Back to the starting line

Over 12,000 people huffed and puffed at the Times-Colonist 10k this morning. A friend and some people from the running clinic were participating, so I thought I'd go out and cheer them on.

And what a beautiful day it was to race! Excitement was in the air as runners were warming up in the streets of Victoria. There were people with balloons, runners in costumes, and little kids cheering on their parents.

Twelve years ago, I ran this race - my first one. Up until I was 18, I abhorred running. I used pretty much every excuse I could think of to get out of running in gym classes. Running was only slightly more enjoyable than gymnastics (I still hate gymnastics). Still, I always admired runners. There was something about that steely glint in their eye that captured me. In high school, I befriended a runner, and he was the one who encouraged me to start. And the addiction started!

It's amazing to think how little I knew about running back then. I didn't have proper shoes, or clothes, and had no idea about nutrition or injury prevention, or how even how to train for a 10k. No matter. Because I didn't know there was a right way, I wasn't worried that I was doing it the wrong way. The night before, I carb-loaded with a huge plate of spaghetti (which apparently you're not supposed to do anymore) and watched Chariots of Fire. I had butterflies the next morning, but I had a great race. The cheering pumped me up and gave new life to my legs whenever I felt tired. And when I finally saw that finish line, I just couldn't believe that I had done it!

I'm sure there are many people who ran today who have similar stories. They definitely inspired me and reminded me why I run. So, hats off to all who finished today, especially those who finished their first race. Congratulations. You're no longer a jogger - you're a runner.

Kidnapped by the hockey gods

It's that time of the year...the NHL playoffs. After missing it for three years, I am especially excited that the Canadiens are in it this time round. I know, I know, I should support the Canucks, and I do, but they're not in it this year. I've always been a Habs fan, so don't give me any grief!! I always get mocked for being one, but you don't know any better when you're a kid, and I'm a loyal fan. So these days I'm glued to the telly, watching games. My already dismal social life has gotten even worse! Everything is on hold. I almost (but not really) wish the Habs would get knocked out so that my life can continue. Things are pretty quiet at the moment, but a few weeks back, I did go to this beer tasting event at the university. I imagined a wide variety of microbrews and good patio fun...instead I was faced with a pretty dismal selection of mostly mass produced beer (c'mon...Corona at a beer tasting??) and a bunch of drunk 19-year-olds looking to score. This coaster about sums it up:

(Interesting to note that there wasn't an equivalent coaster for men to give to women.)

Still, I managed to score quite a few free samples. Here's how:

1) Keep your ticket in you pocket at all times (out of sight, out of mind)

2) Maintain eye contact with the bartender

3) Engage in light chit-chat

4) Thank him politely with a big smile, and walk away. Don't look guilty!

What also works is tagging along with someone who is buying beer when you've run out of tickets. When the bartender asks for your order, tell him your predicament and you might get a sample on the house. See how far it gets you!

No pain, no gain

Last Monday was my last long run before tapering off for the race. I've been plagued by a recurring injury, but through lots of physio and stretching, I've been able to finish all my workouts...except for this one.

All last week, I've been fighting with myself. For the first time in ages, it was struggle to lace up those running shoes - usually I'm raring to go. My body is so tired from all the training and I felt burnt out, and those niggling doubts started to creep into my head. Mentally, I was not in a good place for that last long run, and sure enough as soon as the pain started, I psyched myself out and I quit. Even though my coach was right beside me cheering me on, as soon I stopped and started walking, that negative voice started telling me that there was no way I was going to finish this run. I was so mad and disappointed at myself for quitting, and of course all that negativity started to snowball. Instead of concentrating on all the runs I finished, I focused on the one I couldn't.

I've heard about active release therapy (ART) from my coach and a couple of other fellow runners, but physio was working for me, so I never bothered to check it out. However, after that disastrous run, I was ready to try anything, so I had my first appointment yesterday. It is super painful - sometimes you can hear people screaming as you're waiting outside - so naturally I approached the table with trepidation.

It was definitely as painful as I had expected. I didn't cry or scream though...only a few yelps of pain. Basically the chiropractor sticks his finger/knuckle/elbow into those sore spots, digs in, and moves your joint. It's as excrutiating as it sounds. The idea is to separate the scar tissue from the bone and move it around, making it looser. Obviously this guy is used to hurting people - he's known for going really deep - because he didn't really seem to concerned about my pain. (His job is quite similar to a dentist's in that the patients dread their appointments!)

In the middle of the night, I got up to use the washroom, and I felt this tingling in my hip. It was like I could feel it repairing itself! And there was no pain! Incredible. Of course, the real test is on the road, so this morning I hit the treadmill. Obviously he's not going to cure me with just one treatment, but aside from some soreness that subsided as I kept running, I was able to finish the workout, no problem. I joke that if I finish this marathon, I'm naming my firstborn child after my coach and physiotherapist. Looks like I'm going to have to include my chiropractor too. Keep your fingers crossed...two weeks left!

Hoppy Easter!

My most memorable Easter has got to be the year I gave up sugar for Lent. My family isn't the church-going type, so I never knew what the holiday was all about, aside from chocolate eggs and bunnies. So when my friend, Bethany, told me that she was observing Lent, I decided to join her.

Our plan was not to eat anything with added sugar. That year I missed out on Valentine chocolates, birthday cakes, wedding cake and ski trip goodies. However, we did have a little breathing room...for instance, we could still have microbrewed beer, as there isn't any added sugar...and alcohol is naturally occuring (you see, we had our priorities!). We even found sugar-free chocolate, which sounds like a great loophole except that it
a) tastes horrible
b) can cause diarrhea!

Easter is a religious holiday, so we decided to try a different church every Sunday. We intended to try a synagogue, a Russian Orthodox church and maybe a mosque as well, but somehow we ended up going to a lot of Anglican churches. We started off getting "ashed" on Ash Wednesday, and for those many weeks, went to a different one pretty much every Sunday. It was an interesting experience...sometimes entertaining, sometimes nice, sometimes peaceful, sometimes a bit boring and once even scary! Attendance is rapidly dropping in churches, so as soon as parishoners see "new blood", they get all excited. The sweet old ladies at one place invited us to have cookies and tea...but there was one group who pounced on us as soon as the service was over and wanted our e-mails and phone numbers before they even asked us our names!

Finally, Easter Sunday rolled around. We went to the biggest, grandest church downtown. The place was packed and it was quite the spectacle - women were dolled up in hats and white gloves, and little girls in new pastel frocks. All Bethany and I could think of was our stash in the car...for days we had been planning for this day of indulgence and bought each other Easter eggs and our favourite treats from the bakery. We had mapped out all the places we were going to hit after church: Dairy Queen, patisseries, chocolate stores...

As soon as the service was over, we ran outside and were ravenously biting off the heads of our Easter bunnies right on the church steps! I hate to think what people thought of us two nuts! We gorged ourselves sick in the car, and promptly went into a sugar coma. We never did make it to any of the places we had planned to go, and spent the rest of the day nursing upset tummies.

See, denying yourself chocolate is unhealthy!