Last post here (seriously)

How fast am I going?

One blog per year.
www.imnotrunninganymore.blogspot.com

I've never been one for short blog names.

This has gotta stop

Been in the throes of a panic attack since 2am.
I feel like I can't get it together. I know this is mostly to do with a lack of sleep and I'll feel better whenever it is that I get some, but in the interim I'm a mess.
My life isn't what I wanted it to be right now. Some of this is my fault, some of it is uncontrollable.
I'm not being the person that I know I can be.
I think the next chapter of my life is starting (it has to: something has to change) so I'll be closing down this blog shortly.

I slept quite well, actually

One of the best sleeps I have had in many, many nights. Was rewarded with a panic attack en route to work whereby I delved into such topics as:

1. Why am I (after 8 years) with someone who doesn't view a future together as positively as I do?
2. I am my father's daughter. What am I doing in an small office, in a tall building, downtown Vancouver, pushing paper around?

And then I thought, "Because I'm terrified of everything". Change is scary. Take risks? Are you shitting me? That's for people in movies.
Yeah. I drink, run and bury myself in books. It's Psych 101, isn't it?
I just want to grab myself and shake me.
But then what?

I can see into the future!

I'm not going to sleep tonight.

I like Sapporo beer

I, however, do not like running 17 miles. Slept like a rock last night (finally) and then went down to Michael's to go for a run. We ran (only) two bridges and I had a really hard time. I don't think I had fully recovered from last week's 19 miler, and Michael felt the same way. My body felt like it was shutting down over the last four or five miles and I walked a lot. Whatever. I just hope I recover by next Sunday because we have a 22 or 23 miler which takes us over the three bridges and then into West Vancouver before doubling back for North Van and running up Keith Road. Have I mentioned how much I hate Keith? All runs end with that frickin' two kilometre uphill battle which is NOT what you want to end with if you are running more that 13 or 14 miles. I think I crawled up it during the last clinic.
Then Michael and I showered and sat on his deck and watched mud wasps and I tried to keep my eyes open. Then we napped, but this wasn't sufficient so Michael had a cold water bath and I was like, "Try not to wake me: I'm really tired" and then he came back to bed and put his freezing, damp legs on my hot bod.
Lastly, we had Chinese food and watched a new movie with Helen Hunt, Colin Firth and Bette Davis which was pretty good.
Then we got into some pretty heavy conversation and now I'm feeling kind of depressed and my dishwasher appears to be leaking.
These instances are independent of one another.

A marathon (day)

Left my place at noon. Met up with L at 1pm in Kerrisdale and we had a really great chat. I am so fortunate to have come across such amazing, intuitive and interesting people as L in my travels. I always come away from our coffees invigorated and thinking outside the box.
Wandered around Kerrisdale a bit. Wasn't too keen on all the beeping. I always knew that 41st Avenue was a gong show, but man, people laying on the horn at 2.30 on a sunny Saturday afternoon? Who needs it?
Hopped back in my car and headed out to UBC to see my nana and her husband. It was a great visit. I am so fortunate to have a grandmother who is self-sufficient, witty, and able-bodied. Her husband, Ed, is 90 (!!) and is in fantastic shape. He looks ten years younger. They have such a great life together. They invited me for dinner to the Mexican restaurant that they go to every Saturday night, but I had to pass as I was meeting up with C. I love the stories my nana and Ed have and I am so happy that they found each other in their august years and already have so many wonderful memories together.
Back into the car to Arbutus Walk to meet up with C after his 26 kilometre run. C is an attractive guy, but I must say he looked a little peaked today. He didn't have a good race and wasn't too thrilled with his time, but it was great that he pushed through to finish it. He was very zen-like and positive about the whole thing; viewing it as a learning experience and a gauge against which to compare subsequent runs. Very cool. I was really happy to see him as it had been many weeks, and I know how hard it can be to drag one's ass off the couch after a race of any magnitude. I have never seen someone eat a pulled-pork sandwich as fast as C did.
Back home to North Van to see Michael and we watched two episodes of Frasier that we hadn't seen before (please keep in mind that I haven't had cable for over a year). I love Frasier. I laughed out loud. I ate Fig Newtons. I got many foot rubs and a neck and shoulder massage. Love the rubbing. Michael always says, "How much rubbing can you take?" like there is a limit that I might someday reach. Not. Bloody. Likely.
Now I am home. With sex hair. Drinking the best Tempranillo - Penascal? The bottle is too far away and I'm too lazy to get up and check.
Michael's on call so he's thinking 21 miles might be too long a run in case he gets a call while we're out so I was like, oh, twist my rubber arm, maybe we can do an abbreviated three bridges which is only about 17 miles.
I am the laziest runner I know.
Holy crap. I am praying to the running gods that Michael makes the Boston cut off in a month, cause if he doesn't it means that I have to re-qualify as well and, um, I really don't want to cause it's hard. And I like Tempranillo. And not running.
To sum up? Super great day. I am surrounded by such phenomenal people.
How did this happen?

