Sunday, July 07, 2013

I need a hug

a little johnlock lovin’

I’d joked about dying during the GORUCK Challenge, but I didn’t think it would almost actually kill me.

Between the 90 degree heat and my heart defect acting up, I couldn’t breathe. Could. Not. Breathe. At. All.

They tried to help me out, but not even a half hour in, I backed out. I didn’t want to be the weak link.

Of course, I feel even worse because if a kid that puked the ENTIRE time (forever known as “Barf Bag”) could do it, why couldn’t I?

I walked the course with the group, just to see if I could. To get an idea of whether or not I could handle doing it again.

I can.

But first, I need to schedule an appointment with my cardiologist and fix this. (I already know the only way to fix it. I don’t want to be awake while they shove the laser up my leg and zap my heart. I’m hoping there may be a second option now… it’s been a few years since the diagnosis.)

I know I can’t control what my heart did… I know I can’t control the weather.

I did the best that I could without putting my life at risk. I mean, with these as the symptoms, could you really blame me for backing out?
Pounding heart
Shortness of breath
Chest pain
Rapid breathing
Dizziness
Loss of consciousness

I’m looking at Hartford in October… I’m not giving up.

I know if I can get the heart under control, I can do it.

Time to suck it up and get it fixed once and for all.

But in the meantime, I’m going to sit here and pout and cry and generally be a baby about it.

Monday, June 24, 2013

Blisters and rucking

i can’t wait for the freakin’ dvd to come out

My feeeeeeeeet hurt.

Apparently, I can grow blisters by just thinking about them.

Did another three miles today with my new friend. The rucksack, despite all the time I’ve taken getting used to it, feels really heavy. Maybe it’s the knowledge that it weighs 30 pounds and I’m thinking about how much that is with every step. Oh well. Three miles is three miles and it’s three miles more than I would have done on my own with or without the ruck.

Whatever. The GORUCK site says if you can run a 5K or do a Tough Mudder/Spartan/Warrior, etc. you should be able to handle the Light. I can almost do a 5K. It’s 3-ish miles and if I can walk it, I can jog it. The legs aren’t the issue. My legs have always been good at embracing the suck. Even with all my knee issues, I’ve always been able to count on my legs.

And it’s not a race, so that sort of endurance doesn’t matter.

But my arms.

My ARMS are a different story. They are probably (definitely?) my weakest link.

And that’s what scares me about the Challenge.

But. But. But. BUT!

I keep thinking the Challenge is this Saturday, but it turns out I actually have another week to stress over this.

Actually, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

——

I wonder if this is how Douglas Adams felt when he was writing the The Hitchhiker’s Trilogy…

(For those not in the know - SHAME ON YOU - the trilogy actually spans five books.)

My Cabin Pressure fan fic was meant to be a trilogy: Martin’s bit, Douglas’ bit and the required happy ending. I am now at four parts because the happy ending required an epilogue. Or, to be exact, Arthur required a bit and he became the last ‘chapter’ of the trilogy which forced the happy ending out an extra chapter. It’s OK, though, because Arthur is BRILLIANT and my take on him is actually a lot of fun to write, even if he is a little out of character. A lot out of character. It’s not like the fic’s canon compliant any way.

I’m just going to be happy with the fact that it’s not crack, not PWP, and still lemon-free.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Commence dying.

could matt smith be any cuter? (will he grow into those ears?)

Two miles on the beach today.

5K this afternoon with my gym buddy.

Five-ish miles all together. All with 30 pounds of good livin’ attached to my back.

The verdict is: I think I’m going to die.

And, dude, that’s just WALKING. Never mind the fact that I haven’t done a single push up, flutter kick, bear crawl, etc. with the pack on. OR carrying a log. OR carrying the team weight…

I’ll be revising my will this week. If you want anything, let me know.

——

I got another positive review on my Johnlock fic! That’s a whole whopping three people who have said kind things, and zero who have been shitheads.

