Fun! What is it anyway?
I quite like doing activities and I’ll generally give anything a go.
Over the holiday period, I found myself doing a couple of hikes up hills, with new boots and blisters.
As I’d almost reached the summit of Little Mt Peel (which is not that little) and the low cloud was starting to take away any chance of a view, I said to one of my co-adventurers: “I’m not even sure if I like hiking”.
When we got to the top, I cracked open an appropriately named Hazed and Confused beer by Emerson’s and waited for the haze to clear.
Oh, this view, it’s pretty good! Well played Little Mt Peel, well played.
I recently discovered that there is in fact a “fun scale”.
Type one fun is enjoyable while it’s happening — a pretty simple concept.
Type two fun is miserable while it’s happening, but fun in retrospect — it’s a ‘‘looking forward to looking back on this’’ type deal.
There is a type three fun, but it actually doesn’t sound fun at all, so let’s not go there.
What happens when type one fun turns to type three fun? That, my friends, is what we call a hangover. Maybe it’s a wine hangover, maybe it’s a sugar hangover, or maybe it’s a too much time in the sun hangover. It sure was fun.. until it wasn’t.
I’m pretty sure dogs only know type one fun. It’s pretty obvious when they are having fun — chasing roosters, chasing seagulls, chasing cats, chasing bikes!
I’d quite like to be the kind of person who finds running fun.
Hank Williams, my pound mutt with teeth that make him look like he has a meth habit, loves running. So last weekend he joined the many humans (who quite like running with varied levels of enthusiasm) taking part in an event along the Alps 2 Ocean cycle trail: half marathon called the Relief Run, in support of those affected by the Australian bushfire. I was his support crew and water carrier.
He took it like a champ, running 20km. He was a little foot sore and tired afterwards, so I’m giving him the week off.
I imagine many of you are the same. I get a bit bloody emotional reading all the stories coming out of Australia, especially the animal ones.
I’m pretty sure if I lived over there I’d be the weirdo running around the bush picking up orphaned koalas and wombats and turning my lounge into a rescue centre.
This isn’t an option, so instead I took my dog and did an event with a bunch of amazing humans to raise some much needed funds — and it even turned out to be type one fun.
If you are getting a bit choked up reading this last paragraph get the gorse out of your pockets and give a fiver, or whatever you can, to an organisation that needs it.