Yay!!! I just checked The Weather Network, and for the first time in weeks, the forecast is 2 degrees and there's no snow or rain. Funny how we have such short-term memories that we forget what running in warm weather feels like.
I plan to embrace tonight's run and enjoy this momentary respite from the messy cold white stuff. Sure, I was poetic last time and talked about how it was all icing sugar heavy on trees. But after weeks of frigid, tush-freezing cold, nothing beats a run in zero to 15 degree weather (although I'm also partial to running in the rain...but more on that some other time).
Since Sunday was Day-Before-Valentine's-Day and Monday was Valentine's Day, I opted to miss a few runs while spending time with hubby. Just picture us now -- holding hands, staring googly-eyed at each other, little pink and red hearts floating out of the tops of our heads as we enjoyed brunch at Chez Tess (Eggs Benedict Crepe and Croque Madame, yum!). And my legs blissfully folded under my chair, not whirling beneath me like a very slow Road Runner.
What I've come to realize is that I'm no Olympic athlete (don't worry, it didn't take me long to realize that -- I've never had illusions ofgrandeur when it came to my abilities as a speedy runner), so it's all about balance. Sometimes, it's ok to enjoy a brunch or Valentine's Day dinner with your hubby, significant other or friends.
That's not to say that I've been potatoed on my sofa doing nothing. I've supplemented some run days with cross-training like Zumba (oh how I love to dance -- I did use to have illusions of becoming a famous dancer, but how famous can you be at five foot nothing?), step class, yoga and strength training. Ever since my first half marathon (where all I did was run -- back then it was just about getting in the runs and building up the strength in my legs), I've learned that cross-training is important to help you develop other muscle groups like your back and core, so that you're not just running around with massive runner thighs but feeble spaghetti arms.
As this article from About.com explains, cross-training is also a great way to boost your cardiovascular fitness, because you're bumping your heart rate at different rates than when you're just running. Our bodies are incredibly resilient, so if you're always only ever doing the same thing, your body can get acclimatized to it. Mixing it up helps to keep your body alert and challenges you in different ways. Of course, all of that helps to reduce the risk of injury.
Finally, mixing it up also keeps you interested and motivated, so you don't get bored and quit altogether.
But on nights like this, when the sun is setting on the harbour and the mercury's hovering at around 2, I'm anxious to get into my running gear, lace on my shoes and get out there.
Signing out and lacing on my shoes now!
~ Ceebie
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Canadian writers speak out on Bill C-32
Canadian writers and creative people (that includes photographers or anyone whose intellectual property is able to be photocopied by educational institutions): if you haven't heard about Bill C-32 and how it might affect you, take a look at this video put together by the Writers' Union of Canada:
I'm a writer in my day and evening jobs. I've been a writer for as long as I can remember. And while the actual writing itself doesn't make up most of my income because I'm an in-house staff, for thousands of writers and creators across the country, it does. And theirs isn't a glamorous job - they depend on income not only from book sales or magazine contracts, but also from things like the income they receive when universities, schools and other educational institutions copy their work.
If Bill C-32 allows educational institutions to copy these materials free of charge, it means that these creators (and me) will have to subsist on just that much less.
Copyright exists to protect our roles as creators. Let's make sure it continues to do that. Please help ensure that the voices of Canada's creators are heard, and spread the word.
~ Ceebie
I'm a writer in my day and evening jobs. I've been a writer for as long as I can remember. And while the actual writing itself doesn't make up most of my income because I'm an in-house staff, for thousands of writers and creators across the country, it does. And theirs isn't a glamorous job - they depend on income not only from book sales or magazine contracts, but also from things like the income they receive when universities, schools and other educational institutions copy their work.
If Bill C-32 allows educational institutions to copy these materials free of charge, it means that these creators (and me) will have to subsist on just that much less.
Copyright exists to protect our roles as creators. Let's make sure it continues to do that. Please help ensure that the voices of Canada's creators are heard, and spread the word.
~ Ceebie
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentine's Morning Grand Marnier French Toast
Woke up early and made this for today for our first married Valentine's Day...Forgot to take photos but it was oh so pretty (and yummy too!). Adapted from a recipe my friend Susy gave me.
What you'll need:
3 eggs
1/3 c. orange juice
1/6 c. Grand Marnier
1/6 c. milk
1 1/2 Tbsp. sugar (optional)
1/8 tsp. vanilla
1/8 tsp. salt
finely grated peel of half an orange
bread
butter
syrup
icing sugar
a whole lotta lovin'
Instructions:
Cut bread into heart shapes (note: the bread will shrink with cooking so best to cut out big hearts full of love and tenderness :) ).
Beat eggs in a large bowl. Add orange juice, G.M., milk, sugar, vanilla, salt and peel and mix well. Heat fry pan at high heat, melt butter, then lower to medium heat.
Drop bread into pan and fry until each side is golden brown and egg mixture has dried out.
Drizzle with syrup and sprinkle with icing sugar.
Serve with love and a kiss.
(note: you can also opt to make with French bread cut to 1 1/2" thickness, dipped in the mixture and left in the fridge overnight)
~ Ceebie
What you'll need:
3 eggs
1/3 c. orange juice
1/6 c. Grand Marnier
1/6 c. milk
1 1/2 Tbsp. sugar (optional)
1/8 tsp. vanilla
1/8 tsp. salt
finely grated peel of half an orange
bread
butter
syrup
icing sugar
a whole lotta lovin'
Instructions:
Cut bread into heart shapes (note: the bread will shrink with cooking so best to cut out big hearts full of love and tenderness :) ).
Beat eggs in a large bowl. Add orange juice, G.M., milk, sugar, vanilla, salt and peel and mix well. Heat fry pan at high heat, melt butter, then lower to medium heat.
Drop bread into pan and fry until each side is golden brown and egg mixture has dried out.
Drizzle with syrup and sprinkle with icing sugar.
Serve with love and a kiss.
(note: you can also opt to make with French bread cut to 1 1/2" thickness, dipped in the mixture and left in the fridge overnight)
~ Ceebie
Monday, February 07, 2011
Week four: Whatever it is, find something to kick your butt out that door
Well, I am into week five of the 18-week marathon training program, and week four is now complete. I'm not gonna lie and say that I've been the perfect runner and done every single run on the schedule. Sometimes a girl just needs a night off to watch stupid TV and lounge on the sofa.
Winter has moved in to the city like a messy roommate, leaving snowbanks and icy sidewalks lying around like dirty socks (although the snow was pretty in the aftermath of the storm, all icing sugar heavy on trees and bushes). And although Groundhog Day was last week, I'm pretty confident that our local groundhogs didn't see their shadows that day. It was no Snowpocalypse, but there was enough snow dumped on us over a 24-hour period that our snowbanks are now higher than me (which for those who know me isn't saying much, but...it's saying something). Which makes road running a little interesting.
Take last night, for instance. While my hubby settled in for the opening ceremonies of the SuperBowl, I found that inner shoe to kick my butt into gear and headed out the door at around 5:00pm for a leisurely 16k run. And boy did I need that kick in the pants.
As I skirted the dirty snow on Herring Cove road, relishing in the downhill stretch before the long uphill climb on Joe Howe Drive, I soon realized that what looked like wet pavement was actually black ice. Each time my foot struck the pavement where it looked slightly wet, I felt a little slip. So I soon started breaking into this little tip-of-my-toe run, much like I would look like if I were running in high heels, whenever I spotted wet pavement. And where there wasn't ice, every so often there were these impassable puddles that you had no choice but to run through, cold water sloshing in your sneakers as you continued.
At least it wasn't miserably cold out like it had been the previous Monday (-13 degrees, without the wind chill), but as it was my first 16k in months, the thought of the distance yet to be run seemed like it would stretch on forever. That's the funny thing about running: so much of it is mental. You build on the distance, week by week, until what seemed impossibly far all of a sudden seems small -- because just last week you ran only 2k less.
The important thing is to get out there on those days when all you'd rather do is snuggle up on the sofa and watch TV. You need to find that kick in the pants that will get you out that door; whether it's your hubby reminding you of all the work you've already put in and how proud he is of you for sticking with it, your running buddy who you promised to meet for the run, your weight loss goal or simply the thought of a warm bath and a hot meal when you get home (with an extra little treat to reward yourself for the calories you just burned). Make sure there's a shoe at your behind that kicks you out there on those days when the sky is gray, the sidewalks slippery and the weather chilly.
Because when you finish that run, the feeling of accomplishment is such a high, you'll be grateful that you kicked your butt out the door to do it.
~ Ceebie
Winter has moved in to the city like a messy roommate, leaving snowbanks and icy sidewalks lying around like dirty socks (although the snow was pretty in the aftermath of the storm, all icing sugar heavy on trees and bushes). And although Groundhog Day was last week, I'm pretty confident that our local groundhogs didn't see their shadows that day. It was no Snowpocalypse, but there was enough snow dumped on us over a 24-hour period that our snowbanks are now higher than me (which for those who know me isn't saying much, but...it's saying something). Which makes road running a little interesting.
Take last night, for instance. While my hubby settled in for the opening ceremonies of the SuperBowl, I found that inner shoe to kick my butt into gear and headed out the door at around 5:00pm for a leisurely 16k run. And boy did I need that kick in the pants.
