Mabel & The Seven Treadmills.

I ran into a Mabel today.

I'm sneezing and sniffling, so for today's run I packed up and headed to the gym to hit the treadmill. I'm not going to risk having a cold or worse fuck up my training for the Half - I'm selfish that way. (Or a wuss - call it as you see it.)

The thing about my gym, if I haven't mentioned it before, is that it only has 7 treadmills - and much like the seven dwarves, each of them has a different "personality" that can be summed up in what I call them:

• Oldie - This treadmill was born during the jögging (Scandinavian pronunciation) phenomenon of the 70's. When I run on it I get the feeling that it wants to tell me about how running was harder "back in the day" and tell me to "hit the sauna" afterwards.
• Corpse - This is Oldie's brother. I have never seen this one in working order - I swear the "Out of Order" sign on it is older than my kids.
• Skipper - Although it sounds like Barbie's younger sister, (don't ask how I know) this machine is can only be used successfully by either a double-dutch team or the ghost of Terry Fox.
• Grinder - Grinder is deceptive - When he's set at walking speed, he's quiet as a mouse. The second he goes to any sort of faster pace the sound of gnashing metal teeth and screech of protests are enough to make everyone in the gym stop and stare. Grinder became who he was by having a 6-foot-4, 245 pound slab of muscle pound on him at 9.5 to 10mph about 5 days a week - if there's a hell for treadmills, Grinder's there.
• Looker - there's nothing wrong with Looker - perfectly fine treadmill, if you like being directly opposite the huge fucking mirror. I know it's weird, but I can't watch myself run - I have a vision of perfect posture, excellent stride, and flawless complexion when I run. Seeing the sweaty, flawed realism takes me out of my game.
• The Mistress - This is the newest treadmill at the gym. works good, bright and shiny, has all the bells and whistles. I would run the shit out of this one of it wasn't for...
• My Baby - My Baby is the cremé de la cremé of the gym treadmills - perfect position (can't see myself run), on the end of the line (no squeezing in between treadmills), and has never broken down or missed a day. (I have busted out a 12 mile run on this thing in the dead of winter - this treadmill is connected to my soul.) I guess because of where it is, not a lot of people like to run on it - except me - and most people know it as "my" treadmill.

Well, everyone except Mabel, that is.

I don't know if her name is Mabel and I don't care - she's 100 years old (Ok, maybe 60) and all she does is walk on the treadmill. - no incline, no increase in speed, no effort exerted at all beyond hitting the "Start" button.

And she was doing all of this nothing on my treadmill.

You think that she would have gone for Oldie - I'm sure she probably knew the original designer - or even tried out Looker for a better view of herself and the TV's - (did I mention that she was watching 100 Huntley Street? I think I should.) but no, she chose My Baby for her leisurely stroll.

I sucked it up and only ground my teeth a little as I went to The Mistress and did my run. It's a good treadmill, but it's not the same. And with Karma being what it is, Mabel's walk finished at exactly the same time as my run. I estimate that she maybe did one mile to my four - I was tempted to go run a couple miles on My Baby just to let her know I was there.

I appreciate that Mabel is getting out there and trying to stay in shape - if she had even attempted something more than a walk I'm sure that my bitterness would be much less. I swear if she had been reading a magazine while walking I don't think I would have been able to contain myself.

Does that make me crazy? Is that intervention on the way?

Whatever - I'm going to give it one more chance tomorrow - but if she's heading to the treadmills at the same time I am, I can't be held responsible for my actions.








Later.

MidlifeRamblers Episode 7: Mastery of the Geek Haiku.

Oh yeah, we ramble on about Transformers too. (And everything else in our worldview, too.)




Later.

Thank You, Vancouver.

• For being cheerful and fun while I was there. Keep this up, and that "No Fun City" label will disappear fast.
• For having a transit system that worked perfectly, and wasn't a pain in the ass to navigate.
• For cleaning up and shining - looking like a true International City.
• For having all those people in Blue Jackets around - who don't mind giving directions to a guy who's "got his buzz on".
• For a Tim Horton's, Starbucks, or other caffeinated beverage place available when I stopped drinking Gin.
• For being the Gateway to Poco, where the real party was.. hahaha.

I'll be back in a month, so don"t forget about me..



Later.

SportFit.

