Busted Flat in Boston Rouge
Can’t believe I’m actually Posting. Twice in the past four days I have almost Logged on to say –
“The quest for Boston is over, I just can’t do it, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
Just got in from a twelve-hour day of painting, after running 14 kilometres instead of the scheduled 23K on Sunday morning. After four weeks of over 60 miles, (100K) per week, and peaking with Stormy when I ran 74.5 miles (120K), this past week in a desperate attempt to get my legs back, I scaled back to a mere 35K. (22 miles)
And it’s five freaking thirty AM in the morning and on what is supposed to be a recovery day and a statutory Holiday (touchingly, oddly and not without a twinge of irony, the celebration in question is Labour Day) I am going to be painting from eight in the morning until midnight this evening.
Vancouver is going through a construction boom. Lots of work for anyone willing to do it. In addition to my marathon training I have been working over sixty and seventy hour weeks and beyond, piling up as many hours as I can painting, almost all of it something called, “pole work”, the only physical labour I will deign to sully my reputation with. Instead of erecting scaffolding to paint a sixteen foot wall or an eighteen foot high ceiling, I use a paint roller on the end of a very, very, very (did I mention it was very?) long telescoping pole.
It sounds great, the pay is great after months of being unemployed, but it is, when done for the lengths of time I am doing it, back breaking work. My shoulders and back are creaking as I type and this gig is playing havoc with my chronic back pain. And I bury the guys I am working with, the ones who are ten, fifteen and twenty years younger than me. Me, competitive? Ha!
My hands have blistered up terribly and rather than roughening up and toughening up as they usually do, they have just refused to heal and have become infected, a sure sign that my immune system is teetering on the verge of collapse.
I am, in the end, usually, a very great pragmatist. And very tired these days. (I may be using very a trifle too much but I am so very tired that no other adjectives come to mind very easily…)
Exhausted actually. I am exhausted. I am just working around the clock and my marathon training is beating me up terribly. But hey, I’m even down to 181 pounds! But that is not even from the results of the diet anymore, that is just from burning blast-furnace quantities of calories in pure physical labour.
But I have great doubts about qualifying for Boston. Or even trying at the Okanagan Marathon in Kelowna. Boston may just have to wait. I certainly no longer have the appetite for it that I once did.
Oh, and to top things off?
I have been threatened with eviction from my apartment because of my babies, Cactus Jack and Panhandle Slim. Who apparently bark when I am not around to shower them with love and attention. So now I have had to kennel them.
The worst part is, my building is FILLED with cats – and I do mean filled - that I am VERY allergic to - that roam the halls at will. And when I moved in three years ago, I told the Landlady (in front of witnesses by the way), regarding the NO PETS clause, that I had shared custody of a Chihuahua - Lulu - and said that the dog often stayed with me and the great, fly-blown, waddling three hundred pound figure that is my crazed, lunatic Landlady said it was no problem at the time. And she has a cat herself. Since moving into the building three years ago this November, three new tenants with pets have moved into my supposedly, “NO PETS’ building. God, I loathe that great lumpy, misshapen, over-painted, tarted up cow…
Maybe I need to rent a house...
Too upset to talk about it any more.
The highlight of my week?
While walking my little, very, very bad dawgs, in the park where I exercise them, very, very early in the morning, I crossed paths with the very, very beautiful Famke Jannsen and what I take it is her dog, which I think is a French Bulldog. (I adore Famke Jannsen and I don’t have the heart or the cruelty to describe what a French Bulldog looks like… but cute in an ugly sort of way like a Pug)
I have seen her since, so she must be living in my neighbourhood while filming another movie here in Vancouver.
If you have to ask who Famke Jannsen is, do not be alarmed. It kind of reveals my geekdom as she has a tendency to star in lots of science fiction/action films.
She is a former model who turned actress (I didn’t know this the first time I saw her work on Star Trek – The Next Generation) who can actually kind of sort of, kind of, well, act! Hint – think X-Men. Any woman good enough for Wolverine is good enough for me.
And even early in the morning, with no make-up on and walking her dog, she is a strikingly attractive woman, nearly as tall as myself. Gorgeous. Think Duchess or Countess.
Did I mention that I have always had a bit of a thing for an obscure European model turned pretty good actress named Famke Jannsen? PLus, she was a Bond villainess! Does it get any better than that?
Anyways, I didn’t want to bother her while she was walking her dog, but it was the highlight of my day. Did I mention she was beautiful?
The rest of my days and the rest of my week have just been all work and no play, so I am even duller than usual. And I have never been the sharpest knife in the drawer.
“The quest for Boston is over, I just can’t do it, I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.”
Just got in from a twelve-hour day of painting, after running 14 kilometres instead of the scheduled 23K on Sunday morning. After four weeks of over 60 miles, (100K) per week, and peaking with Stormy when I ran 74.5 miles (120K), this past week in a desperate attempt to get my legs back, I scaled back to a mere 35K. (22 miles)
And it’s five freaking thirty AM in the morning and on what is supposed to be a recovery day and a statutory Holiday (touchingly, oddly and not without a twinge of irony, the celebration in question is Labour Day) I am going to be painting from eight in the morning until midnight this evening.
Vancouver is going through a construction boom. Lots of work for anyone willing to do it. In addition to my marathon training I have been working over sixty and seventy hour weeks and beyond, piling up as many hours as I can painting, almost all of it something called, “pole work”, the only physical labour I will deign to sully my reputation with. Instead of erecting scaffolding to paint a sixteen foot wall or an eighteen foot high ceiling, I use a paint roller on the end of a very, very, very (did I mention it was very?) long telescoping pole.