As I skirted the dirty snow on Herring Cove road, relishing in the downhill stretch before the long uphill climb on Joe Howe Drive, I soon realized that what looked like wet pavement was actually black ice. Each time my foot struck the pavement where it looked slightly wet, I felt a little slip. So I soon started breaking into this little tip-of-my-toe run, much like I would look like if I were running in high heels, whenever I spotted wet pavement. And where there wasn't ice, every so often there were these impassable puddles that you had no choice but to run through, cold water sloshing in your sneakers as you continued.
At least it wasn't miserably cold out like it had been the previous Monday (-13 degrees, without the wind chill), but as it was my first 16k in months, the thought of the distance yet to be run seemed like it would stretch on forever. That's the funny thing about running: so much of it is mental. You build on the distance, week by week, until what seemed impossibly far all of a sudden seems small -- because just last week you ran only 2k less.
The important thing is to get out there on those days when all you'd rather do is snuggle up on the sofa and watch TV. You need to find that kick in the pants that will get you out that door; whether it's your hubby reminding you of all the work you've already put in and how proud he is of you for sticking with it, your running buddy who you promised to meet for the run, your weight loss goal or simply the thought of a warm bath and a hot meal when you get home (with an extra little treat to reward yourself for the calories you just burned). Make sure there's a shoe at your behind that kicks you out there on those days when the sky is gray, the sidewalks slippery and the weather chilly.
Because when you finish that run, the feeling of accomplishment is such a high, you'll be grateful that you kicked your butt out the door to do it.
~ Ceebie
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Week three of my marathon journey: snow, rain, ice, snain...it's all good
Well, we are into week three of training. And it is definitely winter now. There's been snow. There's been rain. There's been ice. And it's been cold. But if you dress smart (ie for warmth rather than fashion...my tush learned that the hard way last Sunday when I wore my Lulu Lemon jacket in -17 weather rather than my sensible running jacket -- you know the ones with the bum flap that all the runners wear, looking like a bunch of rainbow-coloured lemmings) it's actually not too bad. Running in the winter is a great way to stay active through the cold months and to get some fresh air (and in my case, it's a good way to start shedding some of those 12 pounds of Christmas :) ). And the motivating factor is that once you're out there, the colder it is, the more you want to run just to get warm.
The danger with running in winter is those little patches of black ice that hide under the thinnest layer of snow. But winter runners know that you quickly learn to jump over puddles rather than run through them, or do a little shuffle-step-hop at the point where the sidewalk meets road. Running in winter definitely takes some creative movement, alertness and humour. Cause if you can't laugh at yourself when you look like a bundled up snow bunny (or as Halifax Broad puts it more eloquently than I ever could, "a lesbian broomball champion from Parry Sound") hopping about in zig-zagging fashion through Halifax's snow-ridden streets (meanwhile hoping no one you know sees you...but you know they have and just aren't telling you because they don't want to embarrass you), when can you?
In addition to getting up close and personal (my frozen tush being a case in point) with winter running again, this was also week two of my marathon clinic at the Running Room. Our group this time around is a nice mix of seasoned veterans who have run eight marathons, and newbies who've never run the distance before.
Figuring out what pace group you should be in can be a little agonizing. Not only does it have a lot to do with who you're running with (though really I've never met a runner I didn't enjoy running with), your pace group leader sets the tone for the group too. I once had a group leader who would bark/yell at us if we went too fast. It was ruining what for me should have been an enjoyable experience, so I pushed myself up to the faster group, even though I struggled to keep up with them. Your pace group choice basically dictates how painful or enjoyable your runs are going to be, and whether you're going to kill yourself trying to keep up with a group that's pushing you just a tad too fast, or get frustrated with a group that you feel is slowing you down. I'm still waffling - 4hr, or 4:05 group? I'll let you know what I decide.
Coming soon...I'll be launching my new running blog, with interviews with local runners, reviews of routes and races, tips and tricks, recipes and product reviews. Stay tuned!
~ Ceebie
The danger with running in winter is those little patches of black ice that hide under the thinnest layer of snow. But winter runners know that you quickly learn to jump over puddles rather than run through them, or do a little shuffle-step-hop at the point where the sidewalk meets road. Running in winter definitely takes some creative movement, alertness and humour. Cause if you can't laugh at yourself when you look like a bundled up snow bunny (or as Halifax Broad puts it more eloquently than I ever could, "a lesbian broomball champion from Parry Sound") hopping about in zig-zagging fashion through Halifax's snow-ridden streets (meanwhile hoping no one you know sees you...but you know they have and just aren't telling you because they don't want to embarrass you), when can you?
In addition to getting up close and personal (my frozen tush being a case in point) with winter running again, this was also week two of my marathon clinic at the Running Room. Our group this time around is a nice mix of seasoned veterans who have run eight marathons, and newbies who've never run the distance before.
Figuring out what pace group you should be in can be a little agonizing. Not only does it have a lot to do with who you're running with (though really I've never met a runner I didn't enjoy running with), your pace group leader sets the tone for the group too. I once had a group leader who would bark/yell at us if we went too fast. It was ruining what for me should have been an enjoyable experience, so I pushed myself up to the faster group, even though I struggled to keep up with them. Your pace group choice basically dictates how painful or enjoyable your runs are going to be, and whether you're going to kill yourself trying to keep up with a group that's pushing you just a tad too fast, or get frustrated with a group that you feel is slowing you down. I'm still waffling - 4hr, or 4:05 group? I'll let you know what I decide.
Coming soon...I'll be launching my new running blog, with interviews with local runners, reviews of routes and races, tips and tricks, recipes and product reviews. Stay tuned!
~ Ceebie
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Week one: great tempo, speed bumps and keeping on...
Well, week one of my marathon training is done. Just 17 more to go. Week one called for 10/6/10/6/6. In reality it looked more like 14/6/curling/yoga. But that's ok.
Why, you ask? Because sometimes, despite our best intentions, life gets in the way. But you have to take those speed bumps and use them as learning opportunities in your marathon journey. And then, as the Chinese proverb says (not sure which wise man it was who said it, but I'm pretty sure he was Chinese): to get to your destination, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, until eventually you get there.
The mental block is lifted:
For the last couple of months, ever since my first marathon, I'd been struggling with a mental block. No matter that I'd just run a distance less than one percent of the population has ever run, but even the shortest run seemed like a gargantuan task. Just the idea of lacing on my shoes was exhausting, and I didn't believe that I'd be able to run 5k, let alone 42.2.
But thanks to the support of my husband and running buddies, and the fact that I'd just signed up for another clinic starting next week, I forced myself to head out for a tempo run on Tuesday. And while the first few minutes had me wondering whether my legs could handle the pace, after the first kilometre or so, as I ran around the Commons and enjoyed the sight of families heading to the Oval to watch the speed skaters train, I found that I was only running about 10 seconds or so slower than I used to before my last marathon. And it felt great!
Sometimes, you just need a great run to get you motivated again and believe in your legs and yourself. And while there's no doubt that I'll probably have difficult runs again, where every step feels like agony and inside I'm just dying to stop and walk, you keep on keeping on because you know that every so often, you'll have a run where you just feel like you're floating. And that is the best feeling.
Yet despite my best intentions last week that I was going to run every run in the training schedule, that did not happen this week.
My speed bumps this week:
1) a work-related road trip to Fredericton. Normally, that isn't a big deal, because the nice thing about running is that there are roads/trails everywhere. All you need is your runners and you're good to go (ok you also need weather-appropriate, water-repellant clothing...unless you live in a nudist colony, which I don't, nor do I have any urgest to do so). Given that I was able to stay on track with my first marathon training schedule (for the most part) this summer while travelling for my wedding and honeymoon, I wasn't concerned about traveling. I'd even packed my running gear and was ready to explore Fredericton by foot, ecept for:
2) a blizzard (or at least lots and lots of snow) that dumped 30 or so centimetres of snow on Fredericton, making the unplowed sidewalks a little treacherous. And while running in snow is a good workout (it exercises different muscle groups and is actually a harder workout than running on dry ground, much like running in sand), I was a little tired after our drive, the sidewalks weren't plowed, I didn't know the city and so on and so forth.
3) a busy schedule, much of which was taken up by work, travel or other commitments. Like our curling match on Thursday night -- which I discovered is still a great workout, and lots of fun too! In any case, cross-training is always important in any running program, as it helps you build other core muscles that contribute to your strength and endurance.
4) a painless migraine on Saturday. What is that, you ask? Well, it's where you start getting these pretty little sparkles in your eyes and it feels like you've got tunnel vision and blind spots. So needless to say, I thought it wise to abstain from running until such time as I could see properly again. Though I did substitute the run with a great yoga class -- another opportunity for some cross-training and strength building.
Anyways, despite the road blocks this week I joined my running buds this morning for this Sunday's Long Slow Distance. Most of us had not made it out for more than a run or two last week due to the weather conditions. What's important is not to let those slight speed bumps get you down, and find other opportunities to get some training in, whether it be curling, yoga or other.
Although we ran down Novalea this week, the run seemed a little more challenging compared to last Sunday's, mostly because the surfaces were a lot slipperier, with a thin coating of ice or snow on the sidewalk. By kilometre 14, my legs felt like lead, so I headed back to the Running Room -- very, very slowly.
This week's schedule: 10/6/10/6/6
Tuesday night, the marathon clinic begins at the Running Room. I'm looking forward to starting another training program with my running friends, and making new friends and acquaintances as well.