Hello

Slept alright. More weird dreams (what else is new).
Feeling particularly solitary lately. I used to utterly hate that feeling and had to be surrounded by someone or doing something all the time. Last night, taking the seabus home, I was just so happy to be listening to my tunes and watching the beautiful Vancouver skyline shrink as we powered away. And I was happy to think that I was going home to be by myself and do things that I wanted to do. Like throwing rocks at wasps nests, watching BBC and smoking pot. I'm a complex girl.
It's a beautiful day out there. I am meeting up with L for coffee in a couple of hours and then visiting my grandmother and step-grandfather. And then, perhaps, if C isn't totally knackered from his 26 kilometre trail race today, we may get together for a beer.
And then I will go home. And start hyperventilating about the 21 miles that I want (well not really want, but need rather) to run tomorrow. Five miles short of a full.
Yowsa.

Meh

I feel like I'm being pulled in a million different directions today.
Went in to work late so stayed late. Met up with Po for a really great chat and some nice wine at Sip. Love that place.
Watched a pride of lions take down an elephant on BBC. Grim.
Am mulling over many different things tonight. Feeling restless. Hope I sleep tonight. It's been so many nights without a good sleep and so many weird dreams.

Fedexing things is hard/I'm dumb

The secretary has been off for three days and I was really hoping that she would be in today because I needed to FedEx something. I can do most things on my own (I’ve learned to scan and can successfully transfer 30% of phone calls), but there’s something about me and FedEx.
I’ve never FedExed, actually. I’ve been able to avoid it quite adeptly for 13 years. It scares me. There are so many variables. What envelope am I supposed to use? What service do I want? What do “express” and “priority” mean? They both seem urgent. How many days does it take? Do weekends count? Will they try and deliver it on Saturday?
So I went to the FedEx place and it quickly became evident that it as a miracle that I had managed to feed and clothe myself for so many years. They showed me how to affix stickers and waybills and to put it in the bin for 4pm. Why 4pm? It’s a mystery. If our UK and Toronto offices get their respective packages on Monday it’ll be a huge accomplishment for me.
Right.
Just another day in the life.

I still have both my nuts

Just wrote the sappiest fucking blog. Deleted it. No one must know the depths of my overall sappiness: it disgusts even me.
I feel enveloped by happy, warm, friendly kindness and love right now.
Or maybe it's the Fume Blanc.
One never really knows.
Michael hates having his picture taken (the last one was taken as I pretended to get a horizon shot while we were on Salt Spring Island, and then instead I whipped the camera over my shoulder and took a blind, backwards shot, catching him by surprise). I've never fully understood his aversion to me taking his picture. He's the reason that I got home at 7am this morning.
Sly grin.
Sooooooooooooooo much.

Unh

I'd give my left nut not to have to do speedwork tonight.

