The thing about pain is that once it stops you can't remember what it feels like.
So, as much as I KNOW the last 2 km of the 10 km race I did this morning were nausea-inducing and made my quads feel like lead, I WILL do another one.
I overslept, ate a fried egg for breakfast about half an hour before the race, didn't have anything to drink, and ran it in 58:31, which is my best time for a 10 km.
The Abbotsford Run For Water is a good course, despite the hills, and they give out great medals and dry weave T-shirts. Having not run for the past two weeks (hurt my back a couple weekends ago, making the bed of all things!)I figured I would just walk every 10 minutes or so... but taking it easy for the first six kilometres was obviously the best thing to do because I finished in under an hour! Definitely didn't expect to finish only one minute behind my friend Mike, who is about a foot taller than me and has a hundred pounds on me. Hurray! I feel awesome!
Stretching a lot more post-race would probably have been a good idea, but we were just too excited and hungry and wanted to get to Milestones to celebrate. Probably going to regret that tomorrow, but for now, the memory of heavy legs, laboured breathing and a stomach-churning sprint to the finish has all but evaporated.
I can't wait to do another run! Perhaps the 10 km in Merritt, or an 8 km in July.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Friday, April 23, 2010
Living Alone
Well, I've been living on my own for six months now, and although I should feel pleased about being halfway to my goal of doing my own thing for a year, it's not all it's cracked up to be.
I've decided I just don't like being alone this much. There are definitely advantages, like eating what I want, when I want, and turning up the stereo at midnight, if I happen to feel like it, but really, I prefer to have people around. It's nice to have someone to come home to, even if it's just a roommate. I have fond memories of the Pineapple and my New West peeps.
It doesn't help to avoid thoughts of eternal solitude when the view from my kitchen window is of a funeral home across the street that reminds me every morning of my inevitable demise, and stark truth of my soul's essential solitude. "In the end, we're all alone," is what that funeral home tells me while I stand at the window drinking my smoothie. To which I reply, "Thanks. Have a nice day." And then I go to work.
I think having a cat would make a big difference. Hell, having a couch would make a big difference. Maybe that's the real issue. My apartment is stoically furnished. And my house plant, the well-loved Jennifer Gray, finally gave up the ghost this week, leaving me the sole life form to inhabit my home (unless you count the bacteria quietly taking over the dark corners under the sink I don't see when I do get round to cleaning). I need more than that.
Six months to go to fulfill my goal of being alone and learning to be okay with the idea. I'll see if I can learn to be zen about it, but some days I just wish I had crazy roommates to make me wish I had my own place.
I've decided I just don't like being alone this much. There are definitely advantages, like eating what I want, when I want, and turning up the stereo at midnight, if I happen to feel like it, but really, I prefer to have people around. It's nice to have someone to come home to, even if it's just a roommate. I have fond memories of the Pineapple and my New West peeps.
It doesn't help to avoid thoughts of eternal solitude when the view from my kitchen window is of a funeral home across the street that reminds me every morning of my inevitable demise, and stark truth of my soul's essential solitude. "In the end, we're all alone," is what that funeral home tells me while I stand at the window drinking my smoothie. To which I reply, "Thanks. Have a nice day." And then I go to work.
I think having a cat would make a big difference. Hell, having a couch would make a big difference. Maybe that's the real issue. My apartment is stoically furnished. And my house plant, the well-loved Jennifer Gray, finally gave up the ghost this week, leaving me the sole life form to inhabit my home (unless you count the bacteria quietly taking over the dark corners under the sink I don't see when I do get round to cleaning). I need more than that.
Six months to go to fulfill my goal of being alone and learning to be okay with the idea. I'll see if I can learn to be zen about it, but some days I just wish I had crazy roommates to make me wish I had my own place.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
10 km
Every time I think about going for a run I think, "No. I don't even want to go outside right now. It's cold, and windy, and I'm tired."
