Nature – Page 2 – Rant and Roll

I’m running free, yeah

Yesterday I ran 16 kilometers.

With only two weeks to go until the Scotiabank half-marathon, this was my second to last long training run before race day itself.

I haven’t been sleeping super well of later – not necessarily badly, just not very long – so I was out the door just a little before eight.

Normally I eat light before any run over 10k, but I my stomach wasn’t feel too great from the day before so I went out after drinking just two cups of water, and one cup of coffee.

(I definitely made sure to go to the bathroom before leaving, lest I be tortured throughout my route by the need to relieve myself; be it a phantom need, or otherwise – I find it’s never best to really challenge those boundaries when the feeling does arise.)

For some reason I always forget how much I love running in the earlier parts of the day. There are fewer people out and about, be it on the road, in the parks, in the woods, on the paths.

Most individuals who are up are with their dogs, out for a stroll to pick up bagels for breakfast, or grab the Sunday paper.

Yesterday morning was cooler, but not cool.

My t-shirt and shorts were a perfect pair against the slightly overcast sky. For most of the route my overgrown bangs were toyed by an inconsistent, but gentle wind – a wind that didn’t seem to so much blow and it did bristle.

As if it too couldn’t believe that it had to be up that early on a Sunday morning.

And that it had been so long since I had cut my hair.

Look at this silly girl, running about when she could be in bed. Let’s give her fringe a little bounce – one to match the speed of her footfalls.

Good thing I always have an extra bobby-pin.

(Or two.)

I thought a lot during my run.

I thought about new jokes that I’ve yet to try out, and old jokes that could be made better.

I thought about Father’s Day coming up this weekend, and my dad’s impending visit.

Unfortunately, even the greatest of runs can be upset by the most inane of happenings.

Yesterday it was the sight of a pile of McDonald’s garbage lying off to the side of the beautiful wooded trail that marked kilometers six to eight.

The worst is probably individuals who spit, and don’t look around to see if anyone is approaching them from behind.

If I had a nickel for the number of times I’ve almost been spat on, I would have a handful of nickels.

This is too many nickels.

After the rogue loogie hockers, it has to be the drivers who never bother to look for pedestrians at designated crosswalks.

I’m running to extend my life, not cut it short.

Next, it’s walkers who refuse to briefly walk single file as you run past, forcing you off of the pavement (you can just see their inner monologues of TWO ABREAST! TWO ABREAST OR DIE!), and dog walkers whose leashes are about twenty-feet long.

Why such long leashes dog lovers?

But in the end, these things are just little annoyances that can’t take away from the overall greatness of a run.

If anything, they make you wilier, more adaptable – they ensure that you’re ready for anything.

And you can’t ask for much more than that.

Except for less spit-related nickels of course.

All thanks to everyone; run runaway

This weekend we ran away.

We made our escape Friday afternoon: M commandeered the getaway car, stopping only briefly outside of my office building so I could throw my bags into the backseat, before sliding my little self into the front.

With the sun shining down on us, as well as lighting up the long-missed cerulean sky, we drove out of Vancouver proper and made our way to the, most aptly named, Sunshine Coast.

This, my friends, is a place filled with magic.

And I would like to share with you some snaps from our brief stint in paradise.

Fire.

Morning.

Games.

Ocean.

Trees.

Post-run.

View.

Beauty.

…

Sometimes I have great difficulty sleeping. I am either thinking too much, or I wake up in the middle of the night soaked in sweat. Whatever the case may be, my anxieties have a tendency to wreck havoc with my achieving the recommended eight hours.

Last Friday night, the night of our arrival, I slept better than I have for months. My head hit the pillow sometime around ten o’clock and I didn’t stir until eight the next morning. When I woke, I felt clear-headed and refreshed, as if emerging from a warm, safe, (and oh-so snuggly) cocoon.

Marveling at the early morning sunshine, M and I drank steaming mugs of dark, sweet coffee, and watched the families of ducks as they dived and dashed about in the water surrounding the dock.

