forty two by forty two week seven and eight

Books Read[ing]:
14. The Mercy Journals — Claudia Casper
15. The Hatred of Poetry — Ben Lerner

Kilometres Ran:
week sixteen — 57.1
week seventeen — 43.9

To date: 974 km

I left the house for something other than running and ended up at the Paper Hound bookstore for a poetry reading hosted by Amy De’ath featuring Jeff Derksen, Danielle LaFrance, Juliane Okot Bitek and Tim Atkins, and along with Anne Carson’s behemoth chapbook collection Float and some really fantastic bits and pieces Tim brought from Crater Press I also picked up a cheap copy of The Hatred of Poetry because it was a poetry reading after all. It was also a part of the too short farewell tour for Amy and her partner Sean O’Brien as both prepared to evacuate Vancouver at the end of April. I regret not getting to know both of them better. I knew [of] Amy from publishing her work in The Capilano Review, but I actually met Sean first. He and Amy hosted a lit gathering of sorts one September evening. I remember it well as Colin Smith had just approved the final typesetting and design I’d done for Multiple Bippies and gave to go ahead to send to press. Donato Mancini, CUE Books’ guest editor for the collection, suggested we go celebrate at a friend’s place nearby mine in the West End. Sean answered the door. Donato did his best tidsoptimist impression. A couple years later, and Vancouver’s loss. Such is life.

I’m on the taper according to the schedule and it seems from the people that I follow on Strava that seem to be gearing up for the same event that I am I am the only one. It’s become difficult to trust the training plan but I’m doing my best. And I’ve been trying something new: yoga. Not really yoga. Stretching. I don’t ever stretch but I’ve started so now don’t ever is a lie. I did a Google search for yoga for runners and I found this article 5 Yoga Poses You Should Do After Every Run in Women’s Running and I’m pretty fine with gender neutrality plus I don’t think Utthan Pristhasana knows or cares if between my left and right hip flexors there is lady or dude stuff. Anyway, I like it. It hurts and I am the least flexible but it sure feels good afterwards. I ended my run today near the corner of West Pender and Bute near what will in one week be the finish line of the BMO Marathon. It also feels good. I think I’m ready.

week eleven

Books Read:
22. The First Bad Man — Miranda July
23. Erec & Enide — Amy De’ath

Kilometres Ran:
this week — 42.62
to date — 342.73

I really liked Miranda July’s short story collection No One Belongs Here More Than You so I thought that I would like The First Bad Man and I didn’t to begin with and then I did later on towards the last third of the book. It had nothing to do with the fact that the entire time I was reading the book I was thinking that I know Cheryl Glickman in real life or at least I know someone that could convincingly play Cheryl in the film adaptation and it would be the easiest directorial project along the lines of you, you just be yourself. It’s the same way I felt watching Ben Affleck in Mall Rats. Kevin Smith just telling Ben to be his douchebaggy self and everything would be fine. Not that Cheryl is a douchebag, nor is the person I have in mind to play her. You know what I mean. I picked up Erec & Enide at an Amy De’ath & Anne Boyer reading at Or Gallery back in February. I’m a big fan of her and her work and I thought this was pretty great. De’ath is a British poet currently completing her PhD at Simon Fraser University under the supervision of Stephen Collis. I hope the Coast Salish territories gets to keep her around once she completes, though with her talent I’m not holding my breath.
week eleven
Running this week is bit deceptive because the number is decent but it includes a rather paltry 5.34 km today that followed a lunch at Nuba in Gastown. Suffice it to say Lebanese seasoned ground lamb and humous, though delicious, is not recommended pre-run meal unless running while carrying bricks in your stomach is your thing. It’s not my thing. I don’t believe in karma but sometimes when I’m out for a run and I get to (common for runners, so I’ve come to understand) wondering what exactly it is that I’ve done to deserve this feeling that I’m going to crap myself. The other day I was listening to Julie Moss talk about her first Ironman Triathlon in a Radiolab podcast. So I guess it happens to even the best of us.