Mondays and Thursdays are quickly becoming my favorite days of the week.

Those are the days that I go to SportFit.

SportFit is a program at The Sportsplex in town. I'd seen tons of people wearing SportFit jerseys and T-Shirts at the various races I run in, and they seem to do well - so it might just help me in my endeavors to hold back the passage of time. It's got a fairly harsh rep - when looking into it, I had heard lots of "It's hardcore." and "You'll be sore, it's too tough." - but I decided to bite the bullet and attend a class, just to see if I could cut it.

I love it.

The class starts out with an aerobic-type stretching session- we're kinda dancing to music, and just getting warmed up. (The whole class is set to music - it's God awful stuff, but whatever - I'm not there to hone my musical tastes.) after about 10 minutes of this, the The Run begins.

The Run is my favorite part of class. (Go figure.) The first couple of classes, I held back, just pacing in the middle of the pack, moving along with the group. Eventually, I realized that it's too slow back there and moved up to the front of the line where the pace picks up and you leave the stragglers in the dust. We usually average at least 4 miles in our 30 minutes of running.

After The Run, we immediately go back into the stretching, dancing thing for about another 10 minutes, and then get down to floor work.

Floor work varies from night to night - sometimes it's more abs-focused, sometimes, more legs. Tonight we did it all - upper-body, (push ups for ages) abs, and legs. By the end of that, I'm usually quivering in whatever body-part we've just finished pummeling. And then we do Yoga.

Now, the Yoga we do at SportFit isn't hardcore guru-style Yoga. Hell, the only reason I know it's Yoga at all is because I recognize some of the poses from Wii Fit. (Really, not kidding.) Stuff like Downward Dog, Tree and Warrior poses are mixed with stretches for hamstrings, calves, and core. It's right behind The Run as my favorite part just 'cause after it's done you feel so good. (Or maybe it's because class is over after that, so it could be either.)

I've been going twice a week for over a month now, and I really dig it - it's helped me pick up the pace on my short runs, and it's just nice to be around a bunch of people (there's about 40 in the class) who are interested and like doing the same things as me. (SportFit also has a Pub Night at The Willows every Thurs after class, but I haven't gone to that ...yet.)

I'm going to keep going - eventually I'll be able to put my head on my knees with straight legs... (Why I want to do that, I have no idea.. but a goal's a goal, right?) Wish me luck.



Later.

10K, A-Okay.

I ran my last race of the year today.

I finished the Miracle Beach 10k with a blazing fast 44:28 - 5 minutes off my time from last year. I still placed fourth in my age group, which just means the other old bastards (M35-39) have gotten faster too.

It was a great race, and I felt fantastic throughout. I probably could have even pushed a bit harder, but with doing Victoria last Sunday, I didn't think it wise to punish my legs further.

As always, the weather turned out great for the run - I always seem to luck out that way. (Knock on wood if you can.) It was sunny, cool, and the perfect weather to kick ass in.

For most of the race, I was running with a couple of guys, not paying attention to my pace, just running what felt right. It wasn't until one of them commented that we were clocking a 4'30" k that I started to check my pace, and even slowed down a bit - got to have gas in the tank to be able to finish. (Running's like sex - if you start out too fast, you just fall apart at the finish - never a good thing.)

Still, I was well ahead of where I wanted to be - at best I hoped for a time somewhere around the 45 minute mark, so to beat that even by just 30 seconds is a great thing. And as always, having them call out your name at the awards is great, even if it is just 4th place.

I say it's my last race of the year just because of the fact that I know of nothing else that's coming up. I'm contemplating the Vancouver Marathon, but that's not until May - and even then, I can incorporate the Comox Half and the Merville 15K into my training plan. ( I haven't really talked to the Wife about Vancouver - she already thinks I'm nuts, and telling her I want to do 2 Marathons and at least 1 Half next year will have her calling the guys in White Coats.)

So for now, it's back to just running for running's sake. I'm going to be hitting the gym for three days a week and running on the off days. I know there's a six-pack hiding under that last layer of fat - I'm determined to find it.

(Plus - and I won't make any promises - I should be able to blog more, now that I'm not going to be running 5 days a week. Believe it when it happens.)


Later.

Good Mail.