~ Ceebie
Why, you ask? Because sometimes, despite our best intentions, life gets in the way. But you have to take those speed bumps and use them as learning opportunities in your marathon journey. And then, as the Chinese proverb says (not sure which wise man it was who said it, but I'm pretty sure he was Chinese): to get to your destination, you just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, until eventually you get there.
The mental block is lifted:
For the last couple of months, ever since my first marathon, I'd been struggling with a mental block. No matter that I'd just run a distance less than one percent of the population has ever run, but even the shortest run seemed like a gargantuan task. Just the idea of lacing on my shoes was exhausting, and I didn't believe that I'd be able to run 5k, let alone 42.2.
But thanks to the support of my husband and running buddies, and the fact that I'd just signed up for another clinic starting next week, I forced myself to head out for a tempo run on Tuesday. And while the first few minutes had me wondering whether my legs could handle the pace, after the first kilometre or so, as I ran around the Commons and enjoyed the sight of families heading to the Oval to watch the speed skaters train, I found that I was only running about 10 seconds or so slower than I used to before my last marathon. And it felt great!
Sometimes, you just need a great run to get you motivated again and believe in your legs and yourself. And while there's no doubt that I'll probably have difficult runs again, where every step feels like agony and inside I'm just dying to stop and walk, you keep on keeping on because you know that every so often, you'll have a run where you just feel like you're floating. And that is the best feeling.
Yet despite my best intentions last week that I was going to run every run in the training schedule, that did not happen this week.
My speed bumps this week:
1) a work-related road trip to Fredericton. Normally, that isn't a big deal, because the nice thing about running is that there are roads/trails everywhere. All you need is your runners and you're good to go (ok you also need weather-appropriate, water-repellant clothing...unless you live in a nudist colony, which I don't, nor do I have any urgest to do so). Given that I was able to stay on track with my first marathon training schedule (for the most part) this summer while travelling for my wedding and honeymoon, I wasn't concerned about traveling. I'd even packed my running gear and was ready to explore Fredericton by foot, ecept for:
2) a blizzard (or at least lots and lots of snow) that dumped 30 or so centimetres of snow on Fredericton, making the unplowed sidewalks a little treacherous. And while running in snow is a good workout (it exercises different muscle groups and is actually a harder workout than running on dry ground, much like running in sand), I was a little tired after our drive, the sidewalks weren't plowed, I didn't know the city and so on and so forth.
3) a busy schedule, much of which was taken up by work, travel or other commitments. Like our curling match on Thursday night -- which I discovered is still a great workout, and lots of fun too! In any case, cross-training is always important in any running program, as it helps you build other core muscles that contribute to your strength and endurance.
4) a painless migraine on Saturday. What is that, you ask? Well, it's where you start getting these pretty little sparkles in your eyes and it feels like you've got tunnel vision and blind spots. So needless to say, I thought it wise to abstain from running until such time as I could see properly again. Though I did substitute the run with a great yoga class -- another opportunity for some cross-training and strength building.
Anyways, despite the road blocks this week I joined my running buds this morning for this Sunday's Long Slow Distance. Most of us had not made it out for more than a run or two last week due to the weather conditions. What's important is not to let those slight speed bumps get you down, and find other opportunities to get some training in, whether it be curling, yoga or other.
Although we ran down Novalea this week, the run seemed a little more challenging compared to last Sunday's, mostly because the surfaces were a lot slipperier, with a thin coating of ice or snow on the sidewalk. By kilometre 14, my legs felt like lead, so I headed back to the Running Room -- very, very slowly.
This week's schedule: 10/6/10/6/6
Tuesday night, the marathon clinic begins at the Running Room. I'm looking forward to starting another training program with my running friends, and making new friends and acquaintances as well.
~ Ceebie
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Those first steps on my journey of 952.2 kilometres
You know that old clichéd adage:
A journey of 1,000 miles begins with just one step.
Ok technically my journey will be 42.2 kilometres, but by the time I will have finished my second marathon training program, I should have run about 952.2 km. Which works out to 592 miles. And that ain't half bad, even if it's only a little more than half a journey in the eyes of that old adage (but 1,000 miles just seems so random anyway).
Vital stats of my GoodLife journey:
Race: GoodLife Toronto Marathon
Date: May 15, 2011
Time goal: 4 hrs (30 minutes faster than my first marathon)
Those first steps
Last Sunday was our first day of training and called for a 10k Long Slow Distance. I'd been a lazy bum ever since running my first marathon in October, and my legs (and waist) were starting to show it. But when my phone rang its annoying chirp at 7:30 (I'll admit, I've been too lazy to try and find a better alarm sound), I pushed myself upright, swung my legs out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom...where I very nearly fell asleep on the toilet. But didn't.
Toothpaste froth flying as I grumbled to myself under my breath wondering why the heck I was doing this, I glared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. But I knew there was no backing out today. I'd stood my running buddies up way too many times in the last several weeks, and I was beginning to feel guilty about it.
Halifax's streets were quiet in the early morning gloom as I drove downtown, with cars neatly parked in their driveways -- everyone was likely enjoying a lazy Sunday, I thought to myself resentfully. But when I walked into the Running Room, a few runners had already started gathering, and more continued to trickle through the doors for the next 15 minutes, until we were crammed in there, shoulder to shoulder -- a roomfull of inspiration for lazy me.
I joined the 18k group with running buds Wendy, Andrea and Jenn, hoping I could keep up with them (especially up the long hill at Devonshire Ave - thanks, Bruce!). The first few kilometres for me are always about warming up and settling into the groove of the run, and I was glad that I'd decided to come out this Sunday.
As we crested the long hill (thanks again, Bruce ;) ), my legs feeling the strain, I used the pain as a reminder not to ever get complacent again. Who would have thought that only a month and a half ago, I was sprinting around the track at The Tower like a little gazelle? (Ok not really a gazelle. To those watching me I was more like a slow short woman huffing and puffing around a track...but I liked to imagine I looked gazelle-like nonetheless). It is so easy to get out of shape.
At around 6k, the snowflakes started to fall. Big, chunky fluffs of white that stuck to my eyelashes and pretty soon had us wincing in pain as the wind drove them sideways into our faces and down our open mouths to the backs of our throats. I'd forgotten what it was to run in snow again -- that slight loss of purchase with each step, slipping back and not knowing whether the night step might -- whoops! -- be on a patch of ice.
But we continued on, around the Halifax Shopping Centre and through to Quinpool, then onward to Oxford. Running in snow might be harder, but Halifax in winter is so much prettier under the snow. As we chatted about holidays, work, husbands, boyfriends and shopping, I felt so grateful to have found such a great group of running friends.
I'd only planned to do about 14k, so at Cobourg I waved the rest of the group on, and stepped onto the intersection, only to glance at my left and see a big truck skidding downhill toward me, its rear tires fishtailing out to the side in slow motion. Stepping back, I yelled out to the rest of the group to be careful, and watched the truck driver come to a stop on the other side of the intersection.
I headed back to the Running Room slowly, picking my way uphill along Cobourg, then past the Public Gardens. My wooly mittens were sheathed in white, as was my hair, which I'd left untied and now looked like a dripping rat's nest.
We figured that all of the slipping back probably accounted for a few extra kilometres, so I like to think that my first step actually consisted of about 16k on a snowy morning in January. Only 890.2k left to go!
~ Ceebie
A journey of 1,000 miles begins with just one step.
Ok technically my journey will be 42.2 kilometres, but by the time I will have finished my second marathon training program, I should have run about 952.2 km. Which works out to 592 miles. And that ain't half bad, even if it's only a little more than half a journey in the eyes of that old adage (but 1,000 miles just seems so random anyway).
Vital stats of my GoodLife journey:
Race: GoodLife Toronto Marathon
Date: May 15, 2011
Time goal: 4 hrs (30 minutes faster than my first marathon)
Those first steps
Last Sunday was our first day of training and called for a 10k Long Slow Distance. I'd been a lazy bum ever since running my first marathon in October, and my legs (and waist) were starting to show it. But when my phone rang its annoying chirp at 7:30 (I'll admit, I've been too lazy to try and find a better alarm sound), I pushed myself upright, swung my legs out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom...where I very nearly fell asleep on the toilet. But didn't.
Toothpaste froth flying as I grumbled to myself under my breath wondering why the heck I was doing this, I glared at myself in the mirror as I brushed my teeth. But I knew there was no backing out today. I'd stood my running buddies up way too many times in the last several weeks, and I was beginning to feel guilty about it.
Halifax's streets were quiet in the early morning gloom as I drove downtown, with cars neatly parked in their driveways -- everyone was likely enjoying a lazy Sunday, I thought to myself resentfully. But when I walked into the Running Room, a few runners had already started gathering, and more continued to trickle through the doors for the next 15 minutes, until we were crammed in there, shoulder to shoulder -- a roomfull of inspiration for lazy me.
I joined the 18k group with running buds Wendy, Andrea and Jenn, hoping I could keep up with them (especially up the long hill at Devonshire Ave - thanks, Bruce!). The first few kilometres for me are always about warming up and settling into the groove of the run, and I was glad that I'd decided to come out this Sunday.
As we crested the long hill (thanks again, Bruce ;) ), my legs feeling the strain, I used the pain as a reminder not to ever get complacent again. Who would have thought that only a month and a half ago, I was sprinting around the track at The Tower like a little gazelle? (Ok not really a gazelle. To those watching me I was more like a slow short woman huffing and puffing around a track...but I liked to imagine I looked gazelle-like nonetheless). It is so easy to get out of shape.
