May have to revamp this blog, because I am tired of preaching to the converted, while the rest of us prance around in Prada and SUV's. Besides, I may only have a few years left. I'm just tired of it.
Going to watch TV and maybe indulge in a drink to go with my laziness this weekend, anyone care to join me... so I'm not such a loser...
Swam my first non-stop 2 kilometers last night (short course). Then followed it up with 500 more meters of drills and swim practice this morning. Disheartening to see my best time for 50m is.... drumroll please... 1 minute 5 seconds. On repeat, I could only manage 1 minute 8 seconds. The best kickers in the world can do 100m of flutterkick in 1 minute.
That's right... ONE HUNDRED meters of kick in 1 minute. So, more than twice as fast as I can SWIM.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
Hiatus
Well, the first yoga class was great. Afterwards, it felt like I had just had a back massage, because finally the pain and tension was eased. Now if I could just fix the bike problem…
Swam yesterday, first time in a month. It felt good to get in the water, but I realized how little I’ve actually progressed in the past year… I’ve practically forgotten backstroke and breaststroke, and my kicking actually sends me backwards. I can barely kick for half of the 25m length. It’s time to re-think my strategy.
It’s also time to re-think my path in life. There’s a Buddhist saying that warns: “If we continue along this path, we’re liable to end up where we’re headed.” – or something to that effect. I’m not headed into a good place, that’s for sure. I already have some plans, but I won’t jinx them by stating them here.
For now, I’m not sure if, when or how often I will be updating this blog… there are some things I need to get in order first. So, dear readers, thanks for your attention thus far, and I wish you all the best of luck. When I know more... I will be back!
Swam yesterday, first time in a month. It felt good to get in the water, but I realized how little I’ve actually progressed in the past year… I’ve practically forgotten backstroke and breaststroke, and my kicking actually sends me backwards. I can barely kick for half of the 25m length. It’s time to re-think my strategy.
It’s also time to re-think my path in life. There’s a Buddhist saying that warns: “If we continue along this path, we’re liable to end up where we’re headed.” – or something to that effect. I’m not headed into a good place, that’s for sure. I already have some plans, but I won’t jinx them by stating them here.
For now, I’m not sure if, when or how often I will be updating this blog… there are some things I need to get in order first. So, dear readers, thanks for your attention thus far, and I wish you all the best of luck. When I know more... I will be back!
Friday, September 7, 2007
Dinner with Damon
The heat is stifling… yesterday’s 18k easy run turned into a hack-fest partway through. Whether it was the extreme humidity, the poor air quality, or the bug I swallowed as I ran through Mooney’s Bay Park, I don’t know—but I hacked myself silly on the way home. Maybe the bug stung my throat on the way down?
I consoled myself by watching the Bourne Identity afterwards (nothing like a bit of shirtless Matt Damon to cheer a girl up!). Dinner was the standard tuna curry with veggies. I am Day 2 into my “Drink 75 oz of water a day” plan. That’s about 5 bottles a day, but does not include what I need to consume during workouts. I’m also trying to drink one cup of green tea daily. We’ll see how I feel after a few weeks of this… I am attempting to smooth out my wrinkles. Actually, that’s not the main reason, but it is one of the reasons.
Also found a great website for sports nutrition and other related topics (Australian Institute of Sport). I was kind of surprised to see all the recipes for lamb (!!) but hey, it's Aussie.
I consoled myself by watching the Bourne Identity afterwards (nothing like a bit of shirtless Matt Damon to cheer a girl up!). Dinner was the standard tuna curry with veggies. I am Day 2 into my “Drink 75 oz of water a day” plan. That’s about 5 bottles a day, but does not include what I need to consume during workouts. I’m also trying to drink one cup of green tea daily. We’ll see how I feel after a few weeks of this… I am attempting to smooth out my wrinkles. Actually, that’s not the main reason, but it is one of the reasons.
Also found a great website for sports nutrition and other related topics (Australian Institute of Sport). I was kind of surprised to see all the recipes for lamb (!!) but hey, it's Aussie.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Just Du It
The 2007 Canadian Half Iron Distance Duathlon has come and gone… and here I am to tell the tale. The event went much better than I expected; heck, I didn’t even expect to finish. My overall time was 11 minutes faster than last year, which is a respectable showing for me considering my injured state!
A huge spaghetti dinner on Friday night set the stage for Saturday morning; garlic bread, loads of pasta and meat sauce, a tasty beer and I was carbo-loaded indeed. But that wasn’t all: a decadent piece of chocolate cake and tea at Oh So Good… was oh so good. I slept pretty well that night: whether it was the food or whether it was my dread of the whole thing, I have no idea. My alarm rang at 6:30, and it was off to the races we go.
I packed in a frenzy (despite the race-day checklist I had made) and spent almost 45 minutes trying to decide if it would be cold enough to wear a long-sleeved jersey (16-21C and sunny… it wasn’t!). I couldn’t eat more than half of my pre-race breakfast (oatmeal pancakes with blueberries and Nutella) because of the butterflies in my stomach. Finally I had pulled on my leg and arm-warmers and was ready for the 10k warm-up ride to the race. It was a beautiful, cool and clear morning.
I enjoyed the ride to Mooney’s Bay, even more so because I had scrapped my aerobars for this race and opted for a traditional roadie position to help my back. The transition area was crazy; the venue had moved just south-east of the main field and was now situated in the infield of the track! The announcer was prattling like announcers do, and music was playing from the loudspeakers… I felt the first burst of adrenaline.
Racked my bike near the end of Row 4, set myself up and retraced my steps so I’d know where to find my bike. Then I went over to the Body Marking table and stood there for a bit (no volunteers to help this time!) until I saw man who looked stranded in similar fashion. I said, “shall we do this?” So I wrote this number on his arm, but it was a 900-number and I made the stick on the ‘9’ too long, so that his number stretched to the inside of his elbow. “Oops, sorry I ran out of space” said I. “What, you’re telling me my bicep isn’t big enough?” He joked. Yeah, yeah, no more party jokes for the calves!
At the start line, I looked around at my fellow racers and felt a bit awkward, like I usually do when standing next to the uber-serious guys and SLC’s (Super-Lean-Chicks, remember?) It was a relief to start, actually. I took the first 2k easy, forcing myself to slow down and breathe only through my nose. It was hard, because when the gun goes off you just want to sprint and get rid of all that adrenaline.
I re-entered the transition zone and grabbed my bike, gloves, and helmet, and shoved the Nutella sandwich into my pocket. It was a long run on the grass to the road. I had no idea how the bike leg was going to go… I was going to aim for about 30kph and hope for the best. It was somewhat windy along Colonel By and I worried that my road position would put me at a big disadvantage, but of course I had no choice. Up on the tops I went, spinning like mad, to show all those triathletes on $5000 Cervelos how to ride a bike.
Immediately I felt the difference; my back was happier, my legs were happier, my lungs were happier, and my brain was happier. Most of the following 90 kilometres were enjoyable, even! I smirked whenever I passed a SLC deep in the aero position, on a fancy tri bike. I smirked, and I passed them sitting up, hands on the tops. I even passed them riding no-hands. One of the women who did go by me yelled out as she passed: “Time to invest in some aero-bars!” I felt like laughing, or perhaps screaming, so I said back: “I just took ‘em off!” Then I decided that I wanted to beat that silly woman to the line, sitting up of course. I was having a blast until my seat-bag came loose and began to flop over my back wheel.
I briefly considered jettisoning it… but my health and credit cards were in there, so I pulled over, lifted my bike off the road and stood there, off the course, to re-fasten the straps. You can’t imagine how frustrated I was, having a great ride so far, and then this, yet another unfortunate event!! When I got back on the bike I had lost my cool and my pacing … I was furious. I practically sprinted the next half-lap, trying to regain my position. Another 15 minutes later and I had caught most of the cyclists I had passed before, but had over-drawn my legs. I zipped in 3 bike-lengths (it was a non-draft legal race) behind a dude going steady at 30kph, and stayed there to save my life. He was older and looked experienced, so I hung on. I hung on for the remainder of the ride, perhaps to his chagrin! He put some space between us on the headwind sections, and I caught up with the tailwind. At the dismount line, I was right behind him.
Running off the bike is always awful, and this time was no exception. My feet were numb from the ride so it wasn’t just the quads that were bricks. I had to stomp them several times to get some blood in there, making my T2 slower than it should have been. I also began the run with one glove still on, started to go back, then realized that was dumb and shoved it into my pocket. I saw people lying on the grass, eating, stretching, chatting, and relaxing and I thought “guys, you’re doing a RACE right now, time’s a-wastin’!”
I promised myself that in 10 minutes I’d get my running legs. And I did. Actually, I ran the second 10k loop at least as well as the first one. I was dimly aware, through the blinding sunlight and total-body pain, that all the marathon training miles were finally paying off. I kept chugging along, planning whether I’d take Gatorade or water at the next aid station, and trying to figure out which station offered Coke (never did, but I heard volunteers call it out!). At about 16k, I accepted a volunteer’s proffered banana, and I’ve never tasted such a cool and delicious treat in my life.
When I turned into the stadium for the finishing stretch along the track, I was certainly ready for that finish line. My wonderful friends were sitting in the bleachers, and put on quite the show of cheers as I staggered down toward the line. My parents also made it to watch at several of the race’s twists and turns. It’s funny really, how you can just forget your pain and fatigue if there’s someone there watching and cheering! And the other spectators were amazing too, calling out names from the bib numbers and clapping, clapping, clapping for hours. They made all the difference. I had no energy or breath to say anything intelligent back, but could usually manage a whispered “Thanks” or smile. Spectators, you mean the world to us crazies!
When it was over, I found out that I had improved my run time by 13 minutes over last year, lost a bit on the bike (which I later found out was slightly longer than 90k this time), and cut my transition times in half, to make the total improvement of 11 minutes. Not only that, but I could walk afterwards! In fact, I went for an easy 60k meandering ride around Gatineau yesterday. Altogether, while I will never be a competitive athlete, the event was a success... that doesn’t mean, however, that my focus won’t change for next year!
