Thank You

I have been transferred to an office that is a 17 minutes drive from my home. Straight highway, no traffic. I get in my car around 7 am, totally on cruise control, meaning still sound asleep. I somehow wake up 17 minutes later and stop at the local Tim Horton for coffee, breakfast and newspaper. The air is crisp, the sky endless.
I leave the office at 4h15 pm. I use the 17 minutes drive to leave the clientele behind, unwind and shift my mind gear back into…leisurely summertime.
4h32 pm: I open my front door. The long evening is all mine. I have time to see my son, to eat supper before working out, to dip in the pool and pet the cats. I feel like a millionaire.
Hats off to the few members of management who finally heeded my plea and chose my happiness and quality of life over sacred operational needs. That's smart management because as a happy and grateful employee, I'll probably be a hell of a lot more productive.
What a beautiful gift for the summer.

In My Head

I don't know what thought process led me to that path, but there it was: I realized recently that I was clinging to things. I was cultivating attachment, in the Buddhist sense of the term, with a vague notion that if I hung on hard enough, I'd have some sort of control over loss, or any other outcome.

I realized my hands were clenched so hard around certain things that it would take a pair of pliers to pry my fingers open. And that, my friends, is not good. That is not the way.

So I've started a mental exercise of letting go. I visualize my hands held in front of me, palms up, fingers wide open, and I visualize whatever I'm clinging to in the middle of my palms, free to trickle through my fingers or be swept away by a gust of wind. And it's not easy not to clench my fists.
I want to learn and practice to let go of the outcome. Do my best according to my aspirations then let go of things I cannot control.
TLM: let him go (that's the hardest)
Where I work: let it go
Will my cats get sick and die? Let go.
My house: Let go.

Every thing, every thought, and every person that creates fear or longing in me I want to let go of. Not to reject, but just to give up clinging.

Is that going to turn me into a mere spectator of my own life? If I'm detached from everything, do I stop living in action?

Don't know.

Public Announcement

This blog is currently on strike…or perhaps on vacation... In any case, it's not happening. Nobody home.

This blog was brought to you courtesy of Black Cats Look Better in the Shades, maker of stylish sunglasses for cats of all races and colors.

If and when the writer can be located again, succinct news shall be posted.

Are your cat's pupils down to tiny dots in the sunshine? Black Cats Look Better in the Shades has the solution! Write or call for free information.

Daily Colors

The people sitting across from me come from all over the world: the Philippines, Morocco, France, Ukraine, Bulgaria, Mali, the Ivory Coast, Mexico, Argentina, Syria, Lebanon, Israel, Romania, Rwanda…
Some are shy and reserved some friendly and at ease. Their skin comes in every possible shade. The children stare at me unblinkingly, and then whisper mysteriously in the parents' ears, in a language that means nothing to me.
I glance discreetly at the book that this young, unshaven man with the stern glasses is reading: Umberto Ecco.
Once in a while, I get a rosy-cheeked, blond hair, blue-eyed baby blowing happy bubbles, that bears a familiar French-Canadian name. She's the exception; most names are exotic and unfamiliar.

Boys will be boys, and the guys have a code to signal the presence of a "chick". A "chick" is young or not so young and has that immaterial je-ne-sais-quoi that is instantly recognizable to the male sex. (The immaterial je-ne-sais-quoi quite often being a very generous and very real frontal endowment, of course.) If I get the "chick", I'm suddenly surrounded by widely grinning colleagues who "just happen" to have something to do at my desk. The chicks are no fools and usually enjoy the attention.
Strictly in the name of fairness and equality, I demanded a code that will signal when a "good-looking guy" comes in. But in truth, it won't happen often. The guys that come in may be interesting, intelligent or have fascinating life stories…or not. But one thing they ain't is good looking.

There is not much outlet for my sense of humor. Circumstances are just not favorable, so I'm uncharacteristically serious. I miss the laughter and irreverence that usually punctuate my life.