Random things

My legs really fucking hurt today. I went to the clinic. Haven't been in... I don't even remember. I think I went once after my dad died. I need to keep going. I'm having a weird sense of deja vu as I write this, so likely the one time that I blogged after going after August 6th I had similar feelings.
We were supposed to do five hills, but it hurt so much that I thought I would make do with four, but the guy I was running with kept pushing me and so I did five. It was cool. It was just what I needed. I jogged back to the clinic feeling that I had accomplished something instead of that crap feeling that comes with having bailed (though really, I did run 30 kilometres yesterday).
So here's a random thing that comes up from time to time. I would love for people to comment on this to know if I'm insane, or if other people experience this too. I will interject here that I'm not stoned or drunk, just tired and contemplative.
Okay, the thing is this: do you ever have dreams about someone that you know that are so real and so moving that you almost feel as though they must have gone through it as well? Is this making any sense? It's like having an experience with a person in real life, except you dreamed the whole thing, and then for the whole day you ponder that experience, that connection, and it's affected you, but it's not real. And then sometimes I think, "Am I supposed to tell the person about this?". I feel bad having emotionally charged dreams about people that I know and not letting them know that they were a part of it.
Raise your hands if I've lost you and you think I'm insane.
I thought as much.

Where was I?

Yes. Unable to pull myself together and wondering how I would be able to get through a wedding with a smile on my face.
I picked Michael up Saturday morning and we headed over to Salt Spring Island. I love the BC Ferries. Not really. It's not a short jaunt to get to SSI, but I won't bore you with the logistics. Okay, maybe I will, but later.
Neither of us had been there before. In fact, the only Gulf Island I've ever been on is Lasqueti, so the whole "electricity" and "paved roads" thing really blew my mind. At one point the speed limit was 80 km/hr and I was like, "Holy shit. That just blew my mind". Drove around Ganges a bit, and then checked into the B&B to clean up before the wedding.
It was a beautiful day, Salt Spring is a gorgeous island and as I was futzing about in our room I looked out the window and thought, "That looks an awful lot like JupiterGirl". And it was! She was lamenting about how hot her dress was, but she looked radiant. Such a beautiful dress. She looked absolutely natural and beautiful and beautific on her wedding day. Salt Spring Boy looked great as well, in his flashy Perry Ellis suit (even if the cuffs of his pants were still pinned up). I was totally amazed at how calm they were, especially when the resident golden retriever, fresh from a romp in the water, came trotting by and threatening to shake himself dry on JupiterGirl's dress. At one point JupiterGirl noticed that I am reading "The Time Traveller's Wife" and said what a great book it was and we discussed it a bit and then another couple started discussing it and I'm like, "Yeah, it's a super great book. But, um, you have to go get married now and shouldn't you be worried about something?". But no, JupiterGirl was zen and so was Salt Spring Boy and island life is a good life to lead. Especially when you get to go 80 kilometres an hour!
We showed up for the wedding and it was an intimate affair of around 35 people at SSB's parents' place. The garden was lovely, with a little bridge over the creek which naturally lent itself to many shots of many couples (in reviewing the photos I realize I have my frickin' Ironman Timex on, which is dead sexy and looks really good with my dress).
I've been to a lot of weddings in my day and they've all seemed the same. I'm not a big stickler on tradition and in a lot of cases it has appeared to me that the wedding wasn't even that enjoyable an event, but it's supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life. This wedding was fantastic. It was relaxed and casual in a naturous environment. The food was fantastic. There were no stupid, rambling, drunken speeches. You could sit where you wanted. There was a fire twirler. Yep, not even making that up. JupiterGirl got changed into some jeans and Salt Spring Boy had rigged up a laptop with music to some speakers so people danced and drank wine and I got to see the stars because it's so dark because there's no light pollution. The people were fantastic, everyone had a great sense of humour and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. And there were cupcakes.
