home improvement

"mammoth. sure. whatever."

what a mess.

it's like living in a barn with yaks who eat spaghetti served up by a paint shaker.

you know what would help? a fire hose and the world's biggest shop-vac. throw open the doors, blast everything out, and suck up whatever's left.

that, or new flooring in just one room.

all we need is that one domino to fall, and everything piled up in the middle of every room will start to go away. one floor goes down, one pile moves to the next room. another floor goes down, another pile moves. move, install. move, install. see how easy?

for want of a single finished floor, an entire house is being lost. inhumed like an ancient civilization under a desert of half-boxed artifacts. if the people from "hoarders" walked in right now, we'd have no chance to convince them they were in the wrong house. paths wind through boxes stacked three high. "have you seen the plastic tray that goes under the lime tree?" yes, as a matter of fact i have seen it, but i couldn't begin to tell you where. and no, i don't know where the lime tree is, either.

interesting psychosocial note: after a while you start to not notice boxes any more. i mean, subconsciously their continued existence is still annoying the sh*t out of you, but consciously you just start to look past them. and around them. and through them. this, i believe, is how humans have survived whilst other species have died out: our ability to pretend there isn't a decomposing mammoth in the middle of the cave. 

"my god, there's a mammoth decomposing in your living room."
"no, there's not."
"right there, next to the couch!"
"i don't see anything. at all. are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"the smell…{gak}"
"don't throw up in here, for god's sake, you'll make a mess!"

have you ever ripped out carpet? lots and lots of carpet? it's like an archeological expedition: you learn things about the people who once lived there, and you experience them in ways you maybe weren't expecting. you also learn that you never, ever want carpet in your house. ever again.

what i learned about the previous owners from ripping out their carpets:
∙ they didn't mind that "old carpet" look
∙ they enjoyed the beach, and wanted to bring it indoors
∙ they had a (bad) dog

the worst thing about ripping out somebody else's carpet is knowing that you're stirring up years of their, you know, personal dust. just…ackkkk. so, you wear a dust mask and gloves and clothes you don't mind burning later. and you cut into this stuff and the dust poofs up, and you're like, "oh my god, i am now swimming in somebody else's personal dust." but, you keep going because it has to be done and there's no one else to do it, and the clock is ticking...

once the carpet is up and out of the house, you have to go back in for the pad underneath. even though you know everything that was in the carpet is also in the pad. maybe more so. but, it all has to go, so you wade in and rip it up and haul it out. leaving behind…

carpet strips. long strips of sharp little nails that hold the carpet down around the perimeter of every room, every hallway, every single stairstep in the house. nasty, ugly stuff designed not just to keep carpet in place, but to encourage the next homeowner to pay someone else remove it, no matter what the cost.

i would've paid ~ gladly ~ but the missus wasn't having it. "owners do this kind of thing on HGTV all the time," she said. "how hard can it be?"
"not hard at all if you're not the one doing it," i may have muttered.
"what was that?"
"nothing, dear!"

what's today…the 15th? i just got a text telling me that floors will go down in the bedrooms on the 22nd. floors! in one more week! that's nothing...it'll go by in the blink of an eye. and a year from now no one will remember boxapalooza 2013.

but let a few thousand years go by and let's see how science explains the limes and the spaghetti and the lone swatch of carpet (complete with personal dust) under our floors.

war crimes! guns! domestic terrorism! yaaaay, gop!

actually, have a really bad day, sir...

they've gone from the war crimes party to the party of economic sabotage and domestic terrorism.

can't wait to see what the GOP comes up with next.

have you been paying attention? or rather, have you had the great misfortune of accidently overhearing the "news" recently? over the past couple weeks the far-out right wing of america's political spectrum (read: virulent america-haters):

• staged a palace coup over (very) settled healthcare law
• shut down the federal government at a cost of billions of dollars
• threatened to wreck the global economy (again) if it didn't get its way on a lengthy list of pet issues and causes so foul and depraved and soul-killing that even the cast and crew of "real housewives of beverly hills" were disgusted.