A Hateful of Hollow

I must write a public apology to family and friends. I'm not always good at keeping in touch, and the blog was one way I was making up for it. But recently, I've been lousy both at keeping in touch AND at writing the blog. If you're among my friends and wonder why I'm so silent, take comfort in knowing that it's not just with you. I don't write, I don't call, I don't email. I hardly keep up the reading with my favorite blogs. I'm pretty much as disconnected as can be.

I know by experience that that's not the healthiest way to be. No man is an island. I need fulfilling interaction with fellow human beings to be happy and balanced. That's the theory. In practice, I feel too empty to interact much. I feel I have nothing to say these days. Just nothing. So I don't say anything. I shut up and stick to myself. I'm all right y'all, I'm just…empty.

Namaste

Need New Challenge, Will Babysit

So Jeno is a training machine. That's fine. He's also certifiable (he brags about it... but then he's such a show-off).
I really don't feel the need or the urge to compete with him, either in training or in insanity. There are, after all, limits to my potential, limits which I humbly acknowledge.
However, I do thrive on challenges. And even though things like marathons or, god forbids, triathlons are not the type of challenges that stimulate me, I do need to find some new challenge, some measurable goal to add to my training. It needs to be meaningful, challenging and verifiable. I'm just not sure what it could be…

- complete split on both sides?
- 25 full push-ups?
- run up the Pain de Sucre non-stop?
- lift and hold Fatso for more than 18 seconds?
- 1 length of my 10m pool underwater?

I don't know…I'm undecided. I'm perplexed. I'm hesitant. I'm unsure. I'm pondering. I'm looking for inspiration.

Talking about inspiration, at work, mothers come in with wayyyyyy too many babies. I become quite useless, totally enthralled in the little ones, ignoring their boring parents, literally dying to kidnap and run away with each little bundle. I. LOVE. BABIES. I'm sure my co-workers will adapt.

Un Dimanche à la Campagne

A beautiful Mother's Day. The sun was shining but the wind cool, perfect temperature. My mother, my son and I had lunch in the garden. Green salad, a French cheese called Bourseault, fresh bread, red Cabernet Sauvignon and a few presents in flowery wrapping. The three cats laid out in the sun around us, Loukhi in her harness...
My mother and I reconnecting, re-establishing once again the bond that will never be severed. My brother present through book and cards... My son, loud, excited, affectionate, doing his own things... My son and I, doing the dishes together...
A beautiful Sunday.
Happy Mother's Day to my friends, Sophie and your gang, Michèle and your brand new wonder, Connie dearest, all of you who have once held your baby in your arms and found out your life would never be the same...

Et... vraiment... .....Voilà.

After a week of training, I passed my exam with 95%. At least; because the one question I had "wrong" has to be verified by the instructors and might turn out to be good after all. Am I bragging? Not really. I'm saying at least I didn't waste my time this week. I worked hard and I justified the trust my supervisors put in me when they sent me for training. God, that's beautiful. Could I borrow a kleenex?

I found out a snake. And what a snake! It's good. It's always best to know which are the harmless grass snakes and which are the dangerous vipers. You can then protect yourself. I've given that person the benefit of the doubt long enough. Now I know.

I had laughter and teasing and fun with TLM yesterday. Now is the weekend. A whole evening of leisure stretches before me. The weather is warm and all the windows are open, billowing the curtains. The cats, stunned by the sudden heat, are laying stretched out all over the place, preferably underfoot. Three cats: every time you turn around, you're stepping on one.

The garden is in full bloom. The Loud One is playing on the other computer..oups did I say Loud One? I meant Loved One of course.

Serenity is such that I am ashamed at being SO UNFAIRLY, UNJUSTLY, UNDERSERVEDLY lucky. No, my life is not always easy, by any means. But I am so safe, so well-fed, so secure, so loved, so darned privileged.

Tomorrow, I'll change my mind and have a breakdown :)

Yes, I DO speak Chinese

A hardly knows me.
B knows me and doesn't like me. B may or may not have been privy to some information about me, information that should not have been given without a context, and B might or might not have passed it on to A, and might or might not have put a negative twist to it.
I don't know how much B's been told. I don't know what, if anything B told A about me. I don't even know whether they ever discussed me.
But I know this:
I don't trust B. And there are not a lot of people about whom I will say this.

