Adventure – Page 2 – Rant and Roll

Live Out There Exclusive: “Go Your Own Way: The Best Kept Secrets of a Solo Adventure”

Hey kids! I recently started blogging with the awesome outdoor apparel and adventure company Live Out There and I am very excited to share with you my pieces as they are being published. I recently penned a post about why sometimes adventuring “bear by yourself” (as my mother would say) trumps grinding it out as a group. I hope you enjoy!

Go Your Own Way: The Best Kept Secrets of a Solo Adventure

There are many great things about adventuring with a loved one.

A plus-one means having a companion in arms for when the going gets tough; it means greater variety in food and snacks; and probably best of all, it means having someone to share in the epic views of a crested peak or conquered valley.

But the thing is, trekking and exploring solo is just as awesome and awe-inspiring as going out as a pair. In fact, I would argue that it is actually better.

Find out why here.

Knowing your boundaries – in running and life

Today I ran the Boundary Bay Half-Marathon.

Today I won the Boundary Bay Half-Marathon.

So that was a bit of a surprise!

I had originally signed-up for the marathon, but I quickly realized that giving myself two and a half months to train for 42.2 kilometers just wasn’t nearly enough time. I knew that if I was to attempt the full race, I would probably end up in a wheelchair for (at the very least) the first week post-event, what with my inability to not give it my all once the gun goes off.

So I emailed the race organizers and asked them if it was okay if I could switch.

And lucky for me, it was!

There’s something to be said for knowing your limits.

I had my last training run on Friday morning – just a simple, quick five kilometer pre-work zip about New Westminster’s boardwalk.

I have been having some difficulty with my right knee and left hip – gifts left over from a completely overzealous Thanksgiving weekend, where I ran forty kilometers over three days because everything in my brain was screaming at me that I was unstoppable – and this was giving me some trepidation.

Not to mention, that following this insane running weekend, I went to a concert where I danced my heart out in giant four inch heels.

While unbeknownst to me at the time, this one hundred per cent ensured that my legs were very, very overdone.

Luckily, I have a pretty good physiotherapist who, on Friday, stretched me out, and taped up my knee, so – whether psychosomatic or not – I didn’t have any problems on that front this morning.

On the hip front however – phew. That was a different story.

Everything was feeling so good, until approximately kilometer fifteen, and then I really started to feel the tightness.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Let’s rewind to the beginning, and I will fill you in on all things hip-wise once we get to that point of the story.

Last night I had the best pre-race sleep of my life. I had a pretty full day, driving out to Tsawassen to pick up my race package, buying birthday gifts, and being bowled over with surprise presents from my ridiculous, handsome, brilliant and too-generous husband, so I was knackered by the time nine thirty rolled around.

After setting the coffee, and laying out my race gear, I crawled into bed and was asleep by ten.

I woke to my alarm at six, and did all my superstitious morning-of puttering.

Washing my face.

Putting in my earrings.

Drinking my coffee.

Eating my banana.

It was all comforting and good.

I even had a chance to burn a CD for Marc and I to listen to as we drove out to Boundary Bay.

My weather app had told me that the morning would be overcast and rainy, but the droplets were not to be found as we pulled into the provincial park’s parking lot.

The wind on the other hand – there was A LOT of that to be found.

I would soon learn, that the howling winds of the start line concourse were but a fraction of what we would encounter on the course.

While waiting in line at the port-o-potties, Marc ran into a work colleague, and we chatted a bit about racing and the day.

Then it was time to snap a few silly photos (including one with the Hamburglar and Grimace!) and take part in the group warm up. This is when all of the runners gather about and participate in aerobic exercises lead by exquisitely enthusiastic and warm volunteers.

Before I knew it, I was taking one last photo with Marc’s dad and then lining up with all the other racers.

When the gun went off, I kept repeating to myself, “take it easy.”

I have a tendency to go out too fast, and I really didn’t want to burn myself out in the first ten kilometers.

Boundary Bay is a hauntingly beautiful stretch of beach and marshland. It is also an internationally recognized “Important Bird Area” as it is a critical rest stop for thousands of birds – including the Red Throated Loon and the Sooty Shearwater – using the Pacific Flyway migration route.

I saw three or four hard-core birders out today along the route, not to mention many, many groups of migrating birds and water fowl.

For the first ten kilometers I ran in the shadow of two older men, and one woman – all three of whom were running the full-marathon.

My legs were feeling so strong, that at kilometer nine I slowly started to make my move to overtake them.

