Speed Trials

And so, an ode to albums… The albums of my life. The ones that mattered, that I think back on as landmarks in my checkered past.

The Beatles – Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band

This is the first album I remember listening to on my own, in my walkman (which I got for my eighth birthday. It was a hunker, and didn’t have a rewind). The first time I listened to “She’s Leaving Home” I cried.

Oasis – Definitely Maybe

This album changed me because it made me realize that I can like popular music. I bought it for myself for my birthday in 1994, and I listened to it steadily. Songs like “Slide Away” helped with some of the teenage angst.

Yo La Tengo – I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One

This album made me realize that I really do like good solid indie rock. It opened my eyes to a whole other side of things musically, and I poured over anything Matador put out, hoping to find more gems like my lovely Yo La Tengo.

Elliott Smith – either/or

Gasp and sigh and choke and cough. How can this man be inside my own head? This was too much for me and I can honestly say that I was obsessed with Elliott. I was lucky enough to see him play live, meet him after the show and shake his hand for far too long. R.I.P. Elliott.

Joy Division – Permanent

In first year university, my roommate broke up with his first BIG LOVE, and after leaving her, he came home, walked right past me in the living room, entered his room silently, closed the door behind him, and moments later “Love Will Tear Us Apart” started playing. A few weeks later I picked up the CD and listened to it. I listened to nothing else for two weeks straight. It is by all accounts a masterpiece, and the first time I ever heard such quiet intensity. All of a sudden I felt on the edge of adulthood, and realized what kind of pain that could bring.

Joel Plaskett – Truthfully Truthfully

Thrush Hermit/Joel Plaskett made me fall in love with live music. Every show I ever saw of theirs/his has been awe inspiring and epic. The backbone of my music appreciation.

PJ Harvey – Stories From The City; Stories From The Sea

This album changed my life. I listened to it in its entirety twice on the bus ride to Montréal to break up with my fiancé. I listened to it on my flight to Banff. Everytime I listen to this album from start to finish, I feel as though I’m one step closer to putting all the pieces of the puzzle together.

Drive-By Truckers – Dirty South

I yearn for stories, and these dudes know how to tell a good story. The older I get, the more fervent my dream of immigrating down south. The picture they paint is full of hope and tragedy, and all the other contradictions of humanity. Really soul wrenching.

Angelo and I have been bickering all week. I don’t know why I decided to pick a fight with him days before we’re scheduled to board a flight to Mexico for 10 days, but it’s what I’ve done, and I can’t undo it.

I finally fessed up today, and apologized. Sigh. It’s nice to put it all behind us, but I still have a little this strange anxious feeling in the pit of my stomach about it.

Maybe it is simply a symptom of my exhaustion. Maybe I really am running a little ragged these days. Ottawa may be emerging from the slumber of winter, but the warmer weather hasn’t rejuvenated me the way I thought it might. Instead, it’s made me nostalgic and introspective, both of which are fodder for made-up drama, and I want none of it. For example, on Wednesday morning I was out getting a cup of coffee before work, and while it was warm out, the air was crisp and fresh, and the sky was overcast. I felt immediately transported to Montreal about 6 years ago. I thought back to my old self, my University self, with nothing but time on my hands, whiling away the hours on my porch or stoop, steaming cup of coffee resting next to me, the first cigarette of the day sending off a curl of smoke from the tips of my fingers. The solitude and pangs of independence from those years away from home left an indelible mark on my psyche. Fresh grey mornings were made for coffee and cigarettes. And time alone.

I allowed myself to yearn for those days, those times that seem so simple to me now. Of course, back then, I had nothing but drama to look forward to, and made things oh-so-complicated, but the passage of time has washed away the drunken nights, the embarrassing one-night stands, the carrying on and putting on airs… I was in my early twenties, and I was exactly where I wanted to be. Could I say the same for myself now??

See, do I really need to indulge such contemplations as this, on this – a normal week in the life I now lead? Yes, it’s true, back then I thought deeper thoughts than the caloric contents of my latest meal. Yes, it’s true, I lived in a cosmopolitan mecca, where sense of self reigned over all else, and to be true to yourself was enough to grant you entrance into any scene, any clique, any network you chose.

But was I really that aware? Did I really have that sense, or was it all posturing, a composite of what I liked and saw in others. Is it more “real” to own up to the fact that I care about fat around my belly the way I used to care about the arts, or politics, or finding that bon mot to impress the dude at the end of the bar?

I’ve also been listening to lots of country music lately. I find country to be all about the simple, insular life. Especially Fred Eaglesmith, who finds the universality in the tribulations of farming, trucking, or living in a changing world. I’ve also been enamoured with the Drive-By Truckers for a long while. They paint the most colourful canvases of Southern life, it makes my heart ache at the tragedy of it, and makes me yearn for a taste of such an existence, all at the same time.