Thanks to all.
A huge spaghetti dinner on Friday night set the stage for Saturday morning; garlic bread, loads of pasta and meat sauce, a tasty beer and I was carbo-loaded indeed. But that wasn’t all: a decadent piece of chocolate cake and tea at Oh So Good… was oh so good. I slept pretty well that night: whether it was the food or whether it was my dread of the whole thing, I have no idea. My alarm rang at 6:30, and it was off to the races we go.
I packed in a frenzy (despite the race-day checklist I had made) and spent almost 45 minutes trying to decide if it would be cold enough to wear a long-sleeved jersey (16-21C and sunny… it wasn’t!). I couldn’t eat more than half of my pre-race breakfast (oatmeal pancakes with blueberries and Nutella) because of the butterflies in my stomach. Finally I had pulled on my leg and arm-warmers and was ready for the 10k warm-up ride to the race. It was a beautiful, cool and clear morning.
I enjoyed the ride to Mooney’s Bay, even more so because I had scrapped my aerobars for this race and opted for a traditional roadie position to help my back. The transition area was crazy; the venue had moved just south-east of the main field and was now situated in the infield of the track! The announcer was prattling like announcers do, and music was playing from the loudspeakers… I felt the first burst of adrenaline.
Racked my bike near the end of Row 4, set myself up and retraced my steps so I’d know where to find my bike. Then I went over to the Body Marking table and stood there for a bit (no volunteers to help this time!) until I saw man who looked stranded in similar fashion. I said, “shall we do this?” So I wrote this number on his arm, but it was a 900-number and I made the stick on the ‘9’ too long, so that his number stretched to the inside of his elbow. “Oops, sorry I ran out of space” said I. “What, you’re telling me my bicep isn’t big enough?” He joked. Yeah, yeah, no more party jokes for the calves!
At the start line, I looked around at my fellow racers and felt a bit awkward, like I usually do when standing next to the uber-serious guys and SLC’s (Super-Lean-Chicks, remember?) It was a relief to start, actually. I took the first 2k easy, forcing myself to slow down and breathe only through my nose. It was hard, because when the gun goes off you just want to sprint and get rid of all that adrenaline.
I re-entered the transition zone and grabbed my bike, gloves, and helmet, and shoved the Nutella sandwich into my pocket. It was a long run on the grass to the road. I had no idea how the bike leg was going to go… I was going to aim for about 30kph and hope for the best. It was somewhat windy along Colonel By and I worried that my road position would put me at a big disadvantage, but of course I had no choice. Up on the tops I went, spinning like mad, to show all those triathletes on $5000 Cervelos how to ride a bike.
Immediately I felt the difference; my back was happier, my legs were happier, my lungs were happier, and my brain was happier. Most of the following 90 kilometres were enjoyable, even! I smirked whenever I passed a SLC deep in the aero position, on a fancy tri bike. I smirked, and I passed them sitting up, hands on the tops. I even passed them riding no-hands. One of the women who did go by me yelled out as she passed: “Time to invest in some aero-bars!” I felt like laughing, or perhaps screaming, so I said back: “I just took ‘em off!” Then I decided that I wanted to beat that silly woman to the line, sitting up of course. I was having a blast until my seat-bag came loose and began to flop over my back wheel.
I briefly considered jettisoning it… but my health and credit cards were in there, so I pulled over, lifted my bike off the road and stood there, off the course, to re-fasten the straps. You can’t imagine how frustrated I was, having a great ride so far, and then this, yet another unfortunate event!! When I got back on the bike I had lost my cool and my pacing … I was furious. I practically sprinted the next half-lap, trying to regain my position. Another 15 minutes later and I had caught most of the cyclists I had passed before, but had over-drawn my legs. I zipped in 3 bike-lengths (it was a non-draft legal race) behind a dude going steady at 30kph, and stayed there to save my life. He was older and looked experienced, so I hung on. I hung on for the remainder of the ride, perhaps to his chagrin! He put some space between us on the headwind sections, and I caught up with the tailwind. At the dismount line, I was right behind him.
Running off the bike is always awful, and this time was no exception. My feet were numb from the ride so it wasn’t just the quads that were bricks. I had to stomp them several times to get some blood in there, making my T2 slower than it should have been. I also began the run with one glove still on, started to go back, then realized that was dumb and shoved it into my pocket. I saw people lying on the grass, eating, stretching, chatting, and relaxing and I thought “guys, you’re doing a RACE right now, time’s a-wastin’!”
I promised myself that in 10 minutes I’d get my running legs. And I did. Actually, I ran the second 10k loop at least as well as the first one. I was dimly aware, through the blinding sunlight and total-body pain, that all the marathon training miles were finally paying off. I kept chugging along, planning whether I’d take Gatorade or water at the next aid station, and trying to figure out which station offered Coke (never did, but I heard volunteers call it out!). At about 16k, I accepted a volunteer’s proffered banana, and I’ve never tasted such a cool and delicious treat in my life.
When I turned into the stadium for the finishing stretch along the track, I was certainly ready for that finish line. My wonderful friends were sitting in the bleachers, and put on quite the show of cheers as I staggered down toward the line. My parents also made it to watch at several of the race’s twists and turns. It’s funny really, how you can just forget your pain and fatigue if there’s someone there watching and cheering! And the other spectators were amazing too, calling out names from the bib numbers and clapping, clapping, clapping for hours. They made all the difference. I had no energy or breath to say anything intelligent back, but could usually manage a whispered “Thanks” or smile. Spectators, you mean the world to us crazies!
When it was over, I found out that I had improved my run time by 13 minutes over last year, lost a bit on the bike (which I later found out was slightly longer than 90k this time), and cut my transition times in half, to make the total improvement of 11 minutes. Not only that, but I could walk afterwards! In fact, I went for an easy 60k meandering ride around Gatineau yesterday. Altogether, while I will never be a competitive athlete, the event was a success... that doesn’t mean, however, that my focus won’t change for next year!
Thanks to all.
Friday, August 31, 2007
No more Tri dreams for me
Yes, that’s right: next year, no triathlons. My goal for next year is to increase my core strength and functional range to prevent future injuries to my back, neck and hips. I am presently dogged by lower back spasms, constant deep-tissue back pain, a tear in a ligament near the hip, strained hip flexors, a flare-up of my old trapezius injury, and neck issues severely limiting mobility; in short, I am a mess. And at my worst state of health so far this year, I am due to race a Half-Ironman tomorrow morning.
I am close to giving up cycling. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars and countless hours on physiotherapy, massage, new bike parts, bike fittings, medical appointments, and gear. I suck royally at swimming. My running has always been slow. I am at my wit’s end.
I will have to take up Yoga or Pilates (seriously, anyone want to join me?), probably continue swimming if it doesn’t hurt, and consider getting a personal trainer. I doubt I’ve seen my last massage treatment, and I’ll soon get to be good friends with the sports doc, x-ray machine, and painkiller bottle. But for now, I have tomorrow to worry about.
My bike has been modified to help me get through the race: my aerobars have been removed. I’ve ridden with aerobars all summer and now I’m back to roadie-style, just in time for the biggest event of my season… hoping that a straighter, more upright back will ease the tension and spasms. My bars have been moved up 0.5 cm’s; my bike still has a net increase in seat-bar drop of 2.5 cm’s over last year, and riding in the aerobars all season increased the virtual drop by another 2-3 cms. My poor back/ hamstrings/ hip group just couldn’t take it… I couldn’t get high enough on the seat to ease the hip angle (due to tight hamstrings and pedalling style), or forward enough (due to huge decreases in power and stability). I couldn’t even raise my bars further up due to stability issues. So tomorrow I’ll attempt the Half, riding on the hoods 60%, tops 30%, and drops 10%.
Frankly, I’m scared. I can barely bend over now, and woke up this morning with my back in spasm. Currently taking muscle relaxants and painkillers, and totally at a loss to fix this problem. From its gradual onset, I’d expect an equally slow recovery.
I just want to finish this one, last duathlon.
I am close to giving up cycling. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars and countless hours on physiotherapy, massage, new bike parts, bike fittings, medical appointments, and gear. I suck royally at swimming. My running has always been slow. I am at my wit’s end.
I will have to take up Yoga or Pilates (seriously, anyone want to join me?), probably continue swimming if it doesn’t hurt, and consider getting a personal trainer. I doubt I’ve seen my last massage treatment, and I’ll soon get to be good friends with the sports doc, x-ray machine, and painkiller bottle. But for now, I have tomorrow to worry about.
My bike has been modified to help me get through the race: my aerobars have been removed. I’ve ridden with aerobars all summer and now I’m back to roadie-style, just in time for the biggest event of my season… hoping that a straighter, more upright back will ease the tension and spasms. My bars have been moved up 0.5 cm’s; my bike still has a net increase in seat-bar drop of 2.5 cm’s over last year, and riding in the aerobars all season increased the virtual drop by another 2-3 cms. My poor back/ hamstrings/ hip group just couldn’t take it… I couldn’t get high enough on the seat to ease the hip angle (due to tight hamstrings and pedalling style), or forward enough (due to huge decreases in power and stability). I couldn’t even raise my bars further up due to stability issues. So tomorrow I’ll attempt the Half, riding on the hoods 60%, tops 30%, and drops 10%.
Frankly, I’m scared. I can barely bend over now, and woke up this morning with my back in spasm. Currently taking muscle relaxants and painkillers, and totally at a loss to fix this problem. From its gradual onset, I’d expect an equally slow recovery.
I just want to finish this one, last duathlon.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Do you have everything you need?
... that was what the guy called out to me as he sped down Cedarview N. I had pulled off the road to tighten my seat bolt. I had time to consider briefly the politeness of that question, because it did not necessarily imply that I lacked mechanical skill, but merely that I may have been so short-sighted as to forget to pack my multi-tool. Regardless, if/ when my chain breaks en route someday, I will certainly be at the mercy of some fellow asking that same question. In that case, I will say "Do you have a chain tool?"