Of course, I’m just dying to be a shithead. I was reading what could have been a beautiful piece of fic and the author used the phrase “would of/could of” CONSISTENTLY. I thought I was going to jump through my phone and strangle the author. I see some offers to proofread/beta in my future. I don’t want to read beautiful fan fic that’s ruined because the author doesn’t know how to write. Most people who write in English when it’s not their first language will make a comment, or it’s very obvious. There’s nothing about this person that would lead me to assume that English is a second language… and that just makes me sad.

OK. Off to thank the review writer…

First thoughts

i love the cumbercollective

We went to the beach this morning, J, Guinness and I.

I had ulterior motives… It seems like, whenever possible, there’s a part of the Challenge where the team winds up in the water. (Check out some of the pics from Challenges past.) There’s a lot of stuff online where people talk about what they wear, which makes sense. There’s a lot of sweating and, of course, the water so moisture wicking stuff is important.

I got fully dressed in every thing I intend to wear next weekend: 30 lb. ruck, sneakers, socks, compression shorts, moisture wicking tank top, running shorts, t-shirt.

And then my ass headed directly into the ocean.

THAT WATER WAS COLD.

Yes, I know - this is not a newsflash. I live in New England. I’ve spent a lot of time at the beaches here. But, at 7AM when it’s barely 70 degrees outside, and you haven’t broken a sweat yet?

COLD. COLD. COLD. COLD!

The best part was when Guinness decided to join me. He was so afraid, but he ‘embraced the suck’ and came in with me. Not a huge fan of the waves because I think they took him by surprise, but still! He’s a real New England beach dog now. (You’d be amazed by the number of people who bring their dogs to the beach ass-early so they can run and play in the water.) I’m amazed that for all the times he and J have gone to the beach - Guinness being off-leash, no less - he hasn’t wound up in the water by now.

We went in a couple of times. The last time, I underestimated the tide, gravity and momentum and wound up on my ass. Had the waves been much bigger, I would have been submerged. I wanted to get totally wet, but I had stayed closer to the edge because Guinness kept following me in and I didn’t want him in over his head. That last time, the Universe had it’s own plan. It must have thought I was wussing out or something…

The good news is, the moisture wicking clothing wicked moisture. The sneakers and socks did OK. My wet, pruney, feet didn’t blister. The ruck seems to be waterproof.

I’m going to call that a success and get ready to leave to meet up with my gym buddy for a long walk/jog.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

LIBERTEA!

i am literally crying, i’m laughing so hard

I was going to blog about something completely different, possibly some more about why the Supernatural fandom is awesome, but then THIS showed up on Facebook.

WE HAVE SHIPPERS!

The sad thing is, as one of those Americans who would be poking the already poked hornets nest, I totally get it. It’s hard to fall in love with something outside of your ‘world’. Doctor Who, Sherlock, Cabin Pressure - all British things loved by Americans, all seeming to require fan fiction written by Americans who are trying their hardest to nail something completely foreign to us. (Wow. That came out weird. Fuck it. I’m leaving it as is.) A lot of what’s out there is not brit-picked and as my most recent experience proves, finding brit-pickers is hard work. Finding beta readers are just as hard… So we try.

I’ve googled, Mapquested, and otherwise used every avenue available to ensure that I get as much right as I can, but it is hard work. I’m starting to wonder if the other side has it easy. Throw some nonsense words together. Talk about New York, maybe Boston, possibly something on the west coast like LA. Lather, rinse, repeat.

OK. Enough about that…

Tuesday ended up getting kicked in the nuts after all.

We were doing so well, Tuesday and I. Brilliantly, in fact. (Too much Cabin Pressure. See?!?)

And then it went and fucked it all up.

1) Still no word about the industry job.

2) The cost job has gone *poof* - they stopped talking to the recruiter. (WTH?)

