The good, the bad, and the ugly

Yesterday I saw a real live cowboy.

This was awesome.

Yesterday I ate mesquite bbq, and black pepper and balsamic vinegar potato chips before heading out on my training run.

This was a mistake.

Thank goodness it was only a six km route, because there’s nothing quite like feeling as though you’re going to ralph at any minute from overdoing it on the heavily seasoned deep friend tubers.


I even know how bad I am wrecking myself as I sit there, munching away, but being the classic masochist that I am – I just keep on keeping on.

And it’s not like this is some kind of rare occurrence (although thank goodness it is (slowly) becoming less of a regular thing in my life as I am making more of an effort to regulate my diet leading up to my next long race.)

Irrespective of all this though is the fact that I’ve been knowingly ingesting ticking time-bombs since I started running at the age of eleven.

Someday I’m going to learn my lesson – and but good (and believe me, after the tight spots I’ve found myself over the years, I am terrified to find out what exactly it’s going to take to get me to finally smarten up. ACK.)

In the meantime, I keep calm and carry on.


First on the docket:

Individuals who run downtown on their lunch break.



You are actually doing this? You are actually going to let this happen? I mean, I will (barely) give you a pass if you choose to jog along the seawall, but on the sidewalk on Hastings Street? In the bike lane on Horby?

Get out of here.

Running in place at red lights; weaving in and out of the mass of walkers (many of whom are just trying to get back to their office with their take-out fish tacos in peace – or at the very least, in one piece); and stretching in your spandex in your building’s courtyard?


Look, I get it.

I like running. In fact, I LOVE running. Plus, I understand that it takes a firm commitment to keep in shape, especially if you are a busy professional. It can be a tricky balancing act.

But it is possible to do this without acting like a total arse betwixt the hours of twelve and two.

And look at it this way:

Who wants to be breathing in that kind of exhaust when they are exercising? Who wants to be stopping every thirty seconds waiting for the red light to change?

Also, and these are legitimate questions for those who do work out at lunch: how do you manage to work up a sweat, but not work out that hard so that you’re sweating for the next two hours once you’re back at work? And what about showering? How does that factor in? And when the bloody hell are you actually eating?

Either way, just don’t do it.

Work through your lunch, leave an hour early, and hit the pavement somewhere where you’re not tripping others up, or traipsing from Cactus Club to Cactus Club in your sweatbands, sweatpants, and lululemons.



2. This is not an amusement park ride.

What is up with people and escalators?

I don’t understand those who refuse to walk (when it’s a single capacity escalator) and those who choose to walk on those that are double capacity and then stop once the track reaches either the top or the bottom of the ramp.


Because, you see, I’m still walking – because that’s the commitment I’ve made as an escalator walker – and as such, I will knock into you (and maybe even step on the back of your shoe.)

Because, you see, I expected that you too, would, AS A WALKER, you know, keep moving.

And then, should they get all snippy and grouchy at me, muttering about how, “I should watch where I’m going!” I will have to bite my tongue from bellowing: “You chose to walk! YOU MUST LIVE WITH YOUR CHOICE!”

Seriously, it’s a good thing that my cheery disposition overrides all of my murderous rage, because if it didn’t, I would be dextering peeps left right and centre. DAILY.


3. Long lost reunions.

Today I am having lunch with my grade eleven English teacher and I am SO EXCITED.

As an educator she was darn rad – super engaged, extremely enthusiastic, plus totally committed to her students. I was pretty off the chains that year, and I’m fairly certain there were a couple of weeks where every single morning she asked me if I was okay.

I know that I told her that I was fine (every single morning) – but just knowing that she cared enough to ask was something that I took to heart.

Plus seeing everything that M does to prepare for his classes/make his lessons fantastic gives me a really solid understanding of what goes into being a terrific teacher – insight I definitely didn’t have as the drama queen teenager that I was.

My respect for those who put their heart and soul into education really knows no bounds.

Going into this long weekend, it’s so bonkers to think that we are already at the start of September. This summer has absolutely flown by. August turns to autumn, and I’m already on the lookout for crunchy leaves to step on as I fly about town.

I’m just looking for the right wind to carry me away.