How do you like the plot so far? lol

God knows I'm no angel. God knows I am so flawed I could be a poster child for imperfection. But I'll tell the brilliant people out there (and the brilliant people know who they are, they can't help it):
Don't you believe anything said about me, good or bad, unless you can double check it for yourself. There's plenty of material for rumors about me. I know some of them, I can guess some others. All I ask is: form your own opinion from your own findings. Make up your own mind. Keep your own counsel.

Now does that sound like a paranoïed post OR WHAT? I seldom seek to justify myself. But this has been on my mind for a long time. I have a blog: today is the day I voice it.

Then I'll go back to the voice of reason, which somehow always sounds like Sam:
"If they hear something bad about you and believe it without bothering to double check... F*** them. They're not worth you worrying over them."

Dear Sam, happy birthday, you're wonderful.

What's up

Long time no write. I'm in a pretty demanding work training all week, demanding in concentration and by being shut up in a room with no air circulation.

I thought Jeno would blog more than ever but I see he's also slowing down quite a bit. I therefore deduce that prolific blogging is directly proportional to the time spent in front of a computer.

I am not driven to write much these days. Partly because I spend less time in front of a screen. Partly because ..."censored"....can't write that.

I foresee the TLM business possibly coming to a drastic turn or dead-end in the event circumstances go from my seeing him four times a week to not ever. The possibility struck me yesterday, is out of my control, and sent me reeling. I'm now aware it could come to pass. If and when it does, the blow will be incredibly hard. I will either survive or go to pieces. Wish me to survive.

My pool will get a new lining with exotic fish, and therefore become operational, on June fourth. Considering it's already sweltering, I have a feeling we're going to long for it before that!

The strange winter killed two of my rosebushes and a number of other bushes. But all my little bitty growing trees made it and are covered in tender green leaves. What a lovely time of year.

Talk to you soon.

In The City

As someone pointed out to me before, pedestrians in Montreal are extremely rude. They don't know the crowded city pedestrian trick of yielding a shoulder when passing by someone. They walk on, at their own pace and in their own path, oblivious to the world around them. Being the very polite person that I am, I am normally the one yielding constantly. Not anymore. With the new job, I have a total of three minutes to spare to catch my train, a buffer zone I'm very uncomfortable with. So on my way back, during the rush hour in the endless corridors of the subway and the train station, I walk fast and with a purpose. For once, it is useful to be 5'10" and built like a wardrobe. My body language says, in no uncertain terms: "Get out of my way or we will collide!" and amazingly, male and female suddenly yield before me. It's still not out of civility, it's out of fear of impact. I don't care. I've been the lone civil one long enough. Get out of my f*** way.

I've heard some of my superiors are "looking into" finding a place closer to home for me to work. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, gnashing my teeth and binding my time. I won't get into the details but you wouldn't believe the impact of the new job on my daily schedule. Bad call on my part, even though the job itself is far from unpleasant.

I haven't found any kindred souls yet in the new office, although everybody is extremely friendly. We're too busy to socialize much anyway.

Not much else to report on.

Start Making Sense

I wondered what impact my new job would have on my blog. So far, it's pretty drastic. It basically shut me up! Perhaps this signals a slowing down of my blog for a while. One thing I will not let it become is an obligation, a "have-to-do". I blog for my own personal enjoyment, because I always loved writing. But the minute it no longer fulfills something in me, it will be out the Windows (get it?).

I've been stressed, I've been busy, I've been sick. Let's hope and pretend I'm better now.

Some emails I've sent have remained unanswered. It's interesting to see how angry that makes me. What a waste of energy, the anger I mean. Shrug it off, Bridge, shrug it off.

