Smashed it!

Well, I smashed the Women’s Adventure Film Tour!! Yeah! Over 200 people came to the event and as I watched them filing in and I as I continued to watch more of them file in I started to think, “Holy shit, these people are all here because of me.” It kind of freaked me out!

I gave a talk, which scared the crap out of me, but I just accepted that I wouldn’t die from talking in front of people and did it anyway. Here’s the video of it:

Some stuff went wrong on the night, but I didn’t let it kill my vibe because more stuff went right in the end, and some of the things that went wrong (like someone making off with one of the lucky door prizes) was pretty funny.

I had one freakin’ awesome helper who drove all the way from Toowoomba to give me a hand, and man, was I glad she was there! When I could feel myself starting to slip into crisis mode I just looked at her and knew that everything would be ok. She is the most grounded person I reckon I’ve ever come across. She made up for the cool guy not being able to come. I was a bit sad about that, but he’s having fun doing his own awesome shit in a pretty damn cool place and he’ll be back very soon.

The Moncrieff staff were unreal and the box office manager was the most helpful and accommodating person ever. If I bring the tour back next year I know how easy it will be to deal with these guys. Five out of five stars for their pure brilliance!

I had a cool business owner who took up my offer to collaborate and he set up a flashy display in the foyer. He owns a surf and SUP school and looked just like you’d imagine a real surfy dude would look.

Everyone seemed to really enjoy the night. I did too, but I’m glad it’s over (although not yet finished cos I still have a bunch of emails to send to the people who won the lucky door prizes that didn’t get stolen). I think next time I’d probably like to get some help. It’s a big job for one person to run marketing for such an event. Especially a person who has never done anything like that before!

I smashed this awesome event because I know that the courage to get through everday challenges is the same courage that it takes to:

Be Bold


Irky Discomfort

I’ve done so much marketing that it feels to me like everyone by now would have heard about the Women’s Adventure Film tour. I tackled Facebook and recruited the managers of Autobarn and Take the Plunge Café to teach me how to advertise on my Facebook page. I stuck posters to my car and left it parked near the door of a shopping centre in Bundaberg, I stuck posters up all over town, left flyers in Bundaberg businesses and got a few businesses to put posters up in their windows. I got my mum to hand out flyers in Childers and Buxton and I recruited a friend in Bundy to do the same. I also emailed around 500 businesses, community groups, high schools, healthcare centres, hospitals, councillors, and people I know. I posted out letters to primary schools, had letters hand delivered to high schools, told stories to journalists, I wrote posts and generally just got on everyones’ nerves about the whole thing.

I’d really like to not lose my savings that I’ve invested in hosting the event, but I have to let my attachment to the money go. I was talking to the cool guy I’m married to about it earlier and he convinced me to see it all in a different way.

I’ve done absolutely everything I can to get people interested in the event and I’m happy with the effort I’ve put in. I haven’t stopped for weeks and I won’t stop until the event is finished. I pretty much feel like I’ve busted my arse trying to make it work. If it doesn’t work and I don’t get my money back, well that just means that I paid to learn how to run an event. I would have paid more to attend formal training about the same thing, so not only is it a cheap way to learn something I’ve always wanted to learn, but it’s likely a better way to learn it because the best way is to learn by doing, and that’s certainly what’s been going on: a lot of doing.

The main thing I’ve learned so far is that it’s ok to feel uncomfortable about stuff and that’s good because I feel pretty damn uncomfortable about the whole film tour situation! I feel uncomfortable because I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t know what will happen and I don’t know if I can rely on people to do what they’ve told me they will do. Basically, I don’t know the answers and I don’t like the way that makes me feel because I’m not used to not knowing stuff. Not that I know everything, but the irky (that’s a real word btw) feeling I’ve got is precisely because I’m doing something totally new and I’m teaching myself that it’s absolutely ok to have that irky feeling and to continue to do the thing that is giving me the irks in the first place. I won’t feel like this forever and I know without a doubt that good shit will be on the other side of the irks. The whole thing started with one small step and that’s all I’ve got to keep on doing.

Stepping outside of your comfort zone is simple, just not easy, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Build your confidence with small steps; build up to big adventures with small ones because:

small step

Drilling in all Directions

Lots of nice stuff can come from drilling down on one thing: you get to be really good at something, you might win some prizes and meet some cool people along the way, but what about all the other awesome stuff that you didn’t get to do because you were so focused on only being good at one thing?

