the ice storm

The air is so cold it slices your lungs. Moisture can't decide how to condense and precipitate so it adheres to everything like a thin glass veneer. Power lines are strung with the clearest crystal pendants; trees are coated with a glistening, frozen skin. Minus ten in March is a nice reminder of winter's long grip on PEI.

In contrast to the weather, the reception which awaited me on my return was as warm as you can imagine. Settling back in was smooth and easy.

On Sunday we took a walk in the frigid air, pushing the buggy along sidewalks rutted with ice. I fell to earth with a huge bang. Michelle says my feet scooted right off the ground in front of me, cartoon style, as I thumped onto the ice. Now I am nursing a tender bruised back and elbow. Hmph!

home is where the heart is

I run the risk that no one is interested or worse, disapproves, but the time has come to announce my return to Canada. Since the beginning of last December I have been living back in England. On one hand this has been a glorious opportunity to see my two grown sons, to live with my eldest son and enjoy his company. On the other hand, it has been an agonising period of absence from Michelle and Maisie. At first it was a divinely providential opportunity to be with my sons and support them while they mourned their mum, Debbie’s grave illness, but it immediately became apparent to me that I had made a worrying mistake.

It is not that I regret being with these two upright and positive young men, far from it; nor that I regret being at Debbie’s hospital bedside while she silently fought the deadly infection which poisoned her, reduced her to a shadow of the woman I spent thirty years with and came close to ending her time, far from it again. It is that I regret my hasty conviction in making this a permanent return. I should have allowed a proper dialogue in Canada; I should have listened; I should have stepped up to the mark; I should have realised the immense worth of what I was destroying.

After thrashing and deliberating, fretting and considering, I wrote, despite fearing the response. To cut a long story short and to spare the personal and excruciating details of many long-distance conversations I/we have reached my/our current position. I am deliberately removing the agony from this episode and also the ecstasy, for they are private emotions special to the participants.

On 27th February I fly from British shores to return to my family on Prince Edward Island, Canada! Needless to say, I am elated at the prospect and can hardly wait to embark on this next chapter of my life.

Thank you all for not judging. Thank you all for reading.

beginning to end

singularity
infinite density
big bang

speed of light
expansion

hydrogen
gravity
space
time
black hole
escape velocity
event horizon
collapse
big crunch

vanishing point

the answering of prayers

Thank you all for your kind comments. I am relieved to report that Debbie is on a long, slow road to recovery. As a certain very important person said to me, a kind of Divine Providence placed me in England at the very moment when my presence was most needed.

Time and distance from Canada have allowed space for clear thinking. Difficult and painful conversations, crucial to mine and Michelle's future, have taken place amid much soul-searching. I stand at a crossroads now, ready to choose a path. I am happy that I have said all that I can in England, told people how much I love them and made a kind of peace with myself.

your prayers are needed

Please say prayers for my former wife Debbie. She is on the Intensive Care ward in Southampton in critical condition. Her winter chest infection turned dreadfully serious and became pneumonia with complications. A severe lung infection has battered her organs and she is under sedation while the doctors administer all the help they can.

Paul

end of an amazing chapter

Those who visited Michelle's previous blog and have read between the lines on here will know I have made a decision which affects the lives of a number of people. I will be returning to England at the end of this month. This decision has been one of the hardest of my life and one that I have thrashed round in my head endlessly.

The bottom line is I can't be happy in my new life and that is not fair on those closest to me. I will be leaving behind a little daughter and a young wife who somehow will manage in my absence. That is the way things happen. I am distinctly un-proud of myself and feel I have let many people down, not least Michelle and Maisie. That is a dramatic understatement, however, we are adults and rational, so remain friends.

l hope to rekindle my relationship with my two grown sons and start on a new path of quiet and calm. My exercise regime is injecting sufficient endorphins to keep gloom at bay although there are some bleak times. I have a new road bike waiting my return and will pedal my way to new horizons.

Fare well friends and "see you on the other side."

the race

 

Well, I did it - my first race. There are some more photographs here, which Michelle took. I lined up at 10am this morning with the four hundred and twenty-seven registered runners for the PEI Half Marathon. I had pinned my race number to my running shirt and strapped the timing chip round my ankle and tried to forget my pain niggles. Would you believe it, I had a bad flare up of fibromyalgia in my left thigh yesterday, plus a severe pain in my right ankle and also a nasty insect bite in my right armpit just to give me something else to think about. I had felt pessimistic as we drove into Charlottetown this morning but I was determined to run through the pain if I could.

We parked and walked to the start in Grafton Street in the shadow of the Confederation Arts Centre. There was a buzz of excitement and a very large crowd by Charlottetown standards. All shapes, sizes and ages of runner were represented, and there were running kits of all colours. The weather was calm and kind but rather fresh, about three degrees Celsius and bright sunshine. Michelle planned to stay in town with Maisie and be back by the finishing line in time for my arrival - whenever that might be.

Having chosen to start near the back, I had to walk for half a minute after the gun while the first runners set off and gave us space. Something told me if I was overtaken by fast runners at the start it would be psychologically worse than keeping my pace sensible and sticking to the speeds I had tested in training. So I tried to stick close to six minutes per kilometre and monitored my progress against my watch as each kilometre marker passed. The initial crush thinned out and soon runners in the ten kilometre event peeled off to return to town while we half-marathoners forged on towards the airport on the outskirts of town.

I was so relieved that my pains had diminished when the race started and I actually felt pretty good throughout the whole thireteen miles. After an hour or so of running I let my pace gradually creep up as I was fairly sure I could now finish comfortably. Because my training runs have tended to be an hour or less I am new to the idea of refuelling mid-run. I had a plan though and in accordance with it, I drank a couple of gulps of Gatorade at three of the drink stations from the ten kilometre mark onwards and also sucked down two power gels from foil pouches.

In contrast to my last couple of training runs I had plenty of energy left and started to pass other runners. There are two severe hills at the two thirds point and these were sorting the men from the boys. I slowed dramatically on the steep rises but kept grinding away and passed more exhausted runners with their hands on their knees at the roadside. The field was well spread out by now and a glance over my shoulder revealed the nearest runner was at least fifty yards behind while there were a sprinkling twenty yards ahead for me to draw towards.

The city had closed most roads for the runners' safety but some arterial sections were open and simply had a coned-off running lane with policemen encouraging cars to stay slow, which obligingly they did. We turned onto University Avenue, the seven kilometre finishing straight but the undulating road and the distance prevented any view of the finishing line yet. By now there was no passing done and runners at our position in the field were hanging on to make it to the line. Groups of interested families were clustered here and there by the roadside cheering us on. I waved and smiled at them.

Race day adrenalin and excitement made a big difference to my performance. Also, I only ran a couple of short runs this week, ate plenty of good food and rested as much as I could. I didn't stop to walk at all during the half marathon and overtook quite a lot of runners in the second half of the race, so I think my strategy paid off.

On the final approach to downtown, I could see the big time clock over the finish line so I knew my watch wasn't lying! As I neared the line they called out my name over the public address system - "Paul B***** from Ferndown, Great Britain!" I ran quite fast across the line and waved to the crowd, finishing 227th out of 427 in a "chip" time of 2 hours, 1 minute and 11 seconds. I am very pleased indeed with the time as I beat my best training time by over ten minutes.

I have a finisher's medal and my race number as souvenirs. Now I am eager to run another half marathon and my target will be to beat two hours.