I’ve had mixed feelings about running lately. No, I’ve not given it up. But I am at something of a transition point.

About a year ago when I stormed out of December enrolled in a learn-to-run five kilometers clinic, five kilometers itself was a distant goal. It has since evolved into something of a happy medium. As I’ve learned over that last year, five kilometers is middle ground between Side A (I can run, but I’m not quite ready to commit) and Side B (I’m a runner). On Side A, one can run a couple times per week, build up some endurance and stamina, and participate in a few annual fun runs where the outcome is bragging rights as a participant. On Side B, one starts to track things in spreadsheets, makes graphs, check performance, eats to fuel, drinks to hydrate, and competes rather than just participates. It’s a whole new level.

I was at my clinic on Monday night and we trotted out to run our weekly run, jogging a meandering pace around the neighborhood, barely passing the three kilometer mark by the end of our twenty-five minutes. And, frankly, a don’t think I broke a sweat. Of course, this implies (by my own terms) I’m ready to graduate to the next level. The problem is, however, the next level is a ten kilometer clinic. Ten clicks, weekly. And down into the abyss of a “Running Commitment” that moves from casual to hard-core. After all, the next step is but a slippery slope into the half-marathon — and a dreaded two-hour-plus run.

I don’t know what to make of it. My follow-through on this kind of thing is rarely this good. I’m not used to success.

So, I’m standing at the edge looking over, toeing the line as it were. And the problem is fairly black and white: Do I stick with the five kilometer group and fall into a happy medium of meandering jogs around the neighborhood with the promise of a casual relationship with the sport? Or do I move to the ten group, oblige myself to a minimum training schedule, start tracking data in complex spreadsheets about my heart rate, sleeping patterns, and diet, and increase my shoe-budget appropriately? Isn’t the approaching new years a good time for such resolutions, after all?

THE RULES: You are giving hypothetical three gifts. One gift will make the recipient HAPPIER. One gift will make the recipient HEALTHIER. One gift will make the recipient SMARTER. You don’t need to say who you’ll give them to (unless you want — and you can link to the recipient to tag them for the meme) but you’ll need to justify your answers in one sentence (per gift.) Copy this whole entry and replace my gifts with your own — then add the link back.

Your gift to the blogger who told you about this? A nice little link back to their post goes right here, of course.

HAPPIER: Local art — because we broke down and spoiled ourselves with an amazing print by a local artist this past summer, and not only does it look aces on our wall, but I get all warm and fuzzy whenever I look at it.

HEALTHIER: Long underwear — because despite my reservations about the chilled climate, I began running regularly in the deep of last winter, the only remaining and looming excuse being the cold, and with a good pair of long underwear any would-be runner has very little cause to stay inside.

SMARTER: A one-year subscription to Audible — because I hesitated for a number of years and now my ears are full of great (audio)books I just don’t have time to read otherwise, and no, this is not an official plug.

We love the progress so far, but having to spend every free moment for the past few weekends shopping, selecting, running electrical, cleaning, hauling junk, or otherwise connecting the dots on the construction process, I have officially had zero time to write. I’ve barely blogged, one might have noticed. Thus, I blame the basement that even my lame attempt at a reduced version of NaNoWriMo has gone completely unheeded in wash of my obligations to the role of homeowner and general, all-around coordinator of supplies with the expertise.

Thus…
Word Count as of Right Now: 0
Intention to write story by November 30: -> 0
Intention to complete story eventually: 50/50

On the bright side: today is painting day. When I get home from work there might be colour on our (new) walls. And to think that just three weeks ago it was one big empty room. Joy!

With a mere month until the holiday frenzy comes to a climax, I’m once again struggling with the convergence of the delicacy of all those social obligations that tag alongside: parties, gifts, food, et cetera. Couple those concerns with a looming global recession, a (personally) exhausting pair of months, and the general fatigue that follows the inevitable holiday war-of-spirits and I’m looking forward to January first when I can put my mind back to the business of regular living. In the meanwhile, let the lamenting begin.

Parties. Love them or hate them, between work (uh), friends (woot), and family (hmmm) gatherings of all shapes and sizes, I think the tally is mounting past a number I can count with my digits. It is not the parties themselves, but the seeming endless parade of them that will take its toll as mid-month approaches.

My associated challenge: Mr. Grinch stays home.

Food. Halloween aside, food and I have shared a reasonable truce in 2008. December, however, always proves to be the final siege of sweets upon the shores of weak wills. Case and point: it’s November 24th and there are already multiples of goodies accumulating in the office kitchen.

