Well, my long week has come to a close. It's Friday night and like every Friday night so far this year I'm in for the night and planning on being in bed relatively early so I can get my run out of the way tomorrow morning. I think I started to get a bit restless this week - it's approaching the end of week 4 and the amount of time that I dedicate each week to running is, well, a lot. I guess I need to keep my mind focused... last week I introduced a distraction into my life that I wasn't really prepared for...

So now I'm slowly pushing it back where it belongs, in a compartment in my mind and not at the forefront. I can't let myself fall back on the promises that I've made to myself, because I know that when I made them, I was of much sounder mind than I am when I question them.

January was a whirlwind. I'm not even sure I'm grasping that it's February and I'm about to have another birthday. And I've been in this apartment for over a year. And I've been training for a half-marathon for a month and I'm still alive.

I'm definitely trying to stay positive and keep my spirits up even as I push and challenge myself, but I think sometimes I let the weight fall too heavily onto me and I just wish that I had a stronger safety net.

And I'm exhausted.

And I know, I haven't blogged about Top Chef. Here is the gist of my feelings: either of them could have won. Ilan lost every smidgen of my respect when he trashtalked Harold in the "Dirty Dish" interviews they showed during Top Design, and there really wasn't much left for him to lose at that point. Elia is a snivelling, traitorious bitch. Marcel needs to learn to own up to his mistakes. But he is a victim of circumstance, whereas Ilan/Betty/Frank/Sam/Elia/Cliff were bullies who only further victimized him rather than taking the high road. And, people need to stop making salads.

I guess that's a pretty long gist.

And finally, cumulatively Sam should have taken the title. But it's a competition, it's not real life. Oh well!