Mr H stopped by to check out the renovations needed in my house. Mr H is a seventy year-old sweetheart, father of a friend, handyman extraordinaire. I don't think there's anything he couldn't tackle in a house. In spite of his age, he's sharp and very energetic, with a full head of hair, twinkling blue eyes behind his glasses, and an infectious grin. To my delight, he quickly abandoned the French formal "vous", to address me with the friendly "tu". I could see that some of the work simply didn't interest him at all while other projects got his creative juices flowing. He's at a time of life when you do things you enjoy and no longer bother with things you don't. I strongly approve. So he had a good look, and told me he'd be in touch and all of a sudden, I feel like I now have an ally to face my renovations. Then again, I've always had a weakness for fatherly fathers.

I'm getting quotes for changing the windows and once I have an idea of the complete, petrifying total, I'll tackle the Bank. I'm practicing in the garden with my reluctant son. I stand him in front of me, than I scream HOHAAH and rush towards him at full speed. He lets out terrified giggles and crumbles to the ground, in total anticipation, before I even lay one finger on him. I'm hoping it will work on my bank manager as well.

I've been eating horribly and I intend to start paying attention again this week. Training has been sporadic, impaired by sickness. Now that I'm feeling better, back to a healthy way of living: healthy food, grinding training and unlimited sex. Oops!

Sunny Cloudless Sky

The gorgeous weekend was a godsend. My pressure and stress went way down, I did zero exercise, I got some vitamin D, and I slept.

We fitted Loukhi with a small harness and tied her to a long leash so she can come out in the garden with us. Without the harness, she'd be over the fence at the first sighting of a squirrel. Grumpy doesn't have claws so she can't climb, and Fatso is too fat and knows it, so they're free to roam within the fence. Loukhi seems to think that with the harness, the only acceptable way to move is belly-to-the-ground, which is a very funny way to walk. That's fine; let her think she's handicapped, it will help keep her within our limits. Once in a while, a squirrel just laughs at her and she forgets everything and springs after it at full speed. You can picture what happens at the end of the leash. Poor thing!

I looked around my house and realized it is becoming desperately in need of maintenance, renovation, and tender loving care. I need to change all the windows, to do some work on the kitchen and the bathrooms. This means money. Lots of it. Well, it just happens that I have an extra 63.50$ sitting in my bank account that I didn't know what to do with. I wonder if it will be enough. Sigh.

Work was 100% improvement over last week. I might get used to it after all. Isn't that wonderful news? I wore SANDALS today. Man oh man, nice weather incoming. It does wonders for the spirit.

I took a five days hiatus from training, to shock my system out of its complacent mode. We'll see if it works.

So Far

It's been a hectic week, a week of having my mind crammed with info, of figuring out a longer commute, of trying to adapt to different offices, coworkers, tasks… I've been panicked, I've been discouraged, I've been exhausted and I've been optimistic, in potpourri fashion.
I've been parachuted in someone else's office, in her personal belongings and files, so I can't really settle down. I feel like a squatter.
I don't speak about the nature of my job on this blog, so to give me a little latitude as far as stories to tell, I'll just say this: in my new job, my clientele is the general public. Our office is in a very multi-ethnic part of Montreal which couldn't be farther from where I live, an all white well-to-do families and retirees’ community.

I am literally fascinated by the people I come in contact with. They're all colors of the rainbow, they have panoply of accents, they come from so many countries and so many cultures… I have this longing to find out about each one's history: where were they born, how did they end up here, what is their way of life? Needless to say, I'll never know. I see bearded old men who barely speak English and try to imagine their lives, sixty years ago. Who knows what their childhood looked like? Who knows where it took place? I see shabbily dressed black women, with little expression on their faces, which mistakenly lead us to think they're not sharp. Then you discover, through the hesitant language, a mind just as quick as your own.

So I foresee endless material for observing a class of population I have otherwise very little contact with, and I expect it to be very enlightening.

Otherwise, however, my quality of life has taken a drop. In a day where I have to put in full work hours, eating, training, seeing my son, showering and such, my commuting schedule has increased by one hour per day, which is enormous. It brings my commute to a total of three hours per day, ridiculous. I'll do it, until I find a way out, but it will be in my priorities to somehow decrease that. I am no longer autonomous in my work, I have a shorter lunch period, I am not allowed to have a cup of tea or coffee by my side, I have less time to see my son before I go back out to the gym, I can no longer work longer hours to take a Friday off once in a while. All this, to me, is clearly a drop in my quality of life. Now if I implement a change, it's with the ultimate goal of improving my quality of life, not making it worse! So I will give myself a couple of months, to settle down into my new routine, then I'll reassess.

