I received an email a few days ago stating the Badass Dash event is cancelled here in Ottawa. But just to be sure, I used the contact information on their website and sent off an email to double check. I received a response yesterday.
It is true. The event has been cancelled.
I really feel like I shouldn’t lose a change because of this. It’s not like I signed up for the event, and then decided, nope, I don’t want to do it. I would prefer to drink strawberry daiquiris on my back deck on that day.
Or, that I never started training for the event.
Ok. Maybe I hadn’t started training.
I am down 1 change. And so far I’ve only completed 87 changes.
Well, sort of.
I’ve officially done 86 changes because I still need to read 10 books by the close of this blog in October.
One Christmas a decade ago a very good friend of mine (let’s call her C) made me homemade granola. It was yummy, and both hubby and I gobbled it up in a blink of an eye. As a matter of fact, it was so good that I vaguely recall being annoyed because hubby eat most of it. When I mentioned this to C, I remember her telling me it was either an Oprah Winfrey granola recipe, or it was a recipe featured in her magazine, O.
From that day to tonight, I always meant to make granola myself but never made the effort to 1) go to the grocery store and hunt out the ingredients 2) commit to the time to make it. Years after we received the granola gift at Christmas, C even went to the trouble of looking up the recipe and emailing it to me. When I decided I was going to make granola from scratch, I thought about the recipe she emailed me, and I was certain by now I would have deleted the recipe, or most likely, I had archived it to the bin called “never to be seen again.”
Nonetheless, for this blog I decided granola was on the list. After all, making granola from scratch can’t be that hard. So, I googled “Oprah’s Granola” and sure enough there was a recipe that popped up almost immediately that said, “Classic Granola Recipe.” And I thought, Surely, that must be the one.
The ingredients looked simple enough: rolled oats, canola oil, some nuts, salt and honey. Bake for 30-35 minutes.
So earlier today I headed to the grocery store and raced up and down the aisles looking for rolled oats (It was in the organic section of Sobey’s. I had to google images so that I would know what packaging to look for. What would I ever do without you, Google?), pecans, walnuts, and some other seeds. Yes, grocery shopping. Definitely one of my favorite things.
Not so much.
Then, after 3 hours of trimming shrubs in my backyard and giving LBM his walk past 8 PM, at 9 PM I rolled my sleeves up. I prepped by pushing the spider webs off my measuring cup, consulted the stove manual on how to preheat the oven, through my ingredients together, stirred, rummaged for my baking sheet and aluminum foil (I needed to line the baking sheet), and then tossed the granola on the baking sheet ensuring that I smoothed it out so that it was in a single layer. I even turned my granola bits half way through as per the instructions.
The smell in my house was AMAZING! It always smells so great when I (or both hubby and I) cook. It’s as if someone actually lives here, is eating well, or that someone really cares about me to have gone through the trouble of cooking. (I believe this is a clear sign that I don’t cook enough. I shouldn’t get this excited over the smell or rolled oats, honey, and nuts at 9:45 PM.)
When it was ready, I pulled it out of the oven. I decided I needed to taste it right away. So, I grabbed a spoon, scooping a little dose up from the baking sheet, and shoved it into my mouth. And it was ….
FLAT. It tasted a little burnt (maybe the raisins were a bad idea?) and then it was kind of like crisy oats, with nuts. I couldn’t even taste the honey.
There in lies my problem in trying to make new things. I spent the money, the effort and the time making granola and I know I could have purchased something far superior from Farm Boy.
What was the point of it all?
And I thought about that for some time tonight. I thought about that question, before I even tasted the granola. Because you know what, I did find that recipe in my inbox that C sent to me. It wasn’t in the bin called, “never to be seen again” and I did not delete it. When I looked the recipe over, there were a lot more spices in it. But it called for a few things I didn’t have in my kitchen cabinets. I made a choice, a choice to go with the recipe that I knew I had all the ingredients for because I had shopped earlier today with the list.
And, my granola flopped.
Then I thought about never wanting to try something because I was afraid of failure. But, I’ve never run my life with the expectation that everything will work out. For example, if I do X, then I know Y will follow. I simply know that there are no guarantees in life.
When all else fails, my life mantra is something like, Oh hell. Ok, let’s see what happens if I do this. It can’t make things worse. And I’m pretty certain I’ll learn something along the way.
