For godsakes!

My heart has been beating a little faster than normal and my thoughts are far, far away. Late last night I went for a walk alone in the river valley under a clear sky filled with stars and I made a wish. An impossible secret whispered to the trees and the creatures stirring around me. My mind was filled with swirling thoughts of implausibility. And, even in the face of...umm...let's call it confusion...I'm glowing with hot little embers of happiness right now.

A good friend wrote the following to me today: You have to take care of yourself, first and foremost. And for godsakes have some fun. Oh, did that ever make me smile. I love the imperativeness of that sentence.

Never a Dull Moment

In the sweetness of friendship let there be laughter, and sharing of pleasures. For in the dew of little things the heart finds its morning and is refreshed. - Kahlil Gibran

This weekend my heart was definitely refreshed. I left on Thursday after work for a place called "Tangle" which is nestled in the mountains, close to the Columbia Icefields. Calling it beautiful is a huge understatement but I don't think any words would really do it justice. It is the kind of place that has to be experienced to be truly understood.

I am lucky enough to know a generous soul, G., who is currently working out there and invited me to visit for a few days. Although he's a fairly new friend, he was willing to give up his only days off in a long time to play host to me. We spent the days hiking in the sunshine, sitting beside waterfalls, glaciers, and mountains, and just talking and talking and talking some more. I had a fantastic time and am confident that this weekend was the beginning of a long friendship between us.

Tangle's beauty is truly overwhelming. In any direction I looked, there was something to be awed by. I kept saying "wow" because I had no other words to express what I was seeing and feeling. Hiking under the clear, blue skies did amazing things for my spirit. I felt lighter, happier, and more relaxed than I have for a long time. All of the stresses of my life seemed to just slip away. It's amazing that four days in the mountains can do such wonders for ones soul.

Now, before you get the wrong idea, it wasn't all calm serenity! On Saturday, G. made sure that I had my fill of adventure. After spending most of the day outside we decided to have a fire by the beach and sit under the stars. I went inside to get some provisions and G. went out to chop some wood. The next thing I knew, he was in the kitchen asking to go to the hospital because he had cut his hand quite badly with the axe! Now, given the fact that we were both psychedelically altered, this was a terrible situation to have to deal with. You never know how you are going to react in a situation like that but we both did better than I would have expected. G. handled the fact that he was bleeding profusely amazingly well and I was able to pull myself together enough to drive him an hour into town. He had to get nine stitches but it could have been much, much worse, so we both felt grateful that everything turned out alright. G. has a wonderful sense of humour...on the way back from the hospital he made up bad puns about the experience calling it an "ax-ident" and reminding me that there is never a dull moment at Tangle : ) Hehe.

I can't wait to return to the mountains for hiking or camping or just sitting in the trees. It was an excellent start to the summer...*insert happy sigh*

My Worst Nightmare (Part II)

Things are not looking good (at least, when it comes to the state of my mouth). I thought that I had one tooth that was a problem but apparently I have two that are side-by-side and I might need root canals on them both. The dentist won't know for sure until he gets right in there (ewwww). So, I have a very long appointment on Tuesday night to get them done. The dentist was very nice but I swear I saw a twinkle in his eye when he realized how much money I'll be bringing in to his business. Thankfully, I have a good dental plan!

On a happier note, I'm heading to the mountains tomorrow night for some relaxing, hiking, and miscellaneous adventure! It will be so nice to get away for a few days.

Yay!

Aha!

I just found out that the person commenting as "the moose" is not who I thought it was! Apparently, I know two people who use that as a nickname : )

My Worst Nightmare!

Oh, I am really, really, really distressed. Yesterday, while poking around my mouth with my tongue, I realized that a big piece of one of my molars had broken off and in its place is a big hole! To put it in perspective, imagine about 1/6th of your biggest tooth just cracking away in one solid, pie-shaped piece. I don't remember it happening which is almost as distressing. Late last night and all day today my tooth has been throbbing but I'm too filled with anxiety to go do anything about it. I know that I have to but my biggest fear (even bigger than spiders and creepy crawly things) is going to the dentist. I go for regular cleanings but I absolutely hate doing so. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...I am so upset that this has happened : (

I think part of why I am so worried is because about 2 years ago another one of my teeth broke but just a teeny, tiny bit and it resulted in me having to have a root canal on that tooth. That was extremely painful and expensive and since this tooth is so much larger, I can only imagine what the dentist is going to have to do. Yet, I'm worried that the throbbing pain will get exponentially worse the longer that I wait. Plus, what if the rest of that tooth crumbles apart?!?! Eeeeeeeeeep!