New Job

No time to post. Plenty to write. Stay tuned.

In haste
Brig

Friday a Thirteen

Friday the thirteen was my last day in my old office. I packed the last of my personal belongings, removing every touch that made the space mine. My boss very kindly took me out to lunch. I sent a bunch of email goodbyes, apologizing for not going to each cubicule one after the other. I'm not good with goodbyes, as I've mentionned before.
After lunch, my boss presented me with a certificate of recognition for five years spent with the Company. I'm such a babe in the woods. Then, she generously dismissed me, granting me the afternoon off to my surprise and delight.

I went to D's. We chatted in front of a delicious maple whisky he made me discover. We talked of the meaning of life, we talked of the values and beliefs that sustain us, we talked of cheating and forgiveness. My best friends are the ones I have the BEST conversations with. Then we walked over to pick his daughter from school. She's a sweet six years old with a smile to die for. Eventually I had to go, yet I felt we had only begin to tackle the subjects we were on. It was a lovely afternoon.

Monday, I start something new. In fact, I start with training. Not my usual physical stuff...Training as in learning. How much, for how long, I've no idea. I go in open. I can never get enough of learning anyway. What will be will be. A page has been turned.

Now, in spite of the cold, humid, grey and disgusting weather, I really need to kick myself in the butt and go lift some iron.

I don't know what impact my new circumstances will have on my blog. That, like my future schedule, tasks, physical environment, colleagues, remains to be discovered.

Welcome!

I want to welcome a little girl called Tess Gabrielle to the world, daughter of a dear friend.

Child, I have only one pearl of wisdom for you:
DON'T PANIC

Happy life little one!

Feeling Like Garfield On a Monday

Raaaahhhhh…I vaguely remember, in a prior life, words sounding like "training" and "blitz". I achieved a blitz all right. I've eaten enough in four days to sustain me without eating again for about two weeks. I had NO idea I could eat that much. I feel five months pregnant, my head hurts, my throat is dry. I'm hung over in every possible way…clearly, a wonderful Easter weekend.

As for the training part… a puny 2.5 hours over four days. I probably broke my own laziness record. The weather was so miserably cold and humid, running outside was out of the question.
Saturday, my Structor had his Polar on but not the strap, whereas I had both, so he would come and stand beside me to check MY heart rate on HIS watch. Not much cheating possible there! With anybody else, I'd probably actually mind: "Hey, my heartbeat is private!" How to be intimate without even touching.

So, this week I'm going to concentrate on losing the thirty-six pounds I put on this weekend. This reminds me, à propos of nothing, that the exposition «Body Worlds» is coming to Montreal. It is not for the faint hearted. I don't like the ghoulish side of it but I am so interested by physiology that I might go. It must be both truly fascinating yet depressingly macabre.

Draining

I never hesitate to apply on jobs, probably my adventurous side, and afterwards I'm always reminded of how grueling it actually is: the preparation, the cramming of info, the stress, the interview...
I had such an interview yesterday. From the body language of the interviewers, of which I'm an extremely alert observer, I don't think I'll get it. I was probably good but not dazzling. Since there were many applicants for a sole position, I don't think my performance will be the BEST of the bunch.

In spite of yourself, it's always slightly depressing, that process of trying to give your very best...and your very best often being judged "not good enough" or "good but there's better".

I have a competitive nature and it will not stop me from applying again but it IS depressing. Amen.

Nothing an intense hour of spinning couldn't cure. For the first time, I was actually able to wring water out of the front of my shirt at the end... Even though my heart disagrees, I still find the sprints much harder to sustain than hills.

Easter weekend. Temperature sucks but I'd like to get in a little blitz of overtraining.

