i've known it all my life

The mental impact of a physical injury is 100X more daunting, debilitating, and destructive than the injury itself.

I think I need a break from running.

This time last year, I was cranking out swift and refreshing 10km runs everyday. Now, I look at my training shoes with a form of disdain. I look at the minutes to click off in my training log--40 min tempo, 60 min easy, 90 min steady, 60 min in 10/1 tempos.

Now, I dread running. And after 7 years, I never thought I'd say that. Yes, there were some days where I just didn't feel like running, so I'd take a break for a day or two. But running was always my release. It always calmed me down. I always hit that runner's high, that euphoria--my mind just left. It soared when I ran.

But a double-fractured pelvis and 6 months later, still in constant, aching pain--I can't do it anymore. Running has become a chore. My demon. I beat myself up if I don't do it, but when I do get out there, each step is hard and painful and I constantly feel winded. I tell myself I'm no good. I'm not a runner anymore.

My own brain is defeating me again.

I've taken a week and a half off of running. I just plain didn't want to do it. And I don't miss it.

But I do miss it.

But I don't.

I'm just tired of being in so much pain. Running has given knee surgeries, leg surgeries where two muscles had to be completely cut in half, and a pelvis that was fractured in two places, that will probably never heal the way it should.

But it also gave me euphoria. It used to.

I want that back.

you can't hurry love

I don't want to believe in the hype anymore. I'm tired of pretending.

I don't want to believe that I have to meet a future significant other in a bar. Sometimes I dig the atmosphere, but for reasons other than trying to meet people. I love sick beats and cold beer. When I go to a club, it's not to pick up.

I'm tired of that scene. And I'm tired of everyone telling me that in order to meet people, I need to get out more. I don't want to get out more. Most guys I meet in clubs are sleazebags anyway--so why am I going out of my way to meet them? They're no damn good.

I want to believe that I can meet someone doing something that seems natural to me. Running. Grocery shopping. Just going about life.

I'm a simple girl. I can't do the heels, the little black dress, the gold-digging. I can't do elegance. And I want to believe that sometimes, a girl like me--a flip-flop wearing, clumsy, easy going goofball--can win out over these flawless girls that I see in the clubs.

The bar scene isn't for me anymore. I just don't understand the obssession with it. Everyone puts on a persona and lures one another in, and for what? It's all fake.

I want to believe that I don't have to pretend, in order to meet a guy that I really like. I can't pretend. I don't have the long legs, the confidence or the attitude to pull off the persona that those girls take on.

I'm too real for that. I am short but feisty, my legs aren't long and sleek but short ad sturdy from years of running. I don't like doing dinner on a first date--too much pressure to perform. Ditch the fancy restaurant and take me on a walk, a picnic. Take me to a ball game. Take me rock climbing.

I like jewelry as much as the next girl, but the most sentimental piece I own is a puka shell necklace that my dad brought me back from Hawaii when I was 8 years old. I still wear it. It means more to me than any diamond ever could. I wear twine and beaded bracelets that my friends made for me. I could listen to the ocean all day. In fact, there's not a day that goes by that I don't miss it. I don't care if the wind messes my hair up. It's all over the place anyway. I'm a girl but I'm not really girlie. I love flowers and chocolate and random acts of affection, but I could probably carve a wave sharper than you, and out-run you for miles.

I'm that kind of simple. I don't like wearing make up. I'd rather dig my toes into the sand than shove them into uncomfortable stilettos. I wear flip flops because, frankly, I don't know how to walk in heels. I dive into pools fully clothed because I think it's funny, and I'm barefoot because I genuinely hate the feel of shoes. Sometimes, I sleep with my surfboard under the covers with me. I'll take it to bed, because it's all I've got. The ocean calls to me, and it's my way of answering. I laugh a lot. My laugh is loud and boisterous and sometimes, if you really get me going, I snort. Which makes me laugh harder. I'll laugh at anything, myself included. I'm a sloppy eater--only half the food on my plate actually makes it to my mouth. The rest ends up on me, somehow. And I eat a lot. A lot. My appetite is insatiable most of the time, and my eyes are never bigger than my stomach.

I don't think a girl like me is going to meet my match--my equal--in a club.

Because he'll probably hate that scene too.

But hey, boy--where are you? I'm a pretty complete person, but you'd be a nice addition. Hurry up. And make sure I know that you think I'm worth the effort you'll have to put forth.

you could turn and stay

Getting to Halifax this summer will be the best thing for me. Montreal can be such poison sometimes. Don't get me wrong, I love the culture of Montreal--the food, the history, the majestic nightlife. But I just can't take the atmosphere here, anymore. I can't take the people, the pretention, the same routine day in and day out. Montreal can zap you of your ability to see beauty in everything. It can be hell sometimes.