I need to breathe in some medical-grade nitrous. Does anyone have a dentist that actually uses nitrous? I'm serious!

The Magic Thread

Last night a friend and I were talking about making some summer weekend plans and we realized that almost every weekend is already filled with activity from now until August! How does that happen?!?! It's not necessarily a bad thing because it means there is a lot to look forward to and it does appeal to that side of me that likes everything planned way in advance.

The only problem with anticipating the future is that it makes it difficult to appreciate what is happening in the present. I find myself constantly thinking of next weekend, next month, next year, etc. As far back as I can remember I was like that --always daydreaming about what could be and not really paying too much attention to what was happening in the moment. So, on that note, I will leave you with a cautionary fable. I first came across this story in an anthology called "The Book of Virtues". It was a graduation gift from high school and this is one of the stories that has always stuck with me. The only thing I know about it is that it was originally a French fable but I'm not sure who the original author was.

The Magic Thread

Once there was a widow who had a son called Peter. He was a strong, able boy, but he did not enjoy going to school and he was forever daydreaming.

"Peter, what are you dreaming about this time?" his teacher would say to him.

"I'm thinking about what I'll be when I grow up," Peter replied.

"Be patient. There's plenty of time for that. Being grown up isn't all fun, you know," his teacher said.

But Peter found it hard to enjoy whatever he was doing at the moment, and was always hankering after the next thing. In winter he longed for it to be summer again, and in summer he looked forward to the skating, sledging, and warm fires of winter. At school he would long for the day to be over so that he could go home, and on Sunday nights he would sigh, "If only the holidays would come." What he enjoyed most was playing with his friend Liese. She was as good a companion as any boy, and no matter how impatient Peter was, she never took offense. "When I grow up, I shall marry Liese," Peter said to himself.

Often he wandered through the forest, dreaming of the future. Sometimes he lay down on the soft forest floor in the warm sun, his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky through the distant treetops. One hot afternoon as he began to grow sleepy, he heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and sat up. Standing before him was an old woman. In her hand she held a silver ball, from which dangled a silken golden thread.

"See what I have got here, Peter," she said, offering the ball to him.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, touching the fine golden thread.

"This is your life thread," the old woman replied. "Do not touch it and time will pass normally. But if you wish time to pass more quickly, you have only to pull the thread a little way and an hour will pass like a second. But I warn you, once the thread has been pulled out, it cannot be pushed back in again. It will disappear like a puff of smoke. The ball is for you. But if you accept my gift you must tell no one, or on that very day you shall die. Now, say, do you want it?"

Peter seized the gift from her joyfully. It was just what he wanted. He examined the silver ball. It was light and solid, made of a single piece. The only flaw in it was the tiny hole from which the bright thread hung. He put the ball in his pocket and ran home. There, making sure that his mother was out, he examined it again. The thread seemed to be creeping very slowly out of the ball, so slowly that it was scarcely noticeable to the naked eye. He longed to give it a quick tug, but dared not do so. Not yet.

The following day at school, Peter sat daydreaming about what he would do with his magic thread. The teacher scolded him for not concentrating on his work. If only, he thought, it was time to go home. Then he felt the silver ball in his pocket. If he pulled out a tiny bit of thread, the day would be over. Very carefully he took hold of it and tugged. Suddenly the teacher was telling everyone to pack up their books and to leave the classroom in an orderly fashion. Peter was overjoyed. He ran all the way home. How easy life would be now! All his troubles were over. From that day forth he began to pull the thread, just a little, every day.

One day, however, it occurred to him that it was stupid to pull the thread just a little each day. If he gave it a harder tug, school would be over altogether. Then he could start learning a trade and marry Liese. So that night he gave the thread a hard tug, and in the morning he awoke to find himself apprenticed to a carpenter in town. He loved his new life, clambering about on roofs and scaffolding, lifting and hammering great beams into place that still smelled of the forest. But sometimes, when payday seemed too far off, he gave the thread a little tug and suddenly the week was drawing to a close and it was Friday night and he had money in his pocket.

