Training Log Archive: Kseniya

So I have a serious problem: I read too many books concurrently (not literally at the same time, of course). I need variety to suit whatever environment and mood I may find myself in. But this condition can lead to a feeling of being stuck in between moods, in between worlds, on the boundary without anywhere to go. Not that the books I’m reading are bad or anything, it’s just that I get stuck in that pattern. So typically, as part of a larger pattern, when that happens, a book lands on my lap that sucks me in and revitalizes my state of mind. I just finished such book, called Kafka on the Shore, by Haruki Murakami. It was delicious and refreshing as strawberry rhubarb pie.
It starts out as a simple, innocent stroll on a beach, then slowly shallow water creeps up to your knees as you wade further out, and then all of a sudden you find yourself a regular mermaid at the depths of an ocean swimming with Poseidon. nbd.
Murakami creates many surprises and then makes those surprises seem normal.
This book reminds me of a bit of Bulgakov’s works. I wonder if Murakami ever read Bulgakov.. Anyway, I like this genre.

I also finished A Breath of Life not so long ago. Lispector has become of my favorite authors, and I wonder what it would be like to read her books in Portuguese..
Couple years back I devoured two of Lispector’s books, esp. my first introductory one, The Passion According to G.H., which actually ties in with above mentioned literature piece being Kafkaesque.
I find her writing to be akin to spilled gasoline, pungent, irreversible, and on the verge of being set aflame, just on the cusp that you can’t do anything about it, that all you can do is just stare and inhale while trying to not explode yourself.
With this book I wanted to savor, to draw out the flavor, to breathe it in deeply. I wanted this book to be like a different petroleum product, not petrolatum, too occlusive and doesn’t allow skin to “breathe”, no, glycerin, I wanted Lispector to be glycerin and penetrate my skin, sinking in little by little, moisturizing my soul, setting it ablaze in freedom from normalcy.

C • Was it? 4

Long gradual hills are my weakest hills so this workout was difficult but necessary. 6 x ~1:30 min. It was sunny but quite cold this morning, and it felt like my lungs were about to collapse the last 30 sec of each hill. There was a significant amount of ice on the sidewalk of the main road, forcing me to work on my penguin running skills; soon I'll be able to perfect this art form.