Dependancies

So I was doing some reading and I thought I would post some 'journal' type posts that I had read.

Written on the wall of an abandoned home in my neighborhood, was the following little blurb: Whoever she was, she was certainly in a bit of a predicament. She writes…

There comes a time in life when one carefully examines all of the most monumental snapshots the mind saves. Like the first time you felt a puppy’s fur, the Scooby-doo birthday cake you had in 4th grade, the way it felt when piercing heat flushed your cheeks because C.E. snapped your bra, getting a driver’s license (their mistake), getting accepted into college, etc. Whether it’s to reaffirm your place in the world now, to understand where you’ve come from, or to satisfy the mood to reminisce- it happens to all of us for a purpose. This is where I’ve been for the past three weeks, and it’s been a strange place. And perhaps a bit different than all of the aforementioned reasons for picking apart the contents of the mind, I am looking for something lost. Because surely, I’m missing something. How the fuck I ended up to be a person that needs to be dizzy laden with drugs or alcohol in order to carry out a normal day is a bit of a mystery, and I’m a smart girl. I’m a smart girl who likes mysteries, and so here I am. Searching. Most ridiculously, however, is that what I’m searching for doesn’t exist. And that’s because I’m searching for a better way to understand, and maybe there is no “better” way. Maybe it is what it is, and like this fucking beer, maybe I just need to suck it up and swallow.

Journal excerpt

2/1/96

When glass drops from slippery fingers, it has a tendency to shatter. Both frantically and with precision, you take great caution into picking up the pieces because they are ever so small, sharp and quite difficult to see. Many times the broken glass (vase, gravy boat, etc.) becomes a distant memory until the day you find yourself rushing to a relentlessly ringing phone only to be abruptly stopped by the sudden sensation of piercing hot pain biting at the bottom of your foot. At that moment, the mind flashes you a quick picture of the glass before it had fallen, as if to say “Wait! Remember?! THIS is the culprit.” And then you understand the series of events that brought you to this pain, and then you react. At this moment—this very weary, bitter Monday morning, I am waiting for my mind’s eye to flash me a picture of what brought me to this pain so that I can react. And my reaction would be great, and fierce and unforgiving. This reckoning would serve as a release, and I’d be swept up in a whirlwind of wellness- physical, mental and spiritual wellness that would carry me into another reality where I can find comfort, courage, sanity (my god, bring me sanity) on a semi-daily basis without abusing some form of substance; because I should be able to live a fulfilling life without needing to feel numb or electric. I insist that this reckoning is necessary, and yet I know, I know, I know that it isn’t- or that it has already happened. I don’t know. Everything contradicts everything else, and I am part of that equation. I have drifted out to an oily sea and the only thing consistently reminding me that this will get better is a stranger in some part of the world whose name I don’t know. And I’m worse than he knows, and I’m worse than I know. Leaving behind the little spheres of man-made productivity hasn’t been that bad, but the realization of a bigger problem has caused my core to shake. To fucking shake, like fingers holding cigarettes in the winter.

Girl's journal entry:

2.15.99

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around to greet such surprising comfort, but nobody was there. Swirling, taunting thoughts colored her mind with possibilities- none of which seemed to be the proposed outcome of this most peculiar situation. Was anybody ever really there in the first place, or was it the familiar kiss of hope that more frequently than anything else just rings the doorbell and then runs? For the most part, I’m thinking that nobody was there. Words fill empty spaces and as they linger they allow people to find grace and comfort in things that are in fact, not really things at all. Just ideas, or intentions. Like, I intend to get clean- but I don’t.

interesting stuff...

Titles are boring.

It's reading break at school, and I was out in the morning and it was the most gorgeous "tease you with it almost being spring" day so I just couldn't resist the urge to go for a run.... for six and a half hours. I went to Okanagan Mountain Park and decided to take the Wildhorse Canyon Trail. I had crazy notions of possibly making it all the way to a trail on the other side of the mountain which I could take to the top. Turns out My sense of distance on the trail maps was quite wrong. At one point I got lost just because I thought I was halfway further down the trail than I thought I was.


