The monsters and men of Mission Bay

Publié le 17 août 2015 par Helen

It happened on a winter’s morning. I was hanging up some washing when I noticed that the sun, that dubious character who I hadn’t seen for a while, was out and about.

“I must make use of this,” I thought, and all at once the impulse to do some exercise came over me. I thought back to the good old days of a couple of months ago when I was cutting shapes before a setting Sydney sun. I thought back to the almost abs I had and how I could run for miles and miles (about 2 to be precise) without collapsing.

Rather than selfishly squander my enthusiasm by busting some burpees right there and then, I rallied the other females in my life and arranged for a walk along Mission Bay the following day. That they would be bringing prams and babies and probably not be able to walk fast had nothing to do with my uncharacteristic inclusiveness. I assure you, I was thinking of the exercise and sharing the exercise.

I must have only ever been to Mission Bay during weekends and nights, because I was surprised to find that during the day, in the middle of the week, it’s a whole other kettle of deep fried fish and chips. With the diminished human population, you really notice the insanely large number of obnoxious, oversized birds. It can only be the result of living on Movenpick. They’re bolshie and big, and they aren’t afraid to let you know it.

“EEEEEK! EEEEEK! EEEEEEK!” they scream while brandishing razor sharp beaks. They stand on the stone wall between the beach and the path, watching you from the corners of evil eyes as they mutilate innocent, empty ice cream tubs.

During our grueling stroll we passed one such bully with half a tortilla in its beak. It was telling the other birds exactly what it was going to do to them if they made a pass at its prize. I didn t like the way it was throwing its weight around. I thought it needed a lesson in sharing, so I plumped up my arms, stuck out my neck and stalked over to it.

“I’m bigger than you!” I declared. At first it tried calling my bluff and didn’t move. Then it coolly flapped its wings and moved onto the wall, tortilla in tow. It was eyeing me darkly. I didnt like its attitude so I leapt onto the wall. This manoeuvre added abdominal and quadrilateral strengthening to an already aerobic amble.

“I’m bigger than you!” I said again in a burly voice. The bird got the message and took off with a squawk, dropping the tortilla in its panic. I jumped off the wall (agility training) then happily glanced back to see smaller birds like sparrows and non-monstrous seagulls descending on the tortilla with glee.

After our walk we headed to an exercise area cleverly disguised as a playground. A little girl came along and told me she was Superman. I had to take her word for it. Superman was practicing her flying on one of the swings while on another, I was carrying out a demanding ‘pushing baby back and forth’ routine to target my arms.

“Can you push me?” asked Superman.

“Okay,” I said. Superman’s not someone you say no to.

Superman soon realised, though, that after flying through the sky and rescuing Lois Lane, being pushed on a swing by me wasn’t very exciting. She told me I could stop.

By the time the sun skived off again I’d worked all my main muscle groups, established myself as a kind of Robin Hood of the bay, and in some small way may even have helped the man / girl of steel keep her fitness up.

I also learnt something rather important – that opportunities abound when we put our exercise off until tomorrow.