Even at this age, I’m still a work in progress. I have a better understanding of who I am, and I’m no longer frustrated, hopeless, and angry about my life. I know what I need to do. I know what I want to do. I just need to figure out how to get there.
And maybe part of the way I get there, is flopping at making homemade granola.
I also tried the granola with yogurt and honey.
It was ok, but still not great. Oh well. It’s not terrible.
Ok, so as everyone may recall (Ahem, or maybe not. It’s been some time.) I made a decision to scale back the blogging because I found completing 4 challenges/week too much. Some challenges were simple such as eating and drinking something new. Others were more onerous such as walking past the mirror every morning with a startled expression of, “Who is that person in my house?”
Then, I stupidly realized I had dyed my hair blonde for 30 days and was like, Oh yeah! That’s me.
But, now as I review my entries for May I realize I’ve only really done three things. And to me, that’s abysmal. (Where the heck am I getting these words from? Onerous and abysmal and I haven’t even got to the point yet? I’ve been in a comatose state for most of the last 6 days and couldn’t recall the word headache for the life of me. My better language tonight must be because I am now on drugs. More on that soon.)
Anyhoo. So, before the last week happened, I thought seriously about bumping my blog entries back up to 2 challenges/week. And now as I sit here slightly medicated, still in a bit of stupor, I think maybe I should stick to 1-2/week. So, I’m still calculating. But I’m leaning towards at least 1. I’ve got less than 5 months left of this blog. I really have so many other ideas I want to do.
But – without killing myself.
What happened in the last week? You ask.
Oh, I got a fever. A fever that started on Tuesday night, would come down a little bit with advil, and once the advil began to leave my system, would fire right back up again!
I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to be staring down a digital oral thermometer watching your temperature rise and be like, Come on? Your kidding me, right? (Because you know, it’s only been 3 days of brutal glassy-eyed, zombie me, moving from my couch to my bed waiting for my internal temperature to go back to a normal level where I may be able to think.)
All that to say, my Saturday ride-in-the-car-to-the-clinic was a big adventure for me yesterday! Also was delighted when the doctor I saw handed me a prescription for antibiotics. I’m normally resistant to taking medication, but after sweating it out for 4 days, (literally) I can tell you I joyously snatched the paper from her hand and bounced out the door.
OK. Maybe not quite bounced. More like staggered. (Also, I had to google that word. I had no idea how to spell it. So, I don’t quite have my brain back yet.)
All that to say, I attempted to read as I remembered change #85 where I stated I would read 10 books by October 20th. I failed at reading several times in the last few days, (unable to think) but today I made some strides, and given that I was close to the the end of My (not so) Perfect Life by Sophie Kinsella I finished it!
Yup! You read that right! This girl has completed 1 book of her 10 book challenge due by October 20th!
How did I feel about the book? It’s 438 pages long and I fell in love with the title of the book. We all know why. I need not explain it. 😉
But, at the very beginning of the book I had a tough time. I love Sophie Kinsella’s books as they are witty and a joyous ride of clever heroines that will get themselves into the most insane trouble only to find a way out. They are a great light read.
My problem at the beginning was the same problem I had with The Beautiful and Damned. They had several characters that came from wealthy families (most prominently Demeter) where they focused on clothes that she wore, trips that she took, and her house. But when they had the potential “love interest” be even more wealthier, falling for the poor girl, I nearly dropped the book and never looked back.
But I paused for awhile. And then I picked it back up again, read it, read on, and on, and realized it really is a great book.
How much do I share with you?
Well, I don’t want to share too much.
But maybe there’s another way for me to share with you what this book meant to me in another way. I live in a neighbourhood where people put great pride into their gardening. My neighbours spend a great deal of time planting shrubs, tending to lawns, re-mulching their flower beds, and weeding. They love it. And to them I give them a high-five and cheer them on saying, Go Girls! (And Men! Because on my block, some of the men do it too.)
I don’t like gardening. Never have. Never will. But I do what needs to be done. I also have a bare minimum that I must do every year. This year I have been terribly delinquent due to two weekends in a row away from home, wanting to relax the first weekend I was home, only to then find myself sick this past weekend.
Nonetheless, this is the view of my walkway.
