Running – Page 10 – Rant and Roll

Love in the little things

Things that I love.

Marc’s cold hairy knees pressing into the backs of my (warm, hairless) knees, as we spoon together at night.

That first sip of vanilla latte – all sweet steamed milk, espresso and foam.

Finally smelling spring in the air.

The funny way my big sister always says, “Oh hellooooo” at the beginning of our Skype calls.

Short sundresses.

Telling a joke and then pausing, so to let the audience’s laughter wash over me, like a wave made out of happiness.

Managing the trifecta of hair removal – leg shave, armpit shave, brow pluck – ALL IN ONE GO.

When my little sister calls me WAWA.

Finally watching 30Rock.

My poppy-red coat that makes me feel like Paddington Bear.

Kitten kisses.

Cleaning the shower REALLY WELL (and then using it right away.)

Eating chocolate covered cinnamon buns.

Sprinting so hard until I feel as though the only way to put out the fire in my lungs is to barf them right up.

My mum’s broken sarcasm detector. (“Oh that’s not true…IS IT!?”)

Looking at myself in the mirror and thinking I look really pretty today.

Laughing with friends until I think I am going to pee my pants.

Quoting Arrested Development, The Big Lebowski, A Fish Called Wanda, Rushmore, Love Actually, and Mean Girls all the gosh-darned time.

She doesn’t even go here…

Having a mad dance party in my underwear, in a Top Shop change room because the song playing at that very moment was just too good not to.

Boardwalk brunches.

This.

My brilliant friends.

My amazing family.

My beautiful man.

You.

Never forget.

Always, always you.

For Boston

I’m having a hard time finding what it is I want to say.

I started Running when I was ten years old. I capitalize the R because anyone in my family will tell you that I have been running since the moment I started to walk.

My formal training didn’t start until the summer after grade five when my dad would take me out with him on short routes on Saturday mornings.

I absolutely loved this time we spent together.

Those minutes, hours, kilometers, miles, defined by an intimate ease, a shared love. Moving our legs in unison, marking our way in the world with nothing but a simple stride.

Sometimes we talked, sometimes we didn’t.

We’d run the length of Jericho beach, past the old concession stands, and the gleaming, gorgeous, newly erected “Beach Cafés.”

We’d watch the gulls swoop and glide overhead, listen to the roar of the surf, hear the shrill trill of an approaching bicycle bell.

Our sun-baked skin, glistening in the heat.

Our quiet breath, constant.

Arriving home my skin would smell of sweat, and sunscreen, and the sea salt air, and my shoes would crunch underfoot, coated with a golden sand.

I would stand exhausted in the middle of the entranceway, feeling the remains of the run course throughout my legs, my arms.

With each pump of my heart: around, and around.

Around again.

Seeing what has happened today in Boston has struck a chord inside of me and – I just don’t know.

I don’t know as a human being.

As a sister. As a wife. As a daughter. As a friend. As a runner.

I just don’t know.

I have run so many races.

I have loved each experience so much that I’ve always found it hard to properly communicate what it means for me to participate in these events.

They are camaraderie.

They are fearlessness.

They are grit.

They are endurance.

They are excitement, and heartbreak, and exhaustion, and triumph.

They are love.

They are human beings getting together and doing something that they love.

Together.

Running may be a predominantly solitary sport, but come race day, those other runners are your peers.

They are your friends.

They are your support, your energy, your kick, your drive.

They encourage you, they test you, they make you run harder, and faster, and longer, and better.

They make you better than you ever thought possible.

And for someone to see this, and decide that they are going to take this away – that they are going destroy a peaceful event that serves as a support and conduit for all these amazing traits of humanity – well, it breaks my heart.

And I see these pictures everywhere and I cry.

But I also know that nothing can come from my tears.

So I think about how one day I will have a child.

And I will teach them to be a kind-hearted, open, supportive, loving person.

And I will take them running with me.

For no particular reason, I decided to go for a little run

Hey dudes!

This weekend I competed in the BMO April Fool’s Half-Marathon on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia.

Somehow I managed to pull out the best run of my career, finishing the course in 1:31:36, and coming 7^th out of all women (3^rd in my age group) and 29^th overall (out of 537 participants).

HOLY SMOKES.

To say that I am stoked would be a bit of an understatement, but I am very, very tired and as such, there is a bit of a competition between my exhaustion and my happiness.