Liese had also come to town and was living with her aunt, who taught her housekeeping. Peter began to grow impatient for the day when they would be married. It was hard to live so near and yet so far from her. He asked her when they could be married.

"In another year," she said. "Then I will have learned how to be a capable wife."

Peter fingered the silver ball in his pocket.

"Well, the time will pass quickly enough," he said, knowingly.

That night Peter could not sleep. He tossed and turned restlessly. He took the magic ball from under his pillow. For a moment he hesitated; then his impatience got the better of him, and he tugged at the golden thread. In the morning he awoke to find that the year was over and that Liese had at last agreed to marry him. Now Peter felt truly happy.

But before their wedding could take place, Peter received an official-looking letter. He opened it in trepidation and read that he was expected to report at the army barracks the following week for two years' military service. He showed the letter to Liese in despair.

"Well," she said, "there is nothing for it, we shall just have to wait. But the time will pass quickly, you'll see. There are so many things to do in preparation for our life together."

Peter smiled bravely, knowing that two years would seem a lifetime to him.

Once Peter had settled into life at the barracks, however, he began to feel that it wasn't so bad after all. He quite enjoyed being with all the other young men, and their duties were not very arduous at first. He remembered the old woman's warning to use the thread wisely and for a while refrained from pulling it. But in time he grew restless again. Army life bored him with its routine duties and harsh discipline. He began pulling the thread to make the week go faster so that it would be Sunday again, or to speed up the time until he was due for leave. And so the two years passed almost as if they had been a dream.

Back home, Peter determined not to pull the thread again until it was absolutely necessary. After all, this was the best time of his life, as everyone told him. He did not want it to be over too quickly. He did, however, give the thread one or two very small tugs, just to speed along the day of his marriage. He longed to tell Liese his secret, but he knew that if he did he would die.

On the day of his wedding, everyone, including Peter, was happy. He could hardly wait to show Liese the house he had built for her. At the wedding feast he glanced over at his mother. He noticed for the first time how gray her hair had grown recently. She seemed to be aging so quickly. Peter felt a pang of guilt that he had pulled the thread so often. Henceforward he would be much more sparing with it and only use it when it was strictly necessary.

A few months later Liese announced that she was going to have a child. Peter was overjoyed and could hardly wait. When the child was born, he felt that he could never want for anything again. But whenever the child was ill or cried through the sleepless night, he gave the thread a little tug, just so that the baby might be well and happy again.

Times were hard. Business was bad and a government had come to power that squeezed the people dry with taxes and would tolerate no opposition. Anyone who became known as a troublemaker was thrown into prison without trial and rumor was enough to condemn a man. Peter had always been known as one who spoke his mind, and very soon he was arrested and cast into jail. Luckily he had his magic ball with him and he tugged very hard at the thread. The prison walls dissolved before him and his enemies were scattered in the huge explosion that burst forth like thunder. It was the war that had been threatening, but it was over as quickly as a summer storm, leaving behind it an exhausted peace. Peter found himself back home with his family. But now he was a middle-aged man.

For a time things went well and Peter lived in relative contentment. One day he looked at his magic ball and saw to his surprise that the thread had turned from gold to silver. He looked in the mirror. His hair was starting to turn gray and his face was lined where before there had not been a wrinkle to be seen. He suddenly felt afraid and determined to use the thread even more carefully than before. Liese bore him more children and he seemed happy as the head of his growing household. His stately manner often made people think of him as some sort of benevolent ruler. He had an air of authority as if he held the fate of others in his hands. He kept his magic ball ‘in a well-hidden place’, safe from the curious eyes of his children, knowing that if anyone were to discover it, it would be fatal.

As the number of his children grew, so his house became more overcrowded. He would have to extend it, but for that he needed money. He had other worries, too. His mother was looking older and more tired every day. It was of no use to pull the magic thread because that would only hasten her approaching death. All too soon she died, and as Peter stood at her graveside, he wondered how it was that life passed so quickly, even without pulling the magic thread.