But in this case, no help was needed. I gave my most macho, "I don't need a Y chromosome to fix a bike"-smile, and said "Everything except a cute cyclist like you."
Ok, actually I didn't say that. I just held up my multi-tool and said "Thanks".
I may have seen the same fellow on my way back (50k and a nasty bee-sting later), because he gave a distinct wave (most guys give me a half-hearted nod) and I grinned like a madwoman and waved back. So altogether, an okay ride considering I've just started to eat real food again. Averaged just less than 27kph for 100k, took some flat gingerale on the bike and just hoped to get home by dark without puking. In that light, success. Overall, still weak and tired. Still can't believe I have to do a Half Ironman next weekend in this condition.
*sniff* Also, a splash of vinegar helps a bit for the pain of hornet stings. Just so you know.
But in this case, no help was needed. I gave my most macho, "I don't need a Y chromosome to fix a bike"-smile, and said "Everything except a cute cyclist like you."
Ok, actually I didn't say that. I just held up my multi-tool and said "Thanks".
I may have seen the same fellow on my way back (50k and a nasty bee-sting later), because he gave a distinct wave (most guys give me a half-hearted nod) and I grinned like a madwoman and waved back. So altogether, an okay ride considering I've just started to eat real food again. Averaged just less than 27kph for 100k, took some flat gingerale on the bike and just hoped to get home by dark without puking. In that light, success. Overall, still weak and tired. Still can't believe I have to do a Half Ironman next weekend in this condition.
*sniff* Also, a splash of vinegar helps a bit for the pain of hornet stings. Just so you know.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Not for sensitive stomachs
Well Saturday I rode 3.5h and ran 1h, and pretty much exhausted my legs and killed my poor butt on the brand new saddle. How frustrating. Sunday, I sat in a daze in front of my computer and looked for solutions to my bike gear problems. After ripping out my hair and generally wasting way too much time, a great friend saved me and it was off to MEC and Bushtukah, followed by some eats at The Works in Westboro.
Weird place, but good! I had never heard of drinking soda/ coffee/ water out of measuring cups before. It also took me 15 minutes just to read the darn menu…. I ended up having this chicken burger with the "Down Under" toppings: Pineapple, caramelized onion, beets, and fried egg. Surprisingly good… with sides of sweet potato fries and onion rings. I then had a beer and some flax chips at home, while relaxing with an episode of CSI and attempting to stretch out my sore back and legs. While I missed my workout yesterday, and ate heaps of junk food to boot, it's all good because I ended up losing much of that food to the porcelain goddess early, early this morning.
Didn’t get much sleep, and probably should have stayed home from work, but? I can’t really workout today either, so why bother staying home when my cubicle is quieter, and explaining Monday morning sickness to my boss just isn’t palatable right now. However, I did have a lot of time to research the evolutionary science behind vomit and vomiting… fascinating stuff, but I’ll spare you the details. Wiki has a good article...scroll to “Nausea Inducement in Groups.”
Now attempting to sip diluted grape Gatorade… hopefully I will graduate to Jello and crackers today. The good news is, my estimated net caloric intake over the last 3 days is -1100, so I'm smack-on my diet plan. I’m not advocating bulimic behaviors, but I do find it interesting that my body self-regulates food intake: must be a survival instinct. Also, combining heavy, unusual foods with caffeine, vitamins, booze and painkillers might not have been a great idea.
Weird place, but good! I had never heard of drinking soda/ coffee/ water out of measuring cups before. It also took me 15 minutes just to read the darn menu…. I ended up having this chicken burger with the "Down Under" toppings: Pineapple, caramelized onion, beets, and fried egg. Surprisingly good… with sides of sweet potato fries and onion rings. I then had a beer and some flax chips at home, while relaxing with an episode of CSI and attempting to stretch out my sore back and legs. While I missed my workout yesterday, and ate heaps of junk food to boot, it's all good because I ended up losing much of that food to the porcelain goddess early, early this morning.
Didn’t get much sleep, and probably should have stayed home from work, but? I can’t really workout today either, so why bother staying home when my cubicle is quieter, and explaining Monday morning sickness to my boss just isn’t palatable right now. However, I did have a lot of time to research the evolutionary science behind vomit and vomiting… fascinating stuff, but I’ll spare you the details. Wiki has a good article...scroll to “Nausea Inducement in Groups.”
Now attempting to sip diluted grape Gatorade… hopefully I will graduate to Jello and crackers today. The good news is, my estimated net caloric intake over the last 3 days is -1100, so I'm smack-on my diet plan. I’m not advocating bulimic behaviors, but I do find it interesting that my body self-regulates food intake: must be a survival instinct. Also, combining heavy, unusual foods with caffeine, vitamins, booze and painkillers might not have been a great idea.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Sports Nutrition
I have decided that I’ve finally had enough of being the fattest female triathlete in Ottawa. Ha… seriously though, I’ve identified some nutritional deficiencies and bad habits that could be hazardous to my health as the off-season approaches, and as I get older and my metabolism slows down.
Numerous diet attempts, calorie-counting, and other restrictions have all met with failure over the years… I have neither gained nor lost a single pound since I was a teenager. My body seems programmed to stay at this composition and I’ve also “plateaued” athletically. Well this is causing me some distress and unhappiness, so I’m going to try a new and more balanced approach.
Wenzel Coaching/ Scott Saifer’s main Fueling plan for endurance athletes seems to be a good place to start, so I’ll outline the four general “Rules” to follow:
1. Cut out all processed sugars (except DURING exercise); avoid sucrose, glucose, fructose, dextrose, and corn-syrup. Consumption of fruit is not restricted. Reduce consumption of high glycemic index foods, e.g. white flours and starches (except DURING exercise).
2. Balance in every meal (include “good” fats and protein).
3. Drink lots of water. Avoid fruit juice and soft drinks.
4. Eat lots of vegetables.
Now, this plan doesn’t explicitly address alcohol, but since booze contains only empty calories, I’m going to restrict myself to a maximum of two (2) alcoholic drinks per 15+ hour workout week, one (1) drink per 10-15 hour workout week, and zero (0) allowed for each week where I exercise less than 10 hours. The only exception is during a race week: one extra drink is allowed that week, post-race.
Another source I am consulting is Monique Ryan’s “Complete Guide to Sports Nutrition”, and various publications from the Australian Institute of Sport. Stay tuned for updates as I attempt to wean myself off sugar and junk between Labour Day and Thanksgiving.
Numerous diet attempts, calorie-counting, and other restrictions have all met with failure over the years… I have neither gained nor lost a single pound since I was a teenager. My body seems programmed to stay at this composition and I’ve also “plateaued” athletically. Well this is causing me some distress and unhappiness, so I’m going to try a new and more balanced approach.
Wenzel Coaching/ Scott Saifer’s main Fueling plan for endurance athletes seems to be a good place to start, so I’ll outline the four general “Rules” to follow:
1. Cut out all processed sugars (except DURING exercise); avoid sucrose, glucose, fructose, dextrose, and corn-syrup. Consumption of fruit is not restricted. Reduce consumption of high glycemic index foods, e.g. white flours and starches (except DURING exercise).
2. Balance in every meal (include “good” fats and protein).
3. Drink lots of water. Avoid fruit juice and soft drinks.
4. Eat lots of vegetables.
Now, this plan doesn’t explicitly address alcohol, but since booze contains only empty calories, I’m going to restrict myself to a maximum of two (2) alcoholic drinks per 15+ hour workout week, one (1) drink per 10-15 hour workout week, and zero (0) allowed for each week where I exercise less than 10 hours. The only exception is during a race week: one extra drink is allowed that week, post-race.
Another source I am consulting is Monique Ryan’s “Complete Guide to Sports Nutrition”, and various publications from the Australian Institute of Sport. Stay tuned for updates as I attempt to wean myself off sugar and junk between Labour Day and Thanksgiving.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Flash 'n' Dash
Why is it always such an ordeal to get my butt into the bike shop?
So yesterday I spent 2.5h cruising around on wonderful public transit, getting to the UPS customer service centre to pick up my new bike saddle. It’s a Selle Italia Lady Sport Gel Flow. Long name for a relatively simple thing, isn’t it? Anyway, my old Trans Am Lady was getting “smushy” and worn, so I opted for getting another—practically identical—model. Don’t want to take risks when it comes to my ass. Needless to say, for now it’s surprisingly hard and uncomfortable… only time will tell.
The other issue was my floor pump (Joe Blow Sport), which has been giving me crazy readings of 140-160psi and bottoming out there, while the “actual” tire pressure is no higher than 80. I need to inflate to 100-110psi about twice per week, and this is infuriating. Snap, flip, psst, PUMP PUMP … bottoms out. So I release the lever to reset the gauge… wffffffffft. Snap, flip, psst, PUMP PUMP … bottoms out. Tires still soft. I groan and curse; why is cycling so complicated? And then I go for a run. I’ve done two 18k runs already this week, just because I am pissed off at my bike.
So I went to the shop and this Super-Lean-Guy (SLG, married perhaps to a S-L-C) pumps my tires up with a fancy, powerful piece of equipment and reads out the pressure from its fancy, digital gauge. Nice. “Do you want me to pump the back one up too?” he asks. “Er, yes, if you don’t mind…” I say, cringing in embarrassment. #@$%*(& …you’d think I’d know how to use a bicycle pump.
As I head out, he asks if I ever get hot in the sun, wearing all black kit. I say that I just wear black ‘cause I don’t want to be flashy. I say, “I think you need to go a certain speed to be flashy”. He laughs and says “Well I go slow, and I always wear as much white as I can.” I secretly wonder whether he means white shorts as well… then I think of a gazillion better things I could have said, like “I don’t suppose you ever go shopping for women’s jerseys, but if you did you’d see your colour choices confined to pink, lavender, and baby blue. I’m lucky to even have found black.” White? White is a euro colour, to be worn by skinny, flashy, super-serious fast dudes like that SLG… in fact all the SLG’s at my shop, in matching white gloves and shoes for heaven’s sake. They even do ‘cross races in white; maybe whoever stays cleanest gets the Snob Award and bragging rights.