3) And the oddest bit of all:
I applied for a full time job at this company I found on my own. Three things happened with this company:

a) I applied for the job because I found it on Monster. It was close to home. Skill set was in my wheelhouse (Fuck me. I hate business speak.), and it paid what I need it to.

b) Jimmy the Pimp calls to tell me they’re hiring a temp, possibly temp to perm, because they’re desperate right now, and would I be interested. I say, why not. Then it dawns on me that he can’t help me out because I’ve applied outside of his company. (He wouldn’t get a commission because they could argue that he didn’t place me. His company doesn’t play that game. I can’t say I’d argue with them…)

c) Tony the Pimp calls me with the SAME EXACT position. Temp to perm, etc. I tell him that I sent them my resume on 6/6. He tells me he doesn’t care. He’s the owner. He’s OK with waiving the placement fee if they take me on.

So, I applied for a job, and haven’t heard squat from the company. Now I have a recruiter pushing me on them. It’s odd, happy news, and frustrating all at the same time. Plus, I have to tell Jimmy the Pimp that he got screwed by the other headhunter… *sigh* FML.

And in other, other news…

I have been FREAKING OUT about the GORUCK Challenge. I’m not sure I’m strong enough. I’m not sure I’m in good enough shape. I’m frightened that I’m going to be the weak link and responsible for any extra “good livin’” our team may require. It’s not a good feeling.

It’s mostly mental - if you can shut up the voices in your head and become a team, the PT is supposedly not that bad. SUPPOSEDLY. Guess who is not in a healthy enough place to get the voices to shut up?

Yep.

July will be hot, too. I don’t do hot. My father enjoyed sweating like a pig… I don’t. I’m assuming I got that from my mother, because my father would wait until he sweat off a thousand pounds before going in the pool. During the summer, when my mother got overheated, the first thing she did was run to the pool. (Not one of her worse traits, so I guess I’m OK with it. But still…)

I’m going to try to grab J and head to the beach early one morning. EARLY. Like pre-tourist early so I can get used to being submerged with the ruck on. And get used to the cold water. And get used to being soaking wet. And find out how long it takes for my moisture wicking clothing to wick away the moisture. I suppose I can go to the boat launch around the corner… but again, that silly fear of something happening to me while I’m alone is pretty powerful.

That may be the worst thing about growing up an only child. Not having a built in buddy makes life hard when you’re little. My mother was infamous for not letting me go anywhere alone. I mean ANYWHERE. I was driven to different neighborhoods if she had to leave before the bus so I could wait for the bus with other people. And this happened well into the pre-teen years. We moved out when I was 14/15, so probably I was 12 or 13 when she finally stopped.

Then again, it’s not completely her fault. My father had one child and that child was a female. The cop in him always wanted to make sure I was safe. He gave me a lot more freedom, but I also got a lot of lectures on “Stranger Danger”... always be aware of your surroundings, try not to go anywhere alone if you can help it, really try not to walk anywhere at night unless you’re in a group.

It’s funny. My first birthday after he died, I took off for London. I stayed there a week, completely alone, and had life worked out, I would have spent some time with a guy I met over the internet. Yep. Alone in a strange city, in a strange country, with an even stranger MAN. Dad would have shit. Repeatedly. As it was, I’m surprised he didn’t return from the dead just to kick my ass for going on this trip.

I was almost pick pocketed while heading back to the hotel, but I saw the guy in the reflection of a window and was able to stay safe. I walked alone through the Piccadilly area one night and this guy grabbed me out of nowhere. He worked for the HRC (got a business card to prove it) and wanted a picture of me in my hat. He was with a group of people, but it was painfully obvious that they were all gay and therefore not a threat.

I can walk around a strange city, by myself and not feel one bit of fear, but leave me alone in my very safe neighborhood and I’m afraid to leave the house by myself. Age? Bipolar? I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s a bit not good. (And there’s a Sherlock reference.)

OK… since I worked out this morning, today’s gone off the rails and I need to get back on track and start looking for a job.

*sigh*