to begin — real life. But there was always some obstacle in the way. Something to be got through first, some unfinished business, time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last in dawned on me that these obstacles were my life." </b></span></span></div>
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-85712071139080125852014-06-08T18:42:00.000+10:002014-06-08T18:42:37.865+10:00The Hawk “The destiny of man is to awaken from his spiritual amnesia and to realign with the original intention of his soul. When the hawk gets a hold of us in his powerful talons, we will be asked to evaluate who we have become and to shatter our self created illusions. This will help our inner truth to come out into the open and SHINE.”<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-12631488400617531712014-05-22T19:29:00.000+10:002014-05-22T19:29:00.050+10:00One day, I will...Quite some time ago (<a href="http://porkchopandme.blogspot.com.au/2012/09/my-sorta-smash-journal-bucket-list.html" target="_blank">like mid 2012 to be exact</a>) I made this bucket list mini-book. Back then I was crafting an awful lot but still not a huge fan of mini albums or off the page projects. I was tidying up my studio / office / junk room last week and came across it again, and decided to leave it out on the windowsill where I could see it and add to it again this year. And, I was able to tick off one of my life goals: I'd completed the City to Surf last year.<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-28968796757683221002014-05-16T22:38:00.000+10:002014-05-22T13:11:16.754+10:00On writing<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So - I'm working on being more open and vulnerable as an experiment in self-improvement. </div>
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I want to stop putting bits of my life in boxes so that people see certain parts of me but not others. Enough with the self-censorship.<br />
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<a href="https://medium.com/p/147c2383a9b4" target="_blank">I wrote more on this here</a> (warning: existential crisis alert). No, I don't think I'm having a mid-life crisis. Thirtysomething crisis? (Is that a thing?). </div>
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Anyway in the spirit of keepin' it real: I write poetry. A fair bit. Although I don't publish a lot; most of it is half finished lines of gibberish in my notebook that I'll come back to one day. I hardly tell anyone about this. Writing for me is usually extremely personal - regardless of the subject matter, I have trouble separating creative work from self, and therefore any opinions / compliments / criticisms I receive back are to me not just comments on my work, but on my self as well. "I don't like that poem = I don't like her", and so on. Maybe to the average neurotypical person this is a wee bit oversensitive / irrational, but in the immortal words of Austin Powers, it's my bag, baby. It's just how I process, and at 32 it is still no easier to deal with than it was when I was a child.<br />
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However, onward with this soul-baring experiment - <a href="http://rainecloudpoetry.wordpress.com/" target="_blank">I have some finished things over here</a>, completely separate from anything else I do online, lest someone I know actually find that blog and read it (gasp!). When I have the time and mental energy I am going to move all my writing into this blog so that I can continue to push against the edges of my comfort zone and grow stronger from sharing my finished work.<br />
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Often though, it's the half-formed, gorgeous single lines in my notebook that give me the most pleasure.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwX3ePPmDUpiL75oe2qJcRkho6KvaPLbY-xWGhrVuiFYsInWhwkCcarX9zdggkg33jGqENIV4U99O-0HHUZaWG4p0OALxCiO3Z973r3PxwbigHGYPQBG019uq0Tx42hZUNrkHPsN4IJS9/s1600/DSC_0635.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzwX3ePPmDUpiL75oe2qJcRkho6KvaPLbY-xWGhrVuiFYsInWhwkCcarX9zdggkg33jGqENIV4U99O-0HHUZaWG4p0OALxCiO3Z973r3PxwbigHGYPQBG019uq0Tx42hZUNrkHPsN4IJS9/s1600/DSC_0635.JPG" /></a>Words and lines snatched from conversations, memories and emotions. Little snippets that are so evocative yet at the same time, meaningless on their own. Or perhaps they just conjure different things for different people. These words may never find their way into a finished piece of writing. But they are so lovely that I want to preserve them; <a href="https://medium.com/show-your-work/7fb5fdfbc068" target="_blank">to set them free into the world somehow</a>.</div>
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I just counted - I have fifteen notebooks on the go at the moment. Surely this would suggest I would be comfortable calling myself a writer...? Hell no.<br />
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Perhaps one day it will come. Maybe I will learn how to separate work and self. Maybe fifty years from now poetry will devolve into single lines and I'll be able to puff out my chest and say 'Hey! I'm ok at that!'.<br />