But then I put on my shoes and pop in my contacts and throw on a hoodie and go and I think, "Holy Crap, this is worse than I thought: it's REALLY windy and my feet hurt. Why am I doing this, it sucks."
But then after about 10 minutes of griping I inevitably start to feel okay because I get into a rhythm, and warm up and I notice things like birds and other elements of nature that people write epic poems about, and I start to feel good. And then, almost always, that feeling rises to a crescendo that honestly makes me want to weep with joy and I feel gratitude wash over me, and it's awesome.
Not always, of course. Sometimes running only feels good once it stops. But most of the time I feel on top of the world.
Still, it doesn't hurt to have a concrete goal to work towards just in case that motivation is forgotten and I go off track. So today I registered for the Abbotsford Run for Water 10 km, May 30. The last time I ran more than 7 km km was in 2007, when I did the Sun Run. I think my time was 1:13 but I had to stop and wait in a port-a-potty lineup, so I think I can shave about five minutes off that time and say I did it in 1:08.
My goal is to run the 10 km next month in under one hour. Today I ran for 40 minutes (probably about 6 km) and enjoyed the endorphins or whatever else causes what I can only assume is my experience of "runner's high," so I think that goal is reasonable. It's always easier to run faster during a race than at normal training speed, anyway.
Bring it on.
But then I put on my shoes and pop in my contacts and throw on a hoodie and go and I think, "Holy Crap, this is worse than I thought: it's REALLY windy and my feet hurt. Why am I doing this, it sucks."
But then after about 10 minutes of griping I inevitably start to feel okay because I get into a rhythm, and warm up and I notice things like birds and other elements of nature that people write epic poems about, and I start to feel good. And then, almost always, that feeling rises to a crescendo that honestly makes me want to weep with joy and I feel gratitude wash over me, and it's awesome.
Not always, of course. Sometimes running only feels good once it stops. But most of the time I feel on top of the world.
Still, it doesn't hurt to have a concrete goal to work towards just in case that motivation is forgotten and I go off track. So today I registered for the Abbotsford Run for Water 10 km, May 30. The last time I ran more than 7 km km was in 2007, when I did the Sun Run. I think my time was 1:13 but I had to stop and wait in a port-a-potty lineup, so I think I can shave about five minutes off that time and say I did it in 1:08.
My goal is to run the 10 km next month in under one hour. Today I ran for 40 minutes (probably about 6 km) and enjoyed the endorphins or whatever else causes what I can only assume is my experience of "runner's high," so I think that goal is reasonable. It's always easier to run faster during a race than at normal training speed, anyway.
Bring it on.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
#30 - Grand Canyon
The Grand Canyon is aptly named, and I have now seen it, up close and personal. I wasn't surprised by the depth of the Canyon because I've seen a million pictures of it. What did surprise me was how cold it was at the south rim. Of course, it was March, and not July, but there were patches of snow still on the ground! I naively thought the Mojave desert would be full of hot dry sand and nothing else, but it was full of gently rolling hills covered in short scrubby trees. I saw a Joshua tree, which was kind of cool. Made me think of U2.
My great friend Lindsay and I went to Vegas for four days, and one of those days was spent getting to the Canyon on a tour bus. That was definitely the highlight of the trip. The Canyon is flippin' huge, and we were only there for about two hours. It goes down in giant steps, and you can't even see into the deepest part where the Colorado River flows. The rock faces are strangley layered colours: red, orange, sandstone and a kind of muted green. It's very beautiful and awe-inspiring and I need to go back and spend more time there. I want to take a mule trek down to the bottom, or hike down and raft on the river. Tours are all well and good when you don't have much time, but really, for the Canyon you need more time. It's just so big.
Vegas, on the other hand, was less than awe-inspiring. Frankly, I thought it was tacky and depressing. I spent a total of $6 gambling and I think I had a total of three drinks. Got to admit it was a novelty to drink Budweiser on the street and not be hassled for it, but on the other hand, the place is just another big hole. Unlike the Canyon, which fills the soul (or some other poetic description that eludes me right now) the Strip just leaves me feeling emotionally void.