the list of demands made by republican terrorists was audacious, if deplorable:

• delay implementation of the affordable care act (obamacare ~ yes, ignorami, they're one and the same!)
• fast-track authority to overhaul the tax code
• construction of the keystone XL oil pipeline
• willy nilly offshore oil and gas production
• wide-open energy exploration (drill, baby, drill) on federal lands
• roll-back of regulations on coal ash
• increased military spending coupled with deeper cuts to domestic programs

considering that the GOP lost the last round of elections in a big way, they're in a position to demand nothing. democrats, on the other hand, are in a position to grant them the same. polls consistently show that americans want obamacare, oppose shutting down the government, and intensely dislike republicans.

even the arch-conservative wall street journal editorial page is fed up with GOP ignominy that took $24 billion out of the U.S. economy ~ $1.5 billion per day:

"This is the quality of thinking—or lack thereof—that has afflicted many GOP conservatives from the beginning of this budget showdown," the editorial read. "They picked a goal they couldn't achieve in trying to defund ObamaCare from one House of Congress, and then they picked a means they couldn't sustain politically by pursuing a long government shutdown and threatening to blow through the debt limit.

"The politics of that are little better than defaulting on debt. Republicans can best help their cause now by getting this over with and moving on to fight more intelligently another day."

trying to link today's "republicans" with "intelligent" is a shameful waste of time and energy. the party that once blathered on about jesus and family values so efficiently severed those links that even anonymous hacktivists stand in awe.

eventually, like a child who couldn't hold his breath any longer, the GOP caved on its hysterical demands. but they promised more of the same infantile behavior in early 2014, when the debt ceiling again must be raised.

remember when the GOP was the party of safe, boring, sober-minded fiscal responsibility? who knew that those days were actually the high point in the party's sad little history...

tropical contact high

you don’t need an excuse to run off to hawaii.

you just need an opportunity.

and if that opportunity includes a frenetic, euphoria-fueled 13-mile trail race while you’re there, the first bank of karma will be contacting you shortly ~ you’re way overdrawn.

the xterra gunstock trails half marathon (laie, oahu) is a tough, rambling trek through dusty, arid ranch land, steamy tropical jungle, and rutted back country livestock terrain. runners are reminded to yield to cattle and horses on the trail, and of the high probability they’ll need to high-step piles o’ poop along the way.

my friends, mike and rich, and i drove in darkness from waikiki to gunstock ranch, arriving just as light appeared over the water to the east. as shadows retreated across the hillsides, a few hundred runners milled about the parking lot and the starting area, putting on sunscreen, loosening up, shaking off whatever they did to themselves the night before.

just before race time, a scratchy rendition of the national anthem started up on the PA. all eyes turned to the lone rider in western gear, galloping in wide circles beyond the nearby fenceline, trailing an american flag. if a scene from an old-west rodeo seems non sequitur on a pacific island (and it does), somehow the moment was still poignant. the music faded, the horse reared up, and everyone cheered.

not long after, an actual starting gun went off, and runners surged onto the course. the first couple miles loop around exposed, hot, ranch-y terrain before heading into a welcome canopy of trees. early on, the hills were not terribly steep or long, but the heat and humidity significantly increased the degree of difficulty. aid stations throughout the course handed out water and gatorade by the buckets; gels were consumed by the fist-full.

by mile 5 or so the hills got more serious, narrow single track turned into rocky chutes, and high grass kept us from getting a clear look at where our feet were going. i didn’t see anyone roll an ankle or buckle a knee here, but if it didn’t happen many times over it’s because trail runners are just lucky that way. or something.

just when you started to think, “okay, this is not going to end well,” the trail spits you out onto a stretch of comparatively wide, semi-civilized asphalt. it’s here, if your legs are still sound, that you can get into a faster rhythm and make up time lost meditating on your proprioception.

