A bit more about Gabriola.

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I succeed in getting Yann to read the last post: I find that people are more motivated to read my posts when they know they’ve been mentioned. I don’t think I’ll get the friendly e-biker who said, “Have a good ride!” as he zipped past us. Yann and I had stopped after the climb out of Mill Bay Terminal to remove our jackets.

I turned to Yann and repeated what I thought the guy had said.

Yann looked surprised. “That’s exactly what he said. Word for word.”

My lipreading ability is heavily dependent on context, which brings me to the freshest experience to be filed under, “Just fucking write, please.”

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Return to Gabriola.

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Welcome to Greg Minnaar’s Tour of Terror. First stop: my shower.

Technically, he’s been making people shit themselves a little since he arrived at the bike shop two years ago. He didn’t have to try very hard either: he’d just stand there motionless, and people would jump. What talent. Apparently, he can also do backflips on a bike.

Last week, a colleague was about to eliminate him for once and all. As I was about to enter the break room, Greg took a nosedive in front of me from behind the doorway, jolting my heart.

“Wait. You’re getting rid of him? May I have him?” I asked as soon as I realized it was just Greg, and he was on his way into the dumpster.

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Destination: Donut.

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Rachel Entrekin.

Wow.

I did not know this person existed until Google’s algorithms decided she was a person I’d be interested in. She’d completed an ultramarathon in under 3 days: the Cocodona 250. Holy wow, I thought, “250km in under three days?!”

But I was wrong. The distance was in miles. 407km across deserts and through mountains, accumulating more than 11,800m of elevation gain. You don’t need to be a runner to know that’s a mind-blowing achievement.

Ed, who is no stranger to ultra-endurance activities, was gobsmacked by the thought of one’s fuelling needs for such a race. “Jeeeeeez, her fuelling must’ve been insane,” were his words. I was more focused on her luck in footwear selection, for I have a few spots around my feet from blisters that have come and gone over the span of two pairs of running shoes, both of which I actually consider comfortable.

Of course, she won. Also, 268 people finished this race.

Meanwhile, Lola had flagged my Training Status as “strained” after I’d done a 12km run on Thursday. I ignored Lola and rode up Mount Doug with Matt three times on Friday. That night, I was supposed to go bouldering, but as much as I like Nic and Jamie, I was relieved when Jamie said she needed to postpone it.

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A new way to floss.

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My new Patagonia running shorts made it look like I had wet myself after my run on Saturday. I’d ended the run at a local grocery store to pick up a big jar of honey, which I took great care to grip tightly as I was glistening with sweat. Then, I looked down and realized my “faded magenta” shorts appeared less faded around the crotch.

Then I pondered whether the fact that it was “just” crotch sweat made it less embarrassing. The shorts had dried by the time I got home, and I figured everyone I passed on the way was too busy looking at their phones to check out my dewy no-no area. Upon entering my suite, I hastily set the jar of honey on the kitchen counter. The glass jar tipped over and rolled off the counter.

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Collected sayings of Squaremeat.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

Dune is your 13th read! GO YOU.

-Zoée

Zoée also follows elite reader Kristen on StoryGraph. Kristen has basically met the reading goals Zoée and I set for ourselves this year. While I consider myself a competitive person, it’s become more intrinsic these days. I’m more inclined to bond over shared interests rather than whupping asses. I’m certain Zoée, like I, have resigned to having our asses whupped by the sandworm of bookworms, Kristen. All we want to do is surpass our 2025 numbers.

I spent 10 minutes making this in GIMP because I refuse to use AI!
Continue reading “Collected sayings of Squaremeat.” →