Friends – Page 3 – Rant and Roll

Love is all around me

Hi kitty cats!

My lovely man snapped this bonkers photo of me late Saturday night (actually now that I think about it, it was more like early Sunday morning) after returning home from two shindigs with our lovely friends.

I shouted down from upstairs that I needed him to take a photo of my skirt and as I raced downstairs this is what happened:

I kind of love it.

Almost as much as I love this skirt.

Either way, ho hum, pigs bum.

And elsewhere in the cosmic kitchen –

Kitten love.

Fondue festivities.

All the noms were enjoyed in this photo. Oh yes.

Also, in cool news on the comedy front, I was invited to perform at an open mic in Surrey on Sunday night (and I did it! HUZZAH!)

This turned out to be excellent fun times. I brought a rad posse of bad-ass friends to keep me company, as I was a little nervous about being the only girl comic there – as I imagine this position to be one with some inherent loneliness.

I can only imagine how nuts it would have been had I showed up and just proceeded to read some Brothers Karamazov while waiting to do my set.

Actually, I kind of want to do that next time just to see the reaction.

Good grief.

I am also going to be performing at a Pro-Am show on December 20th.

Meep.

So things are happening! Funny things are happening!

In the meantime, I am actually dead alive on my feet after a weekend of madcappery and brilliance.

On Friday night I met up with a fab friend for a post-work drink, and goodness gracious was that ever a laugh and a half.

Seriously dudes, when I say that all the laughs were belong to us, THIS IS NO JOKE.

We also might be clinically insane.

As I rode skytrain home I kept trying to read my book but couldn’t because I just kept giggling like a bloody loon. People were looking at me like I was absolutely mad.

(Not a heck of a lot different from my everyday experience, but hey, at least I’m always enjoying myself, right?)

When I got home M had prepared for us an amazing fondue feast and we gorged ourselves on gruyere before retiring to our newly transformed Christmas den (aka living room) to watch Love Actually and drink scotch (him) and tea (me.)

Don’t think I’ll ever be able to do the scotch thing, but it seems as though Mr. M is turning into el suavo extraordinaire.

Such a total, total, stud.

The rest of the weekend was a whirlwind of parties, runs, cleaning sprees, gift shopping, and catch-up brunches (are there any other kind?)

Goodness I hope not.

What did you all get up to this weekend?

I want to hear all about it.

(And that’s no joke.)

I run, therefore I am (a Fall Classic)

Running the Fall Classic is always an experience. As the last race of the season, it truly attracts all manner of competitor – from the hard core runner who competes in nothing but teeny, tiny running shorts and (maybe) a tank, to those who have been training all year for – what will be – their very first 10k.

Because of this eclectic mix (and the fact that it’s near always freezing, raining, or winding – or some combination of all three) the day is marked by an atmosphere like no other.

There is a real camaraderie in the air.

I chalk this up to one BIG reason:

The people taking part really want to be there.

I mean, why else would you subject yourself to the late-Fall elements on a Sunday morning in mid-November? Off the cuff, I can think of a few things that may be just a tad more comfortable (and warm, and cozy) than careening about UBC while fat, frigid raindrops spatter your face, and soak your runners.

(Just a couple mind you.)

For me, as much as I love the blanket forest I like to call a bed, I really wanted to end the (running) year on a high note, and knew that taking part in this run was just the ticket.

So come Sunday morning, I picked up the lovely Ms. Alannah (from her own bed of rest), and together we drove into campus.

(Side note: UBC has changed so much since my time there as a student! It was mind blowing to see all the new residential and retail developments that have popped in areas that once were nothing but a home for trees.)

As we neared the student recreational building – where I was to pick up my race bib and shirt – I realized that I had forgotten my wallet at Alannah’s house. Never one to waste an opportunity for a minor spaz attack, I quickly bellowed, “MY WALLET ON NO HOW WILL WE PAY FOR PARKING THE DAY IS OVER!!!1!1!.”

Luckily, my co-pilot, being much saner than I, whipped out her trusty pay-parking app on her smart phone. Before I had a chance to even squeeze out one anxiety-related tear, she had paid for three hours of parking, and had taught me how to top up in case we needed more time.

Genius.

Then it was off to pick up my gear, check my bag, and head over to Irving K. Barber library (a warm, dry haunt situated right next to the start line) where we got the chance to glimpse the leaders of the half-marathon (they started an hour before us 10kers) as they flew by, finishing their first lap of the course.

Before we knew it, it was already 9:30 and time for us to take off.

Just standing outside for five minutes before the gun went off was enough to put a wee chill into my bones. I was wearing long running pants, a compression shirt, my tough mudder t-shirt, and a toque, but even still, the wind was winding, the rain, raining, and the cold, colding.