Very glad to have seen the Grand Canyon. That was really just a taste though. One day I will go back for the whole thing.
Posts related to Grand Canyon:
(March 6, 2010)
Baby Steps
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Book Club Blues
I don't know what happened. One day we were all reading, and meeting and discussion literature, and the next, we had disbanded as a book club. Two members who were involved suddenly were no longer an item, which naturally caused a rift, and then the book set Sarah ordered for us to read next seems to have just got lost in the mail. We were supposed to meet March 5, which fell through, and I have no idea what's going to happen now. I feel all adrift...
And I have a stack of half read non-fiction books piled next to my bed. Maybe this is a good excuse to get through them.
And I have a stack of half read non-fiction books piled next to my bed. Maybe this is a good excuse to get through them.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Baby steps
So I've crossed off a few items from my list, and will be able to cross off a few more this year, for sure. Grand Canyon next month. Check. Scarf finished by Christmas. Check. No TV for a year. June 1, check.
I've been running off and on since last summer, though more off than on, and I've signed up for a 5 km race in Vancouver on March 13. No plans to beat my PR of 28:30, but it's something to train for. Should be fun to wear green and have a pint afterward with my friend Mike.
The scarf is not going so well, however. I figured out purl and plain (they seem to be the exact same anyway) and I've been doing a section with the "rib stitch." But there are holes and I've missed a couple of loops and in some parts I obviously added a few stitches because the whole thing isn't quite even. The biggest problem is that it's way too wide, which means it's taking me literally double the time it should. Ah, well. It's my first knitting project. At least it will be warm.
Can't wait to go to Vegas. Never been, and though I don't drink, smoke or gamble, I'm sure it will be something to see with my best friend, Lindsay. And... we have a day trip planned for the Grand Canyon. Better not forget my camera!
Taking lots of photos for work, but my photography skills still have a ways to go.
Still trying to locate a cow to milk. This is harder than it sounds.
So it's baby steps with my life list, but I'm making some headway. Who knows what other opportunities may come up this year? Maybe I will find that elusive cow. Maybe I'll earn that nifty nickname.
I've been running off and on since last summer, though more off than on, and I've signed up for a 5 km race in Vancouver on March 13. No plans to beat my PR of 28:30, but it's something to train for. Should be fun to wear green and have a pint afterward with my friend Mike.
The scarf is not going so well, however. I figured out purl and plain (they seem to be the exact same anyway) and I've been doing a section with the "rib stitch." But there are holes and I've missed a couple of loops and in some parts I obviously added a few stitches because the whole thing isn't quite even. The biggest problem is that it's way too wide, which means it's taking me literally double the time it should. Ah, well. It's my first knitting project. At least it will be warm.
Can't wait to go to Vegas. Never been, and though I don't drink, smoke or gamble, I'm sure it will be something to see with my best friend, Lindsay. And... we have a day trip planned for the Grand Canyon. Better not forget my camera!
Taking lots of photos for work, but my photography skills still have a ways to go.
Still trying to locate a cow to milk. This is harder than it sounds.
So it's baby steps with my life list, but I'm making some headway. Who knows what other opportunities may come up this year? Maybe I will find that elusive cow. Maybe I'll earn that nifty nickname.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
#40 - Go to the Olympics
Well, I got to go to the Olympics -- not just any Olympics, but the Games that were held in my home town!
My mom managed to get a couple of tickets to the Opening Ceremonies, Feb. 12 and took me to see the show. And what a show. We sat right down near the floor level just to the right of the main stage. Everything was bright and loud. The special effects were awesome, the music was great, the speeches were not too long, and the stadium erupted in proud cheering when the Canadian athletes finally came in carrying the flag. The most stirring moment, for me, was when there was a minute of silence for Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili who died that day in a practice run. You could almost hear a pin drop despite there being over 60,000 people standing together. The entire show went smoothly, of course, until the very last moment when the torch was lit and poor Catriona Lemay Doan didn't get to light the cauldron because of a mechanical malfunction. But the fact that the big reveal about who would get to finish the three-month long torch relay across Canada that night to light the cauldron was that it was four instead of one person, was just great. Oh, so Canadian.