soon, back into the trees, you’re slogging through mud, thanking whomever you thank at such times for the mist that’s miraculously falling and finding its way onto your face. you sail down a steep hill and into a shady tunnel of overhanging branches. underfoot is the softest bed of mulch-y stuff you’ve run on maybe ever, then you’re right back onto hardpan and pavement to the turnaround point.

back you go to the base of the steep hill you just descended, thinking, “don’t tell me i have to climb back up this #&%^* hill.”  turns out, you don’t ~ instead you take a hard right turn and…at this point my memory gets a little hazy. miles 9 and 10 wind their way back into the jungle and through the steep rocky stuff. in the midst of it, at about mile 11, i rolled my ankle far enough to expect a squshy-tearing sensation that involves much pain and a long rehab. it didn’t happen. for some reason, the ankle just rolled right back, and I chugged on, grateful.

my friend rich was not quite so fortunate, in that several minutes later he faceplanted at almost the same milepost. I didn’t see it happen, but he said something about the trail going up, then straight down, with rocks on the other side. his foot caught on one of those rocks and then the bridge of his nose impacted the ground. his knee and both elbows also were macerated, meaning he didn’t absorb the full force of the fall with his face. still, there was blood and an impressive layer of head-to-toe dirt. after a brief self-diagnostic, (“nothing broken, not puking, let’s go”) he got up and kept going. his non-serious injuries won him a nice parting gift at the finish line, so there’s that.

the rest of the race was uneventful, mishap-wise. it felt good to be submerged in the effort and the dirt and the heat and the place. and while i was pretty well spent the last couple miles, i remember thinking, “i really don’t want this to end.” because it was hawaii and running with good friends and the clock is always ticking and how many opportunities in a lifetime can there be for such things?

i didn’t want it to end, but i kept running…so it ended anyway.

***********

afterward there was swimming and outdoor showers in the warm waters of sharks cove, then abundant mexican food and beer in haleiwa, north of laie. we celebrated the race and being together for the first time in a long time. and we appreciated the opportunity, because who knows if it’ll come again.

***********

many thanks to the xterragunstock trails race team (natalie, angel, kevin and greg) who did a great job again this year. the course was just nasty enough, the volunteers were enthusiastic, and the new tech t-shirts will be a long-lasting reminder of an extraordinary event. mahalo.

***********

time: 2:04

55/233

2nd (M, 50-54)

home again...

no, not this house.

i don't want to jinx anything...

...but it appears we have bought a house.

this is an ordinary first-world event, in that it happens every day thousands of times over.

spoiler alert: we would have loved a chance, in this context, to be ordinary.

it started with a humble goal: to move out of the house we've rented the past two years. it's too small, too ramshackle, and it lacks the water views the missus was craving.

improbably, and with little searching, we found such a house over in the hoity-toity part of our neighborhood. much bigger, with eye-boggling views of puget sound and the olympic mountains. 

we would still be renting, since i was a mere contractor at spaceneedl sprockets and mortgage lenders look askance at that form of currency ~ meaning we couldn't get a decent loan to buy. still, it'd be a pretty cool rental.

cut to: events go upside-down, in three easy steps

step one: give notice at the current rental house (which rents to someone else shortly thereafter).

step two: owners at the new rental suddenly realize they are acutely uncomfortable renting to people with dogs, and therefore cannot rent to us.

step three: t-minus three weeks from having to be out of the current place, we are left with nowhere to go.

cue turmoil, angst, panic.

cut to: events go right-side-up, in four easy steps

step one: within two days, and without warning, spaceneedl sprockets offers to turn me from a contractor into a full-time employee. mind you, this is unprompted and completely out of the blue. make of that what you will. but suddenly we can qualify for a proper mortgage.