When I got to the turn-around (all courses today were out and back) I was buoyed by all of the volunteers cheering me on, and shouting things like, “Yeah! First woman!”

I could immediately feel my strides lengthening and quickening.

Although I (mistakenly) thought this momentum would carry-on until the end of the race, it did last for at least the next six kilometers, seeing as though I ran past so many other runners who took a moment to cheer me on.

I even ran by my brilliant friend Katie who shouted, “VANESSA!?” which just left me with the biggest smile on my face.

The only thing tempering my joy was the brutal head winds we had to face all the way back to the finish line.

Being smack dab on the edge of the ocean leaves one incredibly vulnerable to the elements, and there were times that I felt as though I was running against a brick wall – especially as we climbed into the higher kilometers.

By eighteen clicks, I was feeling pretty tired and both of my hips were tight and sore.

All I kept telling myself was, “you love to do this. You love to do this.”

Because I do! I really, really love running. And as I repeated this mantra, my muscles would slightly unclench, and my legs would loosen.

As I rounded the last corner, with approximately five hundred meters left, I encountered my amazing parent’s in-law (my consummate cheerleaders!)

Eric eagerly let me know that I was the first woman, and Cheryl was just cheering her heart out.

As much as I wanted to show them how much their presence meant to me, I had no energy left to do anything but propel myself to the finish line.

I’m not going to lie, I was a little disappointed that I didn’t break 1:30 but for a tremendously windy and cold course, I’ll take it. I mean, the first man finished in 1:18, which really speaks to the ferocity of the elements.

Plus I came first.

First!

How crazy is that?

For my efforts, I received a gold medal, a hug from Grimace, and a free pair of Sketchers.

Which is totally worth some tight hips.

I mean, I’ll just dance the soreness away.

Gather round, and I shall tell you a tale

Dudes!

I’m back.

First, I would like to apologize for being completely MIA for the past little while. But let’s be honest here – blogging and any semblance of a writing schedule must be completely thrown by the wayside when visiting the coolest city on earth, to celebrate the marriage of two people you love like mad, right?

I mean, let’s not beat around the bush here.

NEW YORK IS THE BEST.

And that’s coming from a pretty seasoned traveller here. I’m been to London, and Paris, and Athens, and St. Petersburg, and a whack of other amazing and tantalizing places, but none of them quite feel the same as the Big Apple.

There is just something to the city that I absolutely love.

I love the complete lack of insecurity and judgement. I love how everyone is just doing their own thing, and owning it – whatever “it” happens to be.

I love the activity, the buzz. The electricity that seems to run throughout your veins, and itches your fingertips.

I love the crazy humidity, and freak thunder showers.

I love seeing how far Marc and I can walk in the rain without stopping to buy an umbrella.

I love the museums, and the fashion, and the men and women scampering about in business suits, and the other men and woman scampering about in little (to nothing!) at all.

I love the food.

I love Central Park, and the city’s clever, (and never wasted) use of green space.

I love the theatre.

I love the firemen who yell at me when I run past, letting them know they are looking for fit, strong women to join the force.

I love Brooklyn and its beautiful brownstones, and bustling young families.

I love getting dressed every morning, picking out the perfect outfit in which to walk the miles, and miles, and miles of sidewalk.

I love meeting up with other fabulous, funny, and completely endearing blogger friends.

I love riding the subway.

I love the friendliness of New Yorkers.

I love that my sister has found the love of her life, and that they make their home in a place where we can all gather, and congregate, and have the times of our lives.

It’s just like the t-shirt says:

I HEART NY.

Day 1.

Lots of napping upon arrival (red eyes will knacker you but good!)

Then it was time for some exploration, the Brooklyn flea market, and an absolutely delicious sushi dinner.

The night capped off with wine and stories with good family friends, and the most mind-blowingly delicious biscotti I have ever eaten.

Day 2.

RUN IT BABY!

Next, time for a little NY City Pride!

Then, more adventuring about Soho. Marc bought some snaztastic shorts, and we refreshed ourselves with some tapas and Prosecco.

Then, more window shopping and WEDDING PLANNING.

Day 3.

Brooklyn Bridge walking extravaganza!

Only of course to be met by a literal wall of water upon our arrival on the other side. Good thing we had the wonderful Ms. Java of Ambling and Rambling to spend time with for the next two hours.

After which, it was off to Wall Street, the Museum of the Native American, then Times Square, Central Park, Fifth Avenue, Rockefeller Centre, NBC, CBS, and Radio City Music Hall!