My focus is definitely shifting. My receptors, rusty with lack of use, are getting honed again, preparing for travel maybe. I am looking forward to sun and surf, yes, but also at the prospect of conversations with strangers, broadening of perspective that comes with visiting a place so unlike the one you know. I am hoping to fuel my soul, along with body and mind. I am not finding sanctuary in the nutritional information on the sides of boxes, and realize that as with most things, they are worth more than the sum of their parts.

I also think about my last BM (days and days ago now – well, Saturday anyway) and I think “Beep Beep!!”. Move it along, buddy, you’re holding up the line!! I’ve upped the Metamucil to two teaspoons a day, but nothing yet.

Monday was a much better day than Sunday. It was a “start late” day, so I did a 40 minute workout video (with my girl Ellen) when I got up. This video is my all time favourite. It’s fun, and it’s fast, and I end up sweating at the end of it. The abs part is good too. I’m a total beginner when it comes to ab work, and I hope to work on it more to firm up my midsection a little.

I had some oatmeal with a cookie (homemade from Saturday’s missed potluck) crumbled on top:

I also had time to pack a snack and a lunch on Monday. First the snack:

an organic apple and three Finnish crackers. I don’t know what makes them Finnish exactly, but they were tall and thin…

My coffee was tremendous.

I was also entirely pleased with my packed lunch:

I felt very 50′s housewify making my sandwich. I wrapped it in wax paper, which for some strange reason, I thought was just about the cutest thing I’d ever done.

We’re looking at some Bread and Sons whole grain, with some Hummus, lettuce and cuke, and sliced soy cheeze. Very simple, but surprisingly filling. The carrots were from the weekly veg basket, meaning they were organic and delicious!! So much more flavourful than baby carrots. The plum was also from the basket, and was good too. I ate half of it at lunch, and the other half after my meeting.

I also had a smallish dinner before my meeting (Barley salad 200g) but I was way nibbly when I got home, so I had toast and PB2 at around 8pm.

***

I bought a used ipod today after work. On my walk to work this morning, I decided that I really wanted one for the trip. I want to load it up with Yoga downloads and do them on the beach. I don’t think Angelo would be too into it, though he did say he’d go for runs with me on the beach. I’ve never run barefoot on sand before. Anyone know what that’s like?

Once I got back home from picking up the ipod, I headed down to Connor’s to celebrate Ruffle’s birthday:

He had to wear a stupid hat because it’s St. Patty’s day.

Ange ordered a Crown Float (which is half Guinness / half Cider)

It looked really pretty, but when I took a sip, all I got was Guinness. I get why it would be a good combo, though.

Anyway, Ange had a few more beers, and he’s now passed out on the couch, slightly snoring, and thoughts of watching the last episode of season 1 of The Wire are slowly floating out the window.

In a final thought: I hope my dad, who is turning 66 today (!!), is having a wicked awesome time, wherever he is. We’ll make sure to celebrate it proper when Ange and I get back from Mexico!

Je t’aime, papa!!

ugh. Things is grim. Yesterday was a crap day from start to finish.

First there was this awful hard rock in my abdomen, knocking about all my internal organs, and making me feel awful and irritable.

Then there was the lactic acid in my legs from Saturday’s exercise.

Then I lost a three page document I’d been working on all week.

Then I spent 6 hours in an office, sitting on my ass, on a beautiful spring Sunday afternoon.

Then Angelo and I fought right before bed, just to round out this mother f*cker of a day. Thank God it’s over.

***

I woke up this morning feeling just as shitty. I ate a bowl of Puffins cereal, but it did nothing to assuage my stomach, which is jutting out like I’m 5 months pregnant. Why??? Yes, it’s true, I instigated a little BM action on Saturday morning, and I should know better than to use such invasive measures with my precarious-at-best bowels. But I get so scared that I’ll have an “accident” during my races… I wish I was way regular, and could tell exactly when my next BM might be coming. But alas, I don’t think that will EVER happen.

So today’s plan is to get a little workout in before work, since I’m going to be working late tonight. I don’t think I’ll go for a run, maybe just do a video here at the house. Except, the irritability is still around, and our neighbour has The Most Annoying Dog In The World barking like a fool through the paper thin walls (seriously, this dog lives in ANOTHER building and we still hear him like he’s in our living room) I yell at him all the time, and it works for about 20 seconds, and then he’s barking his little lungs out again. I think they cage him, that’s my suspicion, anyway…

Sigh. You would hardly be able to tell that I’m going on the vacation of my life in 5 days…

I woke up Saturday morning at 6:45am, and started to get ready for my 10km race. This included taking care of some business in the bathroom, which is never pleasant, but must be done. Once I had “evacuated”, I went over to the kitchen and filled up on breakfast (isn’t it weird how our entire lives are just an exercise in emptying and filling the gas tank??)