So yesterday I spent 2.5h cruising around on wonderful public transit, getting to the UPS customer service centre to pick up my new bike saddle. It’s a Selle Italia Lady Sport Gel Flow. Long name for a relatively simple thing, isn’t it? Anyway, my old Trans Am Lady was getting “smushy” and worn, so I opted for getting another—practically identical—model. Don’t want to take risks when it comes to my ass. Needless to say, for now it’s surprisingly hard and uncomfortable… only time will tell.
The other issue was my floor pump (Joe Blow Sport), which has been giving me crazy readings of 140-160psi and bottoming out there, while the “actual” tire pressure is no higher than 80. I need to inflate to 100-110psi about twice per week, and this is infuriating. Snap, flip, psst, PUMP PUMP … bottoms out. So I release the lever to reset the gauge… wffffffffft. Snap, flip, psst, PUMP PUMP … bottoms out. Tires still soft. I groan and curse; why is cycling so complicated? And then I go for a run. I’ve done two 18k runs already this week, just because I am pissed off at my bike.
So I went to the shop and this Super-Lean-Guy (SLG, married perhaps to a S-L-C) pumps my tires up with a fancy, powerful piece of equipment and reads out the pressure from its fancy, digital gauge. Nice. “Do you want me to pump the back one up too?” he asks. “Er, yes, if you don’t mind…” I say, cringing in embarrassment. #@$%*(& …you’d think I’d know how to use a bicycle pump.
As I head out, he asks if I ever get hot in the sun, wearing all black kit. I say that I just wear black ‘cause I don’t want to be flashy. I say, “I think you need to go a certain speed to be flashy”. He laughs and says “Well I go slow, and I always wear as much white as I can.” I secretly wonder whether he means white shorts as well… then I think of a gazillion better things I could have said, like “I don’t suppose you ever go shopping for women’s jerseys, but if you did you’d see your colour choices confined to pink, lavender, and baby blue. I’m lucky to even have found black.” White? White is a euro colour, to be worn by skinny, flashy, super-serious fast dudes like that SLG… in fact all the SLG’s at my shop, in matching white gloves and shoes for heaven’s sake. They even do ‘cross races in white; maybe whoever stays cleanest gets the Snob Award and bragging rights.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
The price of hope
I have always believed that the human body is extremely adaptable and the spirit is nothing short of miraculous. The amount of pain and suffering that some people can go through during their lives, all the while maintaining a positive outlook and an overall enjoyment of life’s remaining good moments, is to me, an incredible and awe-inspiring mystery. I am fortunate to be in better health than probably 90% of the world’s population, and live in one of the best countries in the world. I have good friends, a job, a safe place to live, and a full fridge. And I have to remember these things most of all.
So this morning I attended what was expected to be a routine visit to the dentist. It’s usually a bit arduous because of the damaged lower quadrant and nerves of my face—areas which are very sensitive to sharp instruments—but this time I was totally thrown…
I had requested a consult with the top dentist there, but did not anticipate his diagnosis. A permanently dislocated and mal-tracking left jaw, a worsening bite, and massive third-branch trigeminal nerve damage that he says could have been prevented with better surgical techniques. He then starts talking about recent scientific advances in nerve regeneration, and tells me that orthodontic work could fix my jaw joint and the attendant pain and snapping. He tells me that if I ever have a kid, take her to see him first, before doing any wisdom tooth extraction, as the healing process must have stopped partway through my ordeal. Worst of all though… was that I was on the verge of tears… I couldn’t get control of this, so I couldn’t ask questions, I couldn’t talk to the doctor, I just nodded and blinked and prayed like heck that I wouldn’t break down completely. I couldn’t even remember my own age. Although he gave me some pamphlets and such, I didn’t hear a word he said afterwards. The hygienist was surprised and asked me why I was upset. The dentist said I could bring my mom in with me next time (WTF!? My mother!?) And I realized just then that I looked like an idiot. And I knew that nobody really, nobody at all would understand why this was a big deal to me, and for that moment I have never felt more alone in the world.
I can accept that I will have permanent pain, and permanent loss of function in my jaw. I can accept that I will never eat a carrot without my jaw locking, that I can never sleep on my right side, that I will never again feel the space between my lip and my chin, that my right lower lip will drag when I get tired, that even kissing is uncomfortable, and that talking too much will eventually hurt. I can adapt, and I have. Seven years ago, with my doctor and after numerous tests and referrals, I decided that I wouldn’t pursue a career as a woodwind player because it caused me constant jaw and facial pain. I moved to Ottawa and studied Finance. I kept on living. I counted my blessings. I am in good health and lucky even to be alive. I live in a beautiful city. But what I can’t accept is that there could be hope to “fix” this…and that there could have been hope, back when I needed it. I can’t accept that my dreams were washed away unnecessarily, that the right amount of money and time could have prevented this, that I could be living such a different life than I am now.
I can’t accept that my last year of high-school, waiting in vain for my face to heal after surgery, teaching myself to play all over again, to eat and speak carefully… never needed to happen. That it was all a mistake. Not merely a twist of fate, but an outcome that wouldn’t have happened if my family had been well-off, or even had cared; if I had only been treated by a different surgeon and orthodontist, in a different city, at a different time.
And now I am torn; should I save up for a couple of years for the treatment (10-20G?) or is it too late… does it even matter to me anymore, like it would have mattered at age 18.
So this morning I attended what was expected to be a routine visit to the dentist. It’s usually a bit arduous because of the damaged lower quadrant and nerves of my face—areas which are very sensitive to sharp instruments—but this time I was totally thrown…
I had requested a consult with the top dentist there, but did not anticipate his diagnosis. A permanently dislocated and mal-tracking left jaw, a worsening bite, and massive third-branch trigeminal nerve damage that he says could have been prevented with better surgical techniques. He then starts talking about recent scientific advances in nerve regeneration, and tells me that orthodontic work could fix my jaw joint and the attendant pain and snapping. He tells me that if I ever have a kid, take her to see him first, before doing any wisdom tooth extraction, as the healing process must have stopped partway through my ordeal. Worst of all though… was that I was on the verge of tears… I couldn’t get control of this, so I couldn’t ask questions, I couldn’t talk to the doctor, I just nodded and blinked and prayed like heck that I wouldn’t break down completely. I couldn’t even remember my own age. Although he gave me some pamphlets and such, I didn’t hear a word he said afterwards. The hygienist was surprised and asked me why I was upset. The dentist said I could bring my mom in with me next time (WTF!? My mother!?) And I realized just then that I looked like an idiot. And I knew that nobody really, nobody at all would understand why this was a big deal to me, and for that moment I have never felt more alone in the world.
I can accept that I will have permanent pain, and permanent loss of function in my jaw. I can accept that I will never eat a carrot without my jaw locking, that I can never sleep on my right side, that I will never again feel the space between my lip and my chin, that my right lower lip will drag when I get tired, that even kissing is uncomfortable, and that talking too much will eventually hurt. I can adapt, and I have. Seven years ago, with my doctor and after numerous tests and referrals, I decided that I wouldn’t pursue a career as a woodwind player because it caused me constant jaw and facial pain. I moved to Ottawa and studied Finance. I kept on living. I counted my blessings. I am in good health and lucky even to be alive. I live in a beautiful city. But what I can’t accept is that there could be hope to “fix” this…and that there could have been hope, back when I needed it. I can’t accept that my dreams were washed away unnecessarily, that the right amount of money and time could have prevented this, that I could be living such a different life than I am now.
I can’t accept that my last year of high-school, waiting in vain for my face to heal after surgery, teaching myself to play all over again, to eat and speak carefully… never needed to happen. That it was all a mistake. Not merely a twist of fate, but an outcome that wouldn’t have happened if my family had been well-off, or even had cared; if I had only been treated by a different surgeon and orthodontist, in a different city, at a different time.
And now I am torn; should I save up for a couple of years for the treatment (10-20G?) or is it too late… does it even matter to me anymore, like it would have mattered at age 18.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Athena's revenge
Alright, alright… about last weekend’s National Capital Du:
International Distance = 5k run, 40k bike, 10k run. Just long enough to demand some endurance, and just short enough to need some speed. I make no claims for speed; my comparative advantage is merely in shuffling along forever at a given pace. Thus, I do relatively “worse” in these events. Hey, I’ll never place in the top 10 but that’s not the point is it?
All in all, it was a beautiful morning, and a lovely day for this event. I’ve learned some lessons since the last time (June), and I made these changes:
1. Took a couple of days off before the race to ensure I had juice into my legs. This included having beer and pizza with my friends the night before. From now on, I’ll try not to stew anxiously at home, trying to get to sleep early – this is a futile exercise. 5 or 6 hours is plenty.
2. I got myself all packed up and ready to go the night before, including pumping up my tyres! Even planned what to cook for breakfast, put my water bottle in the freezer, and chose my Gatorade flavour du jour. Really reduces stress on race morning.
3. Had a nice, easy spin to the race. This got the blood flowing and my head in the game. I got there in plenty of time, and was racking my bike a full hour before the event started… got a decent spot, had time to stretch, walk around, check out the “real” washrooms; I even managed to avoid those horrible Porta-potties this time!
4. Re-laced my shoes with Yankz. Highly recommended! My running shoes fit like a glove and are a cinch to get on and off. Avoids pressure spots on the top of the foot, too.
5. Actually ate breakfast before the race this time. Also brought emergency food in case I needed to eat during the bike split.
The race itself went ok… I usually find the Start line a bit intimidating, with all these super low-fat people in team suits, playing with high-tech gadgets, talking about their workouts. I self-placed near the back; my goal for this event was to give it 100% on the bike leg and just relax on the runs (i.e. the last 10k should not feel like hell). I have been so disappointed with my cycling this year… my power dropping, my positioning problems, etc. I know I’ll be lucky to match my average speed at last year’s Half Iron (30.8kph), and this alone is depressing. Considering all the work I’ve done, frustrating beyond belief.
