I look forward to a time in the forseeable future when writing a blog and online life reflections don’t feel like composing a series of cluttered, run-on sentances. I-went-to-a-hiring-event-to-a-race-home-for-a-birthday-off-to-canmore sort of deal. Or as is the current case, ran-a-huge-trip-had-a-whirlwind-week-drove-to-kelowna-vacation-down-time-race-mexican-gorge-fest-fly-to-rome-pause-in-amsterdam.
When this happens, I will be able to have narrower scopes of blog. I can write about things like the bizarre yellow plastic chair I am sitting on in a psuedo dining hall, how I believe that babies that scream on planes for longer than 15 minutes should be heavily sedated, or why Avatar and Shrek Forever After touched me equally, I cried all over my blue standard issue KLM paper thin blanket. A blanket I had considered taking, had stealthy folded up and had it en route to my massive timbuk2 bag when a friendly announcement reminded me these were not take home gifts.
A week in Kelowna in full-on vacation mode allowed for the time and space of thought. These thoughts that occur in the pause of the usual hussle of life gave me volumes of writeable topics, reflective moments, ponderable thoughts. Life on vacation becomes about what food you're going to eat next, if you should read the paper or your book next, what nap times might be suitable and various lazy conversations on guesses in the actual weather temperature outside. (To find out, the nearest person grabs the iPad, all questions resolved). The end of Kelowna there was a spike in the adrenaline of the otherwise very low key week- the Apple Triathlon.
Marking for me the second race of the year, and for my man a more significant race (Canadian Nationals), I was a person doing the delicate dance of transition: transition from Canadian Work to Full Holiday, from Full Holiday to Race Time, from Race Time to Cheer Time, from Cheer time to Holy Shit Hurry Up and Pack, get your ass to the airport and haul yourself overseas for the final instalment in the 2010 work schedule. If I owned a gong, I'd be extending my arms and waving it around, banging heavily on it here.
Sunday was spent waking up early, eating a pre race meal, going to transition in the dark, setting up my stuff, Dorrie sweetly acting like a big sister, hauling my stuff, fussing over me and taking my photo, me going back to bed for an hour, going back to the beach, meeting up with my adopted family of the week, warming up in the choppy water and racing. My effort level far exceeded Alcatraz and the results showed it, although I only have a few moments of self high fiving before I start to wonder how long it will take me to catch the three women at the top of my age group. What kind of work that will entail and when I can start inspiring myself into these new goals and who can take me there. Alas, that is another blog for another time.
The afternoon proved great for The Bird, he was extremely pleased with his 8th place finish (and 5th Canadian). Myself, his family, a few of their friends and our friends gather to scream ourselves hoarse as he whizzed with the big names through the race. Watching him was a feeling of pride and excitement, greater than when you teach a dog to sit or play dead, but less than standing at the top of mount everest, in case you needed an excitmenet/adreanline gage (not that I have done either but this is an imagined scale so I can make it however I want).
Pleased with myself and nursing a few sore extremities, still drying my face from the extensive amount of emotion I found coming out of my eyeballs these last 48 hours, I find myself sitting drinking very expenseive lemon tea in Amsterdam Shipol waiting for my next plane. The one that will take me into the heart of Italy and my fall. Buy an Innocent Fruit Smoothie. Another Blog Topic Here. People watch and listen to Dutch. Another Blog Here. Past Vacation Thoughts, another blog here.
This blend of a blog must come to a close, I haven't slept, figured out my departure gate or terminal, or checked my work email yet.
I live in Calgary where I own a small business, instruct fitness classes and call myself an endurance athlete. I am the proud owner of four bikes, an expensive wine education, and a strange fascination with the colour orange. I have a long-time love of football, baking, and coffee. I put my minor in creative writing to use occasionally both here and in other publications. I live with my tall, handsome and often-hungry professional triathlete husband.
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