I read a book a while ago that really brought it home for me. It was about an amazing mountain climber who climbed impossible climbs. He was able to do this because he has climbed since he was a kid and he totally drilled down on it and got to be one of the best climbers in the world. He’s still really good at it. He also seems like a really nice guy. There’s a movie coming out about him next month that I’ll definitely watch (trailer below).

Until reading the climbing book, I’d always wondered what it would have been like to have become really good at one thing. I’d always chastised myself for not sticking with anything long enough to gain the respect of my peers for my expertise. Sure, I’m pretty good at some stuff, ok at other stuff and piss-poor at pretty much everything else,  but I’m really expert at nothing. The phrase “jack of all trades, master of none” has always sat just on my periphery, haunting me.

What I didn’t realise though, is that the whole time I’ve been drilling sideways, I have actually developed an expertise; one that I didn’t recognise until today: I’m an expert at living. I know how to apply myself to living a life that matters and the only way I was able to develop this awesome skill was to immerse myself in the entirety of life. To become everything and nothing. To be all of it at the expense of none of it. To experience and learn everything I can about what it means to be alive right now, the best time there ever was to be alive.

Being an expert at life means that I’m a better runner because I’m a dancer, I’m a better dancer because I’m a skipper, I’m a better skipper because I’m a rider, I’m a better rider because I’m a hiker, I’m a better hiker because I’m a reader, I’m a better reader because I’m a writer, I’m a better writer because I loved and I lost and all of it because I’m a survivor. Each thing I do and each thing I’ve ever done has lead me to the next and the next, and the next. Everything has built on the shoulders of the thing that came before it and man-o-man, I’ve built myself one shit-hot castle of a life; the whole thing made of golden bricks.

I know it’s pretty unlikely that I will ever get really good at anything other than being good at being alive and that’s ok because I’m going to keep drilling sideways.

Drill sideways by way of adventure





Scared but not

At the moment I’m working really hard on not letting fear get to me. Basically I’m on the verge of having a total freak out, but I’m somehow managing to keep it under control, which, if you knew me, you’d realise was some kind of wayward miracle.

There’s lots of shit going on that warrants a freak out – a new job, a new way of living, making hard decisions, my first half marathon and of course, the big one: The Women’s Adventure Film Tour. Aaaargh! Help! This is how I look on the outside:


This is how I look on the inside:

freak out

That’s because I don’t want to see this:

empty theatre

Well, not that I would really see that, because that’s actually the Sydney Opera House, not the Moncrief Theatre, but still, it’s empty and that makes me sad.

I’m scared, but not. The “not” part of that comes from the way I’m choosing to see myself in relation to the fear and the faith I’ve got that everything will work out in the end. I feel like that because I know that worrying about the event won’t actually change the way it all pans out. Worrying about it will make me cranky and that has never helped anyone AT ALL….EVER. In fact, I can recall quite a few times when getting cranky has actually made things a lot worse than they had to be if you can believe that! Yeah, yelling, stomping and throwing yourself on the ground doesn’t work. Not once you’re past the age of two. Letting go of the outcome, but without letting go of the personal responsibility I assumed when I agreed to host the tour has really helped me let go of worry. That means I’m free to enjoy the adventure of being scared but not.

Be scared, but do it anyway





Tickets, tickets, tickets!

Tickets for the Women’s Adventure Film Tour now on sale here. It’s $12 you will never regret spending.

I’ve just spent the last 3 hours dealing with tickets for this event and buying tickets to go to another event. I’ve had what seems like a bazillion conversations with other people and with my own self in the last week about tickets for one thing or another (Florence and the Machine, Scooter, dance parties, a half marathon, Woodford Folk Festival, flights, train travel, blah, blah, blah) and now the word ticket just seems like the weirdest word I’ve ever heard. Know what I mean? If not, just pick a word and keep saying it over and over again until it just sounds really stupid. It’s a weird phenomenon! Phenomenon, there’s another one. Say that fifty times and see how you feel about it.

Putting on this film is one giant adventure. I’ve never done anything like this before and I have no idea what I’m doing or what to expect. Yeah, it would be easier for me to just say, “nah, let someone else do it. I don’t know how.” But if I did that I’d be missing an awesome opportunity to do something that basically scares the pants off me. Doing stuff that’s hard, scary and uncomfortable is the best way to learn new shit. In that case I must be one of the most learned people out there!