First 5k out of the way, nothing eventful. T1 was quick; only shoes and helmet this time around. (My awful glove-tan is gone now; half the time I ride bare-handed). The run out was long though, and I got stuck behind some people who were practically STROLLING out of the transition area. I watched with envy as some guy did a flying start with his bike… click click click jump - WHOMP and he’s pedalling away. I poked along from a standing start and tried like mad to pass him later.
Gave it my best on the bike…. some crosswinds halfway down the loop really ate into my speed. Still fighting with my positioning and knew that my back would be killing afterwards… probably should raise bars for breathing, too. Still had more power last year with a less aerodynamic position. Anyways, I wasn’t passed by many girls… one was the eventual winner, and the other was this serious, super-lean chick (SLC) in a cut-away tri-suit. She said something to me as I was rolling along, minding my business on the right side of the lane. Not sure exactly what it was, but a bit snobbish, like “coming through”. I mean, yeah, she’s skinny and fast, ok … it just bothered me. Needless to say, when I caught sight of her again (about 500m from the dismount line), it became a personal test to ride in on her wheel. I let it all go, doing 38kph up that incline on Colonel By, passing several guys on the way (who probably thought I was an idiot for ripping out the last part when I should be spinning in preparation for the run). I didn’t care, it was a vendetta! Revenge of Athena on the SLC! I sprinted out of the corner and reached the line within one bike length of her. Ha!
So I booted my ass into T2 and stood there, blinking for a second, wondering if I was forgetting something (rack bike, helmet off, change shoes). It was so fast with those darn laces! And then with a grimace, I forced my poor legs out of transition… right on the tail of the same SLC. I allowed myself just one self-satisfied smirk before she took off ahead of me on her superior running legs.
Settled into the 10k run and tried to enjoy it… not surprisingly, passed often by people I’d beaten on the bike. Watched with envy as light, skinny girls with bulging arm muscles (what? from swimming?) practically FLEW over the course. Soon realized I’d never hit my 2h30 goal time… next year, gotta work on that running some more.
Happy to see the finish line (at 2:38), but had no juice left for a final sprint. After two bottles of water, a banana, a granola bar, some unflattering pictures (!) and good company, I was off to ease my aching legs with a nice spin home.
So far I’ve come… and yet, so far to go.
International Distance = 5k run, 40k bike, 10k run. Just long enough to demand some endurance, and just short enough to need some speed. I make no claims for speed; my comparative advantage is merely in shuffling along forever at a given pace. Thus, I do relatively “worse” in these events. Hey, I’ll never place in the top 10 but that’s not the point is it?
All in all, it was a beautiful morning, and a lovely day for this event. I’ve learned some lessons since the last time (June), and I made these changes:
1. Took a couple of days off before the race to ensure I had juice into my legs. This included having beer and pizza with my friends the night before. From now on, I’ll try not to stew anxiously at home, trying to get to sleep early – this is a futile exercise. 5 or 6 hours is plenty.
2. I got myself all packed up and ready to go the night before, including pumping up my tyres! Even planned what to cook for breakfast, put my water bottle in the freezer, and chose my Gatorade flavour du jour. Really reduces stress on race morning.
3. Had a nice, easy spin to the race. This got the blood flowing and my head in the game. I got there in plenty of time, and was racking my bike a full hour before the event started… got a decent spot, had time to stretch, walk around, check out the “real” washrooms; I even managed to avoid those horrible Porta-potties this time!
4. Re-laced my shoes with Yankz. Highly recommended! My running shoes fit like a glove and are a cinch to get on and off. Avoids pressure spots on the top of the foot, too.
5. Actually ate breakfast before the race this time. Also brought emergency food in case I needed to eat during the bike split.
The race itself went ok… I usually find the Start line a bit intimidating, with all these super low-fat people in team suits, playing with high-tech gadgets, talking about their workouts. I self-placed near the back; my goal for this event was to give it 100% on the bike leg and just relax on the runs (i.e. the last 10k should not feel like hell). I have been so disappointed with my cycling this year… my power dropping, my positioning problems, etc. I know I’ll be lucky to match my average speed at last year’s Half Iron (30.8kph), and this alone is depressing. Considering all the work I’ve done, frustrating beyond belief.
First 5k out of the way, nothing eventful. T1 was quick; only shoes and helmet this time around. (My awful glove-tan is gone now; half the time I ride bare-handed). The run out was long though, and I got stuck behind some people who were practically STROLLING out of the transition area. I watched with envy as some guy did a flying start with his bike… click click click jump - WHOMP and he’s pedalling away. I poked along from a standing start and tried like mad to pass him later.
Gave it my best on the bike…. some crosswinds halfway down the loop really ate into my speed. Still fighting with my positioning and knew that my back would be killing afterwards… probably should raise bars for breathing, too. Still had more power last year with a less aerodynamic position. Anyways, I wasn’t passed by many girls… one was the eventual winner, and the other was this serious, super-lean chick (SLC) in a cut-away tri-suit. She said something to me as I was rolling along, minding my business on the right side of the lane. Not sure exactly what it was, but a bit snobbish, like “coming through”. I mean, yeah, she’s skinny and fast, ok … it just bothered me. Needless to say, when I caught sight of her again (about 500m from the dismount line), it became a personal test to ride in on her wheel. I let it all go, doing 38kph up that incline on Colonel By, passing several guys on the way (who probably thought I was an idiot for ripping out the last part when I should be spinning in preparation for the run). I didn’t care, it was a vendetta! Revenge of Athena on the SLC! I sprinted out of the corner and reached the line within one bike length of her. Ha!
So I booted my ass into T2 and stood there, blinking for a second, wondering if I was forgetting something (rack bike, helmet off, change shoes). It was so fast with those darn laces! And then with a grimace, I forced my poor legs out of transition… right on the tail of the same SLC. I allowed myself just one self-satisfied smirk before she took off ahead of me on her superior running legs.
Settled into the 10k run and tried to enjoy it… not surprisingly, passed often by people I’d beaten on the bike. Watched with envy as light, skinny girls with bulging arm muscles (what? from swimming?) practically FLEW over the course. Soon realized I’d never hit my 2h30 goal time… next year, gotta work on that running some more.
Happy to see the finish line (at 2:38), but had no juice left for a final sprint. After two bottles of water, a banana, a granola bar, some unflattering pictures (!) and good company, I was off to ease my aching legs with a nice spin home.
So far I’ve come… and yet, so far to go.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Dog days
It’s August, and it’s hot. Dog days, indeed. My poor, over-worked portable Danby A/C tries valiantly at night to cut the humidity so I can sleep; during any other time of the day, it is futile to even attempt cooling. Environmentally friendly, yes…. miserable, yes again. So far I have had the most luck sleeping with ice packs, in a wet T-shirt, with 2 fans blowing right over me. I also sleep on a futon, which helps in proximity to the floor. When I get really frustrated, it’s time for frozen yogurt and beer. I mean, sleeping is over-rated and I really don’t spend much time at home, but… I suppose I’m getting soft in my old age.
Especially now that I’m trying to rest my exhausted legs before Saturday’s race… ugh. I can barely climb stairs at this point and have two strained hip flexor muscles, plus a nasty foot cramp in the right forefoot. Yesterday was interesting: my swim coach said my form was downright “awful” while I almost drowned in exhaustion, and my planned 60k ride with a few tempo efforts turned into a survival spin on the pathway, where I was easily passed by commuters. I also got caught downwind of some spit, spurting from the craw a crotchety old fellow on a flat-tired mountain bike. I flicked it off my knee and made some awful faces while gesticulating wildly and shaking my head; the Cyclelogik guy coming the other way must’ve thought I was a “crazy”.
All this is ample warning indeed for a sub-par duathlon performance… don’t expect any great things from me this time. Feeling quite subdued after a recent discovery; lessons learned.
Nothing like the blunt truth to cheer you up.
Especially now that I’m trying to rest my exhausted legs before Saturday’s race… ugh. I can barely climb stairs at this point and have two strained hip flexor muscles, plus a nasty foot cramp in the right forefoot. Yesterday was interesting: my swim coach said my form was downright “awful” while I almost drowned in exhaustion, and my planned 60k ride with a few tempo efforts turned into a survival spin on the pathway, where I was easily passed by commuters. I also got caught downwind of some spit, spurting from the craw a crotchety old fellow on a flat-tired mountain bike. I flicked it off my knee and made some awful faces while gesticulating wildly and shaking my head; the Cyclelogik guy coming the other way must’ve thought I was a “crazy”.
All this is ample warning indeed for a sub-par duathlon performance… don’t expect any great things from me this time. Feeling quite subdued after a recent discovery; lessons learned.
Nothing like the blunt truth to cheer you up.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Rural bicycle fatalities
Lisa Grace Marr’s recent article in the Hamilton Spectator (July 20) is entitled: “Bicycles provide workers with the freedom to move around. But they also spell danger on rural roadways.”
She goes on to state that 15,000 migrant farm workers come to Ontario each year, and that an estimated 10 to 14 of these workers die every year in roadside accidents while cycling or walking on the side of the road. However, it is difficult to gauge the scope of the problem because these accidents often occur after working hours and are classified as motor vehicle accidents by police. The author reports that some progress is being made to offer workers at least one bus ride weekly into a neighbouring town to make a phone call and pick up groceries, and avoid the use of bicycles and the higher risk that entails.
Well! Can anyone else spot the irony here? …
Ok, so here’s my take on it:
1. Implying that it is the act of bicycle riding that is the problem, and thus tragedy could be averted by driving in a motor vehicle.
What’s wrong with this? Let’s be more specific: the problem could be that the victims were riding in the dark without proper lights and reflectors, it could be that the pavement was rough and dangerous, that the roads were narrow and bordered by steep ditches, that the rider’s bicycle was in poor condition, that the drivers and/or riders were inattentive and not following proper roadway rules, that the motorists were aggressive and/or speeding, or a host of other possibilities.
To avert roadside accidents we need to determine the real cause or fault, and not be so short-sighted as to suggest that the use of bicycles should be avoided. After all, why not ban cars from rural roads? That would certainly reduce fatalities to near zero, cut greenhouse emissions, save gas money … you get the idea.