Most days, your average Inbox is so full of spam and other assorted debris that it's hard to sort out the good news from the ENLARGE YOUR PENIS NOW!!! - type stuff.

My Telus-assigned email address is the one I use for all my junk. Anyone who needs an actual address I can respond to, but I think is going to send me copious amounts of crap - they get that one. I check it once a week, and it's usually to just shift-select all-delete.

The Real Me uses Gmail.

Even with that, I still get some junk - newsletters I subscribed to but don't read, the one guy I know who still sends out FWD:FWD:FWD:FWD stuff, (even though I've asked him not to), and the occasional spam because the Wife signed up for something and put in the wrong address.

But today was a good mail day. I received 4 emails that brightened my afternoon:

• A reminder from the local running store about the 10K I'm in this weekend. (I placed 4th in my age group last year - going to try and better that)
• Same local running store sending out a congratulatory email to all the local runners in the RVM - sure, it's a bulk email, but everyone gets to see my name in lights - as a finisher.
• Message from the Event Photographers that my race-day photos are online. This one's tough because my finish-line photo looks realllly bad.
• And a confirmation email from the Tidemark that my 6th row tickets to see the Trews are in. (Oh yeah, baby - the Trews.)

So believe me when I say- checking my email, while purely habitual and borderline obsessive-compulsive, was very rewarding today.

And I also got this one from a Nigerian Prince who needs my help to transfer millions of dollars - this could be good.


Later.

Completion.

It's done.

26.2 miles, 42.2 kilometers, 16 weeks of training. And it rocked.

The Royal Victoria Marathon made me feel like I can accomplish anything. I'm still on cloud nine - not only did I meet my goals, I blew them out of the water.

As you can tell from the certificate on the right, I finished in 3:28:20 - almost 2 minutes faster than I figured my best possible time could be. I placed 402nd out of the 2611 who finished the marathon, and 63rd in my age group. (considering that 12 of the first 25 finishers were my age or older, that's a good sign.)

But it was a great day and I had an awesome time. Even when my calves and hammies started cramping up at the 40K mark, I kept going. I paused to walk twice, but my determination to run the race wouldn't let me do it for more than 30 seconds. (I'm stubborn that way.)

It's a beautiful run - from the Seawall to the Parliament Buildings, from Oak Bay to running through the golf course, (even ran by the Twin's Comic Book Store!) it was just amazing to be surrounded by people just as crazy and dedicated as I am.

Some of my memories from the run:

• The line up for the bathrooms - listening to some ladies debate the moralities of sneaking into the wheelchair porta-pottie.
• The Elvis Impersonator on a flatbed truck in Oak Bay - The King kept me going..
• The clothing strewn on the side of the road as runners peeled off thier outer layers.
• The fact that only 1 in 200 runners can hit the trash can at any water station. (which is why we run, instead of being in the NBA.)
• The running club offering "Beer Shots" at the 38K mark.
• Eating my first gelpak - was too much like really sweet chocolate pudding.
• Wondering if being struck by a golf ball means you get to subtract time off your finish..
• Seeing 3:2x:xx as I came toward the finish line - fuck the pain - I ran.
  
• Wanting to hug the lady as she put my finisher's medal around my neck.. (I didn't.)
• The greatest chocolate milk/donut combo ever as I walked out of the food area after the race.

Overall, an amazing experience.
I'll post the photos as soon as I can - with selective editing - no one wants to see me grimacing in pain.

Now, about next year...

Frustdata'd

As you could tell from my Twitter post on Sunday, I did two important things:

1. Did a 13.1 mile training run in 1 hour and 41 minutes, which shaved two minutes off my previous half marathon time. (Woo!)
2. Crossed the 1000 mile marker with my Nike + Sportband.

But there's a problem.

You see, normally over to your right there would be a big-ass Nike Certificate and I'd be bragging about shit over here. But on the run previous to my Sunday run, something happened to my Sportband.

It won't upload.

It plugs into it's USB port and charges fine, but that's it. No activation, nothing registers with the computer that anything is even plugged in. The port works fine, as anything else I stick in there works, and the Sportband did the same thing on another computer that I tried it on.

It still works great for everything else (except for the display), but it just won't upload. So now I'm stuck with 28 miles of runs that I can't post, and I'm getting a bit pissed. (So can't wait for my new Sportband 2.0 to arrive.)