You’re not getting pictures of the WILD shrubs in my backyard. I’m waiting for by-law to come and ticket me due to my neighbours complaining about the overwhelming, red-green explosions that are popping over the fences obstructing their view.
Now, my neighbours know I’m lazy. I’m pretty honest about it. But I try not to do more than I can handle if my world crumbles around me as it has before in other years. Still, this year, things really do not look great for the first weekend in June.
I haven’t spoken to my neighbours. They don’t know how busy the last month has been. As I haven’t really left the house, none of my neighbours know that I have been sick.
And I wonder. I wonder what they think?
Do they think, she’s reached a whole new level of laziness? Or do they wonder, is there something big happening in her life?
After all, this is…..
(Ok. Nobody panic. Nothing really big has happened. Really, I was away 2 weekends in a row, and 1 weekend of I-just-don’t-care, I got an infection that means I haven’t done anything for 6 days and I’m not doing much for another 7 days till my antibiotics are done. Thanks. Gardening can wait. Health is #1.)
Ok, this card I found in the book I just finished. I don’t have children, but my husband always creates a card with my dog on the front for Mother’s Day. This is the one he did for this year.
I had to share. If this don’t make you laugh, I don’t know what will.
I’ve always liked the idea of being in control of a flight; one of those free birds that learns how to fly all on your on. I would chart my course before a trip and wing off to any location in a Cessna plane. New York? Yup. Los Angeles? I’m your girl. Australia? Just ring me.
Ok, you can’t go that far in a Cessna. But hey, it’s my dream.
The only reason why I know as much as I do about flying is because of my husband. He practices on a flight simulator at home, but more importantly, has flown a plane and logged numerous hours towards a pilot’s license. I, on the other hand, just continue to dream about such things.
I did take one flight a few years ago (I believe it was called an intro flight) where I got to take the controls for a short time on a small plane. My husband sat in the backseat, and with the instructor seated beside me, we flew over Ottawa on a clear evening night. The small dots of lights were the only means to light our way. It was dazzling.
But once I had the controls clenched tightly between my fingers, my face turned red, and I started to sweat like a person with the flu, the only thing I could think of was going down in a fireball. I believe I lasted all of 10 minutes before returning the controls to the instructor.
After that day, I never went back.
This past weekend, we travelled to Atlanta, Georgia to try out a Level D 737-200 training flight simulator at the Delta Flight Museum. This would be my first time in a flight simulator, and in truth, I’ve never even played on one at home but my hubby wanted me to be his co-pilot. How could I refuse? I expected to simply sit beside him and towel off sweat from his brow. Imagine my horror when a few days before we were scheduled to fly out to Atlanta, my hubby turned to me and said, “Oh, before we go I want to show you a few things.”
My instant reaction was, What? I thought I was just going to sit there? Nonetheless, it was a busy week and the day we finally went over what I was required to do in terms of sitting in the co-pilot chair – turned out to be Friday night. I cupped a glass of red wine in my hands, as he reviewed that on take off I needed to call out certain speeds starting at 80 knots up to 120 knots. Apparently, there’s a speed at which you can abort a flight. Before the speed of 80 knots you can abort for minor things.
Once you reach V1 (V1 is dependent on the weight of the plane etc, but for our purposes it was around 120 knots) you can abort for major things. Over V1, you must take off. (Fire in the engine or not.)
I’m sure there were other things that he told me, but as I drank my Cabernet Sauvignon I wondered what exactly I had gotten myself into. I know flight simulators are expensive pieces of equipment. I was worried that this would be my one and only time I would be allowed to play at the museum. I envisioned being banned for life as the single kid who broke the toy.
The day of or flight simulator experience, I was nervous and kept trying to go over things with hubby. Questions I asked over and over again were: What speed do I count at? Why am I doing this? Flaps? What? My husband reassured me that there was a pause button that the instructor could hit and stop the simulation if things were not going well. I nodded my head and tried to calm down. But I did not believe him.
When we were in the simulator on that day I required a great deal of instruction and it kind of went like this with the instructor in the back saying: flaps up! gear down! no gear up!
From my side occasionally I would start doing things correctly with the: 80, 90, 100, …oopps..130! (as it past 145!) At some point I was to say rotate. Even after, on this day, I still have no idea when that was to be.
Should flying be my career?