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But not just yet. :)<br />
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-63728230849369023752014-05-13T21:13:00.000+10:002014-05-13T21:13:23.363+10:00Scrapping again - finally!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's been FOREVER since I've had the motivation and mental space to scrap. Like, since December. And this is from someone who used to scrap on a weekly basis.<br />
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Having said that, it's nice to come to the realisation that a hiatus in creativity is not necessarily a bad thing; it's just that I need to recharge, gather outside inspiration, give it long enough so I'm keen to restart, and physically clear my work space so I can think straight.<br />
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For some reason the gaudy 70's colour scheme for <a href="http://jotmagazine.com/may-mood-board-now-open/" target="_blank">this month's challenge at Jot Magazine</a> got my creative synapses firing again - thank the universe! I've been busy drawing too; if you follow me on Instagram (<a href="http://instagram.com/rainecloud">@rainecloud</a>) you can see I've been scribbling again of late (and I'll share more soon).<br />
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This makes my heart sing - I try to honour my creative cycles; but in the downturns my life feels so washed out and static.... I long for colour! Mess! Mistakes! Inky fingers! Inspiration so strong it keeps me from sleeping! BRING IT ON!<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-21055099061430434822014-04-25T22:30:00.000+10:002014-04-25T22:39:01.333+10:00Retreat, regroup, relax<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My art journal pages from the past month or so - I have been clearing some space in my life lately and hope to use my newfound spare time for beautiful creative endeavours... but for now I'm enjoying the changing of the seasons, ugg boots, snuggling on the couch, cups of tea and awful TV shows. </div>
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I know my creative soul needs a little breather, and despite the constant nagging feeling that 'I should be doing something constructive', I just can't bring myself to do so right now. </div>
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Sit. Exhale. Retreat to my cave. This is where my mind is at right now. I'm sure regular programming will be back up and running in no time at all. :)</div>
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Enjoy your long weekend soulful friends.</div>
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-56566823242035843792014-04-17T20:51:00.003+10:002014-04-17T20:51:57.212+10:00No prize, but still a win<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Late last year, on a whim, I entered a poetry competition. I submitted a short poem to <a href="http://overland.org.au/previous-issues/issue-214/poetry-prize-peter-minter/">Overland</a>, a fancy-schmancy upper crust literary journal, and though I figured I had basically no chance of winning, I emailed my little poem anyway.<br />
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It didn't win but I it makes me happy to think that at least it got out there in the world; at least one person read it and to me that is what writing is all about.<br />
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<span style="background-color: #c27ba0; color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">Words, phrases, stories - they take on a life of their own when they are set loose into the wild; they morph and change and become parts of other people's life story lines.</span><br />
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Here's what I sent in. It's a bit odd, not the kind of thing I'd usually write, but I liked it.<br />
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The back story: there's a guy that parks outside Bunnings at Minchinbury every weekend with a plain, unassuming trailer full of fresh Italian crusty bread, baked that morning near Lidcombe and sold at a slew of markets and little spots around Sydney. By some stroke of genius, the baker identified a Bunnings car park as a likely spot to set up shop, and lo and behold people flocked from all around to the irresistible scent of fresh crusty pane di casa, little calzone-like things filled with ricotta and spinach, sourdough knot rolls - he even tried diversifying one week and had some cupcakes for sale. The cupcakes sold out super fast but I'm glad he decided to stick with the basics from then on - beautiful, crusty, hard, egg-brown, bubble-holed, flour-dusted Italian loaves.<br />
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Perhaps I might leave this by his trailer when he's not looking, so it can again venture into the world.<br />
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<b><i>Bread van</i></b><br />
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<i>When you nip down to Bunnings on a Saturday morning</i><br />