Sure, I know I've logged the miles, and I know the time I did, but it's a satisfaction to see that reward up on the screen. Imagine how Pavlov's dogs felt when that fucker rang the bell and they didn't get anything.

(Fuck, Pavlov was a bastard.)

I'll get it fixed eventually, I hope, and am willing to listen to any ideas anyone has - If you wanted to earn my eternal gratitude, now's the time.

Later.

Hangin' Around.

Hey, I just flew into this blog, and boy, are my arms tired.
(Ba-dum Kssh)

Lame jokes aside, my arms are tired - from rock climbing.

I had no wife and no kids today, so like any normal guy I had coffee, read the paper, mowed the lawn, and then decided to try my hand at Indoor Rock Climbing.

I drive by On the Rocks at least once a week, (it's on the way to my parent's place) and having heard about it from other people, it seemed like something I'd like to try. But with always having the Boys, I've never gone in.

It was great.

For $20, I got shoes, a harness, and a quick introduction into the wonders of an auto-belay system. (The great thing is, it's $20 for an all-day pass - I'm going back after dinner tonight.) The auto-belay means you can climb alone, and once you reach the top, you can either climb back down (yeah right) or fling yourself into space, where it lowers you down gently rappel-style.

The gym was busier than I thought, with quite a few people there. Nobody seemed judgmental or rude, and everyone was enjoying themselves. The biggest shock to me was seeing a 8 year old boy scamper up the wall, racing his sister saying he's a "Spider Monkey". Once he hit the top, he just lowered himself down, unhooked and raced off to another area.

It may not be something that I'll do every week, but it's a nice alternative to have. (I'll tell you how nice tomorrow, depending how sore I am.)

I will say this: hardest upper body workout ever.


Later.

Maintenance is Key.

I have high standards when it comes to my DVDs.

Maybe not in what I watch, (ask the Sidekick, and he'll say my copy of The Princess Bride proves that) but in how I take care of what I have.

So it drives me nuts when I see people treat their DVDs like shit.

I had a guy at work lend me Wild Hogs. (Not my choice, but the Wife liked it.) He brought the disc in for me and when he handed me the case I was appalled.

The outer case was scuffed, the cover slide was ripped, and it still had the price tag on it. It may sound trivial, but I don't need to know that he paid $24.95 for Wild Hogs - if he did, he needs to get a refund. I was almost terrified to open the case and see the disc.- I figured it would look like cats played hacky-sack with it.

I just don't understand how people can treat their stuff like that, especially if they are willing to lend it out to other people. Bad enough that you're going to get judged on your viewing choices - but to hand out beat up, badly treated stuff? It just tells me you can't take care of your shit.

And if you don't take care of your stuff, why would the people you lend it to bother to take care of it? They know you don't give a shit, so why should they? When I hand someone an immaculate disc in packaging that looks like I bought it yesterday, that's how I expect to receive it back.

Do I go overboard? Probably. But to present my things, and by extension, myself as uncared and unkempt is just unacceptable to me.

I'm going to end it at that.
I gotta go dust my collection anyways.


Later.

Of Bears, Beers, and Aching Calves.

Of all the golf courses I've played at, Bear Mountain reigns supreme.

Forget reigning - Bear Mountain takes the other golf courses, kicks their whinny little asses and sends them packing like the bitches they are.

As you can tell, I'm somewhat enamored with the course. As thrilled as I was to get a chance to play in the Thrifty Foods tourney, it was where we were playing that excited me the most, and the course didn't disappoint.

The treatment by the staff was phenomenal - it was like I was a touring Pro, not some shmoe from the sticks. The place just screams class and money, and the only other place I've been to that has the same feel in the air would be Whistler.

The greens, the fairways, the course is immaculate and in tip top condition. Too bad there were a bunch of drunks playing on it, but we had a fun time.

My team was a great group - I knew one guy already, and the other two were really nice. My cart-buddy was the most fantastic bastard of an Englishman I've ever met, and I could have sat and listened to him drink, curse, and laugh all day.

And drink I did. At Campbell River events, you have a choice of Lucky, Kokanee, or Coors Light. Not bad, but not my favorite brews. Yesterday I drank nothing but Sleemans, Alexander Keith's, Stella, and the odd G&T. And that was all from the Beer Cart. They must have known we had an Englishman in the group because the cart never seemed to be more than 3 minutes away.