I think not. There are pilots that can point out landmarks at night using only lights. They can point in the direction of the Empire State Building, will know where the Ottawa River is, and will not misjudge the suburban community of Barrhaven for downtown Ottawa. I can not read a road map to save my life, and can barely follow a GPS correctly during the day whether with signs, or with Tim Horton’s on a corner. As well, being a pilot requires mathematical skills of adding and subtracting numbers when calculating the heading that I can’t do, and certainly can’t do under pressure. (I believe heading, is direction.)
The instructor we had provided MUCH NEEDED guidance to me and was ever helpful and it was much appreciated. My husband on the other hand, required very little. We attempted to land with crosswinds, and flew in with a single engine and despite all the alarms that went off (yeah, it’s pretty noisy in a cockpit when things aren’t going well) I would have preferred to throw my hands up in a panic. Mu husband stayed calm and attempted to land the plane as best he can, despite his lack of co-pilot.
After we were we took a look around the rest of the museum and checked out the 747 that they just recently opened for the public. We finished the day with dinner and drinks at the bar in our hotel. When dinner was nearly over, my husband noticed a pool table at the back of the bar and asked, “Do you want to play pool after?”
“Yeah!” I answered. It’s only been 10 years. Why not? (I love pool!)
Hubby proceeded to kick my butt at playing pool too. (Because I suck.)
Many thanks to hubby for reviewing this entry. I had put 80 miles/hour. Apparently it’s 80 knots. My bad.
No pictures of us playing pool. I forgot to take some. My bad.
If there are any errors in How to Fly 101, it’s all on me. (Because I didn’t get hubby to review this full blog post.)
After the CN Tower Climb I felt invincible as if underneath my insulation that I worked on during the winter, I was secretly Supergirl. I had spent the last year rotating between sitting at my keyboard during the day, on weekends, and evenings only to mix it up with sitting on my couch and binge-watching various TV shows. (I see you Prison Break and Downtown Abbey.)
For these reasons, I was genuinely terrified of the CN Tower Climb very much expecting that after the 5th flight of stairs I would collapse on one of the landings, wave my hand to Hubby and say, no you go on! leave me!, and wait for the paramedic to arrive to carry me down to the bottom.
Hubby attempted to reassure me that I would be ok. I had good cardio from all the running I did. (Past tense.) I would not believe him. I felt as if he was just trying to reassure me so that I didn’t quit before I even started.
Then on the day of the climb something incredible happened. It turned out that I really was OK. It was still challenging; I was not one of the elite climbers that completed all 1776 steps in 9 minutes. But I did make it to the top, with some energy to spare.
Last weekend there was a nearby community in need, and I wanted to go out and help. The community needed people to do some heavy lifting. I was certain I was their girl. When I told Hubby about my plans, he warned that it would be hard work, it would be lots of heaving lifting, and exhausting.
Not to be deterred, I went anyways certain that he got this wrong. After all, I was the girl who did the CN Tower Climb and didn’t die. I was convinced with the help of fairies I had managed to maintain some level of fitness in the last year regardless of my eating/TV watching/sitting at my computer marathon sessions.
I don’t know why I don’t listen to him. He knows be better than I know myself. I lifted one or two items and realized instantly I had 0 upper body strength. Ask me to lift a 5 lb bag of potatoes, no problem. Ask me to lift 8 lbs, and I have a problem.
Nonetheless, I only volunteered for perhaps a total of 1 hour. My arms felt like rubber, and the next morning in the shower, I could barely lift them to put the shampoo and conditioner in my hair. One hour of heaving lifting, and I was in pain, moody, and exhausted for 3 days.
That was my wake-up call. I still NEED to write, and to relax. (Hello, TV!) But I also need to hit the gym so that when the occasion arises when family, friends or the larger community that I live in need help, I can contribute more than 1 hour on a Saturday.
I began browsing for Mud Run Events. I know a couple of people that have done them. Then, I stumbled across a few running/obstacle courses that included mud. Last night I found the Badass Dash Event, and I thought – Ha! Perfect, to get my butt in shape!
And I registered for it.