One night as he lay in bed, kept awake by his worries, he thought how much easier life would be if all his children were grown up and launched upon their careers in life. He gave the thread a mighty tug, and the following day he awoke to find that his children had all left home for jobs in different parts of the country, and that he and his wife were alone. His hair was almost white now and often his back and limbs ached as he climbed the ladder or lifted a heavy beam into place. Liese too was getting old and she was often ill. He couldn’t bear to see her suffer, so that more and more he resorted to pulling at the magic thread. But as soon as one trouble was solved, another seemed to grow in its place. Perhaps life would be easier if he retired, Peter thought. Then he would no longer have to clamber about on drafty, half-completed buildings and he could look after Liese when she was ill. The trouble was that he didn’t have enough money to live on. He picked up his magic ball and looked at it. To his dismay he saw that the thread was no longer silver but gray and lusterless. He decided to go for a walk in the forest to think things over.

It was a long time since he had been in that part of the forest. The small saplings had all grown into tall fir trees, and it was hard to find the path he had once known. Eventually, he came to a bench in a clearing. He sat down to rest and fell into a light doze. He was woken by someone calling his name,

“Peter! Peter!”

He looked up and saw the old woman he had met so many years ago when she had given him the magic silver ball with its golden thread. She looked just as she had on that day, not a day older. She smiled at him.

“So, Peter, have you had a good life?”

“I’m not sure. Your magic ball is a wonderful thing. I have never had to suffer or wait for anything in my life. And yet it has all passed so quickly. I feel that I have had no time to take in what has happened to me, neither the good things nor the bad. Now there is so little time left. I dare not pull the thread again for it will only bring me to my death. I do not think your gift has brought me luck.”

“How ungrateful you are! In what way would you have wished things to be different?”

“Perhaps if you had given me a different ball, one where I could have pushed the thread back in as well as pulling it out. Then I could have relived the things that went badly.”

The old woman laughed.

“You ask for a great deal! Do you think that G-d allows us to live our lives twice over? But I can grant you one final wish, you foolish, demanding man.”

“What is that?”

“Choose,” the old woman said. Peter thought hard. At length he said, “I should like to live my life again as if for the first time, but without your magic ball. Then I will experience the bad things as well as the good without cutting them short, and at least my life will not pass as swiftly and meaninglessly as a daydream.”

“So be it, give me back my ball.”

She stretched out her hand and Peter placed the silver ball in it. Then he sat back and closed his eyes with exhaustion. When he awoke he was in his own bed. His youthful mother was bending over him, shaking him gently.

“Wake up, Peter. You will be late for school. You were sleeping like the dead!”

He looked up at her in surprise and relief.

“I’ve had a terrible dream, Mother. I dreamed that I was old and sick and that my life had passed like the blinking of an eye with nothing to show for it. Not even my memories.”

His mother laughed and shook her head.

“That will never happen, memories are the one thing we all have, even when we are old. Now hurry and get dressed. Liese is waiting for you and you will be late for school.”

As Peter walked to school with Liese, he noticed what a bright, summer morning it was, the kind of morning when it felt good to be alive. Soon he would see his friends and classmates, and even the prospect of lessons didn’t seem so bad. In fact, he could hardly wait.

A Blogger's Dilemma

I'm sure that every person who has ever started a blog has had this dilemma: how much should one share with his/her readers? How much is too much? Where is the line between truthfullness and overexposure? I want to write honestly about my life but I don't want to do so at the expense of other people's feelings. So, lately I've been thinking that saying less may be more until I have a clearer opinion on all of this.

One thing I will say, however, is that it is far too easy to misinterpret what someone says if you are looking to see something in someone's words. Sometimes I write about vague feelings that don't necessarily relate to a specific person. Sometimes I tiptoe into fiction when I recount stories. I would caution anyone who reads my blog to recognize that the things I say are merely my perspective on a wide variety of things and nothing should be taken too literally or pointedly.

Ick

I drink a lot of orange juice! I like the taste of it and it's a good way to get lots of Vitamin C, but it bothers me to think about how much sugar (even though they are natural occurring sugars) that I consume with each glass. So, I was excited when I noticed the other day that Tropicana has come out with a new "light and healthy" orange juice that has half of the sugar and calories of their regular orange juice. It is sweetened with sucralose and boasts all of the flavour in their regular type.

