27 July 2017
this sprightly stride is designed to tell the world that i am A Runner who is Obvs Taking An Easy Day. the hips are definitely tight for this one but the stride is smooth and long. i'm clearly talented and that is why this is so easy for me. a key element for this run is a straight back, so straight that i could carry around a copy of pride and prejudice on my head, and i don't mean the hardcover weighty library tome pride and prejudice. i mean that copy that was handed down from your brother because he was one grade ahead of you, so you had all the same reading lists he did, soon enough after him that you could read the same actual books as he did, even though he treated you like a booger that he couldn't get off his pinky finger. that copy. that chunky mass-market paperback with the curled up cover. my back is literally so straight and my ass is literally so tight that i could carry that janky book around on my head while i am running. and, look good doing it.
wardrobe: a matchy-matchy running skirt and tech top
playlist: sailing, africa, more than a feeling, everybody wants to rule the world, kiss on my list, soul sister
pace: hella fast
despite its alliterative alignment with the aforementioned tight-ass trainer, the tired-ass trot bears it little resemblance to its fellow. this gait says "i've been running several times this week already and i am about to compunctionally malfunction. i mean, i am tired. i mean i am literally so tired that i am about to pull a patsy cline and fall to fucking pieces. so tired... but hey. um... hey, whatnow. here i am still holding on to a stridelike motion. worn to the nub but yet, a runner." a key element here is holding everything together just enough to not fall apart, while maintaining a run: a gait wherein half the time both feet are off the ground. not shuffling. not walking. running. the steps can be close to the ground and can be bitty-baby short, but a runner's rhythm remains.
wardrobe: who cares? you're lucky i am even going out! i am so tired.
playlist: the sound of blood pulsing through my brain
this is a joyous lark, a flit and float and fleetly fleeing flight! this bouncy bound says i am a naturally talented runner who doesn't even know how spectacular she is, just bobbing around town, la la la, out and about on a loose, jangling jog. it's key here to loosen up the hips and shoulders. let the arms swing. head bobbing is a-okay. the challenge is to maintain the bounce and jangle without landing in a heap and tangle. the hobbyjog is harder than it looks - what with all the relaxed hips and high steps, it can be quite a tax on the ol' hammies. accomplishing the bounce and jangle while beaming with the joy of flitting fancifully is damn hard work. but, so fun!
wardrobe: soccer shorts and cotton tee
playlist: happy jack, born to run, black coffee in bed, fat bottom girls, melt with you
pace: DON'T PRESSURE ME!
this is nothing but a shuffle. shuffle through training and shuffle through the "race event". mile 1, shuffle. mile 15, shuffle. mile 25.8, shuffle. feet are low, face down to the path, arms tight to the sides like you're dying of broken ribs and can only hold them in with your elbows and forearms. barely maintaining the run-type gait, you shuffle. shuffle. shuffle.
wardrobe: that special outfit you bought just for the occasion
playlist - rubber tree plant ant song on endless loop
pace: finishing is all that matters
19 July 2017
i am currently out of town on business. weird saying... "out of town". i mean, i am in this other town, but out of my town. so. i am currently travelling on business. that's better.
i am currently travelling on business and am at a remodeled best western in a time zone where the sun doesn't set until after 9pm. it's currently 21:04, and the view out my window is thuslywise, ipso facto: sunset.
in the background, between the bob evans and the shell, there is a speedway where i perambulated for snacks. i came back with two grape G2s, a pack of blueberry belvita, and a banana. the cashier guy was young, lucid, and sweet, and even laughed at my obtuse joke, but sadly had the rotted teeth and spotty skin of a meth head. ah, middle america... your next generation is dying.
this is the view coming up the stairs i went down to get to speedway and back up to return from speedway.
this is a slightly awkward view of the landing. to the right of the door marked "2" is the staircase from the previous picture... i am looking back the way i came.
my point here is: spacious landing with framed picture.
i am fascinated by spaces like this. is this an on-purpose space, or a vestigial structure? were the landings made wide and spacious for some purpose, or is this simply the space that was left at the end of the hallway, perhaps a result of the aforementioned remodel? the framed art implies purpose, but how many people even use these stairs, and of those people, who would have use for spacious landings? maybe a travelling irish jig team that needs a place to practice. maybe the hotel staff does yoga here. maybe the builder messed the fuck up.
LED spotlights make terrible bedside lamps.
this picture is in the bathroom.
this shows you how high that picture is over the toilet. wee frame floats high. maybe it's high up because that's where clouds belong. i liked this picture at first, but then the hole that's opening up to the mid-right of the shot started to bother me. now, i pretty much can't look at it because of the disturbing cloud hole. who is stupid -- me, or the person who selected this picture?
p.s. just noticed the t.p. and now am completely distracted by it and really sorry you have to see that, but i am not inserting a new picture because this entire exercise has taken, like, an hour already.
this is the sink. swanky, eh? i left all my stuff in the shot for your voyeuristic pleasure. thing about this swanky sink is, it's sitting atop a relatively high pedestal. i mean, i am fairly tall, and i find it a wee bit too high for my liking. unless i shrug up my shoulders, my forearms hit the sink when i wash my hands. shorter people would need a stool. so, nice try remodeled best western. you almost got this one right.
i opened the cabinet to look at the fridger and found this.
clearly, something went awry.