step two: rush out to look at houses in our neighborhood, in a low-inventory sellers' market. we are stunned to find a couple of remarkably suitable options the very first morning. happy coincidence: these are houses we would've been very interested in even if we weren't in a huge, panicky hurry.

step three: make an offer and wait. realtor holds open house. wait. no one comes to open house. wait.

step four: owners decide to accept our full-price offer ~ but can't close for a month.

cue frenzied, frantic, move out of old rental into a short-term furnished townhome. 

events become a blur. blurriness not completely due to excess drinking. move-related fatigue, new logistics, and lack of sleep also may be a factor.

cut to: more waiting, no easy steps.

the loan approval seems to be done. we wait for that to go upside down.

the new, short-term routine is becoming more routine. we wait for that to go sideways.

the first transitional week is winding down. we wait for earth's poles to flip.

we don't want to jinx anything...

...but we seem to have bought a house.

this was not how they said it would be...

a smile is a poor umbrella. can i get a towel here?

when you're inside and comfy, weather is a ho-hum subject.

when you're outside running in it, however, it's less pedestrian. or, you know, more.

"training specificity is key," according to somebody at runner's world. "tailor your training to your event. if you're traveling to an event, there's not a lot you can do to control elevation and climate changes. but you can study the surface, average weather, and elevation of your event, and plan your training accordingly."

which means my training should've taken place on a treadmill. in the shower.

the forecast for the lake chelan shore-to-shore marathon called for a high of 74, with a 30% chance of showers. the forecast was wrong. so very wrong.

at the start: rain

mile 1: rain
mile 6: rain
mile 14: rain
mile 20: rain
at the finish: rain

every mile in between: rain

i'm not complaining. last year, i've learned, race day was sunny and 90° by 10 a.m. between those extremes, i'll take the rain, every time. it makes "staying hydrated" so much easier.

still, the sloshing was epic.

from what i've heard, the chelan course is very scenic. during the race, however, there was little to see: wet pavement. wet runners. wet volunteers. driving out of town after, the skies lifted a bit, and yes...beautiful. water surrounded by a diorama of high, rolling hills, wrapped dramatically in low clouds. it'd be worth running this event next year on that basis alone (and to test the local claim of "three hundred days of sunshine a year!").

speaking of the volunteers, those out manning the aid stations during this race were spectacular. instead of staying in their cars (or bailing altogether), they geared up and showed up and kept everybody going. they smiled and laughed and cheered, and i would like to high-five all of them.

random rain-related observation: when they're really sopping wet, compression shorts chafe in some unfortunate areas.

random gender-related stat: according to race organizers, 70% of this year's runners were women. make of that what you will ~ but according to the surgeon general, it's because more men are watching more football on the couch these days, and women are just generally smarter than men.*
(* i don't have actual statistics to back this up, but really, would you be a bit surprised?)

song stuck in my head the entire race: long road out of eden. could have been worse. could've been "the night the lights went out in georgia."

my race pace: not fast, but considerably quicker than my long-run training pace. my longest training run was 20 miles, so the last 6.2 miles at chelan were run as if uphill. underwater. still, not so bad.


goal one: finish. check.
goal two: finish in 3:56 or better. check.

waiter, we're done here. check.



on my feet and moving.

first fest

"don't overthink it."

"for everything, there is a first time."

~ shakespeare (or was it spock? i don't know. let's go with "shakespock" and call it good)

************
i'm not a list person, but i have a marathon coming up. and since it's my first marathon, i have a list.

it's got some weird-sounding stuff on it: injinjis and altras and zoots. oh, my. it also has some normal-sounding stuff: shirt, shorts, hat, sunglasses, chia seeds, lime...what?

i'm guessing many of the items on "the list" are completely superfluous, and will be left in the hotel room. but, you know, better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it. i'll make a different list next time.

at the top of "the list," in red ink, is the minutes-per-mile pace i'll have to run to finish under four hours. it looks kinda like this: *9-minute miles = 3:56

also up there is the time i'd have to beat to qualify for the boston marathon. it looks kinda like this: *BQ = 3:30:00 ha ha

i left off *marathon world record = 2:03:02 because, you know, there's only so much room on a post-it note.

according to another list, of sorts ("16-week training schedule" @ marathon rookie.com), today was my last pre-event training run. three miles was prescribed, but that seemed short. so i ran 3.5. not sure what impact this transgression will have...if i fall down a half mile short of the finish line, unable to continue, i'll know.

