I was told that the course - up and down the Hollywood Beach boardwalk - was beautiful and shady and quick.
I’ll agree that it was beautiful before the sun came up and there was a nice breeze. I’ll disagree with the shady and quick. As far as I’m concerned, that wonderful shady stretch just meant that the humidity was trapped by the trees that bestowed their shade upon the sweltering masses who decided that running in South Florida is a Good Thing. And, of course, running through soup doesn’t necessarily equate to speed.
It’s the “Fire Hero 5K” - a double whammy because it was held on September 11th - and there were firefighters in full gear running the fucking thing. 3 miles in 20+ pounds of gear. Nope. I wanted to pass out just looking at them.
I’ve been thinking about a lot of things, most of them not good.
But let’s start with a good one.
My husband and I are firm believers in the fact that a guide book with only take you so far. At some point, you need to put the book down and explore. We spent almost the entire week in Lviv just walking around, just my bad Ukrainian and a city map to make sure we didn’t get too lost… and we had some of the best experiences that way.
Same during this last trip to London. We took the train out to a friend’s so we could meet up and do the Harry Potter Studio Tour together. While we were waiting at the “station” for our ride, we popped into a little cafe right there on the platform. The guy saw our Arsenal caps and… we got an education on Gunner history and lore. AMAZING. (But, he ended up being outshone by the fan seated next to me at Emirates Stadium. I learned… things.)
Also, during this last trip to London, as I so loudly put as we were walking down the road towards Buckingham Palace, WE SAW THE FUCKING QUEEN.
Fun fact - if the Queen (or I guess King, now) is in residence, the Royal Standard flies above the palace. Do not ask me where I learned that. I cannot tell you… it’s like it’s always just been in my head, waiting to be useful. Anyway, the Royal Standard was flying over Buckingham during that trip. We were going to - I think - be tourists and watch the Changing of the Guard again. (I will always try to do the touristy things, but I will not revolve a trip around them unless I absolutely have to.) As we were walking, we were just chit chatting and trying not to run over the stupid American tourists in front of us who were walking stupid slow and buried so deep in their books and maps that they didn’t realise a car was coming towards us. A car that had a flag on it. A flag that just happened to the the Royal Fucking Standard. THE QUEEN WAS IN THE CAR. AND I SAW HER.
I also let anyone within hearing distance know that, “OH MY GOD, THAT’S THE MOTHERFUCKING QUEEN.”
(Shush. Let me have my random moment of being an obnoxious American tourist.)
So yeah… kind of surreal to think that Queen Elizabeth is dead. She seemed… indestructible.
I don’t know. The other stuff that’s been weighing on my mind… I thought I was ready to talk about it, but I’m still not. Two people know about the panic attack at the gas station and the google search that destroyed my Friday night and most of Saturday. Just two… any more and the thought of sharing that kicks up another flight or fight reaction.
I’m not ready to talk about Phoenix Day, or my Ukrainian lessons… none of it.
So, this post was pretty pointless.
I guess most of them are, but this one is even more so than usual.
It’s the very last RTI racery event and I have bitten off more than I can chew… but I always do.
I took yesterday and Monday off - I needed some time to myself and I’m not that busy at work. Plus, it’s the first four days of The Final Battle and I figured that I would cap the first four days.
I had the bright Idea that I would run a mile for every day that Russian has been in Ukraine and donate $1 for each mile. (117 by the end of the event.) I had it planned out perfectly: Four caps would put me at 60 days. I could then cap the final weekend as well, which would push me to 90 before I ran a single mile on a workday.
Well.
I capped yesterday and today… I have not felt like a functional human at all.
I bite my nails. I always have. All the way down to the quick and sometimes a little extra. When I’m super stressed, I always manage to rip the entire nail off one (if not both) of my pinkies.
I saw a hypnotist. I’ve talked about it in therapy. I’ve worn false ones.
And I even bought this shit that was practically guaranteed to keep my fingers out of my mouth. (Oh. My. God. It was absolutely disgusting… But. It didn’t work.)
Several years ago, I had a great epiphany: I self-harm.
Still haven’t figured out how to get people to understand why I consider it self-harm, but the end result is the same.
Still haven’t figured out how to stop it either.