<i>You don’t expect to have</i><br />
<i>An out of body experience</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Craning your neck around the corner – </i><br />
<i>Thank God, it’s there – </i><br />
<i>A plain white box trailer, blinding in the January sun</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Like a neon Virgin</i><br />
<i>Demeter, goddess of grain</i><br />
<i>Our Lady of Toast</i><br />
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<i>I’m out of the car without taking my eyes off her</i><br />
<i>Rounding the corner, hoping there’s some left</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>A little cabinet slides open, tongs gape wide and flimsy</i><br />
<i>And then a dusty slap as bricks of bread smack together</i><br />
<i>The bloke’s hand dwarfed by the size of the thing</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Pure risen perfection</i><br />
<i>(He is risen!)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Pane di bloody huge</i><br />
<i>Into a paper sack it goes</i><br />
<i>Three bucks and a smile</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>Now you can finally bury your teeth in that heavenly loaf</i><br />
<i>No fishes required</i><br />
<i>Just a bit of butter if you can wait that long</i><br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-30761446434450569482014-04-07T13:26:00.000+10:002014-04-07T13:26:32.638+10:00Big scary admission<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"><b style="background-color: #c27ba0;"><i>“Get it down. Take chances. It may be bad, but it’s the only way you can do anything really good.” </i></b></span><br />
<i><span style="background-color: #c27ba0; color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">- William Faulkner</span></i><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">I'm writing a novel.</span></b><br />
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(Crap, I said it out loud.)<br />
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It's been welling inside for an awfully long time. I was writing little bits back in 2011 when I made the above page in my bucket list (<a href="http://porkchopandme.blogspot.com.au/2012/09/my-sorta-smash-journal-bucket-list.html">more pics here</a>).<br />
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Now I just have to <i>finish </i>it.<br />
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It's a loosely autobiographical tale touching on introversion, mental health, nature (lots of nature), spirituality, broken families, and the awkwardness of things left unsaid.<br />
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I'll be sharing snippets here every now and then once it's in a more readable format than pencil scribbles in 4 different notebooks. :)<br />
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And you lovely soulful guys and girls - you are most definitely my people, the ones I'll be relying on to keep my feet on the ground and my head out of my own but. If it sucks, I want you to let me know! That's the only way I'll grow as a writer. And I'd love for you to share my blog with your like-minded friends. Challenge number one for me at the moment is building my audience; without you my story just echoes off the bare walls.<br />
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Also - maybe bloggers don't say this enough - thank you. Thank you for giving me permission to talk, to write, to learn more about myself through writing to you.<br />
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Much love and light<br />
Leonie<br />
xo<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-1895887981117652502014-03-31T13:44:00.003+11:002014-04-01T21:39:43.774+11:00Creativity and lessons learned<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #c27ba0;">In order to do better -</i></span><br />
<b><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #c27ba0;">Just do something else.</i></span><i style="color: white; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;"></i></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">I just wanted to share some insights I've been able to pinpoint recently about my own creative process. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I've</span></span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.0pt;"> learnt that creativity in one medium flows more readily when I make the effort to carve out time to
play in another. Keeping in mind that I frame almost everything in my life as
‘creativity’ in one form or another (even parenting, although that’s a bit of a
stretch :) ). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">For example, I might be stuck writing the marketing plan for <a href="http://www.aneo.com.au/" target="_blank">Aneo</a>, and because </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> been busy working on it for
weeks on end, </span><span style="font-size: 15px;">I've</span><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> neglected my art journaling. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Sometimes its hard to gain the