I couldn’t count down the seconds fast enough.

It’s always a bit of a mad-dash-gong-show whenever the gun goes off. You’re trying to find your pace, and your place among all the other runners, trying not to clip anyone’s heel, or box someone out.

Again, I felt that my speed was fast, but not uncomfortably so, and I figured I would go just go with the flow – pushing my body, but not to the point of distress.

Speaking of which, the women with whom I ran the majority of the race sounded like a bloody train! I was so worried that she was going to collapse, or burst a lung, what with how hard she was breathing (and from the very outset at that!) Talk about incredibly disquieting and discombobulating. I let her run ahead for most of the course, and then ran past her in the final one kilometer.

I’m not going to pretend as though this didn’t fill be with a little bit of (perverse) happiness.

Heh heh heh…

Anyways, back to the course, as the gods wept overhead, we zigzagged along Marine Drive, enjoyed a few stunning ocean vistas, and cowered in the shadows of the foreboding, but beautiful tree line that decorates much of this stretch of road.

When we turned around at the 5k marker, the wind immediately died and it was at this point that I realized wearing a toque may not have been the brightest idea.

In the words of GOB: I had made a huge mistake.

In order to save my head from exploding due to extreme heat build up, I yanked it off and mashed it into my pants’ pocket. At first this was mega-weird, and I felt a tiny bit conspicuous, what with the giant bulge I was now sporting on the left side of my body, but after about thirty seconds I promptly forgot that it was even there.

Runners zen dear readers.

It will make you forget about anything.

As we snaked back through the university, my stomach began to feel a little queasy, which only served to make me run faster.

My legs were feeling a little stiff, but I tried to power through this (slight) case of lethargy.

Before I even knew it cow bells were being rung in every which direction and I was just powering it with everything I had to get me across that finish line.

It’s been so long since I last ran a 10k (in a race) and after three consecutive half-marathons, I was a little incredulous that the whole thing was already over.

I congratulated my heavy-breathing running mate on a race well run, before heading towards the Student Union Building (or as we affectionately call it, the SUB) to change out of my gear. I phoned M, let him know how the race went, and then returned to the finish line to cheer on Alannah as she completed the course.

Overall, I ran a solid 42 minute race, and was the 13^th female to finish (57^th overall)

For a rainy, windy, cold, cold day, I couldn’t have asked for anything else.

Although the delicious syrup, and raspberry soaked waffles I inhaled at brunch were a fabulous bonus.

Standing in the shower thinking

Hey you beauty cats.

After a weekend of solid rain this is what we have been gifted on this otherwise ordinary Monday:

Everywhere the trees look like they are fire-kissed, fresh out of the autumn oven.

Leaves litter sidewalks and parking lots, an electric collage of reds, oranges, yellows, purples, and greens.

They are maple shaped, multi-coloured cobblestones that crunch (not clatter) underfoot.

For myself, after two days in a row of running in an absolute deluge I am fit to bursting with excitement to get outside and stretch my legs in the sunshine.

While there is always something to be said for running in the rain, I made the absolute worst mistake on Sunday afternoon.

I wore WAY too many pieces of clothing.

To make matters worse, I not only managed to cook myself alive, but did so despite running in what was, for all intents and purposes, a gigantic, omnipresent shower stall.

(With the water set to FULL BLAST.)

Not even an actual, real-live ice cold shower post-run could sufficiently bring down my core temperature, and for a good portion of the afternoon afterwards I was plagued by residual (and random) heat attacks.

Lest it need repeating – shedding clothing (at the drop of a hat) in public is not the defining character trait I aim to cultivate.

On the bright side, at least I will be a seasoned veteran of these things by the time menopause rolls around.

Little victories.

So how, exactly, did I end up dressed for Siberia (despite encountering Seattle), sweating my little face off?

I made the mistake of assuming that the massive fog bank that had rolled in that morning would be a pretty good indicator of what was happening outside temperature-wise, and as such, was duped into thinking that winter wear was a must.

What can I say? I see fog, I think freezing.

Boy was I wrong.

But as they say, live and learn!

Live and learn.

I’m actually glad I’m making these mistakes now, and not come the 18^th – as a hardcore over-heat on race day is pretty much my worst nightmare ever (and definitely much worse than going into a run under-dressed, because when that happens at the very least you can just run faster to warm yourself up.)

Because –

Dudes, I am so excited to run in this race.

MEEP.

First, there is something so delicious knowing that it is only ten kilometers long.

The last three competitions I’ve entered have all been half-marathons (where ten km doesn’t even count for the half-way mark) so I am practically giddy knowing that once I reach the 7km sign I am pretty much at home plate.