Well, I tried it yesterday and I give it two thumbs down. There is something that just doesn't taste quite right about it. It tastes distinctively diet which seems weird in an orange juice. I'd rather drink half of the amount of the regular type and have it taste good than try to force myself to enjoy the light.

Lawn bowling is fun! Seriously! If anyone has a desire to try it, I would be more than happy to take you. We went tonight and were instructed by this awfully sweet grandma-type who is a champion lawn bowler. She was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable! It was so much fun! I think we might actually do well as a team. I am going to be the lead (the person to throw the 'jack' and the first bowler). For whatever reason, I am extraordinarily good at getting the jack exactly where it needs to go.

After that, I met up with the lovely Miss K. Awwwwwww....I wish you all had someone like her in your life. We wanted to have a bottle of wine but another friend has absconded with my corkscrew (!) so we were forced to take extreme measures and open the bottle with a knife. It took a while but we did it. We both ended up covered in wine but it was so worth it!

Tonight, after work, I am going lawn bowling. Yes, you read that right -- lawn bowling! Our unit is battling another unit for the right to represent our workplace in this year's Corporate Challenge. There have been heated email exchanges between the enemy unit and ours so tonight we are headed onto the pitch to practice. I have never participated in this sport (can you call lawn bowling a sport?) before so it should be interesting!

Then, later tonight I'm meeting up with a friend who I absolutely adore, but who I don't see nearly often enough. We are meeting up for martinis or some other type of yummy beverage for hours of catching up. Yay!

By the way, what is with all of the anonymous commenting? I like hearing other opinions even if I don't necessarily agree with them. Don't be afraid to say what you think and sign your name.

The Southside Curmudgeon

Those of you who live in Edmonton, and more specifically, those of you who have driven a vehicle on the southside of Edmonton, have likely encountered one particularly curmudgeonly traffic cop. He lives and breathes traffic tickets and if you are pulled over by him you will get a ticket no ifs, ands, or buts. He is the type of guy who would give a ticket to his own mother -- you get the picture. Well, today I heard a story about him that topped all of the stories that I've heard about him (and I've heard plenty!)

A woman was driving when she got hit by another vehicle. She pulled over to the right side and motioned for the other driver to do the same. Instead, the other driver pulled away making the collision a hit and run. The woman got back in her car and tried to catch up to the other vehicle to get a license plate and in doing so, inadvertantly drove for a couple of blocks in a bus lane. The traffic cop pulled her over for driving in a bus lane at which point she frantically explained that she had been hit and run and indicated which car it was that hit her. Instead of doing something, the traffic cop ignored her and accused her of lying in an effort to get out of the ticket! She pointed out the damaged spot on her car but the cop told her that had she actually been hit there she would have been behind the other car and would have been able to get the license plate. He then proceeded to write her a ticket! He is the kind of person that gives all police officers a bad name.

Muted

Love me or hate me, but spare me your indifference.

Meow!

Awwwww! For the next week I will have two cats living in my place, instead of just one. I'm taking care of Kevin's cat, George, who just may be the 2nd cutest cat in the whole entire world : ) For the first little while George took to crawling into a small corner beside my furnace and refused to move from that spot until Kevin dragged him out. Then, he took to crawling under my bed and refused to come out of there even when Reese would come right up beside him and poke her nose in his face. Finally, yesterday, George got brave enough to come out of hiding and has seemed like his usual self again. To my relief, the two cats have stopped hissing and swatting at each other. They now often lie in close proximity to each other and keep each other amused. George is a well-behaved cat. He doesn't jump on the counters, doesn't scratch the couch or anything else that he shouldn't, and he, unlike Reese, doesn't start pouncing on my toes at 5am. I think Reese and I are both going to enjoy our little house guest!

An excerpt

Our love will never die, that I can promise you, I, who launch this letter like a kite among the winds of your desire. We were born together, and in our kisses we confessed our longing to be born again. We lay in each other's arms, each of us the other's teacher. We sought the peculiar tone of each peculiar night. We tried to clear away the static, suffering under the hint that the static was part of the tone. I was your adventure and you were my adventure. I was your journey and you were my journey.

Oy Vey!