perspective I need, but I’m getting better at stopping myself when I’m clearly
floundering and going nowhere, and turning my attention to creating with a
different part of my brain. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">A few hours lost in paint and paper usually results
in a completely different mindset when I return to the dreaded task that seemed
insurmountable earlier that day. And I like writing - even for work - so it’s
not a work vs. play issue, it’s simply firing a different set of creative
neurons for a little while so the other side of my brain can take a coffee
break. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The reverse is true as well – sometimes I lose my mojo and can’t make art, so I write for a few nights and let the muse return when it’s ready.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">It seems so simple now that I've written it down like this. But it really has taken me the best part of thirty years to figure out that this is exactly what I need to overcome a creative block: <i>just do something else</i>. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">By <a href="https://plus.google.com/102044854820618561168/?rel=author%22%3EGoogle%3C/a%3E" target="_blank">Leonie Waldron</a></span></span><br />
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Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-21274326724577486252014-03-21T12:24:00.001+11:002014-04-01T21:41:27.600+11:00Silence and stillness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">"How solemn it is out there under God's heaven with the lily and the bird, and why? Ask the poet. He answers: <b>Because there is silence</b>. And his longing goes out to that solemn silence, away from the worldliness in the human world, where there is <b>so much talking</b>, away from all the worldly human life that only in a sad way demonstrates that speech distinguishes human beings above the animals.</span></i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">'Because,' says the poet, 'if this is the distinguishing characteristic - no, then I much, <b>much </b>prefer the silence out there.'"</span> </i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #a64d79; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: x-small;"><i>- Soren Kierkegaards, The Lily in the Field and the Bird of the Air. </i></span></div>
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Let me just say first that this is not really a book review - it's more of a little hat-tip to an author, George Prochnik, from a girl with a crush on quiet places and a tendency towards stress-induced sensory processing disorder .<br />
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I have just finished reading Prochnik's book, <span style="background-color: white;"><a href="http://www.amazon.com/In-Pursuit-Silence-Listening-Meaning/dp/0767931211" target="_blank">'In Pursuit of Silence: Listening for Meaning in a World of Noise'</a>. </span><br />
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Not only was this scientific yet philosophical book enjoyable, it also profoundly changed the way I take note of the sonic world around me. Big call, yes - but I've noticed in the weeks since I finished this intriguing story that I'm much more aware of individual sounds around me. And surprisingly, rather than being overwhelmed by this sudden sharp focus on the sheer number of sounds I'm aware of, I've been able to let them (mostly) wash over me without them affecting my mood, in a very zen way.<br />
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Note too, this is no mean feat; my street borders a major industrial area filled with the likes of supermarket distribution centres operating round the clock, international freight carriers, heavy industrial manufacturers, and all sorts of other lovely neighbors. It wasn't like this when we moved here, but the trucks compression-braking down the hill long into the night are now a part of our lives.<br />
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I find low road noise comforting; growing up in a house backing onto the Great Western Highway was my first introduction to how low-level white noise could shunt me gently into the land of nod. But a low rumble does not compare with staccato forklift reversing beeps, the intrusive bone-shaking brakes of those trucks, and the insistent and constant road noise echo that floats down into our windows from the pockmarked road surface itself.<br />
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Anyone who has had any experience with SPD would relate to this:<br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i>"For all of us, the effect of sound we can't get away from can be literally dizzying. When it is loud enough it can disturb the vestibular system in the inner ear on which our sense of equilibrium depends. Even when not actually inducing vertigo, there's a loss of psychological balance that comes from being taken over by a sound; our aural back and forth with the world is gone and we are shaken into the larger vibrations."</i></span><br />