And while I do, of course, hope that the rains stay away, I can’t help but wish that come race-day, when the gun goes off, the temperature is on the colder side.

Just enough so that I can wear my sweet, sweet running pants (the ones that keep my legs feeling limber and lithesome, and that trick my limbs into thinking I have swaddled them in feathers and fleece).

(Plus, being the good Canadian girl that I am, I never give up the chance to wear a sweet toque.)

Second, my amazing and hilarious friend Alannah is also racing and THIS WOMAN IS SO FUNNY I HAVE ABS BECAUSE OF HER.

I can only imagine the post-run hijinks that will ensue.

And finally, well, I seem to be on some kind of perpetual runner’s high (hot flashes be damned) and I’m just stoked about competing on a new course, with new people, in a new season.

Variety and spice, and all that, right?

What about you folks?

Do you prefer to run in the heat or cold? And what pieces of clothing make braving the elements just that little bit easier?

You can tell me all about it, once I get out of the shower.

Working for the weekend

So I received a lovely comment the other day from an equally lovely reader (and one who seems to have fashioned his own form of English – reading his phonetic language is at time akin to deciphering some kind of code) asking me if instead of toiling away in employment obscurity, I am living off of the royalties of a amazing invention or product (seeing as though I don’t talk all that much about my place of work on ye olde Rant and Roll.)

Alas, as much as I wish this were true, it is in fact not the case.

At least, not yet.

I do work, and while my experience with my job doesn’t require me to write long-winded diatribes about the injustice and inhumanity of it all, it certainly isn’t all satsumas, rainbows, and peanut butter chocolate chip cookies (cut out in the shapes of owls and otters.)

Sometimes I stampede about my office, ready to rip out my hair and the vocal chords of whatever poor sap who just happens to be shuffling by with the printer paper refill order.

Sometime I am all rage, all the time.

But honestly, when it comes down to it, I like my job.

I get to research and write policy recommendations to the provincial government. I write news releases, speeches, and editorials, ghost-write and edit for professionals who need help with their pieces, conduct interviews, manage social media, and do some pretty large scale event planning.

And when I say that I bloody-well love some of my co-workers, there isn’t one kernel of untruth in that statement. There are four ladies with whom that I work whom I love dearly, and I can honestly say that if they weren’t there for me day in and day out, I would have packed up my bags (and Mr. 8”X 11”s vocal chords) one heck of a long time ago.

Phew.

But despite all of this, there are times when I feel myself getting restless.

On the surface, everything is a-okay. My head bobbing above the water, I am the spitting image of perfectly calm, perfectly collected.

IMG_1363 - Copy — Just keep swimming…just keep swimming.

However, peer a little closer – down, deeper into the depths of the lake (or whatever body of water it is in which I am swimming) and you’ll see me limbs thrashing about every which way, desperate to propel my body into a new direction. I crave to be constantly on the move – doing new things, making new plans, setting new goals.

Which is why outside of work I take on as many ventures as I possibly can, pushing myself to do as much as possible, driving myself to the brink of sanity and exhaustion.

I have been a Big Sister with Big Sisters of the Lower Mainland for almost four years, and since January have been working as a media ambassador for both their mentorship initiatives and the organization as a whole. I volunteer with Vancouver Co-op radio as a co-host of the Storytelling Show, a program dedicated to the telling and sharing of women’s stories and I’m constantly in the process of training for a new competition – my next race is the Fall Classic Half Marathon taking place November 18, 2012.

My next big goal is to finally, FINALLY give stand-up comedy a go.

And of course I have my blog (my baby!)

Rant and Roll is one of my most favourite projects and because I am so darned in love with it (and even more so with all of you gorgeous jerks) I want to make sure that every time I push ‘publish’ the product I am putting forth is as brilliant as it possibly can be.

Writing so much every week has been such a phenomenal exercise in getting me back into “writer” mode, that I believe when the time is right I will be able to make the full switch from writer-in-training, to Writer (capital W – no training wheels, no manager looking over my shoulder making sure I’ve memorized all the correct produce codes.)

WRITER.

But back to work.

Currently I have been in my position for a little over one year. This is the longest I have ever been in a full-time position.

Going from undergrad, right away to grad school, I never had the time (or attention span?) to stay in one specific place for long.

I live day to day with a very serious affliction: I have an incurable case of nomad-itis – it’s the way it’s always been, and the way it will always be.

But for the time being, work things are good. And all my extra-curriculars are fabitty fab, brillo pads.

I don’t need to complain here because whenever I start to feel overwhelmed, I take comfort in the absolute brilliance of my love, my family, and my friends.

Because those are the things that I focus on. They are the things that make my heart sing.