Day 4.

Get lost out on a run (I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque, er, Dekalb.)

Planning, planning, planning!

Then a trek to the East Village for walking, walking, walking, sushi eating and sake drinking, cannoli eating, and cannoli buying.

More wedding planning!

Then off to the bar to drink rose. (Too much rose.)

Day 5.

WEDDING!

We made sure the day went off without a hitch.

And it was perfect.

And this makes my little heart smile.

Day 6.

Solo trip downtown for Union Square, Empire State Building, and more Fifth Avenue.

Met Marc at MoMA, and then set off to Chelsea to watch the most amazing play I have ever seen.

I will be talking about Sleep No More for the end of my days.

Day 7.

Convene with the newlyweds, and then set out for Central Park with mum.

Walk all about, and then one final crack at Fifth Avenue.

Enjoy wonderful food, drinks, friends, and conversation at Habana Restaurant.

Hold back my tears saying goodbye to the most important people in my life.

Know that we will be together before too long.

Say goodbye to New York.

Know that we will be together before too long.

Have laughs, will travel

Sometimes, you just need to act like a nutter.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

In December of 2009, M and I spent a week in Geneva and five days in London before returning home to Canada.

We had been living in the UK while I was on research leave for my MA, and we really wanted to wrap up our trip in a special way.

We figured stops in two brilliant, bustling cities (in the weeks leading up to Christmas no less) would make for an excellent send off.

Now, suffice to say that I love my husband madly (emphasis on the mad) and when I state that we have a heck of a good time travelling together, this is not hyperbole.

This is fact.

During our time in Switzerland, we bopped about the place, our eyes semi-sprung from our sockets, incredulous at how expensive everything was (I mean, twelve francs for a happy meal!? How is that even possible?), attempting to take in all the jaw-dropping beauty offered up by our environs.

M is half-Swiss so we had the immense pleasure of staying with his amazing cousin Lisette, a woman whom I love dearly – so much so that I will be hard pressed not to name my first child after her.

(If luck should have it that it be born a boy, well, he’ll have to endure. Perhaps some hard living country songstress will write a rousing tune about him and his namesake. It would be a bona fide hit; a certified chart topper.)

Lisette’s sister Bea is another of my all time favourites – she is the epitome of chic. Her doggie Tisha is also the epitome of cute, with her eyes that melt your heart, and magical powers to make handfuls of biscuits materialize out of thin air.

On our first day in Geneva, we toured much of the old town and then visited St. Pierre Cathedral. Having climbed to the bell tower, we took full advantage of an empty observation deck to partake in some high tom foolery.

Exhibit A:

Magic!

On our trip to Bern, M kept asking me to take photos so “it looked like he was running to jump aboard the train while it was still moving.”

This is the best I could do:

It’s amazing the associated press hasn’t been blowing up my phone trying to get me to come and work for them.

Perhaps one of my most favourite laugh-until-you-cry-and-then-bloody-well-laugh-some-more moments came when we were in London.

It was our second day in the city. We sprung out of bed at an early hour, despite having walking some twelve-odd hours the day before, so eager we were for adventure.

Boy was it was cold as heck.

We arrived at Kensington Gardens and immediately were besieged by hoards of hungry, and as such, aggressive water fowl. They were absolutely insatiable! I managed to capture the madness (albeit all too briefly) in the following video.

P.S. THIS IS NOT HOW MY VOICE SOUNDS IN REAL LIFE GOOD GRIEF.

Finally, because I’m a silly, silly girl, and I’m always asking M to pose for inane photos, I requested that he pretend to tickle the giant, mummified hippopotamus that’s hanging two stories up in the Museum of Natural History:

And then pet the skeleton of some poor prehistoric beast that perished in some Jurassic tar pit and/or meteor shower:

Alas.

Just typing out these words – just looking at all of our many photos from this trip has got me feeling homesick. Yearning for our small, rubbish flat on Rotton Park Road, my running loop at the Edgbaston Reservoir, my young English students at Right Track School, the beautiful red brick at the University of Birmingham, and all the carefree nights and weekends M and I spent around the city, and different parts of the country.

So you’ll have to excuse me.

I’m off to take some photos. I’m off for a new adventure.

One fish, two fish

Dudes!

FISHING.

Holy mother of pearl.

M and I just returned from a three day salmon-catching extravaganza in the Barclay Sound with my father, and Mr. DM – alias Fish Whisperer extraordinaire.

Now, I don’t know if any of you cats have ever gone fishing before, but believe me when I saw that I was incredibly out of my element the entire time I found myself at sea.

