City to Surf 2011 - Part 2

We awoke with puffy faces and heavy eyelids from crying at the motivational videos. The girls were a little nervous, I was nervous for them.

Nerves are a funny thing before an event like this. Why do I get nervous before a fun run? It's not like I'm a chance to win the thing. It's the fear of not performing at the level I should, or of potentially being scraped off the road by St Johns Ambulance, or of not being able to find a port-a-loo should an emergency arise.

Tim, Luke, Elle, Jane, Fran

Our hotel was right next to the start line and the weather was looking ominous. The siblings + bro-in-law-to-be arrived and we took some nervy photos before heading down to meet the running group in the foyer. This was about the time it started to absolutely pour down outside. Apparently in the history of Sydney's City to Surf it has never rained. There's a first for everything! People were crammed under the eaves/reception of our hotel at 7.30, while the rain bucketed down.


Toni had injured herself at netball the week before, so she and I were the only non-competitors. The rain cheered us up no end! Luckily for the 80,000 or so people about to take part, the rain stopped about 20 minutes before the start.

Start line photo: Roslyn Rajasingam

Toni and I smugly hopped under the umbrella and flagged down a cab to Bondi. Couldn't help but feel glad to be rugged up and enjoying the scenery. While 80,000 people were heaving their way along the winding, undulating, hilly course from the city to Bondi beach, we were tucking into our eggs and bacon.

Photo: AAP

We finished up just in time to find a great spot on the side of the road about 600m from the finish line. We cheered the top ten through, then gave the leading women some special cheers. Freaks, all of them.

Toni's partner Jason, our training guru, came through in the freakish time of 53 minutes, making it look oh so easy. Then we watched the running group girls come through, one by one, over the next 40 minutes or so. We managed to see most of them, which is pretty good considering the intense scanning you have to do amongst the sea of humanity that charges past.

Last year we all wore black singlets and hot pink hats with the slogan "Pain schmain, more champagne". This year the girls were harder to spot without the pink hats, but for each one we spotted we gave a huge cheer, and were rewarded with responses as different as their running styles - jigs on the spot, oblivion due to ipod and focus, high fives, delayed reaction waves, laughs, groans, grins, grimaces.

As well as the running group, we saw my family, starting with my BILTB Tim who was struggling hard when he came past (in great time of 71 minutes). He's had a foot injury for a long time, and hasn't been able to train much, so that was a great effort. Soon after we saw Frannie, also looking pained, but in her usual fantastic time of 71 minutes, shortly followed by my sis Jane looking comfortable in an excellent time of 72 minutes in her first C2S.

My brother Luke had left his registration late and was stuck in the back-of-the-pack yellow group, where you run about 18kms rather than 14, because of all the people/gorillas/prams you have to dodge past. Can't believe we missed him going past, as his smoking time of 66 minutes should have stood out amongst the sea of blue/yellow group. My other sis Elle came through with the blue group in her goal time of 100 minutes, doing a big PB in terms of distance, and running the whole way without stopping.

So much to be proud of!

They had drawn on the memory of our grandparents, who they were running in honour of, to get up Heartbreak Hill and beyond. Grandma would say "that was a good show".

People sometimes ask me why I put myself through kms of pain and the early morning trainings. That's the beauty of a fun run like C2S. It's an achievement to finish. Sometimes it's an achievement just to get to the start. It's about setting a goal, pushing yourself beyond what you think are your limits, realising that your body is capable of much more than you give it credit for, and achieving the satisfaction of knowing that you've done your best. The endorphins and better bod are a bonus!

Spectating was fun, I had appreciated the cheers and claps from spectators last year, so it was nice to pay it back. We pepped up the man in his 70s who stopped running just in front of us, so that he started again. We cheered each of the 'Legends' we saw (a group of 30 or so men who have run each of the 41 City to Surfs). We encouraged the guy whose shoelace came undone in front of us while he cursed and struggled to tie it back up.