This weekend, while visiting my dad and stepmom, I realized that I have the most stereotypically Jewish family. My parents have made it no secret that they would love to see me marry a nice, Jewish young man but this weekend they took that desire to a whole new level! On Friday evening I went to see a doctor as I have had an awful cough that has worsened over the last week or so. That night my breathing was wheezy and I found it difficult to catch my breath on a few occasions so my stepmom took me to an emergency care facility because she and my dad were worried about me keeling over.

I was seen by a young doctor who was very affable and happened to have a Jewish sounding last name. Hope, my stepmom, was convinced that he was THE ONE for me and not only that, she was positive that he was flirting with me. Her evidence for his flirting was the fact that he was very thorough, asked me lots of questions, and smiled a lot. Now, I am no expert but I'm pretty positive that he was simply doing his job and was NOT flirting with me! I told Hope this but she was relentless! She phoned all of the Jewish doctors that she knows in Calgary and asked them if they knew of this young doctor (they didn't). She phoned all of her Jewish friends and asked them if they knew him (they didn't). She checked the Jewish phone book to see if he was listed (he wasn't). She went on the internet and searched his name. And, most annoyingly, she continued to suggest ways for me to see him again including just showing up at the clinic again! She did all of this despite my constant protests that I wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with him, and she did this even after I told her that I am interested in someone in Edmonton.

Does every Jewish parent secretly (or not so secretly) dream that their daughter marries a nice, Jewish doctor? Why is this? I really feel that it is more important to be with someone who treats me well, makes me happy, and who I feel a deep connection with. His religion really doesn't matter all that much to me. My parents know that I am far from religious but they still put a lot of pressure on me to find someone of my faith. It's interesting because one of my stepbrothers married a Jewish girl and is now separated from her. Two Jewish people marrying does not mean that a long, happy marriage is the end result. I understand that but I don't think that they do.

So, yeah, if any of you know any nice, Jewish doctors/lawyers/etc, please don't tell my stepmom that!

Friday Ramblings

The other night a friend of mine said that I seemed happier than I have in a long, long time. I'm slightly afraid to even post that because I fear that may send everything off kilter and spiralling downwards. It's true though, finally feel like the heaviness of the last year has been sloughed off and in its place is a flowing, light optimism. I make it sound like this has all happened overnight but in reality I've been working hard over the last few months to address some of the less than stellar aspects of my life.

A number of months ago I began seeing a psychologist. It's strange because despite the fact that I have a psychology degree, and despite the fact that I personally don't feel there is anything wrong with seeking out counselling, AND despite the fact that I would never, ever look down on someone for seeking help, I still feel there is a bit of a stigma associated with doing so. However, that kind of stigma will never go away until people just talk freely about it in the same way that they would about going to see a doctor about a medical problem. I also think that everyone could benefit from counselling, so if this is covered by ones work benefits it almost seems silly to not take advantage of it.

I won't go into the details of my personal counselling experience but I will say that I feel it was worthwhile and helpful. I've gained a great deal of insight about myself and am better able to put things into perspective. I feel much more confident and better adept at dealing with difficult situations. I won't say that it's a cure-all for everything but I certainly feel that I'm in a better place than I was a few months earlier.

This weekend I'm off to Calgary to spend the weekend with my Dad and stepmother. In the past, weekends with them ended up being rather trying but for the last couple of years we have all seemed to get along much better.

Shin Splints (again!)

No running for a week or two (or possibly more) according to my chiropractor : ( I tried going for a gentle run last night with Victor (a friend from my 1/2 marathon clinic) and he almost had to go get the car and pick me up because I was in so much pain. He was also hurting from Vancouver so I'm sure we looked hilarious running along at a snail's pace yelping "ow" "ow" "ow"! As a result, I think my bike is going to be my main form of exercise for the next little while.

Anyone want to go for a bike ride?

About Time (oh, and space too)

In 1964, Bob Dylan's "Another Side of Bob Dylan" was released. At the time, most critics called it a disappointment but in recent years it has been referred to as a 'diamond in the rough'. It's not one of my favourite albums but there is a song on it that I've always liked quite a bit called "To Ramona." Last night, after a fairly weighty conversation, I was reminded of the lyrics in the last verse:

I'd forever talk to you,
But soon my words,
They would turn into a meaningless ring.
For deep in my heart I know there is no help I can bring.
Everything passes,
Everything changes,
Just do what you think you should do.