My associated challenge: With the exception of December 24th and 25th, a self-imposed limit of a SINGLE chocolate containing food item, per day, bankable.

Gifts. I complain every year. Panic every year. Indulge every year. But in the end, it becomes a euphoric gush of stuff-trading. Do you actually enjoy this? No, really. Comment and tell me what you think. The amount of energy that goes into choosing, buying, wrapping, and transporting a few trinkets is seriously depressing me more and more each year.

My associated challenge: Every gift I give will be in whole or in part a consumable (and ideally sustainable) product, either tangible or intangible, whatever.

I’m sitting here looking at the collision of three simple facts:

1) This post is officially number one thousand, four hundred and sixty. That means forty posts from now this blog will officially contain fifteen hundred published entries of varying quality.

2) I (regrettably) haven’t been writing much here lately, if for no other reason than November has conspired to be exceedingly busy and unforgiving. It is nearly over. And my time will become, well… less constrained.

3) I have started something of a tradition in recent years in that December becomes “blog every day month” for me culminating in a massive meta-post looking back on the year. I don’t care if you follow along — reading or writing — but of course I’m going to continue that tradition.

With those three simple facts in mind I’m going to aim to post and publish entry number 1500 on December 31, 2008 and that this particular entry will be my annual New Years List. If you write a blog I encourage you to complete THAT effort. Or whatever. And as an added bonus: a daily photo of the Claire to go along with all that.

Wherein last week we were trapped in the house waiting for deliveries and inspectors, yesterday was a “Daddy Day” of naps in the car and multiples of trips about the city.

Nap One: After a jaunt to the library to swap our books for some new stories, Claire tucked herself in for a thirty-five minute snooze just as we were arriving at the Running Room on 109th Street. I needed to pick up my race kit for the Bright Nights Run — my number and my shirt — but ended up waiting out a windy morning nap by little miss Claire. She woke when — I having turned the car, and thus the heat, off — things started to cool and even I was a little chilled. We picked up the gear (and a pair of running gloves for dad) and motored home for some lunch.

Nap Two: With the basement progressing along a quick course to completion, our handyman extraordinaire needed a jackhammer to move the shower drain about eighteen inches. Claire and I took off towards Home Depot’s tool rental department and partook in the age old ritual of Dad-and-Kid visit the hardware store. (Though if you’ve never tried to cart a kid and a jackhammer around a windy parking lot I’ll tell you now it’s not recommended.) Sure enough, the excitement of Home Depot waxed the girl completely and she was asleep before we were half way home. Yet again I was stuck in the car to await the eventual awakening — and the inevitable trip back to South Edmonton Common to return the tool.

The rest of the day was peppered with snacks, play, and a visit from Grandpa (in town for a meeting — retired? really?) who’s priorities included visiting his grand-daughter and inspecting the basement. Had I been alone with neither, I’m sure it would have stayed that way. (Nudge, nudge.)

One of the reasons we enjoy living in Edmonton so much is the wealth of culture the city has to offer. We have season tickets to the Citadel. I volunteer for the Fringe Festival. We try our best to make it out to Heritage Days, the occasional theater show at the Jube, and partake in any number of outdoorsie events that tend to crop up in the city. And then there are the numerous one-off or smaller events that are just too numerous to mention.

So, I was delighted to discover that the Bright Nights display, a transformation of Hawrelak Park into a drive-through holiday light display each and every year, opens its gates a day early to the Running Room and hosts a five kilometer fun run. Never mind the sub-zero temperatures or the bone-chilling air blowing across the just-frozen ponds — a couple hundred people (by my own count) came out last night to brave a couple laps through the lit displays of Bright Nights — and with nary a car in sight. I found myself trotting the asphalt among the hoards of bundled joggers, keeping pace with an odd variety of people, shuffling ahead of others, and lagging irreconcilably behind the sprinters who yet again took the game a little too seriously.

Ultimately, I’m sure I could have done a better time, but the run had a casual feel about it and some of the stretches of running against the gusts of wind did nothing for my motivation overall. In the end I came in a few ticks past thirty minutes, and not feeling too bad for the task.

Next race? New Years Day in the Resolution Run. Haven’t registered yet? Too bad. Apparently it’s already full. Otherwise, see you there.

November has been a chore so far. A little more than half way through the month and yesterday we stopped to catch our breath for the next few laps.

Deadlines.
Construction.
Obligations.
Obliterations.
Tickets.
Taxes.
Timings.
Travel.
Waiting.
Watching.
Meeting.
Designing.
Spending.
Buying.
Walking.
Running.
Patiently waiting for someone to press pause.

I’ll resume normal operations when normal resumes itself.