Jason A. Nery

It’s only through discussion and outside observation that it’s been pointed out how my state of not being in a relationship has a direct relation to the way I relate to my parents. Simple, isn’t it? I mean, of course! Why wouldn’t this initial and most important relationship colour the way I see the world, know what I mean?

I was about to go into detail here, but it wouldn’t be fair to them to be airing this laundry. Let me just say that so much stuff is starting to click in my head. I’m getting it. I know why I’m the way I am.

Simple.

No matter how many times I do it, racing does not get any easier. I mean, I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to some of the associated challenges with racing, but the amount of effort I pour into each event seems to remain consistent. It’s always tough, and really that’s how it should be. Going in this time though, I knew early on that my race wouldn’t be that great. I’d been battling fatigue and exhaustion for a long time. A lot of my runs were suffering, and my CrossFit WODs were less-than-ideal. Even so, I knew that I couldn’t back out.

The past weekend in Ottawa was a fascinating one for me. I really had a great time there. Thing is, I think this is more a result of all of the socializing that took place. I drove over on Friday with two other passengers. I dropped them off at their hotel which was located right next to the starting line. From there I had to drive toward the airport. For some reason I chose to stay at a hotel far from all of the action. I regretted it at the time. When I got there though I changed my tune. The concierge informed me that I had booked the best suite in the hotel with a fireplace, king size bed, and a hot tub. The room itself was twice the size of a normal hotel room. Honestly I had no idea that that’s what I booked. All I know is that it was relatively cheap through one of the big-name travel websites. Hah. Suddenly I didn’t mind so much. After lounging for a bit I headed back to the city core to hang out with a lot of other Markham people. A lot of us had made the trek in for the race. It was awesome. God…I ate and drank so much over Friday and Saturday. Certainly, those weren’t conducive to good racing, but I had somehow consigned myself to the fact that race day wouldn’t be ideal anyway. I was determined to be social and enjoy myself. It’s a good thing I did, too, because the race itself left much to be desired.

While waiting around in the corrals, I must have had a look of concern. A friend of mine pointedly told me: “you’re too hard on yourself.” I agreed. I told her that I’m usually looking out for other people, and that I usually give myself lower priority. I stuffed that aside and said that yes, I was going to have fun. When the race started the skies were covered in clouds and there was a nice breeze. Unfortunately, those conditions didn’t hold. The sun was out quickly, causing us all to have to battle harder against the unwelcome heat. Knowing that my race wasn’t going to be the best, I opted to try to stick around with a slower pace rabbit. Unfortunately, the one I was running with seemed to be running faster than what was advertised on her sign. I ended up burning out quickly. After only 5K or so I was looking at myself and felt like I was lagging. I let the pace rabbit go. Somewhere along the guy I overheard a pair of people talking about the 2:30 bunny. I exclaimed out loud: “2:30 by butt! That’s faster than 2:30!” The pair ran on ahead in what I’ll assume was an attempt to get away from me. I was feeling it. I knew that I had to take it down because my body just wasn’t tolerating the conditions well. The saving grace here was that the crowds along this route were fantastic. There were a large amount of young kids standing on the sidelines holding their hands out for high-fives. I did my best to indulge each one. In my slower state the density of runners around me had diminished. That was all right. I had to tell myself that this is what I expected and that I had no choice but to continue on.

Somewhere past 10K we ran over a bridge and entered into Gatineau. As soon as I got on the road my first thought was “man…these roads aren’t well maintained.” Off to the side I spotted a shirtless guy smoking and strolling along. When I passed my nose found out that that was no ordinary cigarette. Québec! Running on that side of the border was slightly lonely, up until we reached the more populated stretch. Then there was a big-ass hill, then a descent, then another incline. ARGH. By around 16-17K I had to walk for longer periods. People were passing me left and right. What could I do? I had to rest where I could. I was starting to get emotional there. I knew that that would be a possibility so I was prepared for it. I always tell my group to be prepared for that happening. I’m no different. I ran through tears, and stifled sobs, but I pushed through, and everything dried up.

By the last few kilometres I could hear the roar of the finish line. Thing is, I was on the other side of the canal, so I couldn’t see what was going on. I was just looking for the damn turn which seemed to be far away. It eventually came. At one point I started walking when some random guy on the side cheered me on and told me to push through the walk. I started running again at which point he yelled back “Today, you’re my hero!” Oh man. Crazy. The crowds grew denser. The last stretch really was a blur. At some point I saw the finish line and just kept on moving. What else could I do? I eventually crossed with a chip time of 2:44.07. Not ideal in the least; my personal best is 25 minutes faster. That being said, I was done. That’s all that mattered.

