I'm doodling about with a project. I should be packing, I'm going home tomorrow. Home, as in, the home I don't live in. But I'm excited - it's about cities, it's what I want to do.. It's Elemental.
More to follow.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Autumn dreams
Great big mounds of sand, light and fine. We're underground. I clamber to the cusp of the dunes and see the finest grains start trickling down the other side. My link to history is there. She looks at me from below, near her vehicle. The trickle of sand start to increase in volume, soon the whole surface is moving, sliding slowly, slowly down towards her. I stand there, calling to her, as the sand starts to settle around her and the vehicle - I can't see her any more! The vehicle is engulfed, a deepening of the sand where it is. What's happening - is she ok?
I'm in an underground space, ceiling above me grey and darkening. Lockers like those in a high school, but no, not exactly like that, stand in a corner of the vast space. She is here with me. I open a creaky door by unhooking a basic lock device. Fine sand lays in small dunes along the edges of the space, covering the edges of a big portfolio. I reach in and lift it out, balancing the handwritten notes inside carefully to the table. As I start to leaf through it I hear sounds, it's war out there beyond the walls. I hear something - he's coming, and I am both excited and ashamed to be going through these memories. Suddenly she and I look at each other and I hastily try to replace the portfolio in the locker, shutting the door loudly, engaging the locking device - it's not working now - oh no! He's in the room, large and frail. It's ok. He looks at me with the deepest clarity in his eyes, and I see him for the man he once was. I disengage the lock on the locker again and replace the portfolio on the table.
I'm in an underground space, ceiling above me grey and darkening. Lockers like those in a high school, but no, not exactly like that, stand in a corner of the vast space. She is here with me. I open a creaky door by unhooking a basic lock device. Fine sand lays in small dunes along the edges of the space, covering the edges of a big portfolio. I reach in and lift it out, balancing the handwritten notes inside carefully to the table. As I start to leaf through it I hear sounds, it's war out there beyond the walls. I hear something - he's coming, and I am both excited and ashamed to be going through these memories. Suddenly she and I look at each other and I hastily try to replace the portfolio in the locker, shutting the door loudly, engaging the locking device - it's not working now - oh no! He's in the room, large and frail. It's ok. He looks at me with the deepest clarity in his eyes, and I see him for the man he once was. I disengage the lock on the locker again and replace the portfolio on the table.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Marathon
A while back I committed to running the Barcelona Marathon on 7th March 2010. It sort of happened by itself.
My running buddy D, who was a friend of a friend and who decided that we should run together despite me hesitating, is from Girona. When we started running together nearly a year ago now, he lived 15 minutes away and we were both unemployed, and so it was easy to do. He was training for the 2009 version of the marathon and went on to successfully run it, in March last year. He kept challenging me to join him, or to consider another marathon, saying stuff like - you need to run a marathon, you're competitive, you ARE competitive.. as I would stress the fact that I took up running as a means to liberating myself from competition with (team)mates and to create a space where I could just be, just run.
I still see my running as a free space, but I am beginning to lump it into the "things I need to do" category, merely because it wouldn't otherwise happen, between travelling and working and doing various other projects.
I ran a couple of races this summer, enjoying myself along the way, and in particular my half marathon is something I'm very proud of. I ran those races for the sheer fun of it, to prove to myself that I, just me - ME!, could do it. And I did. I ran them all alone and achieved the results I wanted: satisfactory timings and a sense of pride and contentedness.
When D moved back to Girona this summer, I knew I was going to miss our running together, but also what had turned into a warm friendship. Him being a sports therapist, he would treat me for my sciatica, and I'd help him work on the website for his business. He'd make dinner, and we'd go for drinks, talking running and all the other stuff that happens in life. He became a good friend. So when he went back, the possibility of seeing him again in March to run together made so much sense that I said I'd do it. So now I am. And I've even been telling other people (even people at work, you fool!) that I'm going to go and I'm going to run it. It scares me to no end.
My main worries are these:
I won't take the time to train properly
I might have troubles with my sciatica (I need to have some treatment..)
I have no clue of proper marathon nutrition/hydration
My commitment isn't strong enough and I will waver
I'm excited too. This is what gets me going:
I'm going to bloody run a marathon!
I get to visit D in his home town
I get to run a marathon, my first, with D
If I can complete my training satisfactorily I'm sure I'll do great
The training will keep me fit and healthy
I haven't begun training properly, and as a matter of fact, I haven't been running as much as I usually would. I've just started a new job and a lot's going on in my life right now. So, this week I realised that there is not much more than 3 months to go, and I need to get me a running programme that I can then proceed to adjust, but at least I'll have one. I know for a fact that with my long hours at work it is difficult but possible to squeeze in runs, by taking TOIL in the morning, which I've been doing recently, and by going for a run before breakfast when away for conferences.
I've done the maths, and I've got 15 weeks from now to then. That's 3 months and 2 weeks. In the next month I'm going to India for 12 days (what am I going to do?! Can I run in 33 degrees?), and I'm going home for Christmas (the food will pose a challenge, but I did great with running last year so that might be ok). 15 weeks is about 3 weeks shorter than most marathon programmes will cover. I'm hoping that the fact that I've been running for well over a year (started properly in July of last year) will be a benefit.
This is going to be a (yet another) challenge over the next months.
I think I've delved enough into this for now, but will just share a sentence from a book I might need to buy:
"Marathoners battle the fiercest of foes: their own psyches".