So after a Lunch that stuffed me, 18 holes that drowned me in Beer, and a Dinner where the steak was cut with a butter knife, what do I regret?

I regret not resting my calves today. Although there was a cart, there's lots of walking in golf, and I was on the side of a mountain... Of my 3 mile run today, it wasn't until mile 2.5 that they started to loosen up and not be stiff as boards. (Putting them through 6 miles of hills tomorrow to show 'em who's boss.)

I'd love to be able to go back to Bear Mountain. And here's to hoping I get my wish.


Later.

The Heat is On.

Holy Shit - it was hot today.

I don't care what the thermometers said, it was broiling. I deal better with the heat now - all the running last summer made me appreciate it a lot more, and this year I've gone from fat and pasty to slim(mer) and light brown.

Today I did something I never would have done years ago to beat the heat - I went to the lake.

Now before you start thinking about Frankie & Annette, I did bring the kids with me, so it was a family type day.

We had a blast. The kids played at the edge of the water, we threw rocks, and Daddy got to enjoy the beautiful scenery that surrounds the lake in the summer. A great time was had by all. I wasn't sure how the kids would handle the heat, but the only time they even kicked up a fuss was when we had to leave.

They want to go back tomorrow - I'm hoping we'll be able to. (First I have to do all the yardwork and shit, and then we can go play.)

Here's to not sitting in the house in front of the fan - summer fucking rocks.



Later.

Request.

Dear Homeless Man on the Seawalk:

For the love of God, please put a shirt on. I know it's summer, and the weather's gorgeous, but you have to think of other people at a time like this. For me to come around the corner by the park and be confronted with your fat blubbery man-tits splayed out for everyone to see not only made me gag uncontrollably, but I almost stumbled and fell - which would have prematurely ended my run.

Now I'm just assuming that by your disheveled, ragged appearance that you are homeless - If you are the fine owner of one of the oceanside mansions that dot the area, I would just ask that you step inside and fetch a shirt, or maybe have your butler do it. If that wasn't the case, maybe you could dig something out of that shopping cart full of shit you were leaning against.

As an aside, I just like to say that you must be the most resourceful homeless guy I've ever seen - most people with addictions such as yours are skinny and malnourished - for you to be as . . rotund as you are only hints at your ability to procure food. I wish you could have conjured up a shirt and maybe some deodorant, but I guess they aren't as high on your priority list as beer and whatever you get out of the dumpster.

If you get a chance, dig in the one behind Canadian Tire - maybe they threw out a tarp or something you could use. It just might have the coverage you need.



Later.

The One Test You Can't Study For..

Tonight at work, I sold a 17 yr old boy a home Pregnancy Test.

He was nervous, wild-eyed and visibly shaken.

As I handed him the bag with his receipt, I said "Hope it works out for you, brother."

The "Uh-huh" and blank stare I got back told me everything I needed to know about his hoped-for results.

Tough break.


Should have sold him a box of condoms, just so he won't have to be back again.



Later.

Disco to Disco, Round 2.

Today was a glorious day to run.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, yadda yadda yadda, I decided to repeat one of the runs I did last year: Disco to Disco. I haven't ran it in 6 months, so why not, eh?

I actually added on about a half mile - I started from my house instead of WP Disco, so the distance to OR Disco was actually 9.77 miles - but what does it matter, right?

Even with the extra distance, I improved on my time from last year - I did the 9.77 miles in 1:14:00 as opposed to the 1:21:00 I did last year. It may not seem like much, but believe me - in running, seven minutes is a long fucking time.

And next to almost being clipped by some bastard trying to pass three cars at once by the Driftwood, it was a great run - no issues, legs felt good, and I even had energy left to bullshit with the guys at the store until my ride came and got me.

I think I won't wait another six months to do it again, though - as the summer progresses, I could see this being something I do probably every two weeks - with my goal being to run there and back (19.54 miles) before I do my half marathon in October.

That'll be a post worth blogging about.



Later.

Guilty Conscience

When it's cold, I don't like to run in the rain.

It seems that whenever I run when it's either really cold or raining and cold, it's inevitable that I get a cold or congested chest afterwards.