We hollered for the inspiring top group of women who were holding their own against much bigger and stronger men. We applauded the woman who not only had to contend with 14kms, but a severe disability affecting her arms. The wheelchair athletes. The young children hoofing it with their parents. The obese competitors, determined to turn their health around. So many inspiring people. And of course we high fived the male topless waiters as they cruised past.

If you're a runner you'll appreciate this amusing video, a runner trying to explain running to a non-runner. It rings true on so many levels. I especially love the bit about everyone getting a medal, not just the winner. "That is stupid". We wear our losers medals with pride, because we're all winners!

And just so I don't feel too left out, here's Fran and I after last year's C2S:

City to Surf 2011 - Part 1

Disappointed at missing out, I packed up my pride and joined the running group and the family in Sydney for C2S.

The running group consists of a bunch of mums from the school that the daughter of my friend Fran attends. The group has been going for a while, and mums, staff, and hangers-on are a part of it at various times. I've been running with the girls for over a year now. Fran convinced me to join them after I did my first fun run last year, and we trained solidly for 3-4 months prior to City to Surf last year.

A smaller sub-group of us train together during the week, and others join some of the sessions, the longer runs, or the big events. We suffer together through interval sessions, hill sessions, trail runs, road runs, grass runs, and every combination.

We range in ability/speed, but we feed off one another with the quick chats in between intervals, the breathless word or two of encouragement as we pass each other on the track, the start-of-session whinge, the end-of-session relief/debrief, and of course the coffee/drinkies under the guise of 'planning sessions'. They are a huge part of what makes me get out of bed to run, and they're a great and inspiring bunch of women to boot.

The partner of one of the girls is a talented marathon runner and he wrote us a great program last year (thanks Jase). We followed it religiously. This year we haven't been quite so consistent. Various interstate moves, illnesses, injuries, holidays, and motivation failures have got in the way. But most of the girls have made it to C2S again, about 20 or so.

I shared a hotel apartment with Fran and my sis Jane. Seeing as I wasn't running because of the stupid cellulitis in my leg, I took one for the team and drove my car up with Fran, Jane, my brother Luke and one of the other running gals, Annie. After dropping them off at the hotel, I spent a lovely afternoon catching up with one of my oldest and dearest friends Ange, who lives in Sydney with her gorgeous family.

Jane, Fran, Luke and I had dinner that night at the hotel restaurant, and I was surprised at their bravery, opting for thai. Not what I would have chosen had I been running! We had an early night, and before heading off to bed, Jane, Fran and I decided to watch a few motivational running videos on youtube. Instead, we stumbled across some hilarious clips of people struggling through various races.

This one, whilst horrifying, had us in absolute stitches:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1UvxxYIv3U

Call us sadistic, but this one also had us chuckling in horror:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2xIzuyjCcZk&feature=fvwrel

We could relate somewhat to this one of Gebreselassie, one of the greatest ever distance runners, getting punched in the back of the head for being too good. How many times have you wanted to do the same thing to the person who sails past you with ease during a fun run, often wearing a gorilla costume, or pushing a pram, or just being twice your age/size?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SQsWUb8zpjY

Enough amusement, we decided we needed to watch some inspirational runners. And so the tears started - watching Gebreselassie, Deeks, Monners, and our favourite, the late, great Kerryn McCann in her amazing last minute marathon win at the 2006 Commonwealth Games:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTXlnOlKO4g

And of course Cathy Freeman's win in the 400m at the 2000 Olympics. I had the privilege of being there, and it remains one of the best things I've ever seen:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oeXpoRIvDPw&feature=related

Here is a pic of Jane wearing a replica Cathy suit that I made for a dress-up party (Luke's 30th). The resemblence is uncanny, no?

And finally, after watching this one we decided all the crying was not the best preparation for the Fran and Jane and retired to bed. This is the story of a father who competes in ironman events while pushing/towing his disabled son. Apparently the son (who communicates via computer) told his Dad that the only time he doesn't feel disabled is when his Dad goes for a run and takes him for the ride. So they've gone on to compete in more than 85 running/ironman events. When I'm struggling through a tough session, I can think of this guy and shut the hell up!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBjR1-0GVkI

Disease-itis

It took me a good week to get over the lag. Jet lag? Well, the time difference between Bali and Canberra is only two hours, and the plane trip is only five. However, travelling on the red-eye and getting a total of ten minutes sleep can knock an old girl around.