This doesn’t mean I necessarily stunk up the boat or anything (both in my fishing skills or otherwise) – in fact, I’d like to think that I actually did quite well for a first timer – it’s just that sitting in a boat for long periods of time, at all hours of the day, in all kinds of weather isn’t exactly on par with my day job.

This is how I imagined the weekend would play itself out:

Arrive.

Hang out in a ridiculously beautiful area of Vancouver Island (please see photographic evidence of this very-true fact):

Fish for a couple of hours.

Arrive back at gorgeous hang-out spot.

Eat dinner.

Bed.

Oh brother was I ever off. First, I was ill-prepared, both mentally and clothing-wise for the length of time we would be on the water when we arrived on Friday afternoon.

We arrived at Port Alberni around 12:30, and after dropping our gear off at Green Cove (where we would be staying) we set out to begin hunting for the elusive salmon around 2 o’clock. If you had told me that we would be spending the next seven hours on a boat I would have thought you were kidding me.

SEVEN HOURS!

Good thing I was hanging out with folks that I happen to like. Like A LOT.

And when I say that Don (the Fish Whisperer) is one of the coolest, most skilled guys I have ever met IT IS NO LIE.

The guy is like a ninja on the water! First he sets everything up, then as soon as a rod gets a bite, he is on it like a fat kid on a smartie – turning off the outboard motor, reeling in the other reel, handing off the rod to whomever was next for a chance at the catch – and it all happens so fast if you blinked you might miss all the action.

All in all I had seven tries at the reel, and I caught six fish – three Coho and three Spring (although one of the Springs was just a baby so we had to throw it back.)

I also learned quite a bit. So in no particular order, here are some things I discovered about salmon fishing:

1.) Get prepared to spend a heck of a lot of time in that boat. As I referenced above, we were on the water for most of the day (something I had not expected) so dress warmly, because I can’t imagine anything worse than freezing your butt off on the high seas, while praying for a fish to chomp down on that anchovy. When you are warm and cozy wearing ten thousand layers of clothing nothing will be able to dampen your spirits! (See below photo for clues on what to wear to ensure your warmth.)

2.) If you are girl make sure you are okay with peeing in a bucket. I am very okay with peeing in a bucket so this was no problem. In fact, I felt as though it was pretty high falluting to have such amenities on board! I had full-on expected to be dangling off the edge of the boat, or running into the woods on either side of the inlet every time nature called.

3.) Get ready for some early mornings. On Saturday when the alarm went off at 4:45am the first two thoughts to enter my mind were: “No. I REFUSE.” Luckily after laying in bed for a few more minutes, listening to the strains of Jimmy Buffet’s XFM radio station (pretty much the best music out there for early morning wake-ups) I began to get pretty jazzed up about the start of the day. Oh yeah, drinking nineteen cups of coffee probably also helped.

4.) WATCH YOUR ROD TIP NOT THE SALMON. ALSO, KEEP THAT SUCKER AS HIGH AS YOU CAN GET IT.

5.) Coho salmon jump like Van bloody Halen.

6.) Fish are also strong! Those babies can get pretty big, and goodness knows they put up one hell of a fight as you try to reel them in. My dad actually did one of those classic falls when a fish pulled him off of his feet – otherwise known as “The Goofy.” It was insane! The best part of the whole thing? He still managed to get the fish into the boat. BOSS.

7.) The yummiest dinner ever? Garlic bread topped with fresh crab. ZOMG TASTE EXPLOSION.

8.) Learn how to keep a strong tack. Don’t know what that means? Neither did I! It means trying to keep the boat moving in the straightest line as possible so the bait isn’t zigzagging all over the place. This can been pretty difficult depending on the currents, wave size, and the number of other boats that happen to populate that same area. But do it right and you will feel very, very happy, as will your fellow shipmates.

9.) A really fun game to play while your biding your time between bites is the alphabet game – try to think of words that begin with the letters A – Z for different categories. A few groups M and I went through included European cities, American cities, and professional hockey players (double the points if you can think of someone that shares the same letter for both their first and last name.)

All it all it was really a tremendous weekend. I learned a lot, and like I said, experienced something new and totally outside of my every day routine.

I also had to laugh when a high school kid hit on me in the lineup for coffee when we were hanging out at the ferry terminal on the way home. I looked like an absolute hot mess so tack (har har) that on to my previous list of tips on how to get yourself asked out by the youngsters.

And there’s nothing fishy about that.