The idea behind this event is that it’s a 7 KM run with obstacles, and after the Polar Plunge in Kingston, and the CN Tower Climb in, well, Toronto – I wanted something local. This one happens right in Ottawa. (Beautiful.) More importantly they have different levels of difficulty and one of them was a Recreational Event. (That’s me!) And, if you can’t do a particular challenge (oh boy, please no gigantic walls to climb over) they will make you do something else such as push-ups. 🙂
I have no idea how to train for this. I suspect, running (yes) and biking will help get my cardio up. Lifting weights will hopefully help my upper body. Otherwise, I think I just hope for the best. If anyone has any suggestions, I am open to it.
Below is the link, just in case someone else wants to do it. They also have other events in other cities.
Everyone raise your hands, if you thought I would never make it 21 days of running 2 KM each day?
There’s at least one hand up. It’s mine. Because, I was sure I would flop this challenge.
Below are the distance, and times for Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday:
I think now is a good time to evaluate what I’ve learned from running 2 KM/day for the last 21 days. And the best way to do that: a Top 10 List.
The Top 10 Things I Learned:
10. Stretching is important. (Wish I would have done it. )
9. Run in the morning, that way no matter what happens during the day, you’ve got your run in. (I did that most days. With the exception of a few days. Today, being one of them.)
8. Running a little bit each day, really, is not that hard.
7. Working out a little bit each day improves my mood. (Normally.)
6. Running in rain is not a big deal. Or snow for that matter. Even if it’s May.
5. I can run without music.
4. I can run without running pants. (Sweat pants, from Walmart, work too! No logo branded gear such as Nike, or Adidas are required.)
3. I can run without a running shirt. (Yup! Freebie cotton shirts from various other running/fundraising events means I am good to go!)
2. I can run WITH glasses
1. I really do love to run.
I have gone 21 days of streaking and the question I needed to ask myself is: would I do it again?
My answer: I don’t know.
It’s a lot of pressure to commit to running every day. While for the most part running made me calmer, and I found myself reaching a little less for sweets, and I’ve just given you 10 positives related to this experience; a small part of me did wonder when I became increasingly snappy towards hubby and puppy over the last 5 days, if it was related to never giving myself a break from running. There were some days when I was exhausted and I really needed to/wanted to do other things. On those days, I leaned quite heavily towards skipping the run.
But I didn’t.
While exercise is good for me in high or low doses, when I am faced with never giving myself a chance to stop, reflect, breathe and relax the early signs of burnout begin to manifest themselves in my cantankerous behaviour.
Exercise is much needed by me, and my body.
But, both body and mind also require time off. Some people may sum this up to laziness.
Sure. But for me, it’s about moderation. I can do the: sweat-loaded-feel-my-calves-burning-ouch!-I-have-a-stitch-in-my-side-for-the-last-100-meters 10 KM run. Shortly after though, I appreciate if it is followed with an evening in a candle lit Italian bistro with me eating buttered bread, sipping a spicy aromatic glass of pinot noir, while waiting for my cheese filled canneloni to arrive.
Moderation works best for me.
Now to celebrate the successful completion of this challenge, I am off to Dairy Queen!
I do believe I’ve earned it.
By accident, I ran 21 days of 2 KM (and then a little more on some days) and that equals more than 42 KM.
Here’s an interesting tidbit from Wikipedia:
“The marathon is a long-distance running race with an official distance of 42.195 kilometres (26.219 miles, or 26 miles 385 yards).”
Huh? I’ve run a marathon in a month. That’s the most exercise I think I’ve done in a year. That seems like a pretty good baseline to begin a regular exercise routine. What do you think?
How did I compute 400 meters? I still have runs to do on Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. For me, 4 days is equivalent to 400 meters even if it is just 2 KM every day for the last 21 days.
It’s been hard to be committed every night. But after awhile, you get quite use to getting wet every day thanks to all the rain we’ve had. Yes, I probably should have done this challenge in the summer. It would have been easier to streak in sunshine. But hey, it’s called Pushing Boundaries for a reason.
Oh, and killer allergies? I don’t care! You are not taking me down!
Even though I have come home soaked and chilled to the bone many times, it’s also been a wonderful experience, exhilarating and refreshing. It’s nice be outside and to make time for myself. This run takes me less than 20 minutes to complete, (others can do it much faster, I know) but it helps me cope with the rest of my day and anything that life may throw at me.
Fickle fingers yank and pull at the zipper at the crack of dawn this morning in a pathetic attempt to try to zip the winter parka up. I never did. I buttoned it up instead.
