I think my cat is building a nuclear bomb in the basement.
Little did I know when I affectionately (and inappropriately) named her “Lambe,” I was creating a study in ironic names. I think she is the secret
spirit-offspring of Evel Kenievel and Albert Einstein, mixed in with a dash of
Winehouse melancholy. I am not yet sure if she is simply a daredevil or
perpetually suicidal. It’s hard to say. To put it in context, my dearly
departed cat, Echo, is Mother Teresa compared to Lambe (and I once affectionately
referred to Echo as the Spawn of Satan).
Yesterday she successfully pooped out a 10-foot length of
yarn. The thing is, I keep my yarn behind locked doors now. So, the only logical conclusion is that she is able
to teleport items through solid walls. It wouldn’t surprise me. She is quite
smart. She could easily have an advanced degree in physics. All the previous
pets, if cast in the wild would be lucky to last a day. I believe this one
would not only have no problem, but she would organize a colony, get voted in
as leader of the feline mafia, and take over the world.
If Lamb is underneath the bed, it sounds like a construction
road-works zone. I have no idea what she is doing (and probably never will),
but I am pretty certain it is bad. When I stealthily plummet my head to the
floor, all noise ceases immediately, and she innocently stares at me with those
big yellow-green eyes as if saying. “What’s up?” My fear, of course, is
she is secretly burrowing holes in the structural integrity of the bed, and one
day I will get in and it will collapse—a fate much worse for her than me, by
the way.
At the age of 8 weeks, Lambe almost died by running through
the spindles in the hall, only to fall 9 feet to the hardwood floor below.
Luckily she survived. Since then she has climbed walls, climbed curtains,
climbed people, jumped in the toilet, jumped out of the toilet, jumped in the bathtub (whilst I was still
in it), got herself stuck behind a dresser, got her head stuck in the spindles
of the chair, got herself accidentally locked into the front porch, thrown up
yarn and unidentifiable fluorescent green and red spongy squares, climbed on my
desk and pulled out all the push pins and papers on my office cork board using
her mouth (all of my papers are now pinned to the very top quarter of my
bulletin board, right next to the ceiling), and of course, the most recent
yarn-poo incident. I am not even going to list the electrical cord, fan, blinds,
shoelace, rug, plug, cardboard and zipper incidents, as they are too plentiful for
a single blog.
She might be the only cat who has her own bedroom. Not
because we want to separate her from us. We have it for her own safety when we
go out. There are no plugs, no cords, or blinds. At one point, I padded the
floor (for real), but she started dismantling it.
It’s not necessarily logical (unless you are a cat person),
but I love her to pieces. I love the way she gently pats my face, or chirps at
the window, her loud purr when I bring out her favourite blanket, and her
crazy, entertaining personality. Some things cannot be explained by logic.
This summer, I watched only one aspect of the Olympics,
and that was the men’s marathon. This wasn’t because I wasn’t interested in any
other sports, but because I accidentally turned on the TV at that moment. I
love watching distance runners, especially professional marathon athletes.
Maybe it’s the pure beauty, or maybe it is because it took me twice as long to
cover the same distance.
The outstanding athlete who won the marathon was Kenya’s
Eliud Kipchoge, but to me, the more interesting story was the American
bronze-medalist, Galen Rupp. Why, you may ask? Well, he hasn’t been a marathon
runner before…as in ever. He is a middle-distance 10,000-metre kind of guy. In fact,
he had never competed in a marathon until the Olympic Marathon Trials on
February 13, 2016. So, when he flew across that finish line in Rio, it was only
his second marathon! That is pretty incredible.
During a post-race interview, in a wave of inspiration, Rupp
quoted and gave credit to his parents, Mahatma Gandhi, Coach Alberta
Salazar an Adam Sander’s movie,
because isn’t that who all American’s admire? As I sat there, stunned, I
transitioned from laughter at the absurdity of it, to nodding my head in
agreement. Wait, he might be onto something here!
The movie in question is Happy
Gilmore, a film in which the main character wants desperately to be a
hockey player, but discovers he in fact is a much better golfer. Galen was using
this strangely Yoda-esque analogy to express how thankful he was to be open to
trying something other than his usual middle-distance. Instead of him choosing
his path, his path chose him. He always thought of himself as a 10,000 racer
all these years, where in fact, he might
really be a marathon runner.
This got me thinking. Since the discovery of a torn meniscus
and ACL in my right leg, maybe I need to uncover something other than my
former marathon training as my “thing.”
So after giving this concept some serious consideration, it
appears the next logical goal is quite obvious—I should become a triathlete. It
makes complete sense--other than the swimming, biking--and now with my knee--running parts...
Up until last year I didn’t know how to swim at all. Thanks
to my friend, Lyndsay, and lots of hours on YouTube, I can now traverse across
the 25-meter expanse of a pool-lap sans drowning. (We did try swimming in Lake
Simcoe last summer, but again, that deserves its own entry…) And, I don’t own a
road bike. In fact, the technician who tuned up my antique mountain bike who,
incidentally is at least a third the age of the bike itself, told me they now actually
make shocks for bikes. Who knew? It certainly is a brave, new world.
This decision defies logic. Like my cat or Galen Rupp
switching from middle to long-distance running, some things just don’t make
sense. So, why do it?
Well, I have discovered that when you accomplish something
you believe is on the edge of impossible for you, it provides a sense of wonder
and discovery that is difficult to articulate.
So, I guess it is time to make a declaration and put a plan
together. I am going to “Try-a-Tri” next summer. Pretty sure there will be lots
of mishaps to write about along the way! For the first time in over a year, I have to go plug in that Garmin.
Cheers to defying logic.