It took me the next week to break the wide-awake-at-night, so-tired-during-the-day routine, as well as adjusting to the return to Canberra winter. I was aiming to get straight back into the City to Surf training on the Tuesday as normal, but just couldn't drag myself out of bed.

Finally on the Saturday I went for a long run with my sister Jane. The training program had us running 14kms. I figured I could take it sloooowwwww, and Jane agreed, seeing as she had slackened off her training in the absence of her training partner. We ran from Coolo Maccas on the long incline up Hindmarsh Drive, then up the steep hill onto Cooleman Ridge. This is a good run because it kind of simulates C2S with Heartbreak Hill at the 6km mark.

Start of the hill at the 6km mark

The shuffle up Hindmarsh hurt. I was also still a little sore from my osteopathy appointment on the Thursday, in which my osteo (who is an absolute genius and a gift from the heavens) got stuck into my calves/shins to loosen them up. My previous training session had been the fantastic 8 x 1kms in Singapore, but this run brought me crashing back to earth and had me cursing the laziness and cocktails of Bali.

The view from Cooleman Ridge is beautiful, right across western Canberra to Black Mountain. We started the run at 6.30am, later than usual, but even so I could see the difference in the light since my last long run prior to the trip. Hopefully we are on the downhill run towards spring.

Made it around Cooleman Ridge OK at slow pace, then off the ridge and down Namatjira Drive. You always think you're going to enjoy the downhill, but prior experience has taught me that this is where potential runner's trots issues and stitches kick in. And sure enough, so it went for both of us.

We battled through it until my watch had us at 14kms and I delightedly announced to Jane that we were done. She checked her iphone and said 'but we've only done 12.5'. Shit. My watch is out. Which probably also explains the awesome times I did in my last session in Singapore!

Heartbroken, we trudged on, until I could trudge no more, 400m later. Jane continued on and I walked the rest of the way back to Coolo. Not a good end to the session, but at least I'd gotten some kms back into my legs.

I knew I'd be hurting after that run, so I did 5 x cold bath/hot shower and wore my compression socks in the arvo. That night we had 8 friends over for our annual Christmas in July dinner, which we've been doing for 6 years now. The night was fantastic as usual, full hot Christmas dinner with the trimmings, plenty of great wine and LOTS of laughter. My socks were so comfy by that stage that I wore them to bed. Big mistake, as it turned out.

The next day my right leg was a little sore near where my socks ended, just below my knee on the inside of the leg. Didn't think much of it, and the rest of me hadn't pulled up too badly from the run. But the next day my leg continued to be sore, and a lump had appeared and the skin around the area was red and hot to the touch.

I went to my GP on Tuesday to have it checked out, and he took one look at it and told me it was cellulitis, a gross skin infection. He cheerily told me that, had I be born before the invention of antibiotics, it would have become gangrenous and I would have dropped dead. Nice. He also told me I was to do zero exercise until it cleared up, which would probably take two courses of antibiotics and a few weeks.

Bye bye C2S 2011.

So annoyed. There are a number of possible causes for cellulitis, including insect bites, and it is a staph or strep infection. So I blamed the mozzies in Bali. Until I told my osteo about it and she was horrified to hear that I'd worn compression socks to bed. Never never never do that, apparently.

A week later, part-way through the second course of antibitotics, the lump had become bigger and harder. I went back to my GP, who reassured me it was going OK, but that from the nature of the lump he now thought it had started with an inflammation of a vein (hello compression socks), and the infection had started in the nearby skin cells. The bacteria still had to be in my system somehow though, so I'm still part-blaming the mozzies!

The lump was a little painful, especially after a long day on my feet, but apart from that I felt fine. Which is really frustrating when you're into running/netball/gym. It took me a few days to get over the fact I'd be missing C2S.