I have a habit of making things much more complex than they need to be. I've been asking the same questions repeatedly and have been receiving consistent answers, but have been refusing to listen. The solution has always been right in front of me, but was impossible to see with my eyes tightly shut. Now, I want to just do what I think I should do -- it's about time.

Let your hips do the talking

Sometimes a song just says it all...

I'd rather dance with you than talk with you
So, why don't we just move into the other room
There's space for us to shake,
and hey...I like this tune

Even if I could hear what you said
I doubt my reply would be interesting for you to hear
Because I haven't read a single book all year
And the only film I saw, I didn't like it at all

I'd rather dance,
I'd rather dance than talk with you

The music's too loud and the noise from the crowd
Increases the chance of misinterpretation
So let your hips do the talking
I'll make you laugh by acting like the guy who sings
And you'll make me smile by really getting into the swing
- Kings of Convenience

The plan for the weekend: less talking, more dancing : )

Completion

I did it! I completed my goal of running a 1/2 marathon : ) On Sunday morning, Jen (my friend from Calgary), Bob (her boyfriend), and I got up at 5:00am to get ready. Bob was running his 3rd marathon, Jen was running her 1st, and I was running my 1st half. We were all nervous but excited. We all jumped into the car and headed downtown.

My race started first so Jen and Bob helped me find my running group and wished me good luck. I made my way down to the start line and was surrounded by thousands of other excited/nervous runners. The atmosphere was electric and the weather was perfect for running (sunny but somewhat cool). Before I had time to really think about anything the race began. For the first mile I stuck with some of the runners that I knew from my running group but I found the pace too slow so decided to venture ahead on my own.

I ran with a huge smile on my face. I felt strong and confident. I took in the unfamilar Vancouver sights, listened to the crowds cheering, felt the comaraderie of the other runners, and tried to keep myself at a nice even pace. The race route took me through Chinatown and Gastown and some other areas of downtown before winding into Stanley Park. As I entered into Stanley Park, a friendly runner came up to me and told me that I had a beautiful smile - it made me realize that I wasn't just running a race, I was truly enjoying myself.

All along the race people yelled words of encouragement which helped tremendously. I was surprised by the vast number of people out cheering on the participants. It was 7am on a Sunday morning, after all! As I ran my way around Stanley Park, I began to feel tired. I passed the 10km marker and wondered how I was going to make it for another 10km. I told myself to just keep running and focused on the beauty of the trees, the ocean, and my breathing. Before I knew it, I was rounding the corner and heading up to Prospect Point. It was a 200ft elevation gain and it was incredibly difficult. Up and up I went until finally I hit the top and was able to cruise down the other side. Running downhill felt so good at that point!

I ran out of Stanley Park and was met by a huge crowd of cheering spectators. The elite athletes from the full marathon were passing us at this point and it was awe-inspiring to see them zoom by. Oh, to run like them! I kept running and finally saw a sign that said that I had hit the last kilometre. That kilometre felt longer than any I had ever run. And then, out of nowhere I saw the finish line approaching and ran as hard as I could. I looked down at my watch and saw that I was going to finish in under 2:30 - yay! My eyes glazed over for a brief moment when my medal was placed around my neck. It was such an extraordinary feeling. 4 months of training had led up to that moment and it all seemed worth it.

Bob expected to finish his marathon in about 4 hours so I went out to the finish line to cheer him on. He passed by looking tired but happy. Then, about a half hour later I watched Jen run by. I was so proud of her! She looked amazingly strong as she ran her last little bit to the finish line. It was wonderful to be able to share my first race experience with such a good friend.

Today I've been feeling the after effects of the race. It hurts (a lot) to go up or down stairs or to move from a seated to standing position. In addition, I have some terrible blisters on my feet that have forced me to wear sandals even though it has been raining. However, the discomfort that I'm feeling hasn't taken away the happiness that I'm feeling from achieving this goal. This has been an amazing experience. I will always remember this trip to Vancouver! I think it will be the first of many 1/2 (and possibly full!) marathons.