************
existential dilemma: headphones or no headphones?

there was a time when i wouldn't go for a run, any run, without some kind of sound being pumped into my head. for months it was the music in my itunes library, which eventually evolved to a random pandora mix. after a few months of that i switched to pandora stand-up comedy. i would literally lol while i ran, which may have scared people as i passed by.

that was a long time ago. with a couple rare exceptions, i haven't run with headphones in over a year. then again, i haven't run a marathon before. come mile 18 will i curse myself for deciding not to bring them along? will they distract me so much that i forget to stay hydrated and fall down a half mile from the finish line?

f*ck it, no headphones.

************
the race-day forecast for lake chelan and vicinity...

Day Sep 7

Few Showers

Chance of Rain:

30%

Wind:

N at 5 mph

Humidity:

73%

UV Index:

6 - High

Sunrise:

6:27 am

Moonrise:

9:01 am

Moonphase:

Waxing Crescent

74^°F












High

this is fantastic news. daytime highs in chelan can range into the 90s this time of year. so, assuming there's no hair-igniting lightning associated with these showers, we can stay focused on important topics, such as why there was no rain gear on "the list."

(note to self: add "rain gear" to "the list." then figure out what "rain gear" means in this context.)

************
packet pick-up and pre-race dinner will be at the vin du lac winery in chelan. they'll be pouring $5 glasses of wine for the occasion. woo hoo, cheap-but-good wine! which i will totally be foregoing. mutter*mumble*murmur...

************
my first marathon put up a fight. i was all trained up in april ahead of a may 5 target event (vancouver, BC!)...but life happened, that window closed, and months went by. come to find out there aren't that many (road) marathons scheduled during summer, and fewer still that synchronized with our family schedule.

but an obsessive scouring of the internet turned up a race that fit the calendar, was not too far from home, and was not insanely expensive. when i signed up it seemed far in the future. now, in the blink of an eye, it's upon us. so it goes.

************
as someone said (i don't know who), "you run the first ten miles of a marathon with your head. you run the second ten with your legs. and you run the last 6.2 with your heart."

standing here, t-minus three days and counting, i have a good bit of confidence in my legs. in my head, not as much. it's time to find out about the heart.

************

"when I run, the world grows quiet. demons are forgotten, krakens are slain, and blerches are silenced."

~ matthew inman




on my feet and moving.

sept. 7, part III

more than one way to dance...

as i may have mentioned once or twice, i'm preparing for this "marathon" thing.

which means i've been running extra miles here and there, in hopes my body won't get halfway into the event and decide, "no."

in the handful of months leading up to race day (sept. 7), i averaged about 110 miles per. in the final few weeks pre-taper i averaged about 39 miles per. in august, according to my handy-dandy mileage log web site, i ran 155 miles.

that's 20+ miles farther than any calendar page in my brief running history.

i don't want to make a big deal of this, because lots of runners i know put in lots more miles than that every month. on the other hand, i do want to dance a quick little dance celebrating the difference between august and all the months that came before it.

there. done. i'm not much of a dancer.

continuing on this path, it turns out that i want to continue on this path. which is to say, i want this to be the first of many such events. after this, i have an october trail half marathon on oahu...after that i'm eyeballing a trail marathon in november. 

after that...who knows.

but, i get ahead of myself. one goal at a time.

one step at a time.



on my feet and moving.

epiphany in an in-box

when news breaks,
the ASPS fixes it.

now THIS is junk mail.

today i got an email from the American Society of Plastic Surgeons. in it was this stunning headline:

UK homeland security unearths breast-implant bomb threat

i kid you not.

note: the ASPS is the professional society of practitioners of the, uh, plastic arts in the US. they put on the group's annual conference, which i have attended. seriously! i saw some work there that...wait. i digress.

the link led to this lede:

"Al-Qaida’s chief bomb-maker is rumored to have developed explosives that can be concealed in implants or body cavities, and are undetectable by airport scanners.