My siblings had all decided to do C2S this year, and we'd decided to use the run to raise money for the Alzheimers Association, as a way of honouring our three grandparents who have passed away since Christmas. All four of our grandparents had/have dementia/alzheimers. Our Nana is still alive but quite severely affected by Alzheimers. So there was the added disappointment of not being able to do the run on their behalf.

After getting over the inital disappointment, I have to admit I kind of enjoyed not having any exercise commitments. I missed the actual exercise, but it was nice not having the early mornings of running, or the late nights of netball, or the scheduled gym sessions. But the talk about C2S and the excitement leading up to it was hard to hear.

The sibs plus my brother-in-law-to-be raised $3,550 for Alzheimers, a great effort. Maurice, Marie, Jim and Sheila were all sports lovers, and Jim and Sheila (our Canberra-based grandparents) came along to all our sporting events when we were kids, and even the bigger events in adulthood. Our beautiful grandies would probably have told us we were mad for running 14kms. But they would have been quietly proud too.

Bali

So many aussies go there, and keep going back over and over again. I had to see what the fuss was about. Our villa was magnificent, private pool, large open spaces with Balinese architectural features, huge bedrooms and ensuites. Total relaxation. Until you leave the confines of the villas.

'Offerings' (Balinese leave these little baskets out the front of their homes, shops, temples etc to appease their Gods and bring prosperity and good health). Note, pics of the villa don't do it justice!

I spent my five days lounging, blogging, catching up on sleep, drinking cocktails during 'happy hours' (thanks to very attentive room service), overeating, shopping at the market stalls and the more expensive shops of Seminyak, took a day trip around some of the other areas of Bali, learnt about the temples/religious beliefs, went to the beach, splashed out on a fab dinner at one of the exclusive beachfront restaurants, checked out one of the big clubs (Potato Head), had a few massages and a pedicure (was very apologetic towards the poor guy doing my feet - he did not seem pleased at having to tackle my black runner's toenails and blisters). I didn't run a step. Partly because there was nowhere amenable to running, partly because I had hit 'sloth' mode.

I'm going to sound like a spoilt middle class white girl now, but to be honest, while many aspects of Bali were enjoyable, I found it a little bit of hard work dealing with the not-so-enjoyable aspects. I've travelled throughout countries that are much harder work, but that was 11 years ago. 11 years and 3 kids on, I have much less patience and energy for it. And I guess the main purpose of this leg of the trip was to reeeeelaxxxxx.

Of course the culture is interesting and many of the people are lovely, but I guess our experience was tainted a little in the last 36 hours by a couple of aggressive shopkeepers, who, we discovered later, had pickpocketed from Vin's purse; a slight overdose of exposure to the poverty of some of the children; a slight sense of uneasiness brought about by the ever-present security around hotels, restaurants and the beach (though on the flip side it was kind of reassuring); and poor Vin suffering from Bali belly not long before we had to leave for the airport. And as I discovered about a week after getting home, the aftermath of the mozzies (that's another story).

I have concluded that the attraction for many aussies is that it's a cheap holiday, and especially so for West Australians who are only a 3-4 hour flight away. It's more expensive to fly from Perth to the east coast of Australia than to fly from Perth to Bali. So I reckon Bali is the west coast version of Fiji, which seems to be the family holiday of the moment for many east coast aussies.

Bali nightlife would undoubtably be more fun in your early 20s. We're probably spoilt by the beaches here in Oz, Bali's beach isn't bad, but I'm going to sound like a prat and say I've seen better. But you have to pay for it in Australia, which brings me back to what I assume is the attraction to Bali for many.

And it is kind of a bogan paradise, judging by the number of Bintang beer singlets and hair-braids returning back to Australia on our flight (I haggled for a $3 singlet for Mick for a potential future dress-up party). We were joined at the airport by such characters as Stifler's mom and her family (plus fake Louis Vuitton handbag), Hugh Hefner and his family (who pushed in front of us in the airport line), and numerous Corby family look-a-likes.

This provided some amusement while waiting for our red-eye flight back home. Remind me never to take a flight that commences at 11pm and ends at 6am. Cannot sleep on planes, trains or automobiles!