No, we were not under a -45 degree Celsius warning where Environment Canada shrieks, unexposed fingers will fall off in a matter of seconds! Damn it, where 14 pairs of mitts, if you must go outside!
I’m kidding. You only need 13 pairs of mitts in order to protect your fingers from those temperatures.
What I did need the parka for this morning – was to protect me from our very own monsoon season. A torrential downpour greeted me and pup on our morning AM walk (ok, pup is 9 years old, but he’s still my baby) and neither of us were impressed. LBM spent a great deal of time wiping his face on my pants in pure disgust about how much water was on his coat.
I decided this morning I would not rush on our walk. Since my streaking days began I’ve been dragging LBM around the block in a hurry saying, “Come on! I have to get my run in!” I decided this rainy Monday cold morning, on garbage day, neither of us needed that.
So we strolled and meandered around, played ball, got soaked several times by various intensity of showers, and then made it back home. As I looked at the clock I thought, Hmmm…I had time? Maybe I should go. After all, I was already wet. As well, I seriously questioned whether I would have the stamina by the end of a full work day, to go splashing out in the cold deluge for an evening run.
It seemed most unlikely.
So I went. I went without proper running attire (i.e I had clothes on – enter sweat pants and cotton shirt! But not the latest, trendiest sports pants and shirt.) with only my running shoes, running socks, and running watch. These were the only items that I could complete on a checklist for running gear.
I went without The Script, Adele, Ed, or One Republic singing sweet lullabies in my ear. I went without a hat and gloves, because I was already wet, and didn’t care.
Because some days when you already know it’s going to be bad, you say, I’m going to go anyways, so there!
Ok, technically it should be “swimming, swimming, swimming…” and yeah, that’s from the movie, Finding Nemo.
But hey, I think running, running, running, works too.
Times from April 27th & 28th:
And here are the times from April 29th & 30th:
As previously mentioned in an earlier post, a few years ago I attempted to go 30 days streaking, and made it all of 11 days.
Today, April 30th – marks 12 days of streaking! Only 9 days left of this challenge. Hang on blog followers, I might actually reach this goal!
If I successfully reach this goal, I will have weathered rain, unseasonably warm temperatures, to running this morning with my hat and gloves on because it’s cold. Again.
Not to mention, best of all, my seasonal allergies kicked in on a brutal scale last week. This means that I sometimes run now while congested, sneezing, or in a blur because of the goo in my eyes. Oh, and sometimes it’s really difficult not to trip over my own feet because I’m that tired from pollen.
Has everyone heard that song from the 80’s by Queen?
It seemed appropriate. I fail, fail, and fail challenges. It’s my thing to do.
Wait a sec. What’s that below?
Ha! I got ya!
Below is my time from my morning AM run on Monday, April 24th. Ok, don’t look at the bottom number. Otherwise, all you’ll think is: she must have walked the whole way.
When I returned from my run that morning, I inadvertently left the watch sitting on the dining room table and forgot to hit the stop button on the timer. Nonetheless, it skewed the bottom number that shows how fast I ran.
Besides, it doesn’t matter, I’m getting out there and making an effort. More of an effort than I’ve made in quite some time.
And below are my 8:30 PM results of my run after a BIG salad and an itsy, bitsy glass of wine, in the twilight hours of the day with rain soaked sidewalks that meant I nearly fell on my face.
Again. (If you’re confused by the statement of “falling on my face”, check out the blog post called Gravity Sucks.)
Apparently, I might make salad and wine my new fuel food for all runs in the future. Weather being wet and miserable, I had a good run. But then again, I always love running at night. I’m normally pretty tired, but there’s something that feels like you’re in another world when you run in the dark. I know it’s weird. I’ve always loved it.
Finally, this morning’s run. What day are we on?
April 26th, I think?
How am I feeling about streaking? Pretty good actually. While I haven’t lost a pound, I feel like I’m stronger. My body (in particular my mid-section) seems a little smaller. Emotionally, I still have my good and bad days, but I’m keeping more perspective and even if things aren’t going quite perfectly (does that ever happen, for anyone? I think not) I’m remaining positive regardless of the challenges I am facing.
One thing though. I MUST STRETCH MORE. My butt is getting tighter. Not in a good way.
I believe I’ve conquered 7 days of streaking. I’m 1/3 of the way there.