Because of this, when ever it's too chilly or chilly & wet, I hit the treadmill to get my mileage in. There's no shame in it, and at least I'm staying active and healthy.

So why do I feel so guilty if I see someone else running in the rain?

Take today: it's raining and cold - which means I'm heading to the gym to hit the 'mill and bust out 6 or 7 miles. As I'm driving there, I notice at least 3 sets of people running along the side of the road- jackets zipped up and hats pulled low. I'm cozy in my car, headed to my nice dry gym, to do the exact same thing they are doing.

So why do I feel like less of a runner?

Does not wanting to brave the elements make the distance that I run less?
Does not running against the wind and rain mean that I'm not really running?
Does it make me a pussy?

I know that in the grand scheme of things, it's not a big deal - both of us are better than the guy who never gets off the couch - but for some reason it bothers me. Like they're snickering at me as they run.."Look at the pansy in his truck, going to run on the spot in a room!"


I'm not a pansy - I'm a runner.
I just get a little stuffed up is all...




Later.

Herd Mentality.

Please take the time to watch the following Video and then ask yourself one question:




Don't you think it's ironic that at a party that's "Celebrating Originality", everyone is wearing the same brand of clothes?

Did the guys at the marketing meeting not somehow see this?

And would I have been ostracized if I showed up wearing my Reebok's?
(They are pretty sweet shoes, yo.)


Later.

Step Up.

There's been a bit of a shuffle at work.

Our Head/General Manager has quit, and that means that things are going to change fairly quickly. I don't think it's a bad thing, as it only looks good for me.
More money, better environment, and an opportunity for advancement.

You see, I'm in the favored group for the "regime change" as we've come to call it at work. I'm still doing the same job, but my opinions count a lot more with the new leadership. In fact, after it was announced that my old Boss was leaving, I had three phone calls (happened on my day off) telling me that I shouldn't worry and I'll be looked after.

After the corporate mess and double talk (except from the Sidekick) at the last job, it's a good thing to hear.

I'm already enjoying the change - I've been working the last two days and already I can see how the pressure's going to be and where I'm going to fit in. More responsibility, sure, but also more perks and more input into the operation of the "Big Picture" - and isn't that what we all want to be - part of the Big Picture?

There may be some growing pains, as we're moving people around from other locations and forming a mix of people that haven't ever worked together before, but it shouldn't be that bad - I'm optimistic about the whole thing.


(Please don't quote this post if I'm bitching about work in three weeks time.)


Change is good.
Let's keep it that way.




Later.

Excuses.

Reasons why I haven't blogged lately:

1. I'm lazy.
2. I have absolutely nothing interesting to say, unless you want to hear about Running or Dairy Products.
3. I watched Quantum of Solace last night, and after seeing James Bond kill everybody who even remotely wronged him, my rant didn't seem that important.
4. I was busy carb-loading for my 15K race tomorrow.
5. For some reason, clean clothes and dishes won out over blogging, so I did laundry and housework instead.
6. My kids won't leave me alone. They demand constant attention, and since I'm the greatest Dad in the world, I oblige.
7. When I do have a half-hour to myself, I "relieve stress" - otherwise the world would be an unhappy place.
8. I do have a job, you know - and it's not blogging. (Although it should be, I think I'd like that.)
9. The sun was shining.
10. After staring at the monitor for 15 minutes, I drew a complete blank.

I know they aren't good excuses, but there they are.

I will get back to something regular, I promise; after this race and once everything else (drama) settles down, I'll be back on track and regular updates of pointless observations and my bitching will continue.




Later.

Skewed Readership.

One part of my blog that I really enjoy is seeing who's coming around to check out what I'm saying in my little corner of the Internet.

It's interesting to see that people from Korea, China, Uruguay, England, Scotland as well as my Canadian brethren are interested in some topic enough that they stumble upon my assorted rants and raves.

What's disturbing is how many are interested in this post.

Why is the subject of geriatric urine such a hot topic? Is it due to the rising senior population, or is it some twisted fetish? (The skeptic in me, who's been on the internet a while, is well aware that it could be the latter.) Whatever it is, I'm such an authority on it that I'm number 8 on Google China's results for "old men peeing".

Conflicted: Impressed that I'm ranked so high, yet disgusted at what they are looking for.

Good thing I don't write about anime porn.



Later.