18 July 2017
when i was first getting into marathons, i was harassed on an online message board, stood up for myself in fine fashion, and was rewarded with an invitation into a different message board - one that could best be described as a virtual locker room. a virtual men's locker room, that is. equal parts dumbassery and smartassery with a dash of calling each other names. that adorable group of wacky wacktards saw me through my first crutchtastic injury and on into the heyday of my nine-mile lunch time runs and 5k PR (22:56). they let me be smart and let me be stupid. they encouraged me when i wanted to accomplish running things, but never pressured me when i just wanted to whimsically flit around. they heard my dreams and set me up for some of the best punchlines i've ever delivered.
for a variety of reasons, i drifted away. injuries. hobbies. work. family.
a few years passed, but i still thought about that place, reminiscing about how great it was, day dreaming about going back.
the other day, i did it. i went back in there. some of the old characters were still there, but it was weird. there were all these new people. it was like going to visit your high school and finding out the jackasses you palled around with back in they day were now teachers... parodies of their former selves, wandering the virtual hallways in a soulless pot-bellied glory days daze, telling the same tales, carping over the same crap.
and then there are all these new people and they are doing it wrong. DOING IT ALL WRONG. i started to get pretty hot over how they were doing it wrong - doing it all wrong. they were despoiling this sacred place. had they no respect? no decency?!
i wandered around a bit looking for my locker -- the one with the shaun cassidy tiger beat cover taped to the door. i couldn't find it. i was beginning to think i didn't belong here anymore.
had this place changed, or had i?
i left again, and this time i don't imagine i will be missing it.
15 July 2017
it's not obvious. i mean, clearly it can't be obvious because i never noticed it before, and clearly, i am someone who notices things, and clearly, i have used that bathroom like, you know, more than once in the past. i've used it casually and i've used it completely, and yet somehow i never noticed this egregious window treatment faux pas.
my sweet tiny personal-haven-of-peace bathroom is getting a face lift. as a consequence, i am currently completely using the hall bathroom. that is to say, i have moved everything in there - from my toothbrush to my hairbrush - and am exclusively using that bathroom every day. as a consequence, i frequently find myself perched on that potty, and since that potty is next to a window, when perched on the pot, i peek out the panes.
la, la, la... trees and shrubs and look at my lawn how green green green and sunflowers by the road, how nice... la, la, la... and isn't this a nice room... how wise was i to choose this colour? looking good, teal walls and chocolate brown shower curtain! and hey, what about this window treatment, eh? what about these perfect sheer babies with the teal and brown trees! reflecting the nature outside the window and the colour scheme inside the window. per-feck-SHUN! woo! la, la, la... nice sheers, ace... teal leaves... hmm.... why are those leaves more whitish? almost looks like the reverse stitching... almost looks like...
almost looks like...
OH EM GEE that panel is backwards! it's backwards! that one is... wait... this one is... that one is... BOTH PANELS ARE BACKWARDS.
there are some things you just can't unsee.
14 July 2017
a few weeks ago, i lost it. OH MY GOD I LOST MY FAVOURITE SWEATER. i was distraught. DIS. TRAUGHT.
i searched the house, up and down. searched car, office, house again. asked the lame-oh, usually busy sleeping "security" guard at the front desk at work. asked my coworkers. nothing.
then, as i was going over my movements for the millionth time, i realized i'd gotten a facial. AH-HA! i texted my facial girl (love saying that but she's like this really nice lady who is like 10 years my junior). so, i texted my facial girl and asked her did i leave a sweater there. she was like, yes, she found a sweater but didn't know whose it was.
i called the facial place and asked how late they'd be there. til 6. perfect. i swung by on my way home from work, picked up the sweater, and order was restored to the universe. that evening, i took the sweater as an extra layer when we went to grab a bite. i tossed it in the back seat of the truck and turned out that i didn't need it and then i forgot it in the truck. a few days later i was looking for my old friend again - turning the house upside down, sorting through the detritus in the truck's back seat, looking around the office. it was no where.
i liked it so much and was so shook at the first loss that i had ordered another. a backup. however, i was loathe to un-tag the backup because clearly the world is a dangerous place for little black sweaters, but what choice did i have. it was desperate times. i un-tagged the backup and put it into use.
at this point, i'm considering whether i need to get a replacement backup to backup the backup that's been pressed into service. (not pressed as in ironed. don't be ridiculous. "pressed into service." it's an expression.) it's not an easy decision. they're like $15 per and while that's admittedly not a king's ransom, i wouldn't throw $15 out the window, either.
so i'm noodling this decision and days go by. fortnights go by. six weeks go by and this afternoon i am headed to get a facial. i walk in the facial place all hi, hello, good to see you. my facial girl goes, hey - i have your sweater here, still hanging on my door.
oh. my. whatnot.
did all that stuff -- all that calling the facial place, swinging by to pick it up, leaving it in the truck later then losing it for a second time -- did all that... did all that not even happen?
i feel like i am in an epi of the twilight zone.
i feel like i am in the for-real twilight zone.
i have these literal MEMORIES of stuff that DIDN'T EVEN HAPPEN.
totes to the spooky.
i do now have two little black cardigans.