It was a perfect wedding and I feel privileged to have been invited and to share such a spectacular night with such a wonderful couple. Sniff.
Drank a ridiculous amount of wine. Sat on Michael's lap and we played the "Tipping Game", whereby he continually pretends that he he's going to tip me onto my head. It's a fun game. Have 9 glasses of wine and try it some time.
The B&B we stayed at put on a great spread for breakfast. Michael managed to pat every animal that ventured his way and ended up sneezing a lot due to allergies. We bid our farewells and then headed back into Ganges to check the area out a bit better. I was pretty hungover, but I do hold that if you do the crime you gotta do the time. No, we didn't hike the local mountain, but we did wander about the town, bump into JupiterGirl's father and step mother, browse used books, sit on a rocky outcrop in the harbour and look at starfish and watch seaplanes come and go, and then go to the Treehouse Cafe upon JGirl's recommendation where we had some really good eats and contemplated moving to SSI.
Too soon it was time to go. We tried to catch a direct ferry from Long Harbour but, because I was too stupid to make a reservation, we couldn't get on. So we drove to Fulford which worked well because I bought the most rad hat which I have been wearing all weekend, plus a hemp purse and Michael, bored with my materialistic endeavours, had some coffee that smelled like jet fuel from a distance, and bought me a cookie.
The ferry from Fulford brought us to Victoria at which point we had half an hour to pull a u-turn and try to get on another ferry to Tswassen. With thirty years of BC Ferries experience under my belt I said, "No fucking way are we going to make this ferry. If we make this ferry I will buy you dinner, because-" glancing at my watch, "it's scheduled to leave in 26 minutes". We made it. I introduced him to the concept of sleeping in your car on deck, because the ferry was packed and I had accidentally grabbed seats near a contingent of Japanese or Korean gentleman who were drinking whiskey and eating Pringles. And they didn't seem to want to share.
Eventually, we landed back in North Van and I bought Michael pizza and we watched "Seraphim Falls" which was really good. Then I slept at his place and we went for a big run today. I ran 19 miles (30 kilometres): gasp.
Michael ran a full marathon!!!!! He is currently my (super) hero and I can't believe he ran 42 kilometres today. I bailed at the 30k mark, walked into a convenience store and bought all things liquid. The man at the till took one look at my salt-covered face and my overall look of exhaustion and let me polish off half a bottle of Gatorade before I had to settle my bill. Holy shit, my friends. We ran over the Iron Workers, Burrard and Lionsgate, and half way around the goddamn Stanley Park Seawall. I was out for 3 hours 8 minutes and Michael continued on for another fifty-odd minutes.
Anyways. Long, rambling story short: what a fantastic weekend. I am so pleased to have been able to spend such intimate time with JGirl and SSB. I wish them a long, happy and joy-filled to life together and I hope to see them often(er) in the future!
And, perhaps feeding off the positive weekend vibes, Michael and I had a really great (long) weekend together as well. I am truly blessed to be surrounded by such fantastic people. It was one of the best weekends that I have had in a long, long time.
Much love to JupiterGirl and Salt Spring Boy: thank you for inviting us to share such a cherished moment with you guys.

Yep

I'm a fucking mess.
Someone adopted my dad's cats. I want my dad's cats, but I have an apartment.
I don't know what I'm doing.
I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. Or saying. Or how I'm supposed to act.
I have a wedding to go to tomorrow (well, I guess it's today now) and I'm going to look like a bag of shit.
What's real?
What's important?
I should likely talk to someone, but who do I talk to? Who wants to see me sit there and cry for hours? Cause, you know, that would be fun.
Fundamentally, I'm having a hard time getting my shit together.
I guess I want someone to help me through this, but who can do that? Is someone going to come and babysit me every goddamn day? Hold my hand when I start to get weepy and nostalgic?
Right. So then.
Really. No fucking idea.

