zenn bites...

it has been a crazy crazy day with awful cramps and a gloriously thunderous storm and all those other witchy things that happen to grouchy girls who overdose on ribena.

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i was thinking alot when getting the letters ready for mailing and putting together a media kit for the launch of a project, and one recurring thought was that of the guy who died in the swim leg of a recent triathlon.

it made me think of my dad, and how he'd told me just a few weeks back that everytime he goes for his run, he worries that he won't make it back home alive.

dad has always been relatively healthy and strong, and it's hard to think of him otherwise after a lifetime of looking up to him as a sportsman and an i-can-do-anything army-daddy.

i didn't know how to react when i found out some time last year that he has a heart problem.

he had an op - they did a bypass kinda thing by putting in a balloon to open up an artery, and i tried to make visiting him at the hospital a fun excursion - eating his food, telling him what he should order for dinner the next day, sharing the bed and watching telly etc.

but there was no running away from the fear that he will be taken away from us.

he's all well and good now, but his words jolted me out of denial and woke me up from a childish reverie in which people lived forever.

i think i'll join him for his next run.