Below, a picture of the infamous quartet called the Easter Gang. While the little ones created a diversion, the tall one robbed innocent victims. That picture put them behind bars for good. Crime doesn't pay.

Found It!

I misplace my sense of humour and all my readers do is keep a terrified silence?!? I hate to say it but y'all is a bunch of toothless giraffes!
It's harsh, but it's true.
Anyway, I found it back. Loukhi had sent it rolling under the fridge.

Yesterday, a man I was very fond of left my immediate work environment to be posted somewhere else. I hate good-byes. Tomorrow, Jenö leaves for a hellish long time to go play with baby bottles. And I myself start my new job, in a totally new environment, on Monday April 16. So there are lots of good-byes scheduled. Many dear friends, whom I saw several times a week through work, will no longer be around save for special occasions we'll have to schedule on weekends. I don't doubt for a minute my capacity to create new bonds but I hate good-byes.

Nice hour long run last Sunday, under gorgeous sunshine, and easily kept at recovery pace by my wonderful HR monitor. As J predicted, I will get addicted to that thing!
On Saturday, painted with my three favorite little girls, after lunch with their father… a super nice day. They're the dearest, cuddliest things.
Today, lunch with a long time friend I haven't seen in ages. Can't wait. Tonight, three hours of sweating. With my sense of humour back, life can still be good!

Bordélique

Misplaced: a sense of humor, dark, size XL. Please write to Bridge, at toofreakingfarawayfromthegoddamnocean.
Reward.

Be Still My Beating Heart

Before Vince goes into depression, I must make an amendment to my recent Rest Heart Rate entry. When I did check it, I lied down in bed for ten minutes, in the evening, I relaxed as much as possible and pouf, my HR hovered around 44-46 for a good twenty minutes.
The funny thing is that since then, I have not been able to catch my HR going lower than 55-56. It looks like my "real" RHR is usually around 59ish. I've no idea what conditions it takes for my heart to feel powerful enough to relax into a 44 rate, but apparently, it's the exception rather than the norm. Feel better Vince?

I worked out three hours last night (forgetting to start my watch for the second hour so I'm missing those stats). The first thing that strikes me with all this monitoring is that the Perceived Exhaustion Rate, on which I was relying heavily before, is completely unrelated to my actual heart rate. That tends to tell me that the Perceived Exhaustion Rate ain't worth much as far as accuracy. In some exercises that are not that hard, my heart goes through the roof, and on some exercises when I feel like death, my heart is cruising along calmly. So it appears that this tool will actually be very useful to me to verify the actual intensity and to motivate me to work at higher percentages.

Other than that I'm grumpy, lonely and frustrated, today, on a personal level. One of them days when you're looking for friends and they all happen to be busy. It only reinforces the frustration, but the true source comes from inside of course. Argh.

Quote of The Day

This is the kind of sound, inescapable logic I like.



Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile from them, and you'll have their shoes.

- Jack Handey

Bla Bla

It's rather amusing. I have not one, not two, but three potential job openings. Actually one is firm, two are still potential. It's all happening at once.

One job is farther, unknown, but with good advancement potential. One job is close to my home, known, no raise, but in an environment I've been aiming to join for a long time. The third one offers a salary increase and is for a boss I know and like. I'm nearly tearing my hair out trying to make the best, wisest choice with the data I have and the one I don't. It is NOT easy. Regardless of my choice, I'll be taking a chance. It's just the type of chance that will differ. Man oh man.

I have the deplorable habit of choosing the work environment and people and the tasks themselves over salary increase or advancement possibilities. I guess I'd rather be happy now than rich later. The downside is that I remain poor now. Ahem.

Do you ever wonder why you're alive and Daniel Pearl isn't? No? Ok. I do. No connection with the first paragraphs whatsoever. Just a thought that goes through my head sometimes.

I proudly showed my new heart rate monitor to my ‘Structor last night. He looked dubious:
“Well… First, you have to have a heart,” he said. And after I answered something ludicrous to a question he asked, he stared at my hair:
“Is that a wig?” he wondered earnestly. Irreverence, it seems, is contagious and I'm glad I finally passed it on!
I’m the first one to tell blonde jokes because I’m quite secure with my IQ but there are always some who manage to be offended. Fi donc!