So as I sit here in front of the fire, clad in nothing but an over-sized t-shirt and sweatpants, I am mostly just very comfortable, and very cozy.

And that’s pretty awesome.

Marc and I left for Gibsons on the last ferry on Friday night, eager as we were to avoid the Saturday ferry traffic, and just get comfortably ensconced in our race-weekend digs (the paradise on Earth hideaway I have so often written about) as soon as possible.

His parents were also up for the weekend, and were lovely enough to accommodate our late check-in. As such, we tried to be as quiet as possible when we arrived a little after eleven o’clock at night.

Despite our own knackerdness, the lateness of the hour had made us absolutely ravenous and we spent a good fifteen minutes loitering about the kitchen, stuffing our faces with the delicious sushi we had not been able to eat earlier.

If you haven’t had the chance to sample the Maple Roll from Okonomi Sushi, YOU HAVEN’T LIVED.

Then we went to bed and slept for nine and a half hours.

Saturday, in an effort to conserve as much energy as possible, I did pretty much zilch.

Highlights include: listening to a lot of good music, completing the NYT Saturday crossword, enjoying a beautiful jaunt about the harbour with my parents-in-law in their boat, and finding this record:

EPIC.

This is why I married a (half) Swiss man.

I mean, they are LITERALLY singing about ham.

I love it.

That night, after eating my fill of spinach and cheese ravioli, grilled veggies, salad, fruit, and rhubarb and strawberry cake, I read a little before falling into a rather (for lack of a more eloquent word) crap sleep.

My dreams I tell ya, they are CRACKED.

The next morning I woke up to my alarm at 6:15 and immediately checked the weather outside.

No rain.

Thank goodness.

Then I made coffee, and read the newspaper.

I’m pretty weird and slightly superstitious when it comes to my race-day preparations, so I like to do everything in the same order as I have in the past:

Drink water.
Drink coffee.
Drink more water.
Get ready
Eat a banana with peanut butter.
Leave.

We were out the door by 7:30, and although the day was cool and the wind was making its presence known, the skies were still clear.

This was a terrific sign, because I’ve never run a race without a pair of AWESOME and GIANT sunglasses, and I didn’t want to end this streak to end at this run.

To combat the cold, I wore my long lululemon running pants (I normally loathe ye olde cult of LULU but heck if they don’t make a cracking running pant), a long MEC running top (SO GOOD) and my ScotiaBank half-marathon shirt (for great memories).

The ride to Gibsons was about forty-five minutes, and to pass the time, Marc and I sang along to this sweet mixed CD I recently made. (Highlights included a raucous version of Sisters are Doing it for Themselves and Third Eye Blind’s Never Let You Go.)

Once we got to the community centre, I picked up my race package and then proceeded to go to the bathroom five times.

Phantom pre-run pee here people. LOOK IT UP.

Before I knew it, it was 9:15, and it was time to head to the start line with all the other competitors.

Marc, playing paparazzi, took a number of snaps of yours totally unaware.

Oh, and also this one:

(Of this I was aware.)

I like to start as close to the start line as possible, so I huddled up with all the other elite runners and counted down with the course marshal –

5…4…3…2…1…- and they’re off!

The first part of the race I felt that I was running really fast. I was a bit worried that perhaps I had gone out a little too quick and, believe it or not, I actually wondered perhaps if I should have peed one more time before setting off.

Sheesh.

At around the four kilometer mark I felt as though I settled into a good rhythm. As we maneuvered in and around one of the town’s residential neighbourhoods, I tried to focus on keeping my stride as long as possible.

Around the six kilometer mark we were back out on the highway, which if I’m honest, was pretty miserable, what with the wind blowing right into me, and the traffic creating even more of a head wind.

But soon enough we were back into beauty central, running down side-streets flanked by gorgeous arbutus, douglas fir, cedar, and alder trees.

It was also around this time that the terrain began to get really hilly.

And we all know how fun that is, don’t we?

Kilometer seventeen was a mixed bag, because I felt absolutely destroyed after cresting a massive hill, but overjoyed because Marc’s parents were there waiting to cheer my on.

And from there, believe me when I say that it really did seem to be over in a flash.

My right foot felt very hot, so I knew that I had a blister forming, and my knees were a little sore, but otherwise, I felt great as I put the pedal to the metal for the last four kilometers.