My running buddy D, who was a friend of a friend and who decided that we should run together despite me hesitating, is from Girona. When we started running together nearly a year ago now, he lived 15 minutes away and we were both unemployed, and so it was easy to do. He was training for the 2009 version of the marathon and went on to successfully run it, in March last year. He kept challenging me to join him, or to consider another marathon, saying stuff like - you need to run a marathon, you're competitive, you ARE competitive.. as I would stress the fact that I took up running as a means to liberating myself from competition with (team)mates and to create a space where I could just be, just run.
I still see my running as a free space, but I am beginning to lump it into the "things I need to do" category, merely because it wouldn't otherwise happen, between travelling and working and doing various other projects.
I ran a couple of races this summer, enjoying myself along the way, and in particular my half marathon is something I'm very proud of. I ran those races for the sheer fun of it, to prove to myself that I, just me - ME!, could do it. And I did. I ran them all alone and achieved the results I wanted: satisfactory timings and a sense of pride and contentedness.
When D moved back to Girona this summer, I knew I was going to miss our running together, but also what had turned into a warm friendship. Him being a sports therapist, he would treat me for my sciatica, and I'd help him work on the website for his business. He'd make dinner, and we'd go for drinks, talking running and all the other stuff that happens in life. He became a good friend. So when he went back, the possibility of seeing him again in March to run together made so much sense that I said I'd do it. So now I am. And I've even been telling other people (even people at work, you fool!) that I'm going to go and I'm going to run it. It scares me to no end.
My main worries are these:
I won't take the time to train properly
I might have troubles with my sciatica (I need to have some treatment..)
I have no clue of proper marathon nutrition/hydration
My commitment isn't strong enough and I will waver
I'm excited too. This is what gets me going:
I'm going to bloody run a marathon!
I get to visit D in his home town
I get to run a marathon, my first, with D
If I can complete my training satisfactorily I'm sure I'll do great
The training will keep me fit and healthy
I haven't begun training properly, and as a matter of fact, I haven't been running as much as I usually would. I've just started a new job and a lot's going on in my life right now. So, this week I realised that there is not much more than 3 months to go, and I need to get me a running programme that I can then proceed to adjust, but at least I'll have one. I know for a fact that with my long hours at work it is difficult but possible to squeeze in runs, by taking TOIL in the morning, which I've been doing recently, and by going for a run before breakfast when away for conferences.
I've done the maths, and I've got 15 weeks from now to then. That's 3 months and 2 weeks. In the next month I'm going to India for 12 days (what am I going to do?! Can I run in 33 degrees?), and I'm going home for Christmas (the food will pose a challenge, but I did great with running last year so that might be ok). 15 weeks is about 3 weeks shorter than most marathon programmes will cover. I'm hoping that the fact that I've been running for well over a year (started properly in July of last year) will be a benefit.
This is going to be a (yet another) challenge over the next months.
I think I've delved enough into this for now, but will just share a sentence from a book I might need to buy:
"Marathoners battle the fiercest of foes: their own psyches".
status quo
We had wine and we had good times. It's remarkable how family members are so familiar, comfortable, easy, and at the same time so remote and self contained.
Most of the time I feel that I understand exactly what's going on, but then she heads off on some tangent (much like I have a tendency to do) and I sit, shaking my head and thinking, shit, I don't get this - what's she on about?!
But life moves.
It's an unsettling feeling to see someone you love in a place that you know she doesn't need to be in, somewhere that doesn't do her good. It makes her money, good money, it keeps her from thinking about all the things that would pop up if she were to stop op and give her life a thorough once-over. But it's hard work, life happens, and she justifies it happening to her by saying that she is making a choice to earn the good money (and she is) and ignoring the fact that she's, well, ignoring.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have this ability to see other people struggling. That I could also ignore and just get on with it.
A whirlwind brings me home, too fast, I wish I could stay on my bike, feeling the cold air, and hearing people look at me. The cherry trees are blooming, it's very confusing, here in late November. Buses and taxis flow by in a steady continuum, young girls show their belonging to different social arenas. Some flash all they've got in shiny sequined, skin tight, mini-what evers, others cover up in woollens from the 70s and wear the trilby, sign extraordinaire of a middle-class twat.
And I go home.
Most of the time I feel that I understand exactly what's going on, but then she heads off on some tangent (much like I have a tendency to do) and I sit, shaking my head and thinking, shit, I don't get this - what's she on about?!
But life moves.
It's an unsettling feeling to see someone you love in a place that you know she doesn't need to be in, somewhere that doesn't do her good. It makes her money, good money, it keeps her from thinking about all the things that would pop up if she were to stop op and give her life a thorough once-over. But it's hard work, life happens, and she justifies it happening to her by saying that she is making a choice to earn the good money (and she is) and ignoring the fact that she's, well, ignoring.
Sometimes I wish I didn't have this ability to see other people struggling. That I could also ignore and just get on with it.
A whirlwind brings me home, too fast, I wish I could stay on my bike, feeling the cold air, and hearing people look at me. The cherry trees are blooming, it's very confusing, here in late November. Buses and taxis flow by in a steady continuum, young girls show their belonging to different social arenas. Some flash all they've got in shiny sequined, skin tight, mini-what evers, others cover up in woollens from the 70s and wear the trilby, sign extraordinaire of a middle-class twat.
And I go home.
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