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So what of my new zen approach to noise?<br />
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Prochnik's book delves deeply into the extremes of noise and silence and everything in between - the Walkman, iPods, PA systems, urban pocket parks, sound designers, Deaf Architecture, boom cars, monks and more.<br />
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A new understanding of the reasons behind why we are so noisy has resulted in a deepened connectedness to the man-made world around me and all its aural cacophony. I've always felt connected to the natural world - but I now realise the human and industrial sounds around me are also part of a giant beautiful machine; in the same way that nature ebbs and flows, the sound of the city - and even the industrial area - has moods and nuances. It's a little hard to explain... you might want to read the book. :)<br />
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Regarding the overarching theme of 'the world getting too noisy', Prochnik concludes:<br />
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<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i>"We probably do not need a pervasive silence - desirable as this might seem to some. What we do need is more spaces in which we can interrupt our general experience of noise. What we must aspire to is a greater proportion of quiet in the course of everyday life." </i></span><br />
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Seeking out quiet as a respite, rather than the norm, has enough restorative power to effectively lessen the grating effects of a mostly noisy day.<br />
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A hot bath and a good book; a walk in the bush; a few minutes spent looking at the clouds perhaps whilst wearing earmuffs (yes I have done this), could be just enough to give you some perspective and stillness, and ready you to walk back into your own noisy world with your soul ready to accept the noise you cannot fight, and the ability to let it wash gently through you without destroying your sense of calm and control.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">By </span><a href="https://plus.google.com/102044854820618561168/?rel=author%22%3EGoogle%3C/a%3E" style="background-color: white; color: #f610b4; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank">Leonie Waldron</a><br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-74299142382728497282014-03-09T21:17:00.000+11:002014-03-09T21:17:40.596+11:00Say hello to Autumn with a raw banana date log<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4D10irtNgOKl8jUhF_ndZ3aFhNxFGI8MfesbXqgLVjlOwG15uKD601NCtfMzRZYhduzPwe_obFqPH-rj4y8PRuyNK7FxwxSMYxOk7IWeGXSsFct9_P99Sn2Wk9j47tXC9HjL7Pmo3Zvq/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo4D10irtNgOKl8jUhF_ndZ3aFhNxFGI8MfesbXqgLVjlOwG15uKD601NCtfMzRZYhduzPwe_obFqPH-rj4y8PRuyNK7FxwxSMYxOk7IWeGXSsFct9_P99Sn2Wk9j47tXC9HjL7Pmo3Zvq/s1600/DSC_0012.JPG" /></a></div>
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So Summer is officially over and the long bright afternoons are getting shorter by the minute. I always look forward to Autumn even though I am a Summer girl through and through; I hear the mountains call me and I find myself spending a lot of time from March onwards making little trips to Leura and Blackheath, or further over the crest if we have a day of exploring planned.<br />
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But by the time my birthday rolls around at the end of July I'm well and truly over the cold and painfully counting the weeks till Spring again. </div>
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Early Autumn, however, is the happy medium. Although mangoes are getting scarce and avocados have doubled in price, bananas are still in sweet, plentiful supply. So plentiful I had a bunch of them going soft and decided to squish them into this lovely log.</div>
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<h3>
Raw banana date log</h3>
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1/4 cup buckwheat groats<br />
1/2 cup walnuts, plus a handful extra<br />
1/2 cup dates<br />
1 medium banana (around 100g)<br />
1/4 cup quinoa flakes<br />
2 heaped tablespoons coconut flour<br />
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Pop the buckwheat and 1/2 cup walnuts into your <a href="http://thiswholesoul.blogspot.com.au/p/omniblend.html" target="_blank">high speed blender</a> and pulse till you have a coarse chunky mixture (you'll want to leave quite a bit of crunch in the buckwheat). Add the dates to the blender and pulse till they are roughly chopped.<br />
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In a bowl, mash the banana then add the quinoa flakes, coconut flour and the mixture from the blender. Stir in the handful of whole walnuts and fold the mixture till it comes together in a sticky play doh like consistency.<br />
