I got so busy at work I forgot the point of that last post re: duathlons.
The point was: I’m loving how lean I’m getting, but the downside is my tits are shrinking… and I really like my tits!
I have 3 duathlons set up for April/March, so, needless to say, I have started training. I started getting back into things a little over a month ago, but just these past couple weeks, I’ve been hitting the gym hardcore. Heavy olympic and targeted lifting mixed with lighter lifting circuits 3 days a week (usually with either a 30 minute moderate bike or run), a run/bike combination 3 days a week (I’ve been ramping up to the run/bike/run sequence this week), and usually an easy run the other day.
Last year, my weakest portion was the bike, so with the amount of bike work and lifting I’ve been putting in, I’m trying to ensure that won’t happen again. In the Big Sky Dua, I was in 3rd after the initial run section, but my race fell apart during the 12 mi bike. It was a pretty gradual, rolling course, but the wind resistance over the open prairie was something I hadn’t anticipated. It felt like I was cycling with a grown man sitting atop my back tire. I came back into the second transition breathless and exhausted, but finished with a decent effort in the second 4K run.
Anyway, I’m trying to focus more on muscle strength, less on straight-up cardio. I’ve been ridiculously mindful of what I’ve been eating and have also been supplementing workouts with all-natural whey protein and creatine. It’s like I’ve strapped myself to a rocket with this amped-up training the past couple weeks. I’ve gone from 138 pounds when Katie left a little over a month ago to about 127 now. My body is getting more toned than its really ever been. I expect to linger around that 125 area (at least I hope to—as long as I maintain muscle mass) from here on out.
I’m excited to see the training pay off come event time. I’m already seeing it pay off as far as my body composition. Sheesh… another month of this and who knows what I’ll be looking like.
I want to know why shark mouths always look so fucking bloody. Like, they’re swimming through water constantly, so even if they just chowed down on some fish, shouldn’t that shit wipe off? Are their razor teeth just so goddamn sharp that they’re constantly fucking up their gums and like, biting the inside of their shark cheeks and lips? Shit… can you imagine anything worse than an entire life filled with slicing through your own gums with your fucking razorblade knife teeth?
Poor sharks. No wonder they act so mean and miserable. I feel you, sharks. I hate fucking up my mouth, too.
Katie is caring and sensitive and sweet. She’s thoughtful in the simplest ways. Whenever she thinks of doing something for herself, she will automatically think of me, too. If she wants a cup of tea, she’ll look to me and ask, “Cup of tea, my love?” before boiling one for herself. She lets me fall asleep on her shoulder and will hold perfectly still until she’s certain she can move without waking me. She spontaneously dances with me in the kitchen in the most ridiculous ways. She kisses me when I need to be kissed and gives me space the moment I want to be alone. She’s unflinchingly honest and readily admits all faults. She’s modest, yet prideful, but would put aside her feelings if it meant the end of a fight (of which we’ve had very few). Katie has me thoroughly convinced that the first thought in her head as soon as she lifts it from the pillow is of me—whether that’s true or not. Katie is really a better person than I am.
We are both imperfect, to be sure. But in love, I feel I’m so much more so than she. I’m constantly focused inward. I give my time freely to other pursuits and neglect time spent with her. When I make tea, I do not always ask if she’d like one, too. I lazily spend my money on her to make up for her attentiveness versus my occasional thoughtlessness. I have so much to learn from her about love and about care and compassion.
But despite all this, all my lazy mistakes, all my missed opportunities for gratitude and affection, all my lack of emotion, I love Katie more than I ever thought possible. She is undeniably my heart, my whole heart. Before her, I was careless with my lovers, devoid of true feeling. I had cried over others before, but more over the anguish I had caused them. Now, I cry over a selfish desperation, an inability to ever imagine life without her. I am so thankful for the opportunities she continues to give me to learn about love and gratitude and friendship from her. She is the ultimate teacher and I am beyond grateful to have her in my life. There is not one bad thing I could honestly say about Katie and, to be with her, is to challenge myself to be as awesome as a partner as she is.
So, to my girl, I wish you safe travels and an easy trip back to New Zealand. I would wish you “welcome home”, but, if you’re anything like me (and I know you are) you realize that home is wherever and whenever we are together… and I hope to welcome you home very soon.