I had a slice of toast with peanut butter (the real stuff!!) and half a banana, and I also had 1 cup of Puffins cereal with FF soymilk:

I was feeling okay, but as I was getting ready to leave, I realized I really didn’t know what I was going to do with the car keys. I couldn’t take my bike, because it was still missing a front wheel as of 8:20am, and I was too late to walk. I didn’t really know what to do. Angelo woke up at around 8:25, and said he wanted to come with me. This would solve the car key issue, but I had to pick up my time chip at 8:30, so I knew we’d be late.

He took a quick shower and I packed up some clean pants and shirt for afterwards, and we managed to get there by 8:45. As we were driving into the parking lot, I could see hoardes of people walking to the start line. I got my chip super quick, and made my way to Colonel By Drive.

The race itself was fine. I started off a little quick, but maintained good speed throughout, and kept my breathing consistent and all that. It was an out and back type of race, which typically aren’t my favourite. I find that I can’t help but count down the distance when it’s so clearly indicated, and I didn’t like the markers at every kilometer. But I mean, the weather was perfect (sunny and fresh, not too cold, and only a little bit of wind), and I really focused on running my own race. I started out with hat and gloves, but ended up carrying them for the last half of the race:

That’s me in the foreground. It’s pictures like these that make me realize how much weight I’ve gained in my ass and thighs. I look at some of the other runners, and their legs are slim and lean, cut with muscle, and mine are just hunks of flesh that I have to hoist with every step. Ugh.

Anyway, enough about that. I ran 10km in 53:01. That’s a minute slower than my last race, and 4 minutes slower than my goal for 2009 (of running a 10km <50min). I placed 163 out of 432 runners, and I was the 47th female out of 240.

All of those stats are fine, it’s true, but I know I could do better. I know that if I start training for these races in a serious manner, and if I lose those last pesky 10lbs, just so I don’t have to cart them around with me, I could be a real contender. My average heart rate was 158, with my top heart rate for the race at 168. However, I only burned 461 calories.

Sigh. After the race, Angelo and I went home for a hearty breakfast, and then I started in on finishing the second top tube protector for the bike race. I also had to bake some cookies for a pot luck later Saturday night. It was a busy early afternoon, but I managed to do it all and head down to Phat Moose for the start of the race at 3:00pm. The race really only started at 3:45pm, and it was so good to see Angelo in charge, in his element, leading the race.

There were forty riders signed up for the race (huge, by Ottawa standards). I let the pack sprint off at the start, and gave a kiss to Angelo before heading out on my ride. (I had no intention of racing this race, but I did want to ride it. I got the manifest beforehand, and knew which route to take, but it was still fun to navigate through the city, plotting the different points and all that.)

I was on my fourth checkpoint at around 4:15pm when I hopped off a curb and heard something snare. I tried to keep pedaling, but my pedals just wouldn’t go anymore, which, by the way, also means my back wheel stopped turning (I rock a fixed gear, and this kind of thing TERRIFIES me!!). I hopped off the bike and saw that my chain had come loose, and because of my pedaling, I had wedged it nice and tight between my crank and chain wheel. I tried to yank that chain out of there, but it just wasn’t working. Another racer stopped and gave me a tool to try to pry it out, and I was fiddling with that for about 10min or so when some really nice old French dude came by and asked me if I needed any help. He took my bike over to his garage, and got out a screwdriver and hammer. I didn’t really know what he was going to do, and I didn’t particularly want him messing with my bike, but he was really gentle with it, and tap-tap-tapped the chain out from the clutches of the crank real delicate like, and I was finally back on the road about 25 min later.

I knew this put me even further behind, and I was about to cut out a couple of checkpoints, but I figured, hey, it’s a beautiful day, I’m wearing shorts, and I’m riding my bike for the first time since November. What the hell else do I have to do today?? (The answer to that, of course, was Roller Derby, but that was out of my mind at the moment).

Anyway, I finished the race, and headed to the last stop. Thing is, no one was there. I circled the building, hoping they’d be on the other side, but nope, everyone was gone. This bummed me out. I mean, I’m the organizer’s girlfriend. I HANDMADE two of the prizes – You’d think they’d wait for me.

I made my way to the after party, and everyone was there, and they all heard about my chain. And I looked like a dumbass for taking so much time over a fallen chain. I didn’t feel like explaining that it was actually wedged pretty tightly into the arm of the crank. My gloves were covered in grease, as was my manifest.

So that’s it. I had two pretty underwhelming races, and after the prizes and all that, I left the party and headed over to Roller Derby. I didn’t have my skates, but I watched the girls for a bit. They told me to go home and get them, but when I got home, I decided to take a long shower instead. I was getting ready for the pot luck, when I just ran out of steam. I reheated some spaghetti instead, and fell asleep on the couch.