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Tear off two large pieces of glad wrap and shape the mixture into a log in the centre of the wrap. Roll it up, patting it into a sausage shape as you go, and twist the ends tightly to compress the log. I put a couple of bulldog clips on each end to stop it unrolling before I put it in the fridge for an hour or so.<br />
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When it has become firmer after spending some time in the fridge, unroll the log and cut into thick slices.<br />
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Store in the fridge - mine was still delicious after 3 days but had changed colour due to the banana oxidising.<br />
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<br />Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-88714459648748943912014-03-09T18:30:00.000+11:002014-03-26T22:39:26.578+11:00Screw you, self-censorship: How spilling my guts makes me a more successful human<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIex4CbL37l7e5fpLb-DruVzpw87PpE8ioT9-TN78RHgP27ZOexCt_6pr5jLwgwhV9t9s9wM5snENcEXTpCue2UzHX0_rcre-UHSWxvetXm74RqdcSJQGGTswlRmQ1ZNHtz9zTL3k3vu_4/s1600/pic22.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIex4CbL37l7e5fpLb-DruVzpw87PpE8ioT9-TN78RHgP27ZOexCt_6pr5jLwgwhV9t9s9wM5snENcEXTpCue2UzHX0_rcre-UHSWxvetXm74RqdcSJQGGTswlRmQ1ZNHtz9zTL3k3vu_4/s1600/pic22.jpg" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;">“<a href="http://adii.me/stop-being-the-writer-youre-not/" target="_blank">Stop being the writer that you are obviously not and just be the writer you are</a>.”</span><br />
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Reading <a href="http://adii.me/" target="_blank">Adii Pienaar’s</a> post about being yourself in your writing truly struck a chord with me. This is something that I struggled with for a long time. I've always felt that people want or expect different things from me depending on how we are connected and what we have in common.<br />
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This means I tend to present a different part of my personality at different times: I am a turbulent waterfall of thoughts and ideas, yet there are numerous tributaries between my true, unabashed, honest thoughts and what ends up in the pool at the end. Each stream requires a different approach simply because of my perceived — and probably flawed — ideas about who is listening.<br />
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I'm aware I'm going through a particularly navel-gazing Aspie-thought-hamster-wheel period at the moment. And it frustrates me that my <a href="http://thiswholesoul.blogspot.com.au/2014/02/crushing-your-negative-self-adventures.html" target="_blank">onion-layers</a> are occupying so much space in my head right now.<br />
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I've got three blogs, a bunch of social profiles, a schizophrenic writing style — and a whole closet of hats to wear depending on what facet of my self is called upon to present ideas.<br />
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For example, I love writing about food, and creating recipes. But I don’t feel like a food blogger. I feel like some phony trying to be <a href="http://www.thisrawsomeveganlife.com/" target="_blank">Emily von Euw</a>. I feel like my voice is dismissed as irrelevant; strangled and sidelined by my own hand.<br />
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Why?<br />
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Because I try and present something that’s not completely who I am. I never lie; I just <a href="http://ideas.time.com/2014/02/11/digital-ties/" target="_blank">curate my digital persona</a>, re-working the material for a target demographic.<br />
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Maybe this tendency to censor, to alter, comes from spending my working life in marketing. I’m always writing for a target market. But I’m beginning to realize that censoring parts of myself is detrimental to me as a person, and especially to the connections and friends I could be making, especially through writing. Why must I segregate my writing into boxes so that readers never really see the whole picture? What am I missing out on due to the choke hold I have on my own voice?<br />
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It’s confronting to give away a part of yourself when you believe it will alter somebody’s perception of you. But I’m learning, and gradually convincing myself, that the way I think people see me is all in my head, and what I really need to do is just fucking be myself.<br />
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Starting to speak from my heart about all the things I’m passionate about and not sub-editing myself for particular audience makes me feel both <a href="http://eepurl.com/Hdyuj" target="_blank">vulnerable and empowered</a> at the same time.<br />
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It also makes me feel confident, real, proud and strong.<br />
