Tag Archives: cat

Killing the past won’t solve the present or the future,

but as I write this I find myself, yet again, contemplating the possibility of having all of my hair chopped off. This time, though, I’d properly 100% go for it. Sinead O’Connor/Natalie Portman style. Maybe I could do it for next year’s charity fundraising efforts? It would be a whole lot easier than running 13 miles, for sure.

Which brings me to the subject of the half marathon.

I’ve had a lot of time off from training recently and am now left with just over 8 weeks to pretty much bring myself up to race standard from scratch. I was doing really well; I’d managed 8 miles whilst keeping up my best pace of around 8mins 30secs per mile. Then I got a cold, and the frequency of my training efforts took a nosedive.

Then I felt better for a week or so and started to get back on it… and promptly caught another cold/got attacked by a second round of the first one. Second time round it came with the most horrendous cough I’ve had since I was a kid, and so that put a full stop to training for more than a week. Then once I felt better I ran a couple of short distances in the days before I had to go under general anaesthetic etc. to have all of my wisdom teeth taken out.

That was a week ago. At least one of the teeth still hurts a bit, but I plan to run tomorrow. I anticipate doing so with trepidation. For the entirety of the 2.78 miles I ran just over a week ago I pretty much thought I was going to die. I mean to the point where I genuinely considered stopping, in the middle of a deserted road, and just sitting on the ground crying like a baby.

That feeling of being utterly overwhelmed by the task I faced really made me think. At the time I was thinking much more poetically than I feel capable of today, but I mostly realized that this whole marathon thing is kinda just my life in miniature (I avoid talk of ‘metaphors’ because the word is overused and I just don’t like it).

Try hard, make progress – make amazing progress – get knocked back to a lower low than the one from which you started in the first place. Get up, try some more, claw your way up a little, lose your grip, fall back down (further still) and then…?

Well. I would like to make it quite clear that I am not, I am NOT going to give up. On June 30th 2013 I am going to run 13 miles. It is GOING TO HAPPEN, just like all those other things I am struggling to achieve. I’d take the burning muscles and straining lungs over the burning of abject terror in my blood and the straining of huge chunks of my mind hanging on by a thread, any day. Unfortunately, as I have lately come to realize, I am at some point going to have to just take the lot; I cannot keep avoiding it. Perhaps the rest won’t seem so hard after the 13 miles of lung and muscle punishment?

Here’s hoping.

And Here also, for your enjoyment, is a picture of a baby and a cat on a swing;

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(Source)

much love

~xx~


Two Sides

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2012-08-20 16.27.26

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~xx~


Silent Sunday 31/03/13

Silent Sunday 31/03/13


Sorry For The Rant, But…

I live directly opposite my village’s primary school.

I have never quite been able to understand why an apparent majority of parents of the young children in the village (and I’m sure the same goes for children attending their local primary schools everywhere) choose to drive said offspring to school when said school cannot possibly more than around a ten-minute walk away.

That’s right, Mums and Dads; I’m suggesting that it would be better for you to (shock, horror) get off your fat lazy arses and walk your young ones to school. Put one foot in front of the other a few times a day. It probably won’t kill you, and it definitely won’t kill the kid(s). And if it is likely to kill you that’s probably in large part due to the fact that it’s been so long since you last did such a thing – which would account for how your lazy ass got so fat. I mean, is there any wonder childhood obesity is a growing problem in this country? By chauffeuring your brats to and from the other end of the same damn road you live on you are encouraging them to be incredibly lazy too.

No you are not pushed for time, and no you will not be late for work; getting up ten minutes earlier to allow for a casual hundred-metre stroll will not kill you any more than will the use of your legs’ full potential.

If your children happen to be older than, say, eight; why can’t they walk to school by themselves or with other children who live nearby? This is a small village and there are plenty of other kids and parents going the same way; nothing terrible will happen to them so long as they possess a shred of common sense and you’ve taught them such essentials as look-both-ways-and-listen-for-traffic-before-crossing-roads, and don’t-talk-to-strangers.

(This is a village. Everyone knows everyone’s business. There basically are no strangers, anyway).

Perhaps your ass isn’t fat and lazy; perhaps you’re one of those who drive your kids to school because you find it difficult to walk in those new Prada heels and that figure-hugging pencil skirt you’re desperate to show off – crowning glory as they are of the ‘yummy mummy’ image you’re trying to project.

Or perhaps you want to show us all how well-off and respectable you are through the medium of that fancy new car you’re driving?

Well I’m sorry, but unfortunately for your maxed-out credit card/chief exec hubby, most of us don’t give two hoots about that stuff either. At least, not beyond wishing you’d move your status symbol from across the bottom of our drive so we can get the youngest members of our own family to their school (six miles away – does not provide a bus service to this locality) on time. And we’d appreciate you doing so without the (excessively-lipsticked) stuck-up-bitch pout, please. Thanks.

Roar.

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Rant Over. Hastily-Carved-Cat-(mini)Pumpkin:

~xx~


Elfte Dagen

Your Family. 

(^The Parentals)

(^The brothers)

(^The Sister and Me)

(^The Other – Furry – Brothers)

(^My Babies)

Camera dodgers, the lot of ’em.

Apologies for the generally crap quality of pics, too.

(You have NO idea how difficult it is to photograph 2 fishes at once with a phone).

Love,

~xx~


I continue to struggle for things to say;

Joey continues to be relaxed and photogenic.

*sigh*

~xx~


Still Waiting

To feel better.

I’d go and try to make that happen, but I’m too scared. Of being patronised, ridiculed, dismissed. All of which it would probably only be right to have done to me; I’m pretty sure this whole thing’s nothing. I hope this whole thing’s nothing.

(Who knew nothing could feel so… Who knew nothing could feel, so?)

Get more sleep, they’ll say.

Make my mind stop, I’ll say.

Make whatever is running through my veins, lingering, aching everywhere between head and heart; that  frantic sick feeling charging me with more energy than I can bear but at the same time somehow leaving me with barely enough to do the things I have to (need to, want to) do,

just go away. Go, and stay away.

Except I won’t say that. Because that’s all kinds of f***ing ridiculous, isn’t it.

It’s called life, Sweetheart. Get over it.

(Sorry. I’ll regret this).

~xx~


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