(Seriously! I saw a fucking hypnotist, I was so desperate to stop doing it. Apparently, I’m so fucked up that they couldn’t figure out a way to help.)
So anyhoo…
In 47 years on this earth, I have never seriously hurt myself. (The pain of a missing fingernail dissipates rather quickly when you’re used to it.)
Well, Thursday night I wound up in Urgent Care.
Managed to rip off my thumbnail and get an infection.
My thumb was swollen to twice it’s normal size and there was a little spot that had turned green.
It was the first time I’d ever been afraid of what I was capable of.
I suppose, in it’s own way, it’s not that much different from a blade slipping and cutting a vein or something.
Of course… in the car Friday morning on the way to the grocery store, I managed to chew off the remaining nails on that hand.
(All that to say I didn’t get in a cap today because I had a bad reaction to the antibiotic they prescribed me.)
This has been on repeat today… I’m not sure why, but it fits my mood perfectly.
I watch too many horror movies and my husband is The Chicken is Boba Fett. There. That’s a thing you know now about my private life.
I’m done.
Just when I thought I couldn’t be any less motivated to run…
RTI just settled their lawsuit with Warner Brothers, which loosely translates to WB just killed a group that is filled with people who love their intellectual property so much that they band together under the name and use their combined energy to do #somuchgood.
Yeah.
The Potterhead Running Club is closing up shop.
And because the PHRC basically funds all the other RTI clubs, Whovian and Fandom are closing down as well. They hope to keep the FRC Fan Domain group active, but no more medals. No more Racery events. Some of the PHRC groups (like Book Club, Transfiguration, etc.) are spinning off and will continue to operate under different names with volunteers to keep them alive.
But it won’t be the same.
The Tower has always felt like home to me… but it’s lost its magic. Literally.
There’s no other way to put it.
I’m not OK with this.
Seriously.
I’ve been crying since the news broke.
I’ve needed the consistency and the friendship and the sense of family the clubs were filled with.
And now it’s going away.
And I don’t know what to do with myself.
- - - - - - - - - -
I joke all the time that I’m not all that great at the social part of social media.
But let’s call it what it is: I collect people and then I barely interact with them. That’s why I have like 75 or 80 Facebook friends and most of my newsfeed is either (Ukrainian) bands or RTI groups. Anything more is overwhelming.
Shit, I haven’t spoken to my best friend, my little brother from another mother for two years now.
I’m just not good at it.
I keep coming back to the therapist that asked me why I don’t let people get close. Why I don’t let them help me through the Dark Days and The Ick.
I hate me during those times. I definitely don’t want to subject people I care about to that… which is why I am SO FUCKING HAPPY that my husband has been able to tolerate it.
We’ve been together since 1998 and got married in 2002. He’s a fucking saint.
A. FUCKING. SAINT.
- - - - - - - - - -
We’re doing a Stand with, or Support, Ukraine 5k locally tomorrow (whatever, I can’t remember the name). Proceeds are going to the Ukrainian Red Cross. I know they’re having problems selling the race, so who knows how much is actually going to Ukraine, but it’s still… something.
My tryzub sticker is on my car. We went shopping for shelving today and managed to fit it in the car. (I HAVE A TRUNK AGAIN! I might have started jumping up and down in the parking lot screaming my joy… have I mentioned my husband is a saint? Yup.) My Deathly Hallows is also on my car.
The only thing I’m missing are my race stickers. I can’t decide if I want to put them on now and add the marathon after, or do all four after and see if I can find a Dopey sticker.
Just a reminder… Harry Potter and his friends won that war. Avada Kedavra!
As I’m doing my quick run through of Facebook, I stumbled upon a video of Святослав Вакарчук (lead singer of Океан Ельзи (Okean Elzy) - probably Ukraine’s biggest rock band.) just jamming out on a piano in front of the Lviv train station.
Taken out of the context of the war, that would be the coolest thing to stumble upon.
The set list was awesome. It’s interesting how, when put together, it’s very obvious the message Slava was sharing with the crowd. Oddly enough, it was all songs that I love that have a special meaning to me. The majority of them I’ve used as anthems as a sort, too, while fighting with the worst of the bipolar. (I’ve cut and pasted my favourite lyrics thanks to Lyrics Translate - any mistakes cutting and pasting the Ukrainian are mine. Any English errors are not.)