At around 6k, the snowflakes started to fall. Big, chunky fluffs of white that stuck to my eyelashes and pretty soon had us wincing in pain as the wind drove them sideways into our faces and down our open mouths to the backs of our throats. I'd forgotten what it was to run in snow again -- that slight loss of purchase with each step, slipping back and not knowing whether the night step might -- whoops! -- be on a patch of ice.
But we continued on, around the Halifax Shopping Centre and through to Quinpool, then onward to Oxford. Running in snow might be harder, but Halifax in winter is so much prettier under the snow. As we chatted about holidays, work, husbands, boyfriends and shopping, I felt so grateful to have found such a great group of running friends.
I'd only planned to do about 14k, so at Cobourg I waved the rest of the group on, and stepped onto the intersection, only to glance at my left and see a big truck skidding downhill toward me, its rear tires fishtailing out to the side in slow motion. Stepping back, I yelled out to the rest of the group to be careful, and watched the truck driver come to a stop on the other side of the intersection.
I headed back to the Running Room slowly, picking my way uphill along Cobourg, then past the Public Gardens. My wooly mittens were sheathed in white, as was my hair, which I'd left untied and now looked like a dripping rat's nest.
We figured that all of the slipping back probably accounted for a few extra kilometres, so I like to think that my first step actually consisted of about 16k on a snowy morning in January. Only 890.2k left to go!
~ Ceebie
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Sunday Scribblings: December
Here is a poem I wrote a while back that I think is fitting for this theme (although it was written in November :) )
First snowfall
quiet night
seems like only yesterday
tiny spidermen, princesses and ghouls
clamored for candy on our porch
tonight darkness fell so soon
you on the computer, me
watching chick shows
comfortable in the knowledge
you're right
here
commercial break
you wander upstairs
to the windows that frame our doorthe one you spent three days painting electric blue
last summer
beckon me over
to watch the world outside
car, trees, driveway, rooftops, last month's pumpkins, darkness blanketed fluffy white
big chunky flakes drifting
softly
quiet night
so quiet
think I hear the snowflakes fall
warm orange glow of streetlights
bright gleam of a neighbour's Christmas lights
two weeks early
we chuckle at his zeal
lean into the checkerboard of your flannel pyjamas
into the circle of your arms,
our house
cozy
together
breathe in the soft crisp whiteness
of the year's first snowfall
~Ceebie
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Sunday Scribblings: Guidance
As this week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "guidance," I was hoping to seek guidance from the group on this poem I wrote last week. It came to me at around 4am and I banged it out, and personally I've felt like it just came together, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it. I've also been struggling with the title, so any guidance would be appreciated. Thanks!
Untitled
the thing about poetry is,
once it finds you, it is very hard to let it go
suddenly it is everywhere
in the gush of a blueberry
running hot and purple on your tongue
when all you wanted was pancakes on a quiet morning
it is there at a street corner
in the slant of light through buildings,
the sheen of a puddle,
tugging at your sleeve as you wait for the light to change
it wants to dance a slow tango with you across Quinpool Rd
toying with you
till you want to share it with strangers
in the darkness of 4am
suddenly poetry is there with you in the room
there in the hum of words in the corner behind your right eye
roll them around in your mind like a marble
hear them like a new song played over and over again
can almost taste them, their metallic twinge
poetry is the imp at the bottom of the bed that takes hold of your blanket
tugging at the corner
there in the feverish warmth of the pillow that you flip over and over
searching for a cool spot to rest your cheek on
then when at last you cannot take it anymore
throw open the laptop
its quiet glow on your knuckles, your eyelashes
bang on the keys
words creeping black across the snowy wilderness of an empty page
hoping to stay the rush of words in your head
release the torrent behind your eyes
then
silence
for awhile...
because poetry knows that you'll be back
~ Ceebie
Untitled
the thing about poetry is,
once it finds you, it is very hard to let it go
suddenly it is everywhere
in the gush of a blueberry
running hot and purple on your tongue
when all you wanted was pancakes on a quiet morning
it is there at a street corner
in the slant of light through buildings,
the sheen of a puddle,
tugging at your sleeve as you wait for the light to change
it wants to dance a slow tango with you across Quinpool Rd
toying with you
till you want to share it with strangers
in the darkness of 4am
suddenly poetry is there with you in the room
there in the hum of words in the corner behind your right eye
roll them around in your mind like a marble
hear them like a new song played over and over again
can almost taste them, their metallic twinge
poetry is the imp at the bottom of the bed that takes hold of your blanket
tugging at the corner
there in the feverish warmth of the pillow that you flip over and over
searching for a cool spot to rest your cheek on
then when at last you cannot take it anymore
throw open the laptop
its quiet glow on your knuckles, your eyelashes
bang on the keys
words creeping black across the snowy wilderness of an empty page
hoping to stay the rush of words in your head
release the torrent behind your eyes
then
silence
for awhile...
because poetry knows that you'll be back
~ Ceebie
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
What type of stemware are you? A new way of talking about body shape...
Thinking of purchasing a clothing item for a loved one on your list? Want to make sure you don't buy them a skirt that's two sizes too big and makes them look like a walking tent, or pants where the crotch falls below their knees like some bad retro Bobby Brown outfit?
Then listen to the wisdom of personal shopper and wardrobe customizer Cindy Wheeler, owner of Customizing Wardrobes by Cindy. A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of corresponding with Cindy for an upcoming shopping article in The Coast's Gift Giving Guide (which comes out tomorrow - stay tuned for more!). She was a wealth of information and knowledge, and I ended up having more material than could fit in my article.
So, Cindy kindly agreed to let me share with you her 9 Types of Body Shape Stemware, which she came up with a few years ago as an antidote to the whole "apple and pear" distinctions.
"It can save you a lot of hours shopping if you know the perfect styles for your body shape [or that of your friends]," says Cindy. "So I came up with 9 body shapes all named after stemware lovingly named and influenced by my friends."
Grand Vin Wine - no defined curves to speak of; rounder through shoulders
Cordial - tomboy-type figure
Champagne Flute - any shape, but over 5’8”
Grappa - hip and booty issues
Decanter - thigh and leg issues
Margarita - slim shoulders, big busted, slim hips
Goblet - rounder shoulders, larger tummy, slim hips
Wine Carafe - extremely curvy, hourglass, any size
Pilsner - curvy but thicker through the waist
"I wanted to focus on the many issues that we women have," adds Cindy. "BUT, my biggest lesson for my clients is, dress the body you have, not the body you want or the body you had."
Her last words of wisdom? "Feeling great and looking fabulous starts with knowing and loving your shape, regardless of it being a Decanter or a Goblet."
This short little Wine Carafe couldn't agree more. Thanks, Cindy!
Click here to learn more about Cindy and her wardrobe customizing services and workshops.
Now it's your turn - what type of stemware are you?
~ Ceebie
Then listen to the wisdom of personal shopper and wardrobe customizer Cindy Wheeler, owner of Customizing Wardrobes by Cindy. A few weeks ago I had the pleasure of corresponding with Cindy for an upcoming shopping article in The Coast's Gift Giving Guide (which comes out tomorrow - stay tuned for more!). She was a wealth of information and knowledge, and I ended up having more material than could fit in my article.
So, Cindy kindly agreed to let me share with you her 9 Types of Body Shape Stemware, which she came up with a few years ago as an antidote to the whole "apple and pear" distinctions.
"It can save you a lot of hours shopping if you know the perfect styles for your body shape [or that of your friends]," says Cindy. "So I came up with 9 body shapes all named after stemware lovingly named and influenced by my friends."
Grand Vin Wine - no defined curves to speak of; rounder through shoulders
Cordial - tomboy-type figure
Champagne Flute - any shape, but over 5’8”
Grappa - hip and booty issues
Decanter - thigh and leg issues
Margarita - slim shoulders, big busted, slim hips
Goblet - rounder shoulders, larger tummy, slim hips
Wine Carafe - extremely curvy, hourglass, any size
Pilsner - curvy but thicker through the waist
"I wanted to focus on the many issues that we women have," adds Cindy. "BUT, my biggest lesson for my clients is, dress the body you have, not the body you want or the body you had."
Her last words of wisdom? "Feeling great and looking fabulous starts with knowing and loving your shape, regardless of it being a Decanter or a Goblet."
This short little Wine Carafe couldn't agree more. Thanks, Cindy!
Click here to learn more about Cindy and her wardrobe customizing services and workshops.
Now it's your turn - what type of stemware are you?
~ Ceebie
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
What is this?
What is this object?
Post your guess below, and I'll share my tale with you in a few days...Stay tuned!