As I walked through the chute, I was hobbling and feeling off. One of the medical staff came up to me and asked if I was all right. I don’t remember what I said, but I do remember hesitating before I responded. He put his arm around me to make sure I had support and told me to eat and get fluids as soon as possible. After 50 metres or so I shook his hand and we parted ways. A little farther on I encountered a group of Markham people that I knew. They asked me how I did at which part I broke down again. Now, after the fact, I can tell how hard the race was for me based on how many tears I shed. They commented that I was shaking and that I should probably sit down in the shade for a bit. I agreed.

All in all, this race was a lot to process. There was so much good to have come out of the weekend despite the rough run. Not every race can be a personal best. Sometimes caca happens and you have to deal with it. A bad race is not necessarily an indication of poor training. God knows I worked my ass off this past season. All the same, there are some things simply out of your control. This summer, I’m going to train harder so that come next race I’ll be ready to do better. There are more personal bests to be achieved, you know?

Over the past few years I’ve done a handful of races. For the most part, they’ve been local. In fact, that farthest locale that I’ve raced in has been Burlington. Yeah…not really far at all, right? I think for the most part I’ve only had an urge to do close-proximity race so that I can get in and get out easily. Plus, doing a local race means not having to pay for accommodations. These are all wonderful points. I think though that a part of me has really longed to do a destination race. There was always something holding me back though (besides the expenses). I think I’ve never been confident enough to travel. At the back of my mind there’s that voice: “What if I suck?” Yeah, what if, right? That might mean that the whole weekend would be crap–especially if I’m there alone.

AHA!

Well, then, that can be solved easily, no? This year I decided to do a destination race. This weekend I’m participating in the Ottawa Half Marathon. See, this race was designated the goal race for the current running clinic that I’m coaching. That alone though might not have been enough because there are a few local races that happen at around the same time. The big factor for me was the fact that a lot of people from the store are going to be heading over, too. There’s going to be a large contingent from the store! As odd as it may have seemed to me at the time, there were a lot of people that wanted me to come along. So there, social pressure does work.

We leave…today (it is now past midnight)! I am driving a handful of people over. It’s going to be one heck of a road trip. Yeeow! I’m declaring it now. No angst. I’m only in it to enjoy. Damn right.

So, many months ago I was walking around with some people that I was still getting to know. We were walking by a car that belonged to one of them. He opened his trunk to in order to pick something up. As an aside he brought up a small tape measure and offered it to me. Seemed a little odd. I asked, “Are you sure?” He responded, “Yeah, sure, I have many.” I thought it was a nice gesture, so I accepted. It kind of smelled rubbery, but I figured that it might come in handy at some point. Months later, I fished the tape measure out and proceeded to use it. To my surprise, the locking mechanism on the thing was quite broken. Because of that, the metal tape part wouldn’t stay out. What good is that? I ended up throwing the thing out. That all made me pause to think. Here was this guy, pretending to do a kind gesture. Instead he was really knowingly trying to rid himself of something broken. Was it possible that he really didn’t know it was broken? Did he give it away in good faith? Well, now that I know this person more I can say that it’s likely that it wasn’t in good faith at all. And if it wasn’t in good faith, he was intentionally being deceitful with something that’s rather inconsequential. I can only assume that he would be just as deceitful with things that matter to him. All in all, this small gesture spoke quite loudly. Would I trust him with something important to me? Well, if it didn’t benefit him…no, not at all. That’s a pity.

I’m sure you know that I’m very much a fan of Twitter. It’s not uncommon for me to have interesting conversations out there with other Tweeters. It’s been a great source of differing points of view. A few days ago someone in my feed spoke about how the comments section for a recent review of a newly opened Filipino restaurant was getting fairly heated. I replied back that I wasn’t surprised. My reasoning was that from my observations Filipino people have a little bit of a complex when it comes to food. It’s hard to describe. In Toronto, Filipino isn’t quite as ubiquitous as, say, Thai or Vietnamese. It’s not uncommon for my friends to ask me, “So, what’s Filipino food like?” God, I have have such a hard time with that question. I inevitably go off on some explanation about how the cuisine is an amalgam of influences. That explanation doesn’t really explain much in terms of tastes. And without it yet being widespread in this city it will continue to be hard to describe to someone who doesn’t know much about it.

There have been a few times when I’ve brought friends to Filipino restaurants. Each time I’ve been somewhat anxious in terms oh how it’s received. A lot of current restaurants are very ma and pa-like and will gladly serve tasty stuff on a styrofoam plate for $8. Well, that presentation can have an effect, right? My mind goes around in circles: in comparison to other cuisines, maybe the food isn’t X enough, or is different in terms of Y. I don’t know. It’s a weird fear that I’ve got that somehow there’s some underlying quality that’s plainly unlikable. You know what? That’s just plain dumb. I grew up on this stuff. Mom’s cooking is awesome. Filipino food is awesome. If people don’t like it, it’s plainly their loss. More for me, right?