As I ran past the final aid station at kilometer nineteen, all these little girls yelled out. “WE LOVE YOUR SUNGLASSES!”

That was all I pretty much needed to get me through the homestretch.

As I rounded the very last corner, I caught sight of the race clock, and I couldn’t believe that it said 1:31.

I sprinted as hard I could across the finish line, totally incredulous that I had run so fast.

Then I met up with Marc and his parents and had the chance to take many funny photos.

After, it was time to chow down on some cookies and yogurt, and head back to town.

So in the end, it was a really brilliant day.

I must give a HUGE thank you to my lovely cheering squad (the amazing Mr. M and his parents) and the fab organizers of the race.

I’ll for sure be back.

You can count on it.

Anybody hear that? I’m fairly alarmed here

Hey dudes!

I don’t know about where you live, but it’s raining like a raining thing out here on the west coast of BC.

Normally this isn’t something to really gripe about (what with it being my choice to live smack dab in the middle of a temperate rainforest an all) but come this Sunday I will be running 21.1 kilometers (13.1 miles for all you lovely Yanks/Brits out there) and I would prefer to do so sans soaked running shoes.

(Sans soaked shoes and/or any garment really.)

It’s not that I don’t like running in the rain, I just always imagine it being so much more romantic than it actually proves to be.

And for that, I blame Four Weddings and a Funeral.

“Is it raining? … I hadn’t noticed…”

NO ONE BELIEVES YOU ANDIE MACDOWELL.

NO ONE.

Okay, let’s get back on track.

And what better way to do this than with one of my favourite blog posts:

THE FRIDAY FRY-UP.

Hold on to your butts.

YOU GUYS.

Jurassic Park is back in theatres!

HECK YES.

Let’s take a quick walk down memory lane shall we?

1993. Age 8. Summer. Vacationing in Calgary. Staying with my mum’s friend Claire. She has twin girls who are 10, and a boy who is 12.

We all get along like gangbusters.

Are we going to go see this movie?

OF COURSE WE ARE.

If I remember correctly, I talked my way into permission by telling Claire that this film would be easypeasy compared to some of the other flicks I had previously sat through (despite my, well, extreme youth.)

Her eyes got pretty wide after I told her that on Easter we had rented The Fugitive for some festive post-egg hunt family bonding.

But I mean, c’mon lady, if I could handle Han Solo jumping off of a dam and the terrifying one-armed bandit, I could definitely hack a bloodthirsty T-Rex and a shirtless Jeff Goldblum.

AM I RITE DUDEZ OR WUT?

The other thing that really sticks out in my memory about this day (other than how much I loved this movie, despite it scaring the absolute crappola out of me) is that it was also the day I first heard the term “Jeeze Louise.”

This, to my 8 year-old self, was pretty much THE FUNNIEST THING OF LIFE, so in order to calm myself throughout the scariest parts of the film, I just repeated it over, and over again.

OH HAI NEWMAN BEING SPRAYED AND KILLED BY DISARMINGLY CUTE BUT ACTUALLY TERRIFYING DILOPHOSAURUSjeezelouisejeezelouisejeezelouise…

(And so on.)

Anywho, as you may imagine, going to this re-release is very high on my TO-DO list (as it too should be on yours), but in the meantime if you want the very best ever summation of the movie, please read this.

You will laugh.

I promise.

I am very famous.

Just saying.

And because I am very famous, I eat things like this:

And take family portraits like this:

Help.

Goodbye, my friend.

So come Monday, my best friend at work (the amazing, brilliant, and beautiful Jen) is moving on to a new job, and despite the fact that I am SO HAPPY FOR HER, my little heart is pretty sad knowing that I won’t be working with her for the REST OF MY LIFE.

Veteran readers of this blog will know that she has been a top partner in crime for the past two years as we’ve kicked butt and taken names, skulked about local shopping haunts, and tried out delicious cuisine in and around the downtown core.

(She is also a formidable gym partner, professional Ticket to Ride competitor, and the official Rant and Roll fairy god-mother.)

So Jen, if you’re reading this (and I know you are), let me say this-

GTFO.

YOLO!

Also:

Yeah. That’s pretty darn cheesey.

And I love it.

…

So there you have it folks.

What are you up to for the weekend? Any there any runs, films, fame, or friends on your radar? Do tell me all about it.

Happy Friday to you all!

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.