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Saturday, March 26, 2011

"Try-Athletes": Blueberry Jam!

'Happiness: My life has no purpose, no direction, no aim, no meaning, and yet I'm happy. I can't figure it out. What am I doing right?'


Celebrate accomplishments:

Today, Jenny and I went to our first Saturday workout. We have Parent Teacher interviews this week so we decided we should make up on lost time.

We did some Spin and the running instructor also encouraged us to run a lap and walk a lap. It was hard! I did 4 running laps and 4 walking laps and Jenny did one extra running & walking lap. I was in the stratosphere by that time. I figured my knees would give out and I would get a nosebleed any minute.

Brent told us afterward that although the running is the hardest, it is also the one you will get the most out of.

Also, Brent made it very clear to me on Friday that I have been misinforming everyone on our progress.

What I have been calling a 'lap' in the pool is actually a 'length'. So for all the laps we have done, they are really lengths. Now, to me, it is all the same thing, but to real triathletes, it is not.

To us Try-Athletes, this difference matters not one bit. If your arse is in the pool and you are moving, well even if you are hanging onto the ropes and trying to move, then you are awesome in our books.

In the end, I think working out in the morning is the best thing in the world. Working out in the evening is way harder. I'm exhausted by the time I get to Spin / Swim at 7pm, so it's no wonder I'm useless at that time. Put me on the bike before lunch, though, and I am fantastic.

Kirsten aka Scales and Kash came with us today and they enjoyed it. They may come again. We had such a great laugh.

We nearly died with Jenny driving us in the Blueberry. She drives in the centre of two lanes, and does whatever she wants. We were making fun of her at one point, and she told the Blueberry not to listen and she then shut the vents, telling Blueberry to 'close her ears'. Jenny is whacked out of her head but we are just as bad because we cracked up at this.

Afterward, Jenny and I had to go shopping because I needed shorts and interview clothes. On the way down, a huge truck pulled out in front of us when it had a red light and it nearly squished the Blueberry, and made us into Blueberry Jam. Well, Jenny froze, in a panicked state, and since I was in the passenger seat, I didn't have access to the horn so my automatic instinct (honking the horn) was useless... so I started hitting the side window and yelling "BUDDY!" in a desperate attempt for him to hear us and stop before he squished us.

This is funny on so many levels.

I'm claustrophobic.

Jenny often calls me a goldfish because I have no memory. At that moment in time, when I was banging on the window in that small little car, and he couldn't hear me, I felt like I was in a goldfish tank.

Jenny was frozen but had the sense not to pull out into the other lane of traffic, where we would have been squished from the other side. Blueberry Jam!

She said she was waiting for me to tell her what to do. Meanwhile, I was plastered against the glass window, screaming at the truck driver in a desperate attempt for him to hear me and change his mind about running us over.

We laughed like loons afterward. I am happy that we can still see the funny side of things.


We went out to celebrate Jenny's roommate's birthday tonite. He has a massive hemorraging cystic squishy bump on his shin. He really needs to have someone other than us look at that. It looks like a waterbed on his leg... you know how waterbeds move when you sit on one end and the waves send ripples across the bed? Yeah, well that's his bumpy leg. "It's fine," he said. "Sure thing, so is gangrene until your leg falls off," we said, "good luck with that."


The saying at the beginning of this blog is on a sticker I bought the last time I flew home to NL to visit my family. I have since been home again but the time I bought the sticker is memorable because it was the last time I saw my Uncle Clayton alive. I count myself as very lucky to have been able to get to see him before he died.

My Uncle Clayton helped to raise me. He died of pancreatic cancer in April of last year. My family still misses him; he was a integral part of us, part of the very fabric that makes us who we are.

Today is his birthday.

Had he lived, Clayton would have been 56 years old and would have had the biggest party in our community since New Years Eve. I would have called him today and been able to speak to him for just a few short moments because he would have been partying, therefore singing loudly and drinking far too much to concentrate on talking on the telephone.
So, Clayton, "he said" (as you would say), happy birthday, my love. You are in my heart & prayers forever.
Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there... I do not sleep.
I am the thousand winds that blow...
I am the diamond glints on snow...
I am the sunlight on ripened grain...
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you waken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of gentle birds in circling flight...
I am the soft star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry—
I am not there... I did not die...
Celebrate life. There are enough negative things in the world, huh? Vent, because Lord knows we need to. But find the good things, even if it is just the sun shining or a friend laughing with you. Because sometimes that might be all you have. Count your blessings when you have more than that.


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