2. Luring foreign workers to Ontario for work which cannot be performed locally… because the wages are too meagre and the conditions too unsafe/ unsavoury, and then being cheap about letting them have one bus ride per week into the “city” to make a telephone call home.
Oh, that treatment is so distasteful that I don’t want to get into it!
3. I’m going to hazard a guess that many of these workers are too poor to own motor vehicles in their home country; thus, they don’t have much driving experience, and certainly they are not accustomed to sharing the road with perpetually rushed and short-sighted North Americans.
Why don’t we brief them on rules of the road? Why don’t we offer bike maintenance clinics to ensure they are riding on road-worthy and properly-sized equipment, and outfit them with lights and reflectors? Why don’t we keep harping on motorists to share the road with cyclists as required by law? And yes, why don’t we organize a few more bus rides to the necessary amenities? Is this really so hard!?
She goes on to state that 15,000 migrant farm workers come to Ontario each year, and that an estimated 10 to 14 of these workers die every year in roadside accidents while cycling or walking on the side of the road. However, it is difficult to gauge the scope of the problem because these accidents often occur after working hours and are classified as motor vehicle accidents by police. The author reports that some progress is being made to offer workers at least one bus ride weekly into a neighbouring town to make a phone call and pick up groceries, and avoid the use of bicycles and the higher risk that entails.
Well! Can anyone else spot the irony here? …
Ok, so here’s my take on it:
1. Implying that it is the act of bicycle riding that is the problem, and thus tragedy could be averted by driving in a motor vehicle.
What’s wrong with this? Let’s be more specific: the problem could be that the victims were riding in the dark without proper lights and reflectors, it could be that the pavement was rough and dangerous, that the roads were narrow and bordered by steep ditches, that the rider’s bicycle was in poor condition, that the drivers and/or riders were inattentive and not following proper roadway rules, that the motorists were aggressive and/or speeding, or a host of other possibilities.
To avert roadside accidents we need to determine the real cause or fault, and not be so short-sighted as to suggest that the use of bicycles should be avoided. After all, why not ban cars from rural roads? That would certainly reduce fatalities to near zero, cut greenhouse emissions, save gas money … you get the idea.
2. Luring foreign workers to Ontario for work which cannot be performed locally… because the wages are too meagre and the conditions too unsafe/ unsavoury, and then being cheap about letting them have one bus ride per week into the “city” to make a telephone call home.
Oh, that treatment is so distasteful that I don’t want to get into it!
3. I’m going to hazard a guess that many of these workers are too poor to own motor vehicles in their home country; thus, they don’t have much driving experience, and certainly they are not accustomed to sharing the road with perpetually rushed and short-sighted North Americans.
Why don’t we brief them on rules of the road? Why don’t we offer bike maintenance clinics to ensure they are riding on road-worthy and properly-sized equipment, and outfit them with lights and reflectors? Why don’t we keep harping on motorists to share the road with cyclists as required by law? And yes, why don’t we organize a few more bus rides to the necessary amenities? Is this really so hard!?
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Code Lobster
Now as it happens, I have been the subject of some gentle teasing with regard to… well I shall say, an old “crush” (oh do I ever hate that word!) on a member of the local cycling community. I have also been given the deadline of August 1st to discover the marital status/ availability of the gentleman in question, and if availability is indeed established, to gauge potential interest. The project has been dubbed: “Code Lobster”.
Kind of a weird juxtaposition then, eh? Plus, I've never been a fan of the aggressive girl approach; I think it gives the nicest guys the worst ideas. Gonna let that clock tick down, and other fish to fry...
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Slowly Rolling
Last night, I flipped my stem over; this essentially dropped my bars by about 2cm. But that’s not the important thing… rather, I did this myself… without breaking anything! I haven’t ridden my bike yet however, so that will be the ultimate test of my (un)mechanical ability. I also adjusted the aerobars, painstakingly, millimetre by millimetre… to try and find the perfect spot for my long-suffering wrist. Why is my left wrist a hotbed of pain, while my right is ok? Has all the jar-lid twisting I’ve done in my life made my right a seething mass of muscle?
I seriously doubt it.
So here I am, fitter than last year and yet… mysteriously… slower. I’ve had multiple bike fits and traded a few parts, and definitely spent a few bucks. I’m about the same weight in mass, but have a bit more muscle. What is slowing me down?
This isn’t so much fun anymore, not as much as it used to be. I used to go on rides with buddies on hybrids and mountain bikes just for fun, sit on the pier and have a snack, go touring and get lost somewhere near the airport and follow the planes home. I used to get funky sunburn lines and not care what I wore. I used to take a break at Timmy’s and walk in there all sweaty and dirty and ask for a bagel and an Iced Cap, then sit on the curb and chat with my friend. I used to sit up and enjoy the scenery or ride no-hands and now I’m always looking at the computer, or the cyclist in front of me, feeling my legs and lungs give out and wondering what the hell is going wrong.
I’ve gone to see sports docs and physiotherapists and massage therapists. I’ve tried to put all the stuff that is non-sport related out of the way. I’ve even tried to defeat the fact that I’m a girl, and no research on the ECP has conclusively proved that athletic performance is hindered in any significant way. And yet I still roll along, slower and sadder.
I need to re-bond with my bike.
I seriously doubt it.
So here I am, fitter than last year and yet… mysteriously… slower. I’ve had multiple bike fits and traded a few parts, and definitely spent a few bucks. I’m about the same weight in mass, but have a bit more muscle. What is slowing me down?
This isn’t so much fun anymore, not as much as it used to be. I used to go on rides with buddies on hybrids and mountain bikes just for fun, sit on the pier and have a snack, go touring and get lost somewhere near the airport and follow the planes home. I used to get funky sunburn lines and not care what I wore. I used to take a break at Timmy’s and walk in there all sweaty and dirty and ask for a bagel and an Iced Cap, then sit on the curb and chat with my friend. I used to sit up and enjoy the scenery or ride no-hands and now I’m always looking at the computer, or the cyclist in front of me, feeling my legs and lungs give out and wondering what the hell is going wrong.
I’ve gone to see sports docs and physiotherapists and massage therapists. I’ve tried to put all the stuff that is non-sport related out of the way. I’ve even tried to defeat the fact that I’m a girl, and no research on the ECP has conclusively proved that athletic performance is hindered in any significant way. And yet I still roll along, slower and sadder.
I need to re-bond with my bike.
Friday, July 6, 2007
Go go go
By 1:30 PM today, I had already:
- Biked up to Champlain Lookout (about 60km in total)
- Walked/ jogged about 8 km
- Had a medical appt
- Attended a meeting at work for two hours
- Had a swim coaching session
Adrenaline is keeping me going … needless to say, it was an early start …
Friday, June 29, 2007
Zen
The sky is absolutely beautiful today; a luminescent blue canvas, imaginatively frosted with swaths of the purest white.
The air is clear, cool and still; the sun smiles brightly and beckons me outside. Oh, for a long weekend of riding and running down long ribbons of asphalt, inhaling the sweetness of wild grass and other flora, feeling the shimmer of the river from afar.
The air is clear, cool and still; the sun smiles brightly and beckons me outside. Oh, for a long weekend of riding and running down long ribbons of asphalt, inhaling the sweetness of wild grass and other flora, feeling the shimmer of the river from afar.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Paris' jail cell was more than half the size of my old apartment
Criminal Paris Hilton emerged from her 2.4m x 3.6m( 7.87' x 11.81' = 92.94 sq ft) prison cell recently, and bemoaned her case in the media.
Now as tragic as that is, even more tragic is the realization that her prison cell was about the same size as my old apartment, minus the bathroom and closet area (that would be the main living area, about 115 square ft out of a total of 175). Remember also that she didn't need kitchen facilities, nor did she need a bookshelf, clothes storage, or a road bike. In essence, she had MORE useful space. Solitary confinement, then, is much like living like a bachelor in a bachelor.
Of course, she didn't have two giant windows....and I NEVER ate "mystery meat" sandwiches. Pays to obey the law, huh Paris?
Now as tragic as that is, even more tragic is the realization that her prison cell was about the same size as my old apartment, minus the bathroom and closet area (that would be the main living area, about 115 square ft out of a total of 175). Remember also that she didn't need kitchen facilities, nor did she need a bookshelf, clothes storage, or a road bike. In essence, she had MORE useful space. Solitary confinement, then, is much like living like a bachelor in a bachelor.
Of course, she didn't have two giant windows....and I NEVER ate "mystery meat" sandwiches. Pays to obey the law, huh Paris?
Ogling hot guys leads to weight loss
At least if you're an iguana. This CBC article states that the female marine iguanas burned energy just keeping away from the overly-enthusiastic males. It goes on to say "Long periods of sitting up and watching prospective mates also sapped the energy levels of the females."
Seems to me these concerns apply to human females as well. We'd do better to conserve energy for more important tasks, like providing ourselves with shelter, bringing home food, and keeping away from predators.
Seems to me these concerns apply to human females as well. We'd do better to conserve energy for more important tasks, like providing ourselves with shelter, bringing home food, and keeping away from predators.
Monday, June 25, 2007
You can run, but you can't hide
I just have to mention this... my sports-minded uncle - father to my accomplished athlete cousin - was surfing the internet recently and just happened to do a search for me on Sportstats.
Yes, I've already promised to keep him posted with my events but purposefully neglected to email him after the Riverkeeper's horrific plodding. It was an event I'd rather just forget about; or well, chalk it up to experience! (I did enjoy the banana afterwards, so all was not lost).
And he writes an email with some encouragement that I SORELY (no pun intended) need right now:
"Just want you to know we're proud of you sweetie & keeping track of you (you can't escape). This internet can locate anyone, at any time - fantastic! Keep me in the loop. [...] Let me know when your first Tri is ok? If you forget in your busy life, I'll still find you. Enjoy!!!"
Oh man, sometimes my family is just the greatest.