~ Ceebie
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sunday Scribblings: Antidote
long day at work today hardly came up for a breath
trying to keep up with all the moving pieces
putting out fires better than a fireman
reading through the proofs one last time
finding yet another mistake
another crisis brewing in an email
yet another person wants their copy rewritten
wants to use a new image
someone else worried we've let the delivery date slip
begging, pleading with designer, printer to help me, help us
scramble to keep up with my inbox
placing phonecalls to follow up on a loose thread
mad dash of production before we hit the presses
today gave me a headache, a jaw-ache, neck and back so tense
I am a jumpy ball of caffeinated nerves
funny
I never had a coffee
shut down the laptop
drag tired heels outside
turn the key in the ignition
mind still whirling reeling tumbling
green and orange bars of MacDonald Bridge flip flip flip by car windows
thrum of tires on tarmac over ebony water
BlackBerry message light blinking blinking blinking
buzz buzz of yet another email
barely notice how I made it across to Halifax
drag tired heels through your door
jacket, bag, everything feels so heavy
wait for you to shut things down
you hug me to your chest
plant a kiss in my hair
I can tell by the way your shoulders droop
the tilt of your head
you've had a long day too
but
in a moment, you have me chuckling
smiling
at a silly joke you just said
I make some witty rejoinder
suddenly we're both laughing
you're my perfect antidote to a long day
~ Ceebie
trying to keep up with all the moving pieces
putting out fires better than a fireman
reading through the proofs one last time
finding yet another mistake
another crisis brewing in an email
yet another person wants their copy rewritten
wants to use a new image
someone else worried we've let the delivery date slip
begging, pleading with designer, printer to help me, help us
scramble to keep up with my inbox
placing phonecalls to follow up on a loose thread
mad dash of production before we hit the presses
today gave me a headache, a jaw-ache, neck and back so tense
I am a jumpy ball of caffeinated nerves
funny
I never had a coffee
shut down the laptop
drag tired heels outside
turn the key in the ignition
mind still whirling reeling tumbling
green and orange bars of MacDonald Bridge flip flip flip by car windows
thrum of tires on tarmac over ebony water
BlackBerry message light blinking blinking blinking
buzz buzz of yet another email
barely notice how I made it across to Halifax
drag tired heels through your door
jacket, bag, everything feels so heavy
wait for you to shut things down
you hug me to your chest
plant a kiss in my hair
I can tell by the way your shoulders droop
the tilt of your head
you've had a long day too
but
in a moment, you have me chuckling
smiling
at a silly joke you just said
I make some witty rejoinder
suddenly we're both laughing
you're my perfect antidote to a long day
~ Ceebie
Friday, November 26, 2010
Breakfast at the Armview
breakfast at the Armview
ding ding of kitchen bell as a plate is slid out on the pass
flap flap flap of door on hinges,
fanning cooking smells into the dining room
Lenny Kravitz singing to a cab driver on the radio
slurp and burble of straw at the bottom of a young girl's
glass of milk
outside, the traffic on the Rotary never stops
round and around and around it goes
at the next booth,
family having an early lunch
easy chuckles and chatter on morning off from school
dull gleam of Formica
cracked pleather banquettes
chink of spoon in coffee mug
slow ooze of syrup
melting butter over pancakes
hot burst of purple on tongue
starting to see the world through writing again
a whole poem in a blueberry
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
First snowfall
quiet night
seems like only yesterday
tiny spidermen, princesses and ghouls
clamored for candy on our porch
tonight darkness fell so soon
you on the computer, me
watching chick shows
comfortable in the knowledge
you're right
here
commercial break
you wander upstairs
to the windows that frame our door
the one you spent three days painting electric blue
last summer
beckon me over
to watch the world outside
car, trees, driveway, rooftops, last month's pumpkins, darkness blanketed fluffy white
big chunky flakes drifting
softly
quiet night
so quiet
think I hear the snowflakes fall
warm orange glow of streetlights
bright gleam of a neighbour's Christmas lights
two weeks early
we chuckle at his zeal
lean into the checkerboard of your flannel pyjamas
into the circle of your arms,
our house
cozy
together
breathe in the soft crisp whiteness
of the year's first snowfall
~ Ceebie
seems like only yesterday
tiny spidermen, princesses and ghouls
clamored for candy on our porch
tonight darkness fell so soon
you on the computer, me
watching chick shows
comfortable in the knowledge
you're right
here
commercial break
you wander upstairs
to the windows that frame our door
the one you spent three days painting electric blue
last summer
beckon me over
to watch the world outside
car, trees, driveway, rooftops, last month's pumpkins, darkness blanketed fluffy white
big chunky flakes drifting
softly
quiet night
so quiet
think I hear the snowflakes fall
warm orange glow of streetlights
bright gleam of a neighbour's Christmas lights
two weeks early
we chuckle at his zeal
lean into the checkerboard of your flannel pyjamas
into the circle of your arms,
our house
cozy
together
breathe in the soft crisp whiteness
of the year's first snowfall
~ Ceebie
Friday, November 19, 2010
How walkable is your neighbourhood?
After reading this post by Grist.org that asks whether neighbourhoods can be too walkable, I decided to try the Walk Score tool to see just how walkable my neighbourhood is.
The result - not great, it seems. In fact we scored a dismal D or maybe even an E (what does a 47% count as?). We only scored 40% for transit access (I'm not surprised - it's a five-minute walk, half of which is uphill, to get to the bus stop) and 55% of Walk Score users have a higher score than ours! Well, at least we're within walking distance of the Spryfield Animal Hospital, even if we don't have a dog (yet...).
The shame! Do we really live in THE SUBURBS???
Sure, living in Purcells Cove/Herring Cove (or Fleming Heights - take your pick on which neighbourhood I live in...) does sometimes feel like we live out in the middle of nowhere. Most pizza places won't deliver past the Rotary! But come on, people, we're only 5k from Quinpool and Robie.
Although we might not have scores of shops or restaurants or pubs nearby, there's something to be said for being within walking distance of Frog Pond, Williams Lake, the Dingle and Long Lake, being able to hear the chorus of spring peepers at night and the scores of people and dogwalkers who walk along the pathway behind our house - I'm willing to bet the Walk Score doesn't take those into account, and to me those also have a lot to do with the meaning of a walkable neighbourhood...
So - how does your neighbourhood rate on the Walk Score?
~ Ceebie
The result - not great, it seems. In fact we scored a dismal D or maybe even an E (what does a 47% count as?). We only scored 40% for transit access (I'm not surprised - it's a five-minute walk, half of which is uphill, to get to the bus stop) and 55% of Walk Score users have a higher score than ours! Well, at least we're within walking distance of the Spryfield Animal Hospital, even if we don't have a dog (yet...).
The shame! Do we really live in THE SUBURBS???
Sure, living in Purcells Cove/Herring Cove (or Fleming Heights - take your pick on which neighbourhood I live in...) does sometimes feel like we live out in the middle of nowhere. Most pizza places won't deliver past the Rotary! But come on, people, we're only 5k from Quinpool and Robie.
Although we might not have scores of shops or restaurants or pubs nearby, there's something to be said for being within walking distance of Frog Pond, Williams Lake, the Dingle and Long Lake, being able to hear the chorus of spring peepers at night and the scores of people and dogwalkers who walk along the pathway behind our house - I'm willing to bet the Walk Score doesn't take those into account, and to me those also have a lot to do with the meaning of a walkable neighbourhood...
So - how does your neighbourhood rate on the Walk Score?
~ Ceebie
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Sunday Scribblings: Nature's bright ideas
find my gardening gloves
dust off the trowel
pull out brown-bagged bulbs from
the cold
room
under the stairs
where they've spent the summer
in the garden
relish rare rays of sunshine
warm on arms and back
brush aside dry leaves and twigs
dig shallow holes
startle blind worms
squirming in moist dark earth
plant bulbs like tiny onions
for a long winter's rest
now wait
blankets of white will fall
we'll huddle inside on cold nights
in a few months
eagerly scan the warming ground
for bright green exclamation marks
poking out from melting snow
nature's bright ideas
~ Ceebie
dust off the trowel
pull out brown-bagged bulbs from
the cold
room
under the stairs
where they've spent the summer
in the garden
relish rare rays of sunshine
warm on arms and back
brush aside dry leaves and twigs
dig shallow holes
startle blind worms
squirming in moist dark earth
plant bulbs like tiny onions
for a long winter's rest
now wait
blankets of white will fall
we'll huddle inside on cold nights
in a few months
eagerly scan the warming ground
for bright green exclamation marks
poking out from melting snow
nature's bright ideas
~ Ceebie
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Saturdays - what a difference a day makes
I used to hate Saturdays. Waking up to an empty (save for two quarreling cats) and cold condo in North York, I'd force myself out of bed and try to decide how to spend the next two days. I could spend the entire weekend wandering the busy city and feel completely disconnected from my "neighbourhood." Although I was surrounded by people, I never felt more alone.
But since moving to Halifax and settling in to my life with S, I've claimed Saturdays as my own. And they're one of my favourite days of the week (the other is Sunday because I get to spend it with S).
Since S works most Saturdays, I've now settled into a Saturday routine that is mine, all mine (insert evil laugh ;)!!! Sure, I could spend the day doing household chores, but instead, Saturday is a day for indulgence, relaxation and me.
It first starts with a trip to the Halifax Public Library (the bookworm in me can't wait till the new building opens!) to pick up a book or two that I may or may not read and grudginly pay fines (I am notoriously bad at returning books - I'm sure York University could have opened a wing with the fines I paid while I was in grad school). I love the smell of a library - the scent of musty paper is the smell of stories waiting to be discovered, folded between two covers. I typically pick up more books than I can stuff into my gym bag, or read. I'm a kid in a candy store.
Next, it's over to the Second Cup or Starbucks on Spring Garden Road for a latte (aka snooty, overpriced coffee) and a breakfast sandwich, where I crack open one of the books I picked up and delve into it for an hour, or tap away at my netbook and do some writing.
