I believe I can touch the sky.
Post-Terry Fox Run.
WHOOSH!
Category: To whom it may concern
Something worth running for
The rain is raining folks.
It’s almost as if I can hear each individual raindrop tap, tap, tapping on my window pane.
And on the roof.
And the balcony.
To paraphrase Hugh Grant as the Prime Minister of the UK – rain truly is, all around.
Last week we were blessed with one last amazing week of summer weather: temperatures in the mid to late twenties, amazing sunrises and phenomenal sunsets, and blue sky for days.
And now?
Yesterday morning we woke up to this:
Holy exorcist batman.
The eerie weather ended up being an absolutely fabulous pairing to an early morning race.
Two great friends and I ran the Terry Fox Run, a ten kilometer (or five, or two – depending on your pick!) event that takes place every September, in cities all over the world, which raises funds for cancer research.
It also honours the memory of one of the greatest Canadians that has ever lived – Mr. Terry Fox.
From Wikipedia:
In 1980, with one leg having been amputated, he embarked on a cross-Canada run to raise money and awareness for cancer research. Although the spread of his cancer eventually forced him to end his quest after 143 days and 5,373 kilometres (3,339 mi), and ultimately cost him his life, his efforts resulted in a lasting, worldwide legacy. The annual Terry Fox Run, first held in 1981, has grown to involve millions of participants in over 60 countries and is now the world’s largest one-day fundraiser for cancer research; over $500 million has been raised in his name.
There are a few individuals that make me so proud to be Canadian that I’m just about driven to tears when I think about them, and all that they accomplished during their life.
Terry Fox is one of those people.
So around 8am, I met up with Greg, and Daniela, they grabbed some breakfast Tim Hortons (just in case we weren’t feeling Canadian enough already) and we set off for the starting line.
Unfortunately the route was not well marked at all, so we all ended up running different distances, and courses, but in the end it didn’t matter at all.
It was fun.
Hands down.
I’ve been running a lot of late – at minimum thirty kilometers a week. It really is one of the only ways that I can properly unwind at the end of a workday, and I’m not exactly sure what I would do if I couldn’t strap on my runners and head out the door the moment I get home.
Running makes me feel alive.
It makes me feel whole.
Sometimes I think about what it would be like to just take off and run clear across this massive expanse of a country.
If I could commit myself to something so much bigger than my little life.
I think I could do it.
I think I would do it.
But until that day, I’ll just put one foot in front of the other.
And she’s all out of bubble gum
Today I am saying goodbye to my very good friend, and long-time partner in crime Kristy (although our heists have unfortunately been coming few and far between over the last couple of years, as she embarks on a new work adventure in the good ol’ United States of America.
First stop Texas.
Then onto the Big Apple.
As if I needed another excuse to keep visiting New York!
For people who don’t know Kristy – give it a couple of years.
Before you know it, she’ll be running the darn place.
The girl will be kicking butt and taking names.
Now, I’ve written about this lass before – once to give you a general overview of our completely bonkers, and ever important friendship, and the second to regale you with our absolutely absurd fandango of a trip to Boston for a badminton tournament in 2002, but I feel the need to tell you more about his amazing gal (what with the inevitability of her one-day becoming our benevolent business overlord.)
Let’s start shall we?
First, she is a laugh riot when it comes to photo shoots.
We’ve had many over the years. Most normally devolve into us play-acting completely ridiculous situations (such as wearing bikinis and posing as the “before” and “after” of diet pill commercials) or as illustrated below – “pretend to be as drunk as you possibly can be.”
It really is amazing neither of us has attended the Academy Awards for our spectacular acting skills, let alone taken home multiple Oscars.
Second, if there is one thing you should do before you die, it’s attend one of her birthday parties.
THEY ARE FUN.
Third, she is one of the most dependable people I have ever known.
In this day and age it is super easy to flake out on people (heck, depending on the season and the crazy level of my life, I am guiltier of this than most), but Kristy?
Never.
And the girl is not sitting at home all day crocheting afghans.
(It makes me feel weird that spell check wants to capitalize afghans WHEN OBVIOUSLY I AM TALKING ABOUT THE WRAPS HERE GUYS NOT THE PEOPLE OF THE COUNTRY OF AFGHANISTAN. JEEEZE.)
But back to business.
I cannot really communicate how much it means to me that she is there for me whenever I need her – to come see a show, to talk about life and all its madness, to share a laugh, or eat a fish taco. At the risk of sounding like a Ford truck advertisement, the girl is solid as a rock.
A ROCK.
(IRAQ?)
ACK.
Stop that.
And finally, what I admire most about Kristy, is her fearlessness, her drive, and her independence.
I truly believe that if we were all a little bit more like her, the world would be a much better place.
Because if this were true, I am fairly certain there wouldn’t be diet pill ads to make fun of in the first place.
I want you to take me out
Kids, I am absolutely knackered.
I don’t think I could do any more running about even if I tried.
(Spoiler alert: I will most likely be trying.)
So what’s been going down on this side of the cosmic kitchen?
Work, and more work. Some comedy action. Doing some speaking engagements, and celebrating my rad chums and their days of birth.
I’m just trying to keep my hair free of fire, whilst enjoying these long-lasting summer days with the mad man that I have married.
Also, BREAKING BAD.
What the what!
Seriously guys, Walter White is the absolute WORST.
And in the interim:
Post-wedding sunsets.
Bootleg chocolate bars.
Park adventures.
North Korean poems for children.
Board game victories.
All of the soccer (shenanigans).
Post-date rainbow.
…
Happy Monday you brainiacs!
Take care of yourselves, y’hear?
Looking so darn foxy
I’m not sure how many of you out there are acquainted with the amazing hilarity that is “Ylvis”, but for those of you neophytes, I present to you, for your viewing enjoyment – “The Fox”
I first got to know Ylvis a couple of years ago, when my rad chum Adelle played me their music video for their song “Stonehenge.”
(They like to keep their titles short, and very much to the point.)
We were at work, eating lunch together. It was one of those nondescript Vancouver winter days where everything seems grim – the sky, sea, and city all somehow meld together into one grey, gargantuan mass, and everything just feels damp. We had made plans to go out for lunch, but due to an onslaught of thick fog-like rain, and the accompanying on-set of general mid-week malaise, we decided to forgo venturing outside and just ate in my office.
After we polished off our food, we puttered about online, showing each other the latest viral videos that were tickling our funny bones.
It was at this point that Adelle turned to me and asked, “Do you…do you know Ylvis?”
“EEL-VIS!?” I asked. “You meanlike Elvis!?”
Adelle burst out laughing.
She has this incredible way of going from completely expressionless to gut-busting laughter in under a second.
It really is amazing to behold.
“Yes…Ylvis…” She managed to squeak out in between laughs. “They’re a Norweigan group.”
It was my turn to laugh.
“Norwegian!? Like, Norway’s version of Elvis?!”I was trying desperately to figure out what that may both look and sound like.
Also, one thing you should all know about Adelle is that she really loves Michael Bublé, so I just assumed that whoever she was talking about was just the Scandinavian equivalent of Canada’s own lounge crooner extraordinaire.
“Not really,” she answered. “They’re more like Josh Groban. But funny.”
This I just had to see.
So together we watched Stonehenge.
And boy was she ever right.
These dudes can both carry and tune and bust a gut.
(Although I really need to specify for reasons silly enough that I’m really not that big of a fan of the J. Grobes. I think he’s a cool dude, and his Twitter feed is hilarious, but that music – phew. Not my bag AT ALL.)
Ylvis on the other hand – Ylvis I can enjoy.
Plus, now I really, really want to know: WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY?
Rant and Roll 