1) Без бою (Without a fight) - Я не здамся без бою (I won’t give up without a fight)
2) Еверест (Everest) - Шум і тисяч їхніх слів, часом приносить біль. / Та дощ із хмари темних стріл не потрапляє в ціль. / І ми продовжуєм нести свій прапор, а не хрест. / Ми продовжуєм іти на власний Еверест. (Noise and thousands of their words, sometimes brings pain. / But the rain from the cloud of dark arrows doesn’t hit the target. / And we continue to carry our banner, but not our cross. / We continue to walk on our own Everest.)
3) На небі (In the sky or In heaven) - А часом / Коли я сам не свій / І в голові дивні думки / І на душі сумно... (Once in a while, I feel so blue / So many thoughts rush through my head / And in my heart sorrow)
4) Не питай (Don’t ask)- Не питай / Де я був коли тобі було так солодко / Де я був коли тебе таку незайману / Підіймали вище неба / Тільки сам на сам / Хіба не там (Don´t ask / Where was I, while you felt so sweet, / Where was I, while you, so untouched, / Were raised higher than heaven.)
5) Не твоя війна (Not Your War) - Бій на світанні. Сонце і дим. / Мало хто знає, що ж буде з ним. (Battle at dawn. Sun and smoke. / Few know how it will end.)
6) Місто весни (City of Springtime) - Бентежне століття загоює рани / Ще до повноліття тут всі ветерани (A turbulent century is healing its wounds / Even before coming of age, everyone here is a veteran)
7) Обійми (Hug Me) - Коли настане день, / Закінчиться війна (The moment the day comes / This war will be over)
8) Все буде добре (Everything will be OK) - І все буде добре / Для кожного з нас. / І все буде добре, / Настане наш час.(Everything will be all right / For everyone of us / Everything will be all right / Our time will come)
- - - - - - - - - -
As is the norm lately, too much in my head. Too much I won’t write about here.
The balance between blogging publicly and keeping certain things private is never ending…
I’m running out of icons and pretty colours on my little sidebar.
I’ve decided to scrap the third draft and start over again…
Welcome to draft 4, which is already filled with random notes like this one.
TBH, I don’t know which one of us was completely shitty when that was written, but my money’s on me. Beka seems like he’d be straight-edge. (When he’s not statutory raping a fucking 15 year old, that is. KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS, BEKA.)
Yeah.
So much shit on my mind and instead, I’m tearing apart a story that I’ve already written three drafts of to play with new point of views and - hopefully - get them to keep it in their pants. I DO NOT WRITE KIDDY PORN, GODDAMNIT.
At this rate, I’m going to have to age them up… and I hate that. I like AUs, but that’s totally not the story I wanted to tell.
Yearning. Slow burn. A love story spread over three years.
That’s the story I want to tell.
And the one I am completely incapable of telling.
Oh well. The 4th time’s the charm, right?
- - - - - - - - - -
I’m trying to keep myself distracted.
The pending war in Ukraine. The new job. Life in general.
I’m a big ball of stress right now.
So, of course, the Sims released a new game pack today.
By all accounts, it is buggy as fuck, even despite being held back by a week. (And wasn’t that a week - the short version is, EA self-censored and refused to release the game in Russia. All hell broke loose. EA backed off and held the release a week to ensure that the game would launch globally at the same time. A whole lot of stupidity ensued.)
Still bought it. Haven’t even bothered playing yet.
I probably won’t get a chance until the weekend.
Maybe EA will patch it by then. (Or not. We still have bugs in the game that are several years old and well known by everybody. Like, there’s no way the SimGurus don’t know about them. Why they aren’t being fixed is anyone’s guess at this point.)
Also not helping is the fact that the 2023 NHL All Star game is being held in my backyard. At that place. That I used to work at. Before I got fired for being bipolar.
I’m torn between wanting to go and staying home. I don’t know which option is healthier.
I’m just glad that life is starting to become closer to normal again… I have a half marathon towards the end of March and I just signed up to run a 5K in early March. I have a Boombox concert to go to, and I might head to Universal on my birthday to see Gavin DeGraw.