Yes, I've already promised to keep him posted with my events but purposefully neglected to email him after the Riverkeeper's horrific plodding. It was an event I'd rather just forget about; or well, chalk it up to experience! (I did enjoy the banana afterwards, so all was not lost).
And he writes an email with some encouragement that I SORELY (no pun intended) need right now:
"Just want you to know we're proud of you sweetie & keeping track of you (you can't escape). This internet can locate anyone, at any time - fantastic! Keep me in the loop. [...] Let me know when your first Tri is ok? If you forget in your busy life, I'll still find you. Enjoy!!!"
Oh man, sometimes my family is just the greatest.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Carrot Loaf
My famous double carrot loaves... just wait'll they get "iced" with Philly Lite! Delicious, if I may say so myself!
Pizza in my New Kitchen
I made three deep-dish vegetable pizzas today, completely from scratch. While it was my first foray into the wonderful wide world of yeast, the outcome wasn't half bad. Next time I will cook the crust for "crustiness" for a few minutes before adding the toppings, but I wouldn't change much else.Yeah, it took over 2 hours to make all this (toppings of broccoli, peppers, onions, mushrooms, zucchini, tomatoes, tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese over a whole-wheat crust) but still delicious, and absurdly healthy. I won't do a cost analysis, but the cheese alone did cost $4.50... I'm hoping to get a total of 6 meals out of it. Plus I got to spend some quality time with my new kitchen.
I just read in the June/July Walrus an opinion about the egocentricity of self-publication; a.ka. blogging: the unedited tripe that proliferates on the web and infuses its inferior slang into the English vocabulary both on- and off-line. It was truly a lament over the degradation of culture, language and gentility.
Well I don't want to quit... even if this really is auto-therapy in its most atrocious 21st-century incarnation. However, I do feel the slightest pang of guilt at indulging in an activity that is now so commonplace as to be vulgar.
Let us Vulgarians Unite!
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Miserable Du makes me see Green
Here's some miscellany for you, my neglected readership:
1. Loblaw's (a regular-sized, commonplace grocer - not the Superstore location!) now sells Enviro-friendly cleaning supplies! I was shocked to enter my familiar Rideau St. haunt and see an expanded Organics section with Green cleaners and other products. Prices were higher than their traditional counterparts, but only by about 20-30% (granted, I was in a hurry and only gave a cursory glance). Hopefully I can give a better report later.
2. I completed the Ottawa Riverkeeper Duathlon (Int'l Distance) on Saturday morning, and what misery that was! I was tired before I even got to the start line, juiced-out legs and fresh from a post-marathon foot injury. I didn't expect to do well, because I couldn't afford to taper at all, but this was ridiculous.. even embarassing. Luckily the photos don't really sow how slow I was going or how terrible I was feeling! About halfway through the 2nd bike loop I realized that my only goal would be to get to the finish line alive and able to ride back home... Unfortunately some people weren't so lucky, and I saw an ambulance pick a runner up on my way back from the last run loop. Regardless, either I'm terribly unfit, horribly slow, or just had a really, REALLY bad day.
<-- "Dammit, where's the Finish Line?!"
3. I've also developed insomnia (whether or not from attempting 5am workouts I don't know) and, aside from having beer more often at night, am at a loss to remedy this. Earplugs & blindfolds help but little above the roar of the fans, the glare of the streetlights, and the incessant yelping of the occupant of the apartment above mine... who seems to be constantly breaking up with her boyfriend or screaming at her mother, after which episodes she can be heard angrily stomping across the hardwood floor. Oh the joys of tenancy.
1. Loblaw's (a regular-sized, commonplace grocer - not the Superstore location!) now sells Enviro-friendly cleaning supplies! I was shocked to enter my familiar Rideau St. haunt and see an expanded Organics section with Green cleaners and other products. Prices were higher than their traditional counterparts, but only by about 20-30% (granted, I was in a hurry and only gave a cursory glance). Hopefully I can give a better report later.
2. I completed the Ottawa Riverkeeper Duathlon (Int'l Distance) on Saturday morning, and what misery that was! I was tired before I even got to the start line, juiced-out legs and fresh from a post-marathon foot injury. I didn't expect to do well, because I couldn't afford to taper at all, but this was ridiculous.. even embarassing. Luckily the photos don't really sow how slow I was going or how terrible I was feeling! About halfway through the 2nd bike loop I realized that my only goal would be to get to the finish line alive and able to ride back home... Unfortunately some people weren't so lucky, and I saw an ambulance pick a runner up on my way back from the last run loop. Regardless, either I'm terribly unfit, horribly slow, or just had a really, REALLY bad day.
<-- "Dammit, where's the Finish Line?!"3. I've also developed insomnia (whether or not from attempting 5am workouts I don't know) and, aside from having beer more often at night, am at a loss to remedy this. Earplugs & blindfolds help but little above the roar of the fans, the glare of the streetlights, and the incessant yelping of the occupant of the apartment above mine... who seems to be constantly breaking up with her boyfriend or screaming at her mother, after which episodes she can be heard angrily stomping across the hardwood floor. Oh the joys of tenancy.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Macho Cycling
Yesterday was a great day for a leg-busting, neck-killing, shoulder-hurting, foot-swelling endurance ride, with the exception of a high UV index… the imminent danger of which was hidden by cloud cover. While I did remember to throw some sunblock in my jersey pocket (along with a near arsenal of emergency preparedness items), I was deceived by the lack of direct sunlight and threat of rainstorms, and never remembered to actually apply the goopy stuff.
I continued on, hoping for some more tree cover (a few less houses perhaps?) until I saw a small grassy swath leading away from the road, and no houses in sight. A few meters away, a semi-wooded area beckoned. While the mosquitoes were terrible, there was no poison ivy so all went well. Why do guys have it so easy?
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Monday, May 28, 2007
Marathon!
So you want to run a marathon??
Here's my experience with the ING Ottawa Marathon 2007:
The morning started ominously enough, with a forecast of rain and a temperature of 10-19 degrees. Nervous, stressed-out, and with adrenaline pumping like crazy through my body, I did not sleep a wink the night before. I tossed and turned and thought about all the many things that could go wrong and keep me from finishing, or how I could injure myself and cut my whole season short, or if it would be too cold on my knees to wear shorts. Finally, I gave up trying to sleep… it was all I could do to close my eyes and try to keep my legs still. At 5:00 AM exactly, I got up and turned off my 4 alarm clocks before they rang.
I quickly showered and changed, following my marathon prep checklist to a T. After choking down an oatmeal square and a banana, and applying several layers of Bodyglide, I was finally ready to pin on my race number and fasten my timing chip. I had decided to wear a long-sleeved base shirt with a tech tee overtop, with the bib pinned to the top shirt and hence the option to remove the base layer if necessary. All went well until I started to fasten the chip onto my shoe with the single cable tie provided. While checking the diagram to make sure I had pointed it the right way, I neglected to see that one end of the tie had slipped outside the fastening loop. I tightened the tie and looked down in horror to see my mistake.
Well as you know, cable ties are not meant to be adjustable… and with that I began to panic. I ransacked my “bike box” to find the bag of cable ties I KNEW was still there somewhere… no luck. I threw the contents of several boxes onto the floor, but to no avail. It was only 40 minutes before the start time now, and what an awful way to miss my long-anticipated race!!!
Thank goodness my buddy saved the day (you know who you are!!!) with his spare cable ties, because although I saw after that some runners had used bungee cords or string, I had no idea how to secure that thing to my shoe.
Well… a few bathroom breaks later (nerves again! I was heading off to the yellow corral to await the gun, armed with Pepto Bismol tablets and another oatmeal square in my pocket. I saw the 4:00 pace bunny (complete with pink ears!) and I stayed with her for the first 2 or 3 km. She was leading the group doing 10’s and 1’s and I got ahead during the first walk break. (I personally hate breaking rhythm on long runs; walking at the water stations is more than enough). I am still wondering how she managed to run a marathon while holding a sign up in one hand... In any case, I never saw her again.
The first 10k through Gatineau was uneventful, other than several ladies being hollered at in French by (shall we say, “enthusiastic?”) spectators. As one of the only runners I could see wearing long sleeves, I worried about being too warm after all. Then I worried again about the rain, and about when I would reach the next Port-O-Let. But mostly, it was a relief to get running and use up some of that latent energy and anxiety.
The second 10k through Rockliffe/ New Edinburgh gave me the first real taste of the marathon experience. Throngs of cheering spectators lined Sussex: there was live music and the excitement was palpable. Medical volunteers on bicycles joked with the runners and hollered out encouragement. I just kept running, pacing myself at “one notch above my long training runs”, secure in the knowledge I am basically a 10.5-11 kph machine…
Near the 17-km marker I decided to make use of the Port-O-Let (seeing only one runner in line). Knowing I faced a 30-second wait, I decided to eat half my oatmeal square to make use of the delay. However, choking food down under pressure is hard, and the girl ahead of me emerged with “Phew, that stinks!” before I had swallowed. “Here goes nothing” I thought, as I pushed the food to a corner of my cheek and held my breath. I think what I experienced in the next 30 seconds was probably one of the most awful things I have ever experienced, but amazingly, I did not spit my food down the hole. Mind over matter. I emerged into the sweet fresh air, began to run, and then began to chew again. I stopped at the next two water stations for water and Gatorade respectively, and used a third cup to wash off my face and hands. All this served to make my second 10k the slowest split of the four, but only by about 90 seconds. When I passed over the halfway mark (21.1k) at 1:57, I began to think that I could break 4 hours after all.
Between 20k and 30k, I believe I only stopped once for Gatorade. Having stocked up on fluid between kilometres 10 and 20, and with the new hope of running my first marathon sub-4h, I wanted to make up some time! Near the Chateau Laurier, the streets were packed with spectators on both sides and it wasn’t hard to dig deep and find the energy to move up a bit in the ranks. By the 25km-marker, it began to get more crowded on the course since we were sharing with the half-marathoners… this was to continue to the finish, making the race more of a strategy game to avoid being boxed in by slower folks. We passed more bands, mainly college kids jamming under makeshift white tents… but hey, everyone out there made a difference to my tiring legs. When I crossed the 30km point, checking my watch and hearing the wild simultaneous “beeeeeep” of my fellow runners’ timing chips, I knew that I only had to keep this pace to make a sub-4hr marathon a reality.