Katie and I are coming up on 3 years in a few months here and, the other day, we went to look at rings—not for anything soon or anything, but just to get an idea. First of all, we had to get sized since we both had no idea (for the record, she’s a 6 and I’m a 4… so she basically would have to get me a a ring from the baby section of any jewelry store). Second, she wanted to figure out what kind of ring and what kind of stone I’d like and we settled on a simple, small silver band and around a half carat stone.
Now, I know it’s really dumb to buy into the whole traditional marriage/wedding bullshit and I told Katie that I’d be pissed if she spent much more than a grand on a stupid piece of jewelry, but I’m a product of my environment and even though I’m the gayest gay I know, I want the whole wedding she-bang. Besides, I don’t wear jewelry and if I’m wearing anything, I want it to be pretty alright.
We also decided that, even though I make a whole lot more money than she does, she should probably do the proposing and the ring-ing since it’d be my family footing the bill for a wedding. I have also come to the conclusion (but have not told her yet), that any engagement photos we may take should involve costumes: A photo of us embracing dressed as clowns; a picture of us holding hands as Batman and Robin; a photo of us kissing while dressed as storm troopers (helmets off, of course); a picture of her with a jheri curl, white gloves, and a red leather get-up and myself in a gorilla costume.
After we left the store, she looked at me and said, “I feel better now that I have an idea,” then followed with, “You’re nervous now that we looked at rings, huh?”
"No! Not nervous… you just take your time," I said.
As if we have any other choice… Katie’s leaving the 7th and the next time I’ll for sure see her is November. It’s hard to believe that 13 months went by so fucking quick. I want the days to slow down a little bit and I’m trying my best to eke out the most from the weeks we have left. It’s awful how much I’m dreading the inevitable—the depression I’ll fall into, the flare up of OCD, the snotty-sniffly mess I’ll become at the airport, the red eyes I’ll be constantly nursing. Just thinking about gives me a giant lump in my throat now. I guess the one thing that IS nice is that, hopefully, January 7, 2014 is the last time we will ever have to say goodbye like this.
I want a dog so badly. I’m the perfect candidate for a dog. I like to walk; I like to run; when it’s nice outside, I spend almost the entire day outdoors; I love hiking and camping. Beyond that, I have the financial means to cover thousands in emergency vet bills, cover food, and any other expenses. I have a big yard with a 6 foot fence, plenty of squirrels, and the possibility of added shelter. I’m not selfishly just wanting a companion to ignore 85% of the time, a companion that I cannot afford to truly care for. I want a buddy I can do things with, to enjoy life with.
I want a dog for the time when, in 3 months or so, Katie is forced to leave me. Who am I gonna cry on? Who am I gonna cuddle with? Who’s gonna go to the park with me? Who can I give love and effort to?
My only issue is the inevitable move back to New Zealand in a year’s time… what would I do then? I need somebody to agree to take my pup for a year or so. When we return, I will take it back and I’ll cover all costs in the meantime. I need to somehow convince my parents it’s worth it. Aren’t I fucking naive?
I’m really excited ‘cause I have a real close friend who writes for a prominent fashion website and gets to do all this really, really cool shit. She just spent 6 weeks in Europe, visiting various museums, interviewing jewelry designers and fashionistas, and getting comped hotel stays and spa treatments. Legit. This girl has had a Brazilian wax comped in exchange for writing about it. She had hair ripped off her cooch FOR FREE just for mentioning the place.
Now, I didn’t know all this when I suggested we go on a European trip next year. I thought her work was paying for her to travel around. I expected to pay for everything my own way and just figured we’d make good travel buddies. I was really, really excited about it to begin with because she’s the type of friend that I can call up at 3 AM bawling my eyes out to and she’s also the type of friend that’s brutally honest and she will also throw shade at any bitch that fucks with me and she’s also also also a girl that I can get absolutely super-fun hammered with. She’d be the perfect travel partner for Europe because she can speak French, she’s worldly, she’s fashionable, she’s fun, and she’s classy.
Only after expressing my excitement for 3 days straight did she tell me that, as soon as we worked out a date, she would reach out to tourism boards, hotels, airlines, spas, etc. to see what they could do for us. WHAT. That’s cray. That’s fuckin’ nutballz. That means that, next year, this bitch could be gettin’ her Brazilian wax on for FREE… in FUCKING ICELAND… or NORWAY. Fucking Norway. I can’t wrap my head around that shit, either, but goddamn if it doesn’t make me want to piss the ever-loving fuck out of my panties.