My excitement at the beauty of the weather in the bottom of the valley served me well in being naive about what the weather would be like in the mountains. I was greeted with sheeted ice, heavy thick snow (that kind that feels like it had melted earlier, but then froze again so it's rock hard stepping through it and even harder stepping back out of it), and lots of puddles! Huge puddles that I should have just run straight through because my feet were soaked at the end of the run anyway, but instead I chose to try and avoid that so I spent lots of time bivouacing through heavy fallen trees to avoid the unavoidable wet feet.

I wish I had come up here a month ago, with ice skates. Lots of small ponds perfect for hockey.

I'm not a very good photographer, or own a very good camera so I don't think I do the scenery justice. But sometimes running in the mountains where I live makes me feel like this is God's country.

I wish I owned a chainsaw, so many burnt trees are fallen down that need to get moved.

The trail down to the lake had five massive trees that had fallen down, and the side trail was only about 800 metres long. I had to do some fancy balance beam action over fallen trees that were ten feet off the ground to get through.

But it sure does look nice once you get there. This is Buchan Bay, only accessible through trails in the park which will take the average person hiking at least 2 hours, or by boat.

The peak on the left has a trail that goes up it. Haven't been there yet, but I'm pretty sure once I get there I will be able to see to Kelowna and all the way south to at least Summerland. I'll probably go there Saturday.

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In this section of the Canyon I came across a deer leg that had been eaten. Seeing that makes for an interesting dichotomy between the beauty of the nature, and the reminder of the lingering savageness that lurks in the mountains.

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I didn't even get as far as 40 km running, but it sure was fun and felt like a lot of work. I was a little sore by the end, I don't think I had enough fluids and food for more than five and a half hours. I expected to be really sore the next morning. But I managed to pound out a solid 6 km in 28 minutes today. I intended on doing a timed mile on the track at the stadium, but my garmin died one lap in and I couldn't find my stopwatch, but it felt like a 6:00ish. I was so stoked that I was on the mountain moving for that long one day, and still felt good enough to run the next day even if it was a short run. I guess that means I need to run harder on the mountain next time.

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During my long run I watched the sunset, and the moon come up...

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Maybe Friday I will try and time a run to watch the sun come up.

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You should definitely try and find the time to watch the sunrise, sunset, and moon rise at least once every couple months, just like going for a run, it's never something you regret after.

Sunday thoughts

Today I ran a 10 km road race for the first time in 15 months. I'd only ever participated in two other 10 km road races, the one I did my previous personal best in and the same race I was in today, and that was two years ago.

Previous personal best: 56:43
Two years ago in this same race: 57:04
Today: 43:11 (edit: race results list my time as 43:14)

13:32 faster than my previous best. Granted, I haven't made any attempt at beating my best in a timed event since then. I've run a lot since then, so it's pretty interesting to see that time. I mean I knew I would get around that, and in the summer I was regularly doing easy paced 45 min ten k runs. I might do another ten k before the longer races start up in the summer, maybe then I can have a race where I wasn't sick for a couple days the week before, and spent 12 hours driving the day before the race. I was pretty exhausted today, didn't feel like I was able to dig down to get all that I could have gave. But, still I'm pretty darn stoked to see hard numbers showing that I'm in much better shape than I was in 2007-2009.

I ran a 5:23 mile on the treadmill while running at the school gym the other day. It almosy feels like a lie to say that though, because it's the treadmill. I feel like I could go so much faster in a 1 mile distance on the treadmill, but it takes at least 30 seconds to get the machine up to 10 miles an hour. Let alone a pace I want to run at when I'm trying to push the limit. Just for no particular reason I want to see if I can get my treadmill one mile time down to 5:00. Then when the snow and ice finally melts I'll hit the track at the Apple Bowl and see if I can do a sub 6:00 mile outside.

Random thought...

Often when I talk to people after races they seem so dejected about their result, no matter how awesome it was. It often feels like people aren't able to appreciate their results in a race, or even in life in general, unless they achieve their main target goal. This is such a sad thing. My only guess is by fixating on one specific goal they lose sight of all other possible good achievements they could be creating.