One year and four days ago, I started this blog, unsure of how it would turn out, unsure of my motives, tentatively. One year and four days later, it’s still going strong, somewhat to my surprise. I’m still enjoying it which is the sole reason it is still up and going. For this second year, here’s my resolution: EDITING, Brig, EDITING. Write shorter, more to the point, more powerfully. Cut the blab bla out. You know? Like today’s bla bla.
- But I enjoy the bla bla!
- If you’re gonna write, Brig, you must aim to write WELL. Take what you want to write and then edit, to cut it about by half.
- (meekly) Yes m’am.
- Good girl.

End of my internal dialogue.

New Toy

Yesterday was Election Day in Quebec. Good, now that I've covered that, on to more interesting news.

I've a new toy, courtesy of Big Brother. I am well in touch with my masculine side so I like beautiful women and toys, albeit not AS MUCH as men do.

My new toy is a heart rate monitor. I went running thirty minutes last night just to play with it a little. I discovered how difficult it is to raise my heart rate above 90%, even running fast against an extremely strong, icy wind. I also discovered that my rest HR is 44! I thought I was around 60! I must be doing something right.

Now I have to familiarize myself with its use during workouts, and the various HR zones. Jenö wanted me to use the triathletes’ zones, going from 1 to 5 and using the Lactate Tolerance HR but luckily for me, these zones are not part of my monitor's program. I will therefore stick with percentages of my theoretical max HR… I promise I will try very hard not to start to sound like him:
Ran 5 km in 23 at Z4a on the TM but I was really pushing my BMW at MHR, Z2 felt good. HUH?????????

You get the drift. So tonight is first two serious hours using it, including spinning… cool…I should have fun for a while...

Hanging

What does one do when one is waiting? I feel suspended in mid-air, powerless to accelerate or decelerate the turn of the wheel. I've already left the fuselage in my mind. I've only a sketchy idea of where I'm going to land and I don't know when it will happen. In the meantime, I'm suspended in a vacuum, in the weightlessness of space. Gravity will resume only when time and destination become clear. Ok, then, this is an exercise. An exercise in floating aimlessly, an exercise in being able to endure the lack of control, lack of direction, lack of power. Things are falling into place outside of my jurisdiction. Until they are revealed to me, I'm floating. So be it. No point in pacing back and forth in the cage of my mind.

Not surprisingly, I feel restless. I’m stuck in an office while all I long for is exhausting myself physically. I feel out of patience with everything, especially the intrinsic absurdities of the Company.

I question, my dear Angel, the point of this blog, where I can say so little about the things that really matter to me.

I question my choices, as outlined by my eternal brother.

To hell with it, let’s eat :)

Feeling Good

First outside run of 2007 under a bright, if not yet very warm, sunshine. I went out intending to stretch my legs for a short thirty minutes but it was so nice outside, it felt so good to run that I ended up doing an hour. I ran towards the mountain in order to add a bit of hills and still felt good enough at the end to finish with a 30 seconds sprint. The sorest part of me were the shoulders actually. Hello tension!

Aaaaaah. Spring is just a-knocking at the door. Loukhi (who's doing fine, Caroline, full shape!) is about to discover the joys of the Great Outside...within the limits of my backyard. The cats are shedding enough hair to fill all the pillows of the house. Brushing time! The two big ones love it, we'll see if the pocket-size takes to it.

Other than that, don't have much to report. Pleasant diner with a girlfriend last night, wine, laughter and heavenly trout.

Back to work tomorrow, with changes expected to be announced presently. Life might be many things, in the upcoming weeks, but boring will probably not be one of them.

I'll keep you informed. Welcome to another Spring everybody!

The Gift

"Imagine," said the woman, "that the Bank offers you 86 400 dollars every morning to spend as you see fit. It's a gift, not a loan. You cannot accumulate it, any amount that is unspent by the end of the day is taken away. But the next morning, you start off the day with a brand new 86 400 dollars. It goes on like this every day, however, it is understood that the Bank can close your account at any time, without any notice."