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And I want to express those thoughts and feelings in words, in art, in pictures, in business, in every day life — and stop worrying about this impostor syndrome bullshit. Why not let everyone I come into contact with to know who I am, completely, as a complex sum of parts? I don’t want to play down any of these elements of self. I don’t want to meet someone professionally and feel weird that they know I write poetry. I don’t want to meet new arty friends and feel weird talking business.<br />
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It’s all just <b>me</b>.<br />
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I’m trying to actively push my own inner boundaries daily, and challenging myself to follow this guiding principle:<br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">Don’t pretend. </i></span><br />
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">Don’t censor. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">Don’t shape-shift. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">Don’t be an impostor in your own life. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">Be vulnerable. </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;"><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><i style="background-color: #d5a6bd;">Be your authentic self and the rest will fall into place.</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">I'm working hard to find my true voice amongst the piles of borrowed phrases, mannerisms, devices, looks and gestures. <a href="http://aspergersgirls.wordpress.com/2013/12/08/morphers-anonymous-what-is-self/" target="_blank">Sam Craft writes wonderfully about this here</a>. Enough with the morphing I say. It's exhausting. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">Do you have similar issues with anchoring to a solid sense of self? </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><a href="https://medium.com/self-hindrance/147c2383a9b4" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">This post was originally featured on Medium</a><span style="font-style: italic;"> :)</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-style: italic;">And yep, that's a page from my art journal up there - all about layers, growth, and above vs. below. </span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #a64d79;"><span style="color: white; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>Leonie Waldronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14239246533016293030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2453534321558463575.post-43509415479021476382014-03-08T12:56:00.001+11:002014-03-08T12:58:37.352+11:00Black forest bowl for one<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDlrN4Dd6EvHsu9KC1ZVLWtv2XZ_ImoU4B4PidFFw7ZoWGWN5Cr-LYB5SyNL6Ba0JQWPndSex-o_Pnnp6Xle_7CedYBkPE7k8kqSVQltk7Gh0mS3yQr7gceGNH8mBKyS3-avq8z0FMYj-0/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2Hxc3jSvMb40pxWComvvU0sAn_pZIFoeg0YN1wObq6XSZmnV71QPnjn14sK80duue2lTdIZ9KdkYYqkpq5x49xKhsDphEn71nxpSzT1Qm6Fr_AuEHs8IPIz2HeUhMyCFLy4y0htLkQ7t/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_2Hxc3jSvMb40pxWComvvU0sAn_pZIFoeg0YN1wObq6XSZmnV71QPnjn14sK80duue2lTdIZ9KdkYYqkpq5x49xKhsDphEn71nxpSzT1Qm6Fr_AuEHs8IPIz2HeUhMyCFLy4y0htLkQ7t/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG" /></a></div>
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So super easy it doesn't even qualify as a 'recipe'... I whipped this one up when I was craving some cake over the grey rainy weekend.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDlrN4Dd6EvHsu9KC1ZVLWtv2XZ_ImoU4B4PidFFw7ZoWGWN5Cr-LYB5SyNL6Ba0JQWPndSex-o_Pnnp6Xle_7CedYBkPE7k8kqSVQltk7Gh0mS3yQr7gceGNH8mBKyS3-avq8z0FMYj-0/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDlrN4Dd6EvHsu9KC1ZVLWtv2XZ_ImoU4B4PidFFw7ZoWGWN5Cr-LYB5SyNL6Ba0JQWPndSex-o_Pnnp6Xle_7CedYBkPE7k8kqSVQltk7Gh0mS3yQr7gceGNH8mBKyS3-avq8z0FMYj-0/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG" /></a>Crumbly Italian Savoiardi biscuits are a sweet indulgence; full of refined sugar of course, but I don't mind enjoying a couple occasionally. They have been hanging around in my pantry since Christmas so it was time to either eat some or chuck them out.<br />
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<h3>
Black Forest Bowl for One</h3>
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Small bowl of organic greek yoghurt<br />
Sour cherries<br />
Raw cacao nibs<br />
2 or 3 Savoiardi biscuits<br />
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Plonk the cherries and cacao nibs over your yoghurt and poke the biscuits into the side. DONE. Easiest treat ever. :)<br />
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You might like to let this sit in the fridge for a while if you like your biscuits soft, otherwise they will be quite crunchy.<br />
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And of course, you can make it much healthier by using a different biscuit; any kind of plain cookie would do the job.<br />
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