Anyway, my hope is that Filipino food will increase in popularity here. There’s certainly the community for it. Maybe one day pancit will have as much meaning to people as, say, pho does. I need to drop the fear. If I’m being honest, I know that people will enjoy some things and not like others, and really that comes does to personal tastes. I need to trust that this cuisine can fight for itself. I know it can.

You know, I already had a number of sentences written out about having an online presence. To be honest though there are plenty of other people out there that have written better pieces about this topic. Whatever. This space here is all about stuff as it pertains to me.

Anyway, the other day I spent a moment or two cleaning up my résumé. Why? Well, it’s not like I’m looking to escape at this very instant, but I need to keep my documents up to date just in case an opportunity comes by. It would be foolish to shut down all avenues, know what I mean? As I was cleaning things up a question crossed my mind. If given just a few words, how would I describe myself professionally? Sure I’ve got skill with X, Y, and Z, but all of that is too specific. How should I market myself? What is my personal brand? Surely it’d have something to do with tech, right? After all, that’s the field I’ve been toiling in for more than a decade. What about the fact that I’m something of a people person? What of the fact that I’m a bit of an oddball? The combination isn’t exactly rare, but it doesn’t really lend itself to allowing people to put me in a neat and tidy box. What kind of job do I want? It almost looks like I would have to carve something out for myself. Unless I find a way to accurately describe me, how would anyone know about my other dimensions.

With this question in mind I ended up prodding a friend for ideas. Interestingly, his response was simple: “Tech person with great communication skills. Slightly quirky.” OK, so it needs a little bit of polish. All the same, it hits the keys things about me. I suppose that if I market myself with this simple and honest headline I might be able to attract that kind of position that I really want. One can only hope, eh?

It’s been a rough few weeks. I haven’t really been in a very positive state of mind, and as a result I’ve had to retreat into my own shell for a little bit. When that happens something has to give. Unfortunately, this was something I had to cut back on while I sorted a few things out. I’m not saying that I now have it all figured out. Rather, I know that I’m in a better spot than I was previously. It all comes down to having a bit of healing, you know? And in order to get that much needed healing I had to step back and detach.

It’s kind of funny how detachment works. Whether consciously or not, when we find ourselves in bad states our bodies go into something like a self-protection mode. If the proverbial knife hits something deep down at our cores the reaction might end up being something somewhat primitive. For example, it may be common to feel drowsy or tired when someone talks about something that’s deeply threatening to you. That’s the body’s way of saying “nope, we’re not having any of that.” If there’s something that causes us to question something we intellectually believe to be true, we’re very good at reasoning our way away from that something. Over the past month I’ve had the chance to experience both ends. It’s been strange, and yet all very familiar. In the past I wouldn’t have paid much attention to these things and the triggers behind them, but my eyes have been opened recently. It’s fascinating that all of these things are sort of built-in. Being aware of these instincts allows me to move beyond the walls that get put up. Maybe I need to be uncomfortable. Maybe the questions need to be confronted. I don’t know. I’m not saying that self-protection is a bad thing. Not at all. I’m just saying that it’s so easy to stay trapped in the cocoon, when perhaps it’s necessary to step out and get on with living.

So here I stand: living and getting on with it.

It’s OK; the problem is with me. I’m probably just over-sensitive to this kind of thing.

Things that left me mortified today at a Chinese restaurant:

• Someone in party talking about Chinese eating babies
• Someone in party exclaiming out loud multiple times that the food is terrible and wouldn’t come back
• Someone mixing left over sauce from his or her entree into their soup in an attempt to make the soup taste better

I mean…SERIOUSLY?

It’s totally no coincidence. Lately I’ve been more injury prone. I don’t really give my body enough time to rest between activities. I can’t help it! I’ve got obligations! All I can do is do my best to try to take care of myself in between. It’s not always easy. On Monday I did a lot of heavy squats. I even set a new personal best for myself that night. I didn’t stretch properly after the fact. As a result my glutes, hamstrings, and inner thighs have been ridiculously sore. Today, two days later, I’m still feeling the effects. I’ve been meaning to use my foam roller on my muscles just to try to work out any kinks but it’s only now that I’ve gotten around to it. That in itself isn’t injury–it’s just soreness. Thing is, having that discomfort is throwing off my other activities. Today my running group started hill training. After I did one rep as I was walking down hill I started feeling soreness on the left side of my right knee. I tried starting a run a few times after I experienced the pain, but each time I had to stop again. I managed to push through a second climb, but after that I became even more cautious. Fellow runners were asking me if I was OK. I said I wasn’t and that I was just going to watch it as I ran up for a third climb. One runner told me that I shouldn’t just watch it: I should walk it. ”You know better!” It’s true. I do know better. If it was anyone else I’d tell him or her to walk it out. Why should I be different? So yeah, I’m sure my body hates me at the moment. I’m going to take it down for a while. I can’t risk having things degenerate to a state where I’m out of commission for an extended period. Nope. People are counting on me.