Tag: 95 Books

week fifty

Books Read:
58. The Woods: A Year on Protection Island — Amber McMillan

Kilometres Ran:
this week — 66.95
to date — 2,000.75

I’m not going to get 95 books this year. I’d wanted to read The Woods because I’m a fan of McMillan’s poetry and I tend to have good luck when a poet I like ventures into prose (Flynn’s Another Bullshit Night in Suck City comes to mind) and I picked up a copy finally at the Real Vancouver Writers Series event a couple weeks back. It’s a fine read, a collection of events and experiences over her year living on Protection Island just outside of Nanaimo, B.C. Oh and apparently they’re suing her. All of them are, or something. There’s a story about it in Quill & Quire but it’s behind a paywall, and I (haven’t looked very hard but) haven’t found anything else about it. McMillan did mention it a couple times during her RVWS reading. I really liked this book. I thought it was funny and relatable and really shows that people can be pretty awful for no real reason off of social media too. Through it all McMillan seems to be ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

On a snowy Sunday with Yaktrax strapped to my feet I passed my goal of 2,000 kilometres this year. It feels pretty great and I’m very pleased with myself and now I’ve been contemplating what to do about next year. I had wanted to swim more but I found that I would often forego swimming in order to run instead because of my running goal. And that said I’m contemplating aiming for 2,600 next year for an average of 50 km per weeks. Not sure what to do about the books though.

week forty seven

Books Read:
56. Wenjack — Joseph Boyden

Kilometres Ran:
this week — 41.68
to date — 1,852.15

I accidentally read a book about running when I really just wanted to read the new Boyden book that I picked up at Paperhound the other day walking around in the rain that has been the predominant weather for the past weeks as if the pathetic fallacy is waiting for someone to say we fucking get it now knock it off for fuck sake fuck. Or something. I read this thing in that Canadian monthly that I disdain such that I dare not type its name, but I’ll link to the article here, so I guess that’s just as bad. I have a story about how much I hate said publication that only a very few people will ever know because they were sequestered in the same jury room as me at the CC and I’ve been sworn to secrecy upon pain of no further grant funding or something. Seriously, I don’t know what the consequences are anymore, and yet my lips are sealed. Mostly sealed. Anyway, Aguirre’s lips are not sealed and she says many things that really need to be said, and I’m happy that some middle-aged straight white dude wasn’t the one to say them.
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I was honked at in a crosswalk. Do people in cars, and on bikes for that matter, think that not walking negates the rules of pedestrian? What are the rules? Am I in the wrong here? Because I’m seriously going to start running with a pocket full of rocks or maybe some steel ball bearings and start busting up windscreens. I know there are bigger things to worry about, but the number of times I’ve nearly become a hood ornament whilst in a crosswalk is getting a bit worry some. The law of averages must be catching up, no matter what my pace is. Middle finger isn’t working. Maybe spidered window will? What’s the CCC on vigilante crosswalk enforcement anyway.