Why I fantasized about smashing someone's face in with the butt of a gun today

My mom told me today that the people who have been checking in on our house at Lasqueti found that someone broke into it. Yes, they came in on the second floor, broke the lock, helped themselves to some food and it looks like they slept the night there.
I knew this would happen.
And I'm sure it will happen again.
I went for a 13.5 mile run today to try and quell my rage. I kept thinking what I would have done had I been there and happened upon these motherfuckers. They know whose house it is. These fucking bastards, traipsing through the rooms, looking at my dad's things, staring at photos of me and Jay. What crossed their minds when they saw the three kites that my dad had hung up in the living room? His model bulldozer? The collection of bottles in the window sill? Did they take some of his clothes? Did they sleep in his bed? Were Garfield and Twiggy there and did they wonder who this strange person/these strange people were?
Things were already missing when my mom, Jay and I went up in August. Who are these people?
I'm going back up in October. I hope I see someone with my dad's pellet gun, or my fibreglass kayak paddle. Maybe, when I'm towering over them and they're lying on the ground, trying to protect their kidneys they'll look up and recognize me from my grad photo on my dad's mantle.

Minor loss of fidelity

I'm stuck on one of my Sudoku puzzles.
The plight of the polar bear is a sad one. Damn you, BBC.
I got upgraded to MS Office 2007 at work, and I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that. It keeps telling me there is a minor somethingorother when I save my Excel spreadsheets and that, by pressing "OK" it will go into my email account and send naked pictures of me to everyone. Which is, you know, weird, because I'm thinking, "What naked pictures?".

I'm also a liar

Had a bad day. I tried to be all jokey about stuff today, but last night I didn't get a good night's sleep and I cried until about 12:30 or so. I was just right out of it today. Absolutely exhausted. I had a hard time putting one foot in front of the other. I'm stressed on a lot of fronts and I need a couple of days to relax and calm down, but it's not going to be this weekend, unfortunately.
It's weird, how it's all just waiting there, right under the surface. I'm welling up as I write this stupid blog. I just cannot, cannot believe my father is dead. There's a really LARGE DISCONNECT between him handing me a tuna sandwich on the porch at Lasqueti in June and debating with me about the situation in Afghanistan before hopping back on the ride on and mowing the lawn, and him not being here. It's really, really fucking hard to take. It's really unfair. There was no segue way. There was no lead time. There was no languishing or being ill or being unwell, there was just boom! your dad died.
So what do you do? You just don't think about it. I was making dinner last night and I wasn't sure if I was supposed to leave the oven door open when I was broiling the meat and I couldn't get through to my mom so I thought, "I'll call dad: he'll know".
The day Michael and his mom told me that my dad had passed away I kept praying it was a nightmare. I have so many nightmares that I wake from thinking "oh thank Jesus - that was just a dream: it was so real" that I put a lot of weight on thinking that maybe this was just a bad, bad dream.
It's been a month and I just want to wake the fuck up.

Here's why I am bad.

I just totally convinced myself that it's okay to skip tonight's clinic (again) and go shopping at American Eagle after work. Yep. That's commitment to marathoning, right there folks.
In my defence: I plan to run between 15 and 19 miles after work tomorrow, and I plan to run at least 20 miles on Monday.
Plus the pants that I want to buy make my ass look fantastic.
I can talk my way out of anything.
God, I'm bad.