We would have sat outside had the temperature not hovered around zero degrees celcius. There are only so many blankets in which a person can be swaddled.

Around ten thirty I set out for my weekly long training run. It’s always a bit of shock to the system, the first few minutes of the run, as the fresh, cool, coastal air, rushes in my nose and down my throat, frost tickling my heart and lungs.

But eventually, as always, I adapt, as does my stride and pace – although never my hands. My hands ache from the cold, and warp into hard demi-claws, that chap red and painful.

I run facing traffic, although on a Saturday morning, there is little to be found. I often smile to myself, as I am fooled again and again by the strong wind in the trees, that I too often mistake for an approaching engine, or tire.

The specter of a car.

I ran fifteen kilometers that morning.

I felt as though I could have run forever.

It’s like I said.

It’s magic.

Making it all bearable

Hey kids.

First off – LOOK AT HOW BEAUTIFUL THE SKY IS GOOD GRIEF IT KILLS ME.

Seriously, I near but froze my toes off, tip-toeing around my balcony yesterday morning trying to get these shots.

But are they not oh-so worth it?

And then, because I’m one who can never just leave well enough alone, I had to take a second round of shots as I walked to the metro (plus one final snap when I arrived at the skytrain station.)

Honestly, I’m surprised that I don’t catch more people taking snaps of the sunrise. I mean, am I the only sap left in the world who’s moved by this kind of thing?

Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that I was some kind of high-flying migratory bird, or climatologist, or Greek god in one (or all of) my previous lives, what with how pathologically OBSESSED I am with the sky.

P.S I’m calling dibs on Athena, here and now and NO SWAPSIES ALLOWED! That badass gal is my homegirl through and through, ya dig?

Anywho, I can only hope that we continue to have good weather so I can carry on getting all shirty over cloud striations, and the way the early-morning horizon looks like a giant space toddler’s blue and orange finger painting project.

(p.s. I think I’ve been reading too much Drew Magary, hence the current love affair with CAPS LOCK. Do not be alarmed. As with all crushes before it – both written and otherwise – this too soon shall pass.)

In the interim, fry up time!

All that glitters is not gold.

So my fabitty fab sister in-law Vanessa is engaged to be married, and her wedding day is coming up daisies (or within the calendar year if you will). As such, she is on the hunt for a gown in which she will be fit to wed her dearly betrothed.

Now, I love weddings like the wedding-mad fool that I am, so I readily agreed to accompany her shopping the second that she asked. We spent last Saturday afternoon together, along with my mother in-law (or CAPTAIN C as I like to refer to her), visiting the various shops that line downtown New Westminster, perusing their incredibly diverse wares.

Now, my sis is a lady of discerning taste, and to say that there were some stores that didn’t quit fit the bill is a bit of an understatement.

For instance, I managed to covertly snap this picture of one of the prom dresses available for purchase at one of the shops:

WHO?

WHY?

HOW?

I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY SOMEONE WOULD MAKE A DRESS OUT OF THE SAME MATERIAL USED TO CREATE THE SPACE SHUTTLE.

Seriously, somewhere out there Rumpelstiltskin just rolled over in his grave.

(Also, that pink number isn’t anything to write home about either.)

Needless to say, we didn’t last long in that shop, and quickly moved on to a store where everything Ms. V tried on brought tears of happiness and joy to my eyes (and not, you know, a panic attack.)

Different strokes and all that, but my capacity for completely gaudy get-ups is limited, especially outside the confines of an H&M dressing room.

NEXT!

To a Tee.

Remember when I wrote about how awesome my little sister’s butcher shop is?

Well, check out these smashing Highland Drive t-shirts HOT OFF THE PRESSES:

Don’t you want one?

I have already placed an order for both M and myself, so you should probably think about procuring some of your own. All the cool kids are doing it!

Find out how you can get your mitts on these sweet things by following my wicked sister on the FACEBOOKS HERE.

(And while you’re there, you should probably stop by Ye Olde Rant and Roll and like that too. SHAMELESS PLUG Y’ALL.)