So, at the risk of sounding like a spoilt whinger, I'll say that Bali was enjoyable, but I wouldn't rush back there. Certainly enjoyed and appreciated the time away and the relaxation though. Being met at the airport by the sight of our collective 7 children running towards us was priceless, and the relief on the faces of the 3 husbands was palpable! What an amazing trip.

Goodbye Singa lah, helloooo Bali

So what happened after I last left you in Singapore? Another couple of days in Singa, which included a visit to the Night Safari (next door to the zoo), supposedly a close encounter with wild lions, tigers, rhinos etc. They seemed to be mini versions - maybe Asian animals are smaller, just as Asian people generally are?

You can walk around the safari (on paved footpaths) or you can ride in a mini tram thing, which is what we opted to do after the tiring events of the previous days. This led my brother to question whether it was in fact a ‘safari’ or just a lazy visit to a zoo?

Spent the long taxi trip out to the safari chatting to a very informative Singaporean taxi driver who taught me all sorts of stuff about Singaporean culture. As I said in a previous post, Singapore appears to be so sanitised, you wonder whether the West has beaten the Asian out of Singa. But it turns out it’s actually quite fascinating culturally.

There are four main cultural groups– Chinese Singaporeans, Malay Singaporeans, Indian Singaporeans, and foreigners who are there for work. The official business language is English, but Singaporeans generally also have to speak Chinese, Malay and Tamil (Indian), so many people speak four languages, and many of them speak a number of different dialects within each language. The Presidency has been shared amongst the different racial groups over the years. Australia is a pretty multicultural place, but this is something else.

After I left school/uni and before I went on a six month trip around Europe, I took French lessons for about two years. Admittedly I only studied during class time and never did any work outside of class, but I struggled big-time to learn a different language. I spent nearly a month in France mostly by myself, so by the end I was able to string a basic conversation together, but it did not come naturally to me at all, so I admire anyone who can speak more than one language, and speaking four different languages blows my mind!

The different racial groups live in an impressive level of harmony, and the Government seems very big brotherish in the way they control many things. They have some funny campaigns going, including the ‘Speak Good English’ campaign, with large signs hung throughout the city such as the one below. Perhaps they should think a little more about car passenger safety though, as we were bemused by the taxi seating capacity stickers on the cabs..

So the tram ride ‘safari’ was OK, a little disappointing, but perhaps it was a little unrealistic of me to expect to see large game animals out on the reserve in the tiny confines of Singapore island. We did a river cruise, ate at some great posh and non-posh places, enjoyed the easiness of the place.

As we were taking our luggage out of the taxi at the airport – no word of a lie – Land Down Under came over the radio. Perhaps we shouldn’t have been surprised because every taxi I was in had played 80s/90s western soft rock/pop music. I mused that perhaps cab drivers had to change radio stations to suit the racial background of the customer, so when they saw us coming they hit the ‘westerner’ button. Whatever the case, the song was a very appropriate end to our time in Singa given the number of times we had belted it out at the netball.

Phone call home to the hubby and kids while we were waiting in Qantas Club. Was lovely to hear all their voices, but made me a little homesick. Touch down in Bali. First taste of culture shock while waiting in the Customs line. Every aussie waiting in that line must have been a tiny bit scared about what may have been planted in their boogie board bag. Scary looking Customs guys ended up not being so dutiful in their attention to our luggage (thankfully).

Groups of men sitting around on the ground. The taxi driver a gentle and tiny Balinese guy, we were amused by his efforts to squeeze Vin’s oversized (read enormous) suitcase into the cab, along with all our other luggage. “The Mo Fo” finally contorted into the cab and we were off to our villa in Seminyak.

Roads crazy – motorbikes everywhere, some carrying entire families including babies. Dirty – rubbish piled up on empty plots of land. The sights and sounds of the Kuta traffic were a little confronting after we’d been spolit by Singa’s orderliness and cleanliness.

Soon we arrived at www.thewolasvillas.com. Greeted by a warm face cloth, welcome lime drink, escorted to our 2 bedroom villa. It’s amaaazing. This is what we came here for! It’s bigger and better in real life than in the photos.