I'm tired of the scene here. I feel like I've met everybody, that I've been everywhere, done everything. I guess it's weird. My sister thinks I'm crazy to want to move to a place where I don't know anybody. I have no friends in Halifax. Well, I have one, but she's spending the summer in Newfoundland.

But I need that escape, right now. I need to be by myself for 3 months in a foreign place (that so strangely feels like home) just to get my head right. And I'm not even sure what all in my head is that messed up, but for the past year I have felt like a shell of the person that I want to be. I became really negative this year. Heartbreak never used to jade me so much, but in the past 12 months, there have been certain things that I just never got over.

It's time to cleanse. Get rid of all that...that stuff. That chip on my shoulder. I need a new scene, new places, new people. I need to get away and be alone for awhile.

I've always been a fan of self-reflection. More so, I've always been a fan of just being by yourself. You learn things. You buil your character. You work on yourself.

You're all you've got, anyway.

I don't know why Halifax. I know I fell in love with the city last summer, but I also fell in love with Rome and Switzerland when I visited there. Chicago captivated me, too. But there's something pulling me to Nova Scotia.

I'm a big fan of gut instincts. It doesn't matter if it makes no sense, I'll almost always follow my gut. Even whenit tells me to do insane things.

My gut must know something I don't, and it had better be good, because I'm working two jobs--7 days a week--just to get the money to go there.

But I have a feeling that when I prop my feet up on my outdoor deck above a busy street in downtown Halifax, with a glass of wine and in my PJs at 2AM, it'll all make sense.

Everyone has to do a little soul-searching.

there's gotta be somebody

For the most part, I really enjoy being single. I do. I'm single by choice right now, because I like the solitude and independence and emotionally, I'm not ready to give someone that part of me again.

...but sometimes, I just think it'd be damn nice to have a boy around. A boy that smells nice, that will run his fingers through your hair or hold your hand on the couch during those moments when solitude seems a bit too lonely, even for a wandering heart.

you could turn and stay

Why not?

That's my new motto in life. It's coming after a tough 2 months spent teetering in heartbreak, rehabbing an injury, and just...generally in a bad place. Emotionally and physically. 2010 started off by kicking my ass.

But, so many times I'm my own worst enemy. I become the self-fulfilling prophecy because I always think so negatively, and always assume that things are going to happen to somebody else instead of me. Admittedly, I do chase the impossible. Often. Too often. And sometimes I get it, sometimes I don't.

But hell, somebody has to be the exception, the surprise. Somebody has to obtan the impossible.

So why not me?

I spent the month of January chasing after a boy that would keep giving me just enough to keep me holding on. I hate that. I keep promising myself I'd never do it again, but when it comes down to it...frankly, liking somebody is thrilling. It makes life exciting.

Boys can be real jerks and toy with you. I'm not sure he did it intentionally--he seemed a little too dense to be malicious--but hockey players were never any good anyway. He was fun to like. Unpredictable. It didn't work in the end--it usually doesn't. And it ended the way my past two serious interests have ended--things sort of fizzled out on his end and there wasn't much I could do. But he was fun. I really enjoyed getting excited when I knew I'd see him, or just relishing in the loveliness that is really, really liking someone.

And hey, the boy's gotta fall for somebody sooner or later. Why not me? I'm an amazing catch. Gave it a shot. Didn't work. No hard feelings.

In retrospect, I think he would have bored me after awhile.


There's a lot going on right now that I'm trying to sift through. Maintaining a positive outlook on it all is hard (especially since it's not natural for me). Somebody should have warned me--like really hammered it home--that growing up doesn't suck, but the decisions you have to make do. Because a decision means that ultimately, you are going to miss out on something that you want, because you decided you wanted something else more.

You're still missing out.

I'm moving to Halifax this summer. By all means, I shouldn't. But I need to leave Montreal. I love the culture and history of this city, but it seems so poisonous after awhile. It's time to go, just for the summer.

I get that a lot. Sometimes, I just need to leave. I left last week--went to North Carolina. It helped me get my head right, step back, take a breath, and figure shit out. Every few weeks, I need to pack up and just go.

I'm working two jobs just to be able to cover rent while I'm there, so I can only work one job to cover food and expenses while I'm there. If I get accepted into grad school, I will either have to take out a student loan or defer for a year, just to get the money to pay for it.

But my gut is telling me to be in Halifax this summer. There is something or someone there, waiting to happen to me. And gut instincts never make sense, and often times they put you in a predicament in the present moment.

But they are almost always worth it.

So I'm going for it. Because my gut is telling me that I need to be there. And it doesn't make sense, and it will put me in debt if I get accepted into grad school...but something is telling me it'll be worth it.