Alexander Supertramp

Just finished watching "Into the Wild" with Michael. I had read the book many years ago. It is a great movie: I highly recommend it (and the book).
At one point, when an retired ex-army guy is asking why McCandless has abandoned his old life, why he isn't getting an education, why he isn't working at a job he replies essentially that this world isn't one he created and he doesn't subscribe to it.
I feel like that a lot, and I kind of laugh when people talk about "freedom". Freedom? I've been in school since I was five. I have to have a job and pay taxes and wear shoes and not burp loudly when in public places. Freedom. It's funny. This whole world, this whole rigid structure was created long, long before I came along and then I was deposited into it and told I could do anything that I wanted, be whatever I wanted to be. Not really.
I realize that if I truly wanted to be free I could shrug on a backpack and squat on a Gulf Island or traverse into the bowels of the woods and eke out an existence there, but to what end and for how long?
The counter to this is that, if we all fucked off and hiked into the woods then no one would be around to make the kayaks that McCandless travelled in, or the backpack he carried over thousands of miles. If we all fucked off and hiked into the woods, the woods would be pretty crowded. To each their own.
No money = freedom. I'm not willing to do the "no money" route, though (cause I'm too much of a wimp, and because I won't have grand kids to take care of me when I'm old and incontinent... assuming of course that I even make it that long).
Alternatively: money = freedom. I never saw my parents working at a conventional job. Since I was a babe they were both around. So I will try that route: save; think outside the box; don't spend money on material crap. More money gives you more choices. The more choices you have the more free you are. The more free I am, the happier I am.
If you don't think that money brings happiness, let me know: I'll give you my bank account number and you can unburden yourself.
Lastly? Let's say that I do throw in the towel and go to Lasqueti, or travel Europe. I have to agree with McCandless when he wrote "happiness is only real when it is shared".
I try to share my happiness with the guys at work quite often, but I've been written up twice now, so I figure I'll stop.

I. Am. Being. Good.

The Robot Liberator just came and to tell me how, upon shaking someone's hand, they sometimes comment on the softness of his hands.
Sigh.
In other news. Like how soft? I wanted to say, "Can I touch them?" and he probably would've been like, "Sure!".
That totally wasn't other news, was it.
In other news (for real this time), if you're going to make a disparaging comment about a homeless person, first ask yourself, "Would I employ this man?". If the answer is no, you wouldn't, then shut the fuck up.

Doing it.

Getting back on solid ground. It's been a while.

Yeah. I really don't have much to say. Thought of some witty things while I was riding the bike today but I forget them all. Okay, in all reality I probably thought of one witty thing and it probably wasn't even all that bright so... yeah.

In weird you-should-buy-a-lottery-ticket news, I am just finishing off "Crime and Punishment" and it mentions Vauxhall, which was also mentioned in "Vanity Fair". One hundred points to anyone that gets any of this paragraph.

My period leaked onto my pants at work, which was really enjoyable. Oh, I guess I should have warned male readers (mail readers) before I just blurted that out. There are two menstruation related quotes that I often ponder. The first is the saying, "Would you trust something that bleeds for seven days and doesn't die?". The second is Michael telling me that Martina Hingis won Wimbledon (?) while having her period (ergo, what am I complaining about?).

So, you know, I'm really rockin' it. Coffee with work husband. The Robot Liberator said he felt the urge to mess up my hair (cause it was a bit disheveled today) and - it was really effing hard - but I kept my libidinous comments to myself. Continue to not attend the clinic (apparently people have stopped asking where I am). Maybe next week. Ate dinner. Cuddled with my new running shoes. Another marathon phone call from Michael, his first words were, "Why didn't you call me?". I love him. He is so, so good to me.

Hm. Just wrote a bunch of gushy stuff about him and deleted it. I have a reputation to maintain.

Chowdah!

Registration for 113th Boston Marathon to Open on September 3

Six new organizations added to official Boston Marathon Charity Program

Boston, Mass. -- Online registration for the 113th Boston Marathon, scheduled for April 20, 2009, will begin at 9:00 a.m. eastern time on Wednesday, September 3. Held on Patriots' Day, a Massachusetts holiday, Boston is the world's oldest annual marathon. Since 1986, the principal sponsor of the Boston Marathon has been John Hancock Financial Services.

For the second consecutive year, the field will be limited to 25,000 entrants. In 2008 the field filled by late February and race organizers expect the 2009 race to each its limit even faster.

To qualify for the 113th Boston Marathon, runners must meet the designated time standard for their age group. Qualifying times must be run on or after September 29, 2007 at a certified marathon. Qualifying standards may be viewed at www.baa.org/BostonMarathon/Qualifying.asp. Seeding of the race is based on qualifying times, which are subject to review and verification. In 2008, runners with a qualifying time faster than 3:35:00 began in Wave One of the race, while all others began in Wave Two.