Instant relaxation. Making mental notes over the breakfast, dinner and cocktail menus. Tucked up in king sized bed in king sized bedroom, with king sized ensuite. King sized sleep-in.

It's only a game

The day-after-victory was not so great. I had lost most of my voice, we had only managed 4 hours sleep and we had planned an overly ambitious day of walking around the Botanic gardens, shopping on Orchard Road and stopping by Raffles Hotel. The gardens were pretty but, meh, it was hot and we were a little hungover. Our hearts weren't in the shopping, and you need to bring your A game for Orchard Road shopping. Raffles has great architecture but is a little too touristy and seems a tad run down.

A nana nap recharged me and I went off to catch up with an old school friend I hadn't seen for more than a decade. It was pure coincidence that we had connected on good old facebook a few days prior to my trip, and it turned out Fi had moved to Singa less than 2 weeks before my trip! We had last seen each other in Dublin in 2000 where she was living at the time. We've decided our next meet up will have to be in some other random city, say Zurich, in 2022.

We met up at the scene of the previous night's crime (Pump Room) because that was the only place I knew the location of. A few beers, lots of laughs and 2 hours of chat later (me sounding like a husky stripper) and it was back to the hotel to meet the girls in time for dinner at the amazing roof-top Ku De Ta at the Marina Bay Sands resort.

Got a great nights sleep that night, and was up early the next morning to punch out 8 x 1km repeats. It had been raining so the humidity wasn't as bad and Singa looked nice after a bath. Before I left Oz I sussed out the spot on the banks of the river near the ocean, behind the parliament and museum buildings. There's some nice parkland and avenue of trees alongside the path, and it's flat.

The first one was a struggle but I amazed myself by doing probably my best session of the year! My watch told me that each interval was faster than the previous, and they were all well under 5 minutes, which was my goal time for this session. I felt like Dane Swan after a week in Arizona. Gotta wonder whether my watch had gone haywire in the heat, but I'll take it! Back to the hotel feeling smug.

The three of us went to different places that day, Mel to the zoo, Vin to the Arab quarter, and I went to visit the Changi prison chapel and museum. My great, great uncle Charlie was captured by the Japanese during the fall of Singapore during the second world war, and was a prisoner of war for an incredible 3.5 years. He was held captive in Singapore before being sent off to work on the Burma railway. His story, along with so many others, is incredible. The fact that he lived to 87 is amazing, given the photos of him whilst in the prison hospital, looking skeletal.

I remember him clearly - in fact my very first childhood memory is of visiting him on his farm in Victoria. I remember following his dog Troika (named after a German war ship that sunk - he obviously had a sense of humour!) along the track while he dug in wombat holes. He was a gentle and kind man, belying the horrors he was subjected to during the war.

Photo of Changi Prison Chapel from http://static.panoramio.com/photos/original/954795.jpg

The Changi chapel was moved ten years ago from its' original spot to where it now sits in the museum. It took me 1.5 hours to go through the museum, following the audio guide. On a number of occasions I couldn't hold back the tears. What the civilians and POWs endured at the hands of the Japanese is unbelievable. The atrocities were unspeakable. I spent a good deal of time at each part of the museum display and in the chapel. I wrote up Uncle Charlie's story and added it to the chapel wall, ending with the words WE WILL REMEMBER THEM.

That Charlie and his mates survived is a miracle. Their courage, resilience and spirit to keep pressing on against the most unimaginable adversity is inspiring and moving. It certainly put the previous couple of days into perspective. Without taking anything away from the teams, as brilliant as the netball was, and as sweet as the victory was, this was a stark reminder that it is just a game. We all go home freely to our comfortable homes and lives. The sun will continue to rise and set.

Unfortunately there is a winner and a loser, which is heartbreaking under the circumstances of Sunday's game. As it was with last year's Commonwealth Games gold medal match, which went to not one, but two, extra-time periods. The result was the reverse on that day. Both teams have enjoyed the sweetness of victory and had to endure the ache of defeat. Both teams gave everything they could, and they all made mistakes, cos they're all human. No one moment in the match won it or lost it. In both games, the pinnacle events for netball, the result could have so easily gone either way.