Take a moment to think: how would you spend the money? Would you feel rich every morning?

"Life," continues the woman, "offers you a gift of 86 400 seconds every morning. How you spend them is up to you. What you waste can never be recovered. But every morning, you start off the day with a brand new 86 400 seconds to spend on living. However Life can and might close your account at any time, without any notice. Isn't one second of life worth more than a dollar?"

The idea is not mine. It comes straight out of Bernard Lévy's "Et si c'était vrai?" Ideally I would have posted the two pages themselves but I'd be breaking 1001 copyrights laws so I'm writing it in my words.

The concept made me stop and think. (First, of course, of the fun I'd have with 86 000 dollars to spend every day. I can confirm, I'd have a lot of fun!) But then, it made me think about the gift of time. A brand new slate every morning with endless possibilities. I thought of the time I waste, of the time I sleep to escape living, of the time I take for granted.

I thought about people who never get to live, about people who die suddenly, about people who receive notice that their account will be closed soon.

I thought long and hard.

Happy Friday

It's been a busy week. Doing what, I'm not sure, but it felt busy. Packing at the office. Working out. I'm not happy with my workout. I've been averaging 7-9 hours a week, but I believe my body has settled with that amount and is no longer improving. To kick-start it again I have a feeling I'm going to have to increase the hours again. Increasing intensity is not really an option because in classes I don't have much leeway and in spinning I'm already at my max intensity.
I suppose I could go into maintenance mode but why settle for maintenance mode now? Onwards and upwards!

I passed an English exam with a score of 54 out of 55. That was most extremely satisfying. Doesn't mean me write good but at least me felt good.

Now that I've qualified as Pool Person, and therefore will probably receive an assignment soon, I've never had so many possibilities for other assignments. When it rains, it pours, and I have to make a choice between all these options, a fairly blind choice. Man oh man.

On the home front, the pocket-sized cat has already tripled her size since she's arrived. She's now fully in her teenage years. I'm expecting her to start going out late at night, listening to loud music and rebelling against me very soon. She still can't stand to be picked up. I swear next time I'm getting a rag doll cat.

As for Fatso… for all of his size and macho attitude, he's such a baby. Imagine that (I've seen him do it): He goes to my trunk in my bedroom, gets up on two paws, gets a mouthful of one of my sweatshirts and pulls. The sweater seldom goes down by itself. Once the sweater is on the floor, Fatso takes a good mouthful and starts kneading it, purring loudly. He's in Fatso heaven. Go figure. Which is why, about three times a day, I find my neatly folded (or carelessly thrown) sweaters on the floor, threaded upon, sucked upon, and looking for all things like something the cat brought in. On est pas aidé!

On the weekend menu: workout (eh), friends, drinks, sleep. That’s a start!
Later folks!

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch- Changes

How can you be getting older when you still feel like a teenager? TLM called me on my cell today and for the following hour I walked around with this huge, ecstatic and idiotic grin plastered on my face. A sad case, I am.

Yet the weekend had been difficult. A health scare for my mother. A grim reminder that she will not be eternal. The impact and consequences of her disappearance, for Yannick and myself, would be tremendous if it should happen soon. I dread it more than anything.

It was a stark weekend with words like Emergency room, observation, tests, cancer screening. When I saw my boss this morning, she asked me: "So, what happened Thursday?" And I looked at her blankly and last Thursday had been pushed so far away in my mind that I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. I even forgot to tell her about becoming a Pool Person until she asked me about it.

We don't have any results yet, so, one day at a time.

At work, we're moving Friday into another building and today, I was enormously productive. I packed boxes, I went through all my files and half of my ex-bosse's and boy, did I throw away some paper. Boxes of it. It's very liberating to throw away. I like it. I'm pretty good at it. You wouldn't think so if you saw my house but really, when I do a blitz, I do one heck of a blitz.

Turn and face the strain
Ch-Ch-Changes

Laugh

Some days...are better left untold.
Diss iz one of dem.