enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

on the run again

I should really write an entry. I'm feeling impatient though and have been busy with admin. things since I got home from work at 7. I work too much! Ack! I ate a baguette for dinner, in pieces, at my computer. ACK!

So this weekend was lovely. Truly lovely. But it commenced badly. Fortunately the horrible, terribleness of Saturday can be blamed on my bloody period. I will proclaim out loud that I have a crazy day. As I get older--or gradually become slightly more perceptive as I age...whatever--I can identify it. "Gee, I'm CRAZY-IRRATIONAL today; therefore, I must be about to get my period tomorrow!"

Seriously.

Said crazy hormone day unfortunately coincided with my first coach (the old one who ruined our relationship by making passes at me when I was still under his wing) visiting Ottawa on Saturday. I still have mixed feelings about him--he reminds me of the halcyon days or my running...heck, of my youth--but also that...men are simple and sleazy.

Hmmmm...

So the more important point to mention is that he was in town for the National Championships 10k. I thought I could handle watching it. But the unsurprising thing about an unfinished past, weak self-esteem, and raging hormones is that it hurts to be reminded of what you've lost (or let go of in order to earn money). God it hurt so much. The race skewed old and so the top three girls as it turned out were not girls at all but girls with whom I once was on national teams! God it hurt.

I'm repeating myself, but GOD IT HURT. It felt like the first broken heart I ever really had (at the age of 27, surprisingly). When it was finally over and I could walk away and wipe the fake smile from my turned-away face I found myself only capable of dissolving into choking tears. Horrible. It felt horrible--like being punched in the gut. It didn't help that there was a memorial service at the race for the girl who was killed a few weeks ago. She's been in my head al the time lately, in part I suspect because I still have the passion question to resolve. (I don't want to get old in a haze of just good enough. What is my next passion in life to be?)

I don't know. I could go on. But let it suffice to say that everything in my life seemed incredibly bleak in comparison to what I remembered feeling at one point in my life.

But the thing is that I have to ask myself if I'm seeing my life with rose-coloured glasses only. This is undoubtedly an accurate diagnosis to some degree; one always does this. The thing that I realize most as I get older is that I was phenomenally capable of being unrealistic and of sloughing off administrative and other more serious responsibilities when I was younger. It is easy to be young; it is difficult to be old and stable. It is difficult because when you really achieve a life of stability you weave yourself into a net from which you can't escape. I strongly suspect that most people survive the entrapment by simply...not thinking about their constraints in those terms.

I know, I know-- the rewards are family, familiarity, expertise- development through specialization...yadda yadda. But what I can't seem to tolerate about what effectivel is the process of growing up is restricting the matrix of things that can possibly ever be true about me. I can't bear it, in fact. I really can't bear it.

Different topic: The weekend was lovely because C. was visiting and we did many enjoyable things. The weather was exquisite and we went on a long ride through the Gatineau Hills. With the light and the coloured leaves and the slight, cool breeze I felt transplanted into the cinematography of that excellent movie of a couple of years ago, Far from H3aven. The hills were so tough--one in particular--that even I thought my heart was going to explode. A good life.

The evening was then spent at a surprisingly enjoyable potluck Thanksgiving dinner at the home of some boring married friends. Their guests were all economists though and surprisingly clever ones at that. The conversation was lively and quite exciting. I was obnoxious and opinionated with respect to all matters of policy. It was delightful!

I also ate lots of pumpkin pie and whipped cream, drank slightly too much, and then ate some more. Again, delightful. I would even date one of the surprisingly clever guys in attendance--whom I had previously thought was a bit of a dolt-- but I don't date people intimately connected to friends who would then, therefore, be involved in my love life. Too close for comfort.

I've otherwise given up on dating for a while. They all seem like half-men. This tells me that I am either not ready to date, or the current pool from which I am drawing is weak broth. Who knows.

God I'm tired. But since my heart wants to try for the Olympics in 2008, or at least run in the national cross country championships...or, well, win the government department challenge run that is taking place in two weeks (age==diminishing expectations), I am going to force myself out to the canal for a run. I'm enslaved. But it's better than giving up.

8:59 p.m. - 2006-10-10

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

other diaries:

stepfordtart
ohell
awittykitty
annanotbob
manfromvenus
smartypants
fifidellabon
hungryghost
hissandtell