Then, I meander my way down Spring Garden Road, browsing through stores and glancing at pretty things I can't afford (shoes, earrings, dresses...I'm sure the store owners now know me as The Girl With the Pink Yoga Mat Bag). And off to yoga at Nubodys (now Goodlife) or Ashtanga Yoga Shala for their Karma class, where I will spend an hour breathing, stretching and - cliché though it sounds - being in the moment.
I leave the yoga studio feeling like I've just woken up from the best sleep. My body is stretched clean. Perhaps I'll go for a run, but most often my afternoon ends with some more reading and writing, my short legs curled up on an armchair or sofa in a coffee shop, surrounded by the buzz and whir of a cappucino machine and the chatter of coffee-shop conversations...
Then around 5:30 I pack up my yoga mat, my gym bag and my book and head to S's store, my frizzy hair smelling of coffee roast, and we drive home together.
Saturdays may be a day to myself, but they're no longer the loneliest day of the week. I now know how to be alone (the filmmaker and producer for that popular video happen to be based in Halifax, too - is it the city, I wonder?).
~Ceebie
But since moving to Halifax and settling in to my life with S, I've claimed Saturdays as my own. And they're one of my favourite days of the week (the other is Sunday because I get to spend it with S).
Since S works most Saturdays, I've now settled into a Saturday routine that is mine, all mine (insert evil laugh ;)!!! Sure, I could spend the day doing household chores, but instead, Saturday is a day for indulgence, relaxation and me.
It first starts with a trip to the Halifax Public Library (the bookworm in me can't wait till the new building opens!) to pick up a book or two that I may or may not read and grudginly pay fines (I am notoriously bad at returning books - I'm sure York University could have opened a wing with the fines I paid while I was in grad school). I love the smell of a library - the scent of musty paper is the smell of stories waiting to be discovered, folded between two covers. I typically pick up more books than I can stuff into my gym bag, or read. I'm a kid in a candy store.
Next, it's over to the Second Cup or Starbucks on Spring Garden Road for a latte (aka snooty, overpriced coffee) and a breakfast sandwich, where I crack open one of the books I picked up and delve into it for an hour, or tap away at my netbook and do some writing.
Then, I meander my way down Spring Garden Road, browsing through stores and glancing at pretty things I can't afford (shoes, earrings, dresses...I'm sure the store owners now know me as The Girl With the Pink Yoga Mat Bag). And off to yoga at Nubodys (now Goodlife) or Ashtanga Yoga Shala for their Karma class, where I will spend an hour breathing, stretching and - cliché though it sounds - being in the moment.
I leave the yoga studio feeling like I've just woken up from the best sleep. My body is stretched clean. Perhaps I'll go for a run, but most often my afternoon ends with some more reading and writing, my short legs curled up on an armchair or sofa in a coffee shop, surrounded by the buzz and whir of a cappucino machine and the chatter of coffee-shop conversations...
Then around 5:30 I pack up my yoga mat, my gym bag and my book and head to S's store, my frizzy hair smelling of coffee roast, and we drive home together.
Saturdays may be a day to myself, but they're no longer the loneliest day of the week. I now know how to be alone (the filmmaker and producer for that popular video happen to be based in Halifax, too - is it the city, I wonder?).
~Ceebie
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Pain is temporary. Pride is forever.
October 24, 2010 dawned a bright, crisp sunny morning, with the sun poking through the buildings on Main Street as it rose. I'd worn an ugly yellow Running Room t-shirt over my long-sleeved running shirt and race bib, with the plan that I would peel it off at around halfway once the sun came out and it warmed up a little more. Moncton's Crowne Plaza hotel lobby was packed full of runners waiting to start, and one confused-looking family who obviously was not part of the race but was trying to navigate through the crowd of polyester and luon-clad athletes.
At around 10 minutes to 8, they called the marathoners to head out to the start line. We were a group of about 130, which was a nice cosy sort of feeling as we gathered by the start line. I ran a short 300-metre lap next to the start line to warm up, and then tried to figure out where to place myself in the pack. There were two 3:45 pace bunnies but no 4hr pace bunny, so I just kind of gauged where I thought I should go. Then they counted down the seconds and the starting gun went off. I felt a wave of nervous happiness wash over me, but tried to measure that feeling because I didn't want to make me start out too strong and then regret that later.
I started out the first kilometre pretty strong - I was running around 5:23, 5:30 for the first part and it felt easy, so I was encouraged, but I wanted to slow myself down because my plan had been to start the first two kilometres at about 10 seconds slower than my race pace. But after the first kilometre, I just couldn't pick it up any faster than 5:50, then 5:55. I'd started out strong, but then I started to get a little worried because after the second kilometre, I just couldn't pick up the pace. I figured at some point I would be able to get into my groove and pick up the pace again, so I didn't worry too much then.
At around 5k, my Achilles tendon seized up. Shit. I thought I would just run through it, but then my left foot fell asleep for about 4k or 5k. I didn't want to walk yet because my plan had been to walk every 45 minutes. And then it started to feel like I was running on a stump and I was pretty worried because I couldn't feel my foot but ironically it was painful. I didn't know if I should stop and get help, or if I should keep going. I was also concerned because the wind was pretty cold and I wasn't warming up - I thought that I'd perhaps under-dressed and I might get hypothermia if I continued feeling that cold for the rest of the run (can you tell my mind was playing games with me?). My goal was just to keep running from one cluster of volunteers to the next, because I figured if things got really bad I could just ask them to call me a taxi and take me back to the hotel room.
By around kilometre 10 or so my foot woke up again, but by then I had slowed to around 6:02 or even 6:15, and I was really struggling to make a decision about whether I was going to quit or just try and finish. I felt really overwhelmed with all of the pressure I had put on myself to meet a certain goal, and upset that I wasn't falling into it as easily as I'd hoped. That's about when I made the decision to let go of my time goal as it didn't seem likely that I'd meet it, unless I really pushed myself, and I didn't know if I could sustain that for the rest of the run. My focus became to finish the distance and just run it as a Sunday run rather than a race. I really wanted to give up, but at the same time I thought of all the weeks of training I'd put in, and the fact that we'd driven all the way from Halifax, and I knew I'd be disappointed if I quit.
So, I told myself, let's see if I can make it to 21k, and if at that point, I feel truly crappy, I can quit. I also decided to walk at all water stations and start taking Gatorade (which hadn't been the plan - I'd worn my water belt because my initial plan had been to walk every 45 minutes and run through the stations). I also decided to walk every 10 or 20 minutes - it was really more of a mental break than a physical one...I was really feeling intimidated by this unknown distance, as well as the route, which was another complete unknown.
In addition to the mental strain I was under, I was also kind of wishing that I'd gone to a race with my run club ladies so I'd have them with me to encourage me and push me to pick up the pace. At the same time, although I was running alone I was also running with each of the friends and family who've encouraged me throughout this process.
I remember running through a path by the salt marshes, the cattails rattling in the breeze, and playing over one of the quotes Wendy had given us - it's a Chinese proverb, which basically says that a journey starts with a single step, but you must keep stepping. And so I looked down at the gravel path before me, and just thought of putting one foot in front of the other.
At 21k (which was the slowest 21 I've ever run, but I didn't care at that point because I knew that if I made too much of it I would despair), I peeled off my t-shirt and gave it to a volunteer, because it had warmed up quite a bit and the sun had now come up. They had said they'd give the discarded clothing to charity if it wasn't claimed, which I thought was pretty cool. Passing the 21k marker, I thought ok, let's see if I can make it to 32...I knew that I had run that distance before and I just started counting down the kilometres till I got there.
At kilometre 33, it was kind of cool because I realized "I've now run farther than I've ever run before." From that point, it was just a matter of counting down the kilometres down from the 9.8 that were left. That's also the point of the course where there were a series of hills, which I forced myself to run up even though it was more of a shuffle. Most of the time they made sure to have volunteers at the top to cheer us on. They were wearing these bright orange t-shirts, which was great because you could see them from far away and just aim to run towards them - picking out each orange cluster as route markers as you ran along.
I have to say, the volunteers on the course were amazing - they were spaced out around every 500 metres or so, and they were really enthusiastic, even though I was in the back of the pack. Even at kilometre 37, the volunteers were there in the cold cheering me on, and that was really nice. As they and random people along the street cheered me on, calling "go girl," I felt pretty proud of what I was doing.
At the top of one hill, there was a woman holding up a neon green hand-written sign, with the words "Pain is temporary. Pride is forever." That really stuck with me for the last stage of the run, and I kept playing it in my head as I kept going.
At around 35 to 37 kilometres my pace picked up to about 6:02 again, maybe a little faster (I'll have to look at my Garmin records)...Before that I was struggling a little more - it was mainly mental exhaustion and I was battling to try and not feel defeated. I knew if I stopped, I would really regret it. And I kept telling myself how proud I would feel for completing, even if I had to stop and walk the rest of the way.
At around 37k, I will never forget it. The pack had really spread out by that time, so I was virtually running alone and I guess you couldn't tell it was a marathon if you weren't looking for it. There was a church and the congregation was starting to file out as I was passing. An elderly woman and her mother were at the edge of the sidewalk, along with their grandson, and they were looking to cross the street. They saw me approach, hesitated, then started to cross just as I was running by. I yelled "excuse me, I'm trying to finish a marathon here!" and they jumped back... I felt bad to destroy their post-service glow, but a little proud to be able to yell that out, too :)
I have to say looking back, I didn't really push myself too much - I spent a few minutes chasing after an ear bud when it fell off my earphones, twice (time to get new earphones I think :) ) and another time I actually ran back to put a cup in a garbage bag where some kids were volunteering - obviously I wasn't focusing on time too much (in fact I didn't even look at my pace or the time on my Garmin for most of the run - I was solely focused on ticking down the kilometres).