The next two weeks were filled with glimpses of the Games on random TVs,
and excitement building with each medal won for Canada. Of course the finale came on Sunday, Feb. 28 with the men's Gold medal hockey game against the U.S. If I were a nail-biter I would have been down to the cuticles by the time we got to Crosby's breath-taking goal in overtime that sent this nation into a frenzy of joy. I was sitting in a crepe shop in Yaletown in front of a big screen TV on an eerily quiet street. With each goal scored for Canada I raced outside into the street and stood beneath the skyscrapers and just listened. Cheering coming from every direction and all the apartments high above me.
With the winning goal I was hugging everyone in the store and then skipping up the streets to converge with the rest of the crowds all wearing red and carrying flags to simply rejoice. I have never received so many high fives in my life. I have never seen so many people in one spot wearing so many huge smiles. We were yelling and singing O, Canada at random moments. Granville and Robson became a mass of proud Canadians unable to contain their need to be ecstatic about owning the podium. Canadians have now broken the world record for most gold medals won in any Winter Olympics Games.
I was just happy to have a reason to wave my flag and know that this was a day I will never forget. It was like we had won the war. Pride. Elation. And relief.
Who knows where we'd be without Roberto Luongo and, of course, the next Great One, Sidney Crosby.
I have now been to the Olympic Games. What a party.
Posts related to the Olympics:
(June 9, 2009)
Olympic Letdown
Olympic Letdown
My mom managed to get a couple of tickets to the Opening Ceremonies, Feb. 12 and took me to see the show. And what a show. We sat right down near the floor level just to the right of the main stage. Everything was bright and loud. The special effects were awesome, the music was great, the speeches were not too long, and the stadium erupted in proud cheering when the Canadian athletes finally came in carrying the flag. The most stirring moment, for me, was when there was a minute of silence for Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili who died that day in a practice run. You could almost hear a pin drop despite there being over 60,000 people standing together. The entire show went smoothly, of course, until the very last moment when the torch was lit and poor Catriona Lemay Doan didn't get to light the cauldron because of a mechanical malfunction. But the fact that the big reveal about who would get to finish the three-month long torch relay across Canada that night to light the cauldron was that it was four instead of one person, was just great. Oh, so Canadian.
The next two weeks were filled with glimpses of the Games on random TVs,
and excitement building with each medal won for Canada. Of course the finale came on Sunday, Feb. 28 with the men's Gold medal hockey game against the U.S. If I were a nail-biter I would have been down to the cuticles by the time we got to Crosby's breath-taking goal in overtime that sent this nation into a frenzy of joy. I was sitting in a crepe shop in Yaletown in front of a big screen TV on an eerily quiet street. With each goal scored for Canada I raced outside into the street and stood beneath the skyscrapers and just listened. Cheering coming from every direction and all the apartments high above me.
With the winning goal I was hugging everyone in the store and then skipping up the streets to converge with the rest of the crowds all wearing red and carrying flags to simply rejoice. I have never received so many high fives in my life. I have never seen so many people in one spot wearing so many huge smiles. We were yelling and singing O, Canada at random moments. Granville and Robson became a mass of proud Canadians unable to contain their need to be ecstatic about owning the podium. Canadians have now broken the world record for most gold medals won in any Winter Olympics Games.
I was just happy to have a reason to wave my flag and know that this was a day I will never forget. It was like we had won the war. Pride. Elation. And relief.
Who knows where we'd be without Roberto Luongo and, of course, the next Great One, Sidney Crosby.
I have now been to the Olympic Games. What a party.
Posts related to the Olympics:
(June 9, 2009)
Olympic Letdown
Olympic Letdown
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