It's been a while.
What can I tell you?
The usual. (the "uss" as they say now, shortening every word down to the barest syllable. I don't know how it's supposed to be spelled).
What do I do when I'm not here on this blog? Same thing the rest of you do.
Attempt to keep my apartment clean, a process that continually frustrates me with its need to repeat, repeat, repeat, endlessly.
Make meals. Eat them standing up, a terrible habit (I read a post on Apartment Therapy, a decor/design website I love, one of the few, about eating and preparing meals alone, for one. They talked about sitting at the table, kitchen or dining, with a place setting. I had the guilty, furtive thought of my breakfast bar, the cutting board where I rest my iPad so nothing spills on it, the TV on, trying to catch up on the New Yorker, while my dining table is the landing place for a week's worth of mail, and my purse, coat, gloves and scarf. And I shudder at the profession I "chose".)
I write emails.
I make plans with friends, the garden of them getting lots of attention lately--Mike is not here, as he normally would be in November, as he has been the last three Novembers.
I talk to Mike on the phone. He is at his parents home, so the conversations are short, truncated. I hang up realizing there is something I've forgotten to tell him, but it's too hard to call back and start the whole process over.
I miss Mike, the undercurrent never leaves me.
I run, plan runs, want to wake up early for runs during the week (this has YET to happen). I plan for weeknight runs (this has yet to happen. But I'm telling you: It's gonna. I'm doing some crazy holiday fitness challenge that my friend GB put me up to and I intend to do it justice. God help me.)
I come back from weekend runs, I drink tomato juice with tabasco, I eat spinach and kale (standing up, my shoes still on) and I get cold fast.
I try to see how far into the winter I can make it without turning the heat on. (I'm winning, Toronto Hydro Electric. I'm WINNING.)
I do laundry, on weekends, twice, all the running clothes needing constant washing.
So, you see, I languish in routine. But I'm a Virgo, so it's comforting to me, not boring.
And then, once in a while, something happens.
Something happened yesterday.
I was running, my usual 5 or 6 mile "Bloor Viaduct" route is what I call it. I decided to time one mile on the track at Riverdale Park and as I was coasting down the hill I noticed a misty fog rolling in, just at the park level, not making it any higher. A nearby building was being demolished and it added to the ghostly, dream-like feel as I entered the park. Two runners on the track, both labouring along, and I paced them as I started lap one.
Lap two. All good.
Lap three. Okay, this is fine. It's bland, and I've never once successfully run up the grassy side wall of the park, but that was a challenge for another day.
Lap four. I had not looked at my running watch, I was saving the look for the end of the last lap so I could see where my mile was.
Laps done, a mile down. My watch shows 10 minutes. (I'm rounding). I am in a state of disbelief.
I have not run a ten-minute mile in over eighteen months. Since my head rebelled and my body followed along.
Until September of this year, since May of last year, I had yet to run my full distances without stopping at some point and walking. In September, something finally clicked and I could just
I know, it sounds simple and easy and yea, what's the big deal?
It's big, trust me. It's the one thing in my life that I absolutely depend on to see me through.
And I've finally turned the corner.
"Just give in...open up your heart and your mind to me...
just know when
that glass is empty that the world is gonna bend...."
So Happy I Could Die, Lady Gaga