It sounds great, the pay is great after months of being unemployed, but it is, when done for the lengths of time I am doing it, back breaking work. My shoulders and back are creaking as I type and this gig is playing havoc with my chronic back pain. And I bury the guys I am working with, the ones who are ten, fifteen and twenty years younger than me. Me, competitive? Ha!
My hands have blistered up terribly and rather than roughening up and toughening up as they usually do, they have just refused to heal and have become infected, a sure sign that my immune system is teetering on the verge of collapse.
I am, in the end, usually, a very great pragmatist. And very tired these days. (I may be using very a trifle too much but I am so very tired that no other adjectives come to mind very easily…)
Exhausted actually. I am exhausted. I am just working around the clock and my marathon training is beating me up terribly. But hey, I’m even down to 181 pounds! But that is not even from the results of the diet anymore, that is just from burning blast-furnace quantities of calories in pure physical labour.
But I have great doubts about qualifying for Boston. Or even trying at the Okanagan Marathon in Kelowna. Boston may just have to wait. I certainly no longer have the appetite for it that I once did.
Oh, and to top things off?
I have been threatened with eviction from my apartment because of my babies, Cactus Jack and Panhandle Slim. Who apparently bark when I am not around to shower them with love and attention. So now I have had to kennel them.
The worst part is, my building is FILLED with cats – and I do mean filled - that I am VERY allergic to - that roam the halls at will. And when I moved in three years ago, I told the Landlady (in front of witnesses by the way), regarding the NO PETS clause, that I had shared custody of a Chihuahua - Lulu - and said that the dog often stayed with me and the great, fly-blown, waddling three hundred pound figure that is my crazed, lunatic Landlady said it was no problem at the time. And she has a cat herself. Since moving into the building three years ago this November, three new tenants with pets have moved into my supposedly, “NO PETS’ building. God, I loathe that great lumpy, misshapen, over-painted, tarted up cow…
Maybe I need to rent a house...
Too upset to talk about it any more.
The highlight of my week?
While walking my little, very, very bad dawgs, in the park where I exercise them, very, very early in the morning, I crossed paths with the very, very beautiful Famke Jannsen and what I take it is her dog, which I think is a French Bulldog. (I adore Famke Jannsen and I don’t have the heart or the cruelty to describe what a French Bulldog looks like… but cute in an ugly sort of way like a Pug)
I have seen her since, so she must be living in my neighbourhood while filming another movie here in Vancouver.
If you have to ask who Famke Jannsen is, do not be alarmed. It kind of reveals my geekdom as she has a tendency to star in lots of science fiction/action films.
She is a former model who turned actress (I didn’t know this the first time I saw her work on Star Trek – The Next Generation) who can actually kind of sort of, kind of, well, act! Hint – think X-Men. Any woman good enough for Wolverine is good enough for me.
And even early in the morning, with no make-up on and walking her dog, she is a strikingly attractive woman, nearly as tall as myself. Gorgeous. Think Duchess or Countess.
Did I mention that I have always had a bit of a thing for an obscure European model turned pretty good actress named Famke Jannsen? PLus, she was a Bond villainess! Does it get any better than that?
Anyways, I didn’t want to bother her while she was walking her dog, but it was the highlight of my day. Did I mention she was beautiful?
The rest of my days and the rest of my week have just been all work and no play, so I am even duller than usual. And I have never been the sharpest knife in the drawer.
posted by Vince Hemingson at 6:51 AM
8 Comments:
> I crossed paths with the very,
> very beautiful Famke Jannsen
Did you say "No! No! No! No more foreplay!"? (From "Goldeneye", in case you didn't see it)
Have to say I thought you were full of bullshit and lying about running marathons until I read this thing.
I don't know how you run after work or where you find the energy. I have a six pack.
My wife thinks you're either crazy or you need to get laid.
You can tell your wife she's right on both counts.
And frankly, Cyboc, when it comes to Famke Jannse, I'd be like the dog chasing the car.
I wouldn't know what to say or how to say it, or what to do or probably even be able to speak, if I came face to face with her.
I have come to the conclusion at the age of 45 that I now know less about women than when I was 4 or 5.
And that's a pretty sad admission from a man who actually once considered himself a player with an A game.
You better slow down Vince. A couple of guys on the crew thought the reason you were losing so much weight in the past couple of months was because they thought you had cancer or something. Seroiusly man we didn't want to say anything because hey its yor busines.
Seriously though Vince, don't feel bad if you have to reduce your training and/or miss Boston. You have the rest of your life to do Boston. From reading your recent blog entries, you've already proven that you-da-man (except with Famke...hmmn, how about changing your blog to Famke or Bust?).
I was about to say "what the fuck is my problem then". But then I did the calculations. This says that I should be just shy of 150 pounds? Egad, that's brutal ....
Shit, I was just reading the latest blog entry and the comments are priceless. The guys at work have more interesting things to say than us:
" My wife thinks you're either crazy or you need to get laid. "
" A couple of guys on the crew thought the reason you were losing so much weight in the past couple of months was because they thought you had cancer or something. "
Vince "Cancer Boy" Hemingson ...... :-)
Justin
that's what I've been talking about... but nobody ever listens... :-(
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