Enjoy the spoils of victory, absolutely. Withstand the pain of defeat, absolutely. In team sport, both situations teach people things about themselves that can make them better at not only sport, but life. Allow yourself to be consumed by either? No. In the end, it is a game, and Changi is a great reminder that there are far more important things in life.

But it did feel bloody great to win this time.

The afterparty

Finally time to leave the stadium, the happy hunting ground. I've been a lazytraveller for most of my time in Singa so far, and I confess to not being a huge lover of public transport. But the stadium train station is pretty cool, see below. I took this photo a couple of days later, so you'll have to imagine the sea of gold that congregated and the strains of a capella 'Waltzing Matilda' echoing while we waited for the train.

We're starving, and we've got a table booked at Jumbo Seafood in Clarke Quay. It was recommended by three different people, and it's full of Singaporeans, a good sign. The girls are keen for the chilli crab, Singaporean speciality, which requires wearing an obligatory idiotic bib (sorry girls).

I've tried to like seafood at various times throughout my life, but you just can't put a square peg in a round hole. The crab tastes OK, but, meh. I'm not converted and never will be. Childhood fishing trips with Dad ruined me. However, the Singapore Slings are sensational, and at $8.50 they're good value compared to other places (could buy 4 here for the price of one at the famous Raffles Hotel).

After dinner and some scouting to find out where the afterparty is, we head back to the hotel to pop the Veuve Cliquot. Hell, we are practically running. Mel does the honours, and a couple of drinks later, a quick change (but leaving on the now lucky #blingiton tshirts and necklaces) and we're off to find the Pump Room bar in Clarke Quay. Turns out to be about 100 metres from our hotel, score!

A couple of the fellow freak forumers are in there already, but we're bounced from the front door as 'there's a private party'. The guy tells us we can come in in half an hour, so we take up position at the outdoor tables at the pub right next door, next to the English team. They're not looking quite so glum about their brown medals now.

RSI soon joins us, and after waiting it out with a drink we move into the Pump Room, joining Lurch, Netball Tragic, rossie, Guz+daughter, and a host of merry aussie supporters.

Players from Northern Ireland, South Africa, Wales, Trinidad and Tobago are there letting down their hair. The cover band is pumping out favourites, they're an eclectic mix and they're fantastic! Crowd going off, dancing, singing, loving every minute. Rossie, RSI, Vin, Mel and I take our turn to have a dance up on the stage/podium to 'It's raining men' sung expertly by the drag queen lead singer. Gold!

Sea breezes, mojitos, vodka cranberries, cocktails are the drink of the night (wine is super expensive here). At about 1.00am the aussie team suddenly appears and the dancefloor goes off even more. The girls take over the podium and it's a danceathon/drinkathon/on-top-of-the-world-athon for the next couple of hours. The family and friends of the girls have been at the Singapore Cricket Club for a private function, apart from some of the aussie swim team who got a gig (TAJ's photo with Skippy a highlight!)

BOD (Best On Dancefloor) would have to go to the big fish, but they all give it a good nudge! Unbridled excitement, outpouring of joy and elation! A well deserved celebration, and they're ecstatic to share it with everyone. A wild dance with Mon leaves Vin with a taste of what Temepara George must feel like the next day!

Those who finished 8th party just as hard! The Northern Ireland girls are a little disappointed to have "gone out on a low". They lost the match against South Africa by 5 which would have put them into the 5th v 6th playoff, and then ultimately lost the 7th v 8th playoff to T&T by 18. But how well have they done to jump up the rankings to 8th. While the top teams are a cut above the rest, it has been so entertaining to see the lower ranked teams play each other, and I'm not the only one congratulating the NI, T&T and Welsh girls.

While the band has a rest, Beyonces' song "Who won the world? Girls!" comes over the speakers. We sing it to the Diamonds, a fitting anthem. I crawl into bed just before 3.30am and Lurch informs me the Pump Room shut up shop at 3.30, and some of the girls were heading over to the casino. Play hard, party hard. Go get 'em girls!