"Staff at London's Heathrow Airport have reportedly been warned to be on the lookout for explosive breast implants, with one staff member saying "there are genuine fears over this."

"We have been told to pay particular attention to females who may have concealed hidden explosives in their breasts," the airport worker said.

in other words, we have met the enemy, and they are boobs.

no wonder there's been such an uproar recently over breast feeding in public (really, google "public breastfeeding uproar." it's a become a thing). turns out the self-appointed mammary police aren't being overly sensitive ~ they're worried about the safety of the children. that's nice of them, don't you think?

"you never know what might be hiding in those bosoms," said no one ever. "we're advocating a concealed-carry law, because the best way to stop a bad girl with breasts is a good girl with breasts."

it's a wonder that this story hasn't blown up worldwide. or at least in the traumatized states of america. it's got everything: explosives! terrorism! boobies! it's the kind of news that fuels the national obsession with titillation ("side boob!" "nip slip!" "wardrobe malfunction!") and keeps the NSA in business ("america wants us to find those boobs!").

how long before the TSA adopts a whole new pat-down protocol for female passengers? and what will that look like ~ i can't imagine, and i have a vivid imagination. 

while we're at it, why doesn't this alert apply to anyone who looks like they've had some work done? face lifts, butt lifts, calf implants. these are not the exclusive domain of women, you know. men get them, too!

which makes me think this whole "story" could be the perfect diversionary tactic: people get all crazy ogling women's chests ("those could be fake, those could be real, those could explode"), while men with false pecs strut right on by.

there was a time when this scenario would have been too absurd to be true. but the idea of "too absurd to be true" pretty much ended with the bush administration, and this is the logical conclusion of the idiocracy those guys set in motion.

casting the human female breast as a weapon of mass destruction?

sigh. the terrorists (and fox news) have won.

it's a completion thing

this far, no further. also, no less.

today was a 20-mile day.

when i got back to the house, the garmin said 19.5 miles.

i thought, "f*ck it, close enough. we're done here."

then i thought, "uh, no. you didn't come this far to come up a half mile short."

i kept going another half mile.

today was a 20-mile day.

************

on a related note...this was my first-ever 40+ mile week.

42.5 total.

i'm feeling some carpolepsy in my future.



on my feet and moving.

make it up as we go

sets the bar high, decides bars are boring,
throws bar away, invents new bar that
can't be defined with actual words.

"An athletic achievement like winning a race, setting an FKT, or even simply running your first marathon are all moments suspended in time that came about because you focused your great energy and creativity on them.  Believe in yourself, practice, enjoy the process." 
~ candice burt

i'd like to be candice burt when i grow up.

in her world of trail running she makes up her own events, runs beyond their finish lines, then discovers she doesn't really need events or finish lines any more.

in other words, she does what she wants, when she wants to ~ and does it very well. where does one apply for a job like that?

a little reading about trail running reveals a couple consistent themes: one, practitioners say they feel most human, most alive, most at peace when running along an unpaved path through the woods or astride a remote mountain ridge or on the edge of some nameless canyon. two, these folks also describe jaw-dropping physical punishment that sometimes goes along with running in places like these.