If I chickened out of doing this, then everyone misses out. The film isn’t going to promote itself and magically arrive in town and screen on its own. If I want people to embrace adventure as something that can shape their lives, then this is what I have to do; I have to go outside my comfort zone. Banging on about stuff on this website can only reach so many people (I think I have a total of 3 followers and my Facebook page has a total of 1).

I want adventure to be inclusive, so I’ve included the community of Bundaberg on the national tour. I hope you’ll include yourself in the audience.

Here’s some Scooter to round things off:




Women’s Adventure Film Tour

Because I care so much about adventure and women’s health I am giving the lucky buggers in Bundaberg and surrounding areas the opportunity to come to an awesome event on the 8th of September. The Women’s Adventure Film Tour is a conglomeration of inspirational short films about girls and women of all ages from Australia and around the world. It showcases everyday women and girls doing amazing things in spectacular locations all around the planet. The films are all beautiful and moving; once seen, never forgotten.

I am personally hosting this event at the Moncrief Theatre and I really hope I can count on the support of the community to make it a success. If nothing else, you will get to see me get up on stage and talk for no more than five minutes about how great I am. Then, if you are really lucky, you will be able to buy my book called One Foot After the Other, which is an account of a long distance solo hike I undertook in 2016…hopefully…the book isn’t published yet, but fingers crossed it will be. I can always take orders though, so don’t despair, you won’t miss out!

I’m still trying to sort tickets out, so I will post a link for them when they become available. They will be $12 each, which is a reduced price I have negotiated based on social inclusion and demographics. Normally they’re $25.

Here’s one of my favourite films from last year’s tour:

Running into the Moon

I went for a run on the beach. It was just getting dark as I arrived. I’ve been avoiding running in the dark for a while because some bastard stole the three $2 solar lights I’d put at the start/finish and the 8km and 10km turn arounds. I don’t know how (or why) they got them down because the one at the start was at the very top of a huge pole (although this one could have rusted off) and the other two were way up in trees in the dunes. I must admit, the ones in the trees were kind of freaky. You could see them way off in the distance bobbing around like they were spectres hanging in mid air. Perhaps curiosity, not tightarsedness got the better of whoever took them.

After the lights disappeared I tried running a few times in the dark, but everything just looks so different at night. I could never make out where the start/finish was and a couple of times I ran straight past it. I lamented, “Oh woe is me! I need to run, but it’s dark, how will I cope? Oh, life is so hard.” Then I remembered that I had a headlamp.

“That will never work. It will just keep falling down the whole time. It will be annoying and get in the way. Don’t do it. Just go home and do nothing instead,” my mind said.

“You again! How many times have I told you to shutup?” my brain yelled.

Gees, I thought, aggressive much? Someone really needs a runner’s high by the sounds of it.

So off I set with my headlamp, which by the way, doesn’t fall down, doesn’t get in the way and is only the smallest bit annoying.

The moon sat huge in the distance, not far above the water, and as I ran I felt that I was running into the moon. I didn’t even need my headlamp because the moon was its own dark sun. My bare feet hit the sand at their own pace and my breathing became steady and rhythmical. I marvelled at the awesome tool my body is. I felt my abdominal muscles flexing and working with the slight rotation of my body as I moved ever closer to the moon. I visualised my shoulder muscles working and building as they moved my arms in time with my legs. I ran into the moon and I was the moon. I became the beach and became the run. I was the air and I was the night.

I was able to surrender myself completely to the experience because a while back I decided to try something new. I’d never been a runner, never. In fact, I avoided running with the same conviction that I now approach it. I’m never going to be the fastest or best runner, but that’s not my goal. My goal is to run and sometimes, just by doing that, I get to run into the moon.

I’m not interested in personal bests or negative splits or sprint training or timed track races or uploading my stats to Strava. I’m interested in beauty and that simply can’t be measured. I want my runs to be beautiful and I want to feel beautiful and be beautiful because of them. And I do and I am.

Don’t be put off by what others can do or have accomplished. It’s what you can accomplish that matters. It took me what seemed like forever to run 5km without feeling like I was going to die, but bit by bit, I got there. If my goal was speed I would have given up, but with a goal like beauty, I can’t lose because beauty is everywhere, especially when you’re running into the moon.


We arrive in the night, We come alive in the night…we’ll run the expanse in the absence of light…under stars we breathe the night.

Hilltop Hoods