The last few kilometres were back through the salt marshes, which was neat because you could see the runners ahead as they made their progress along the route, along with the orange clusters of enthusiastic volunteers. There was this weird little jog off the trail and back for about 300 metres - I guess they thought the route was too short (although according to my Garmin it was 500 metres longer, which kept messing with my mind because I'd think "Ok I've done 38 k" and then 500 metres later the 38k marker would be there) and I dropped my Garmin and earbuds again - swearing under my breath as I tried to pick up the bud...you could really tell by that point that I didn't care about my time as I ran around trying to get the little white plastic bud off the road, lol...
Then there was a kilometre left, and I was back on the main street and I could see the Crowne Plaza. I knew my husband was waiting for me, and despite the fact that there were around 30 or so of us to finish, there were still people lined along the sidewalk cheering me on ("go girl!"), and a crowd of people at the finish.
With around 300 metres left to go, I saw my husband waiting for me on the sidelines - he'd been waiting in his shorts for about an hour in the cold weather, but I could see he was glowing with pride as he cheered me on. I yelled out for him and held out my hand, and we ran to the finish together. I could hear the crowd cheering for us - "I love it! Go with her," yelled one man. It was funny cause Steve was literally pulling me along because he could run faster than my legs felt they could go.
I'll never forget the sound of the bag of chips I'd packed as a post-race snack, bouncing up and down in the backpack he was wearing. We had to run around a half marathon walker who was finishing at around the same time, who decided to pick up the pace just as we approached him - that was probably the slowest photo finish ever.
We crossed the finish line together and I got my finisher's medal, and then they offered Steve a medal because they weren't sure if he was a runner too :) Then we stood there and he hugged me and told me how proud he was of me. I was quite frankly just happy to have finished the race but torn about not having run the race I'd hoped to run. But Steve kept telling me over and over how few people accomplish what I'd accomplished, and that my goal had been to finish, not the time. He was really great at trying to get me focused on the positive.
After that, we went back to the hotel and I could see what you meant about recognizing the post-marathon shuffle. There was a woman who shuffled towards the elevator at the same time as me. We looked at each other and chuckled as we recognized the pain we were both in.
That neon green handwritten sign at the top of that hill really will always stick with me - Pain is temporary. Pride is forever. And although I may not have run the fastest race, and this may not be the most eloquently written post, I do feel proud of what I've accomplished.
And I'm already looking forward to the next race :)
~ Ceebie
At around 10 minutes to 8, they called the marathoners to head out to the start line. We were a group of about 130, which was a nice cosy sort of feeling as we gathered by the start line. I ran a short 300-metre lap next to the start line to warm up, and then tried to figure out where to place myself in the pack. There were two 3:45 pace bunnies but no 4hr pace bunny, so I just kind of gauged where I thought I should go. Then they counted down the seconds and the starting gun went off. I felt a wave of nervous happiness wash over me, but tried to measure that feeling because I didn't want to make me start out too strong and then regret that later.
I started out the first kilometre pretty strong - I was running around 5:23, 5:30 for the first part and it felt easy, so I was encouraged, but I wanted to slow myself down because my plan had been to start the first two kilometres at about 10 seconds slower than my race pace. But after the first kilometre, I just couldn't pick it up any faster than 5:50, then 5:55. I'd started out strong, but then I started to get a little worried because after the second kilometre, I just couldn't pick up the pace. I figured at some point I would be able to get into my groove and pick up the pace again, so I didn't worry too much then.
At around 5k, my Achilles tendon seized up. Shit. I thought I would just run through it, but then my left foot fell asleep for about 4k or 5k. I didn't want to walk yet because my plan had been to walk every 45 minutes. And then it started to feel like I was running on a stump and I was pretty worried because I couldn't feel my foot but ironically it was painful. I didn't know if I should stop and get help, or if I should keep going. I was also concerned because the wind was pretty cold and I wasn't warming up - I thought that I'd perhaps under-dressed and I might get hypothermia if I continued feeling that cold for the rest of the run (can you tell my mind was playing games with me?). My goal was just to keep running from one cluster of volunteers to the next, because I figured if things got really bad I could just ask them to call me a taxi and take me back to the hotel room.
By around kilometre 10 or so my foot woke up again, but by then I had slowed to around 6:02 or even 6:15, and I was really struggling to make a decision about whether I was going to quit or just try and finish. I felt really overwhelmed with all of the pressure I had put on myself to meet a certain goal, and upset that I wasn't falling into it as easily as I'd hoped. That's about when I made the decision to let go of my time goal as it didn't seem likely that I'd meet it, unless I really pushed myself, and I didn't know if I could sustain that for the rest of the run. My focus became to finish the distance and just run it as a Sunday run rather than a race. I really wanted to give up, but at the same time I thought of all the weeks of training I'd put in, and the fact that we'd driven all the way from Halifax, and I knew I'd be disappointed if I quit.
So, I told myself, let's see if I can make it to 21k, and if at that point, I feel truly crappy, I can quit. I also decided to walk at all water stations and start taking Gatorade (which hadn't been the plan - I'd worn my water belt because my initial plan had been to walk every 45 minutes and run through the stations). I also decided to walk every 10 or 20 minutes - it was really more of a mental break than a physical one...I was really feeling intimidated by this unknown distance, as well as the route, which was another complete unknown.
In addition to the mental strain I was under, I was also kind of wishing that I'd gone to a race with my run club ladies so I'd have them with me to encourage me and push me to pick up the pace. At the same time, although I was running alone I was also running with each of the friends and family who've encouraged me throughout this process.
I remember running through a path by the salt marshes, the cattails rattling in the breeze, and playing over one of the quotes Wendy had given us - it's a Chinese proverb, which basically says that a journey starts with a single step, but you must keep stepping. And so I looked down at the gravel path before me, and just thought of putting one foot in front of the other.
At 21k (which was the slowest 21 I've ever run, but I didn't care at that point because I knew that if I made too much of it I would despair), I peeled off my t-shirt and gave it to a volunteer, because it had warmed up quite a bit and the sun had now come up. They had said they'd give the discarded clothing to charity if it wasn't claimed, which I thought was pretty cool. Passing the 21k marker, I thought ok, let's see if I can make it to 32...I knew that I had run that distance before and I just started counting down the kilometres till I got there.
At kilometre 33, it was kind of cool because I realized "I've now run farther than I've ever run before." From that point, it was just a matter of counting down the kilometres down from the 9.8 that were left. That's also the point of the course where there were a series of hills, which I forced myself to run up even though it was more of a shuffle. Most of the time they made sure to have volunteers at the top to cheer us on. They were wearing these bright orange t-shirts, which was great because you could see them from far away and just aim to run towards them - picking out each orange cluster as route markers as you ran along.
I have to say, the volunteers on the course were amazing - they were spaced out around every 500 metres or so, and they were really enthusiastic, even though I was in the back of the pack. Even at kilometre 37, the volunteers were there in the cold cheering me on, and that was really nice. As they and random people along the street cheered me on, calling "go girl," I felt pretty proud of what I was doing.
At the top of one hill, there was a woman holding up a neon green hand-written sign, with the words "Pain is temporary. Pride is forever." That really stuck with me for the last stage of the run, and I kept playing it in my head as I kept going.
At around 35 to 37 kilometres my pace picked up to about 6:02 again, maybe a little faster (I'll have to look at my Garmin records)...Before that I was struggling a little more - it was mainly mental exhaustion and I was battling to try and not feel defeated. I knew if I stopped, I would really regret it. And I kept telling myself how proud I would feel for completing, even if I had to stop and walk the rest of the way.
At around 37k, I will never forget it. The pack had really spread out by that time, so I was virtually running alone and I guess you couldn't tell it was a marathon if you weren't looking for it. There was a church and the congregation was starting to file out as I was passing. An elderly woman and her mother were at the edge of the sidewalk, along with their grandson, and they were looking to cross the street. They saw me approach, hesitated, then started to cross just as I was running by. I yelled "excuse me, I'm trying to finish a marathon here!" and they jumped back... I felt bad to destroy their post-service glow, but a little proud to be able to yell that out, too :)
I have to say looking back, I didn't really push myself too much - I spent a few minutes chasing after an ear bud when it fell off my earphones, twice (time to get new earphones I think :) ) and another time I actually ran back to put a cup in a garbage bag where some kids were volunteering - obviously I wasn't focusing on time too much (in fact I didn't even look at my pace or the time on my Garmin for most of the run - I was solely focused on ticking down the kilometres).
The last few kilometres were back through the salt marshes, which was neat because you could see the runners ahead as they made their progress along the route, along with the orange clusters of enthusiastic volunteers. There was this weird little jog off the trail and back for about 300 metres - I guess they thought the route was too short (although according to my Garmin it was 500 metres longer, which kept messing with my mind because I'd think "Ok I've done 38 k" and then 500 metres later the 38k marker would be there) and I dropped my Garmin and earbuds again - swearing under my breath as I tried to pick up the bud...you could really tell by that point that I didn't care about my time as I ran around trying to get the little white plastic bud off the road, lol...