"after a while i couldn't feel my feet any more, but i kept going."
"i was hallucinating pretty bad at about mile 60, but i kept going."
"at one point my heart stopped, but i hit myself in the chest really hard and it started up again, so i decided to keep going."

oh, yes, three: more often than not, trail runners keep going. seriously. the last thing any of them will countenance is failing to finish. when they don't, usually it's because they've lost consciousness. or a limb.

i came late to this party, and i've yet to experience anything really extreme. so far i haven't attempted anything far enough or steep enough or treacherous enough. this, i know, is both to my benefit and detriment. what i can confirm, however, is that trail running is life-affirming, soul-soothing, and good for my little brain. it requires you to keep your head in the game 100% of the time while simultaneously enabling you to forget there's a game going on at all.

and you have to appreciate any endeavor where you make up your own events, run beyond the finish line, and get to decide when finish lines are arbitrary and silly. 

"Believe in yourself, practice, enjoy the process."

this way, i think, lies freedom.

************

(FKT = fastest known time)

on my feet and moving.

sept. 7. 2013 part deux

"You're not puking and nothing's broken, so get going." ~ Vivian McQueeney to her husband, Scott, during the Badwater ultra marathon (2000)

we're t-minus 31 days to september 7. which explains the queasy feeling in my stomach.

it turns out training for 26.2 miles is hard. after back-to-back 37-mile weeks, my body is looking at me sideways, saying, "you, sir, are a jerk."

i'm used to the shorter runs ~ six, 8, 10 miles, up to a half marathon. on the trails, on the roads, at lunch, after work. i've been doing those for a couple years. the long runs? 14.7 miles, 16, 18, up to 20 next week. these are different. and they're taking a toll. 

so far the aches and pains are tolerable. the fatigue and recovery, however, are a work in progress. as noted elsewhere, i've contracted a good case of carpolepsy ~ "a chronic, inexorable need for a lunch-hour nap in one's car. symptoms include apathy toward remaining upright, inability to do anything requiring open eyes, and system-wide dullness, languor, and torpor."

i think it's the dullness, languor and torpor that troubles me the most. maybe. i don't know. whatever.

what i do know is, where i used to routinely go get some lunch, go shopping for shoes, or  head out for a run, now i whatever i can't finish this who cares where are my keys

***********

finding a shady spot to park is important. away from other cars and foot traffic is preferable. windows down far enough to let in a breeze, not so far as to let in random birds. seat back as far as possible. rolled up yoga mat for neck support. turn off the phone. deep breath...

bam, it's an hour later. where am i? what day is it? where'd these feathers come from? i may have eaten a bird.

***********

bird or no, at this point i'm always starving. and i never bring enough food. this happens every day! why don't i bring more food?? f*ck! i keep a jar of peanut butter in my cabinet for just these occasions. i'm eating peanut butter. i don't particularly care for peanut butter, but, you know, where's my spoon?

aloha, turtle! knife and fork? oh, these. these are just,
you know, ceremonial. come closer, see for yourself.

***********

i have one of these 36 oz. bottles at my desk, and it gets refilled about three times a day. with water. because i'm drinking a lot of water. 

i also have a water bottle in my car. there are too many variables in a long commute to be without it. even in seattle, where it rains a lot. i don't want to find myself broken down on the side of the road, dehydrated, hoping someone will drive by and splash water in my mouth. 

do you know the word "desiccation"? it's not a pretty word, and i don't want to be associated with it. ever.

***********

at some point in the past few months i went from, "i have no interest in running a marathon," to "i might want to run one at some point," to "i've signed up to run a  marathon on september 7." i don't know when the tipping point happened, but it's set off a little cascade of epiphanies that i'm still processing and will write about at some point if i can keep from losing consciousness. that was a long, awkward sentence. i don't care.

it's not like several people haven't run marathons before me. they have. and it's statistically probable that some of them did so without contracting carpolepsy. so, in the interest of salvaging whatever dignity i may have left, i believe i'll just shut up and run.

current status: not puking. nothing broken. getting going.

on my feet and moving.