Techno queen.

Sometimes I feel as though I am overrun by gadgets.

(This overwhelming sensation definitely played a leading role in what kept me from getting a cell phone for so long.)

I mean, I go to work and sit at a compute – writing, reading, researching, blogging, tweeting, facebooking, e-mailing, scheduling, etc., etc.

Then I come home and use my laptop or tablet, like some Asimov inspired cyborg.

And it is because of this that I make such a concerted effort to make sure that I unplug at every available opportunity. I read like a reading thing as much as I can, go for walks with my husband, take endless photos of my cat (and the sky), cook, listen to the radio (what would I do without the CBC!?), talk on the phone with my far-away loved ones (ACK! I have just realized that most of these things are gadget related!), or just sit and think my madcap thoughts, all alone and on my own.

However, on this last point I really need to get better at “just being.”

Growing up, we used to always call it “bear by yourself” time. I want to re-learn how to be bear by myself.

…

That’s all she wrote this Friday my loves.

Wishing you all a very fabulous weekend, whether it is adventure filled or quietly serene!

Take each moment, and enjoy.

Take a deep breath, and jump right in

Home again home again, jiggity jog.

Our short sojourn up the BC mainland has come to an end – much too quickly (as always), but we have many hilarious and brilliant memories to keep us content and warm until our next hop to paradise.

The mercury has dipped like a salsa chip here on the west coast – if I had to wager a guess, I would say that it dropped at least ten degrees Celsius over the past few days, from sitting comfortably in the low-teens on Thursday, to flirting with just above zero this morning.

Something shifts when the weather changes.

Just this morning, out on my run, my interactions with nature seemed both comforting and slightly stilted.

Like my environs were a dense wool sweater – protection against the frost – that I hadn’t yet grown into.

I swear I could hear ever rustle of every leaf, every gust of wind winding its way through every branch of every tree. The piercing call of a steller’s jay, the haunting call of a loon, the unsure bark of a dog – everything somehow magnified and yet muffled, overwhelming but also out of reach.

The rhythm of my breathing, a friendly, reassuring constant, despite the slight discomfort in my little lungs, adjusting to those first big gulps of frigid air.

My favourite route – high hills, blind curves, douglas firs. The sea salt air tickling my (red, running) nose.

Sometimes I run so fast I cry; tears streaming down my face, propelled by the wind, the cold, my speed.

Sometimes I don’t want to blink.

Because if I blink, it will be gone.

Magic:

Ferry.

Morning sunshine.

Afternoon fade.

Work.

Into the woods.

Games.

Dinners.

Music.

Fires.

Fog.

…

So there you have it beauty cats.

Memories, for another day.

We are now back at home, hunkered down. The fire roars and the fat rain drops coat the world a cool, slick, black.

What did you all get up to for the weekend?

Hang up those wet coats, and rest awhile.

Beautiful British Columbia: Welcome to Octogust

My favourite term for an extended summer is Babye Leto (Бабье лето) – a Russian turn of phrase that translates to “Old Ladies’ Summer.”

How amazing is that? It just conjures up the bloody best imagery.

I can see it now: a gaggle of giggling grandmas, sunning their legs, sipping mimosas, adjusting their sunglasses, remarking every so often on the heat, or, you know, KIDS THESE DAYS.

And believe me when I say that out here on the West Coast of Canada the elderly babushkas have been having an absolute field day weather-wise.

Today for instance, the mercury is hovering around 20 degrees centigrade, the sky burns a deep, cerulean blue, and the trees either glow soft reds, oranges, and yellows or simmer deep purples, greens, and browns.

It is autumn perfection.

M and I have been bopping about the lower mainland, spending as much time outside as possible – going for runs, playing tennis (in shorts and t-shirts!), taking long walks down by the water, and venturing out for late night dinner dates.

Oooer.

I cannot think of a better way of spending a long weekend.

Here are some snaps from our adventures of late:

Into the woods.