Then there was a kilometre left, and I was back on the main street and I could see the Crowne Plaza. I knew my husband was waiting for me, and despite the fact that there were around 30 or so of us to finish, there were still people lined along the sidewalk cheering me on ("go girl!"), and a crowd of people at the finish.
With around 300 metres left to go, I saw my husband waiting for me on the sidelines - he'd been waiting in his shorts for about an hour in the cold weather, but I could see he was glowing with pride as he cheered me on. I yelled out for him and held out my hand, and we ran to the finish together. I could hear the crowd cheering for us - "I love it! Go with her," yelled one man. It was funny cause Steve was literally pulling me along because he could run faster than my legs felt they could go.
I'll never forget the sound of the bag of chips I'd packed as a post-race snack, bouncing up and down in the backpack he was wearing. We had to run around a half marathon walker who was finishing at around the same time, who decided to pick up the pace just as we approached him - that was probably the slowest photo finish ever.
We crossed the finish line together and I got my finisher's medal, and then they offered Steve a medal because they weren't sure if he was a runner too :) Then we stood there and he hugged me and told me how proud he was of me. I was quite frankly just happy to have finished the race but torn about not having run the race I'd hoped to run. But Steve kept telling me over and over how few people accomplish what I'd accomplished, and that my goal had been to finish, not the time. He was really great at trying to get me focused on the positive.
After that, we went back to the hotel and I could see what you meant about recognizing the post-marathon shuffle. There was a woman who shuffled towards the elevator at the same time as me. We looked at each other and chuckled as we recognized the pain we were both in.
That neon green handwritten sign at the top of that hill really will always stick with me - Pain is temporary. Pride is forever. And although I may not have run the fastest race, and this may not be the most eloquently written post, I do feel proud of what I've accomplished.
And I'm already looking forward to the next race :)
~ Ceebie
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Free cupcakes!
Oh you were expecting a free cupcake, were you? Well that's exactly what you'll get with each of my blog posts - pretty, yummy, fanciful writing covered in pink frosting that will have you licking your fingers and coming back for more.
For a taste of one of my cupcake creations, click here.
What's your favourite cupcake flavour? Have a favourite cupcake memory or recipe? Please share - I want to know!
~ Ceebie
For a taste of one of my cupcake creations, click here.
What's your favourite cupcake flavour? Have a favourite cupcake memory or recipe? Please share - I want to know!
~ Ceebie
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Of cupcakes, inspiration and new beginnings
As a little girl, I remember the schoolyard seemed endless as I tried to run from one end to another. Hills seemed to tilt precariously as I rolled down them. Trees towered above me and I felt miles above ground as I climbed them. The world was a gigantic place to be explored and discovered.
When I came back to these places years later, suddenly everything was smaller, shorter, less steep. The magnitude and mystery of the world was reduced in the rational eyes of an adult.
One thing I'm learning with age - some things, like fine wine, do get better with time. Take, for instance cupcakes.
The cupcakes of my childhood were flat and dry with watery icing. Multicoloured sprinkles were about as exciting as it got. But in recent years, these flat excuses for cake in a cup seem to have gotten a face lift. All of a sudden, they seem to have morphed into these moist creations adorned with generous doses of buttery icing and all kinds of creative flavours I'd never dreamed of as a child.
Sure, most of the time these new cupcakes are more icing than cake. Actually, most of the time there's more icing than any of us would admit to eating in public. But secretely, I enjoy the excuse of being able to indulge in that extra little bit of sweetness - somehow what seems wrong when eaten straight out of the Betty Crocker jar seems right if it's artistically presented on a round dollop of cake.
Lately I feel like this new generation of cupcakes seem to have exploded into the popular consciousness of adults (primarily women - I don't think my husband would be caught dead eating a creamy pink cupcake). They're everywhere, with stores dedicated to them, local coffee shops selling them next to Nanaimo bars, cookies and muffins, cupcake-decorated pyjamas and even a reality show.
And they're not being marketed to children, either. Whereas cupcakes were once the stuff of kids' birthday parties, today's second generation of cupcakes is being purchased (or baked) by office workers as treats for colleagues. They're a snack to accompany a snooty coffee. Towers of cupcakes are now popular alternatives to wedding cakes.
Why?
Is this recent popularity of these newer, prettier cupcakes really just an excuse to eat more icing without the guilt? Is it a secret desire to return to that innocence of childhood, even if just for the fleeting moment it takes to eat those three or four mouthfuls?
Or is it just me?
Ever have that thing happen where you notice someone once, and all of a sudden they're everywhere? Or you notice a certain colour and suddenly you're surrounded by it? Am I doing this with cupcakes? Do I just like saying "cupcake"? And what do cupcakes have to do with my first blog on this site in four years (after a short hiatus on another blog because I forgot my password to this one ;) )?
Not a lot, and yet something.
Cause lately not only have I been noticing cupcakes everywhere, but blogs seem to be everywhere I look, too. And suddenly, I want to write mine again.
Perhaps it's just me, but perhaps it is indeed a growing trend. Maybe it's because I've finally run my marathon (more on that in a future post) and have time to write on my hands; maybe it's because I'm surrounding myself more and more with good writers who inspire me. Whatever the reason, now that my husband and I are married and Halifax is starting to feel like home, I've taken a hankering to writing again for writing's sake, and this blog seems like a great place to do that.
What will this blog be about? How do writing, editing, running, yoga and nature all fit together? I'm not sure. All I know is that these are themes that have defined my life for years. And although the communicator in me says, "know your audience," I admit - I have no idea who my readers will be.
All I can wish is that this will be a place for random musings, observation and discussion; not proselytizing. And I know there are other bloggers out there who have the gift of the gab in ways that I don't. But hopefully others will find things here that inspire them, or at least get them chatting.
Actually, now that I think of it, cupcakes really are a great metaphor for what I envision this reincarnation of my blog will be - pretty, yummy sweet indulgences that have you licking your fingers and coming back for more.
So welcome, reader, whoever you are. I hope you'll keep coming back for more than just the crumbs.
When I came back to these places years later, suddenly everything was smaller, shorter, less steep. The magnitude and mystery of the world was reduced in the rational eyes of an adult.
One thing I'm learning with age - some things, like fine wine, do get better with time. Take, for instance cupcakes.
The cupcakes of my childhood were flat and dry with watery icing. Multicoloured sprinkles were about as exciting as it got. But in recent years, these flat excuses for cake in a cup seem to have gotten a face lift. All of a sudden, they seem to have morphed into these moist creations adorned with generous doses of buttery icing and all kinds of creative flavours I'd never dreamed of as a child.
Sure, most of the time these new cupcakes are more icing than cake. Actually, most of the time there's more icing than any of us would admit to eating in public. But secretely, I enjoy the excuse of being able to indulge in that extra little bit of sweetness - somehow what seems wrong when eaten straight out of the Betty Crocker jar seems right if it's artistically presented on a round dollop of cake.
Lately I feel like this new generation of cupcakes seem to have exploded into the popular consciousness of adults (primarily women - I don't think my husband would be caught dead eating a creamy pink cupcake). They're everywhere, with stores dedicated to them, local coffee shops selling them next to Nanaimo bars, cookies and muffins, cupcake-decorated pyjamas and even a reality show.
And they're not being marketed to children, either. Whereas cupcakes were once the stuff of kids' birthday parties, today's second generation of cupcakes is being purchased (or baked) by office workers as treats for colleagues. They're a snack to accompany a snooty coffee. Towers of cupcakes are now popular alternatives to wedding cakes.
Why?
Is this recent popularity of these newer, prettier cupcakes really just an excuse to eat more icing without the guilt? Is it a secret desire to return to that innocence of childhood, even if just for the fleeting moment it takes to eat those three or four mouthfuls?
Or is it just me?
Ever have that thing happen where you notice someone once, and all of a sudden they're everywhere? Or you notice a certain colour and suddenly you're surrounded by it? Am I doing this with cupcakes? Do I just like saying "cupcake"? And what do cupcakes have to do with my first blog on this site in four years (after a short hiatus on another blog because I forgot my password to this one ;) )?
Not a lot, and yet something.
Cause lately not only have I been noticing cupcakes everywhere, but blogs seem to be everywhere I look, too. And suddenly, I want to write mine again.
Perhaps it's just me, but perhaps it is indeed a growing trend. Maybe it's because I've finally run my marathon (more on that in a future post) and have time to write on my hands; maybe it's because I'm surrounding myself more and more with good writers who inspire me. Whatever the reason, now that my husband and I are married and Halifax is starting to feel like home, I've taken a hankering to writing again for writing's sake, and this blog seems like a great place to do that.
What will this blog be about? How do writing, editing, running, yoga and nature all fit together? I'm not sure. All I know is that these are themes that have defined my life for years. And although the communicator in me says, "know your audience," I admit - I have no idea who my readers will be.
All I can wish is that this will be a place for random musings, observation and discussion; not proselytizing. And I know there are other bloggers out there who have the gift of the gab in ways that I don't. But hopefully others will find things here that inspire them, or at least get them chatting.
Actually, now that I think of it, cupcakes really are a great metaphor for what I envision this reincarnation of my blog will be - pretty, yummy sweet indulgences that have you licking your fingers and coming back for more.
So welcome, reader, whoever you are. I hope you'll keep coming back for more than just the crumbs.
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