Moving up the hill on the turnabout near Hog’s Back at 30km, the distance began to take its toll not only on my legs, but on my motivation. I remember that between 30 and 32km I was thinking: these are the transition kilometres. Everything past 32 isn’t physical… it’s all pyschological. Well I was starting to lose ground going up that hill, and looking too far ahead was demoralizing. So I looked around and saw this older guy who was running strong; he must have belonged to some running club, since he was wearing a team jersey and all I remember was that it started with “La Foule”. I moved in right behind him and followed his every move. If he passed, I passed; if he held on, I held on… I stayed right on his heels. I hitched a ride with La Foule all the way up that hill. Over and over to my glycogen-depleted self I thought: “I’m gonna hitch a ride with La Foule, I’m gonna hitch a ride with La Foule”. It was my mantra. It got me through.
Around 34 or 35k I picked up a Gatorade, but as I slowed down I almost staggered right into the volunteer holding out the cup. My legs had seized and were now in an acute stage of pain. I knew beyond a doubt that if I stopped to walk again I’d be walking all the way to the finish. So I gulped it down as fast as I could (which wasn’t very fast at all) and as I lurched back to a run the pain caused me to grimace and emit an audible groan. The med volunteer looked with some concern in my direction, but I only sped up, anxious to end this misery.
The most CRUEL moment in the entire marathon was the 36th kilometre… a detour around the arboretum at the Experimental Farm. I mean, here I am thinking it’s straight home from here, but no… a detour! I think I almost cried at that point... but instead I just pushed again. La Foule had dropped me after that Gatorade incident, so I found another pair of club runners from Quebec who looked to be pacing well. The woman in front, probably half my weight and two-thirds my height, was running easily – just another ho-hum run in the park for her I’ll bet. (In my daze I thought no-one was suffering as much as I was). I latched on to her and slowly we moved up through the ranks.
Near the 39-kilometer sign I caught La Foule and passed him. The street was lined with cheering spectators and wow, did we ever need it now. I was so happy they were there, and so happy to be almost done, that I did actually shed a tear this time. It took all my effort to concentrate on moving one leg in front of the other, just step after step through the pain. My head was pounding. The most awesome thing was running down the far left side of the road and being near enough for spectators to read my race bib. “Way to go April!” yells a complete stranger, then another. Buoyed even more, I take it up a notch when I hit 40, then 41 km’s. Now all I can hear is my own breathing becoming more laboured by the minute. I continue to fly by the trailing half-marathoners and continue to pass some of my fellow marathoners. I stay left to avoid traffic. I see the 750m sign, and I grin up into the sky and into the rain and feel this huge, HUGE joy and relief. I sprint. It’s all a blur. I hear someone say: “look at that”. I can see the finish line now. My head tilts up like I am praying. I want the pain to end, I want to get there now. I can see the screen on the right, see the finishers as they cross the line. I can’t see myself. The announcer tells us to raise our arms in victory but I can’t, I’m exhausted, I just keep moving my legs as fast as I can. I’m still looking up at the sky with this huge, dazed smile. The blessed beep of the chips and thank heavens it’s over.
I walk down the chute, gasping. Some guy walks over with a mylar cape and wraps me in it. He gives me water and asks if I’m ok. I am helpless, I can hardly move. I stagger forwards in the crowd. I put my foot through the bars and some kid with a knife removes my chip. I am dimly aware that he could cut my toes off. Within seconds I am freezing, my teeth chattering. My head hurts. Every muscle in my body hurts. Brutal! Remind me never to do this again!
But I am happy, because I did well. 3:55:38 gun time, which is much faster than I expected, and not bad for my first-ever marathon. Trashing my legs is the price I pay for that satisfaction, I guess. It'll be a week before I can walk up and down stairs again.
Next event: Olympic Duathlon, June 16th.
Here's my experience with the ING Ottawa Marathon 2007:
The morning started ominously enough, with a forecast of rain and a temperature of 10-19 degrees. Nervous, stressed-out, and with adrenaline pumping like crazy through my body, I did not sleep a wink the night before. I tossed and turned and thought about all the many things that could go wrong and keep me from finishing, or how I could injure myself and cut my whole season short, or if it would be too cold on my knees to wear shorts. Finally, I gave up trying to sleep… it was all I could do to close my eyes and try to keep my legs still. At 5:00 AM exactly, I got up and turned off my 4 alarm clocks before they rang.
I quickly showered and changed, following my marathon prep checklist to a T. After choking down an oatmeal square and a banana, and applying several layers of Bodyglide, I was finally ready to pin on my race number and fasten my timing chip. I had decided to wear a long-sleeved base shirt with a tech tee overtop, with the bib pinned to the top shirt and hence the option to remove the base layer if necessary. All went well until I started to fasten the chip onto my shoe with the single cable tie provided. While checking the diagram to make sure I had pointed it the right way, I neglected to see that one end of the tie had slipped outside the fastening loop. I tightened the tie and looked down in horror to see my mistake.
Well as you know, cable ties are not meant to be adjustable… and with that I began to panic. I ransacked my “bike box” to find the bag of cable ties I KNEW was still there somewhere… no luck. I threw the contents of several boxes onto the floor, but to no avail. It was only 40 minutes before the start time now, and what an awful way to miss my long-anticipated race!!!
Thank goodness my buddy saved the day (you know who you are!!!) with his spare cable ties, because although I saw after that some runners had used bungee cords or string, I had no idea how to secure that thing to my shoe.
Well… a few bathroom breaks later (nerves again! I was heading off to the yellow corral to await the gun, armed with Pepto Bismol tablets and another oatmeal square in my pocket. I saw the 4:00 pace bunny (complete with pink ears!) and I stayed with her for the first 2 or 3 km. She was leading the group doing 10’s and 1’s and I got ahead during the first walk break. (I personally hate breaking rhythm on long runs; walking at the water stations is more than enough). I am still wondering how she managed to run a marathon while holding a sign up in one hand... In any case, I never saw her again.
The first 10k through Gatineau was uneventful, other than several ladies being hollered at in French by (shall we say, “enthusiastic?”) spectators. As one of the only runners I could see wearing long sleeves, I worried about being too warm after all. Then I worried again about the rain, and about when I would reach the next Port-O-Let. But mostly, it was a relief to get running and use up some of that latent energy and anxiety.
The second 10k through Rockliffe/ New Edinburgh gave me the first real taste of the marathon experience. Throngs of cheering spectators lined Sussex: there was live music and the excitement was palpable. Medical volunteers on bicycles joked with the runners and hollered out encouragement. I just kept running, pacing myself at “one notch above my long training runs”, secure in the knowledge I am basically a 10.5-11 kph machine…
Near the 17-km marker I decided to make use of the Port-O-Let (seeing only one runner in line). Knowing I faced a 30-second wait, I decided to eat half my oatmeal square to make use of the delay. However, choking food down under pressure is hard, and the girl ahead of me emerged with “Phew, that stinks!” before I had swallowed. “Here goes nothing” I thought, as I pushed the food to a corner of my cheek and held my breath. I think what I experienced in the next 30 seconds was probably one of the most awful things I have ever experienced, but amazingly, I did not spit my food down the hole. Mind over matter. I emerged into the sweet fresh air, began to run, and then began to chew again. I stopped at the next two water stations for water and Gatorade respectively, and used a third cup to wash off my face and hands. All this served to make my second 10k the slowest split of the four, but only by about 90 seconds. When I passed over the halfway mark (21.1k) at 1:57, I began to think that I could break 4 hours after all.
Between 20k and 30k, I believe I only stopped once for Gatorade. Having stocked up on fluid between kilometres 10 and 20, and with the new hope of running my first marathon sub-4h, I wanted to make up some time! Near the Chateau Laurier, the streets were packed with spectators on both sides and it wasn’t hard to dig deep and find the energy to move up a bit in the ranks. By the 25km-marker, it began to get more crowded on the course since we were sharing with the half-marathoners… this was to continue to the finish, making the race more of a strategy game to avoid being boxed in by slower folks. We passed more bands, mainly college kids jamming under makeshift white tents… but hey, everyone out there made a difference to my tiring legs. When I crossed the 30km point, checking my watch and hearing the wild simultaneous “beeeeeep” of my fellow runners’ timing chips, I knew that I only had to keep this pace to make a sub-4hr marathon a reality.
Moving up the hill on the turnabout near Hog’s Back at 30km, the distance began to take its toll not only on my legs, but on my motivation. I remember that between 30 and 32km I was thinking: these are the transition kilometres. Everything past 32 isn’t physical… it’s all pyschological. Well I was starting to lose ground going up that hill, and looking too far ahead was demoralizing. So I looked around and saw this older guy who was running strong; he must have belonged to some running club, since he was wearing a team jersey and all I remember was that it started with “La Foule”. I moved in right behind him and followed his every move. If he passed, I passed; if he held on, I held on… I stayed right on his heels. I hitched a ride with La Foule all the way up that hill. Over and over to my glycogen-depleted self I thought: “I’m gonna hitch a ride with La Foule, I’m gonna hitch a ride with La Foule”. It was my mantra. It got me through.
Around 34 or 35k I picked up a Gatorade, but as I slowed down I almost staggered right into the volunteer holding out the cup. My legs had seized and were now in an acute stage of pain. I knew beyond a doubt that if I stopped to walk again I’d be walking all the way to the finish. So I gulped it down as fast as I could (which wasn’t very fast at all) and as I lurched back to a run the pain caused me to grimace and emit an audible groan. The med volunteer looked with some concern in my direction, but I only sped up, anxious to end this misery.
The most CRUEL moment in the entire marathon was the 36th kilometre… a detour around the arboretum at the Experimental Farm. I mean, here I am thinking it’s straight home from here, but no… a detour! I think I almost cried at that point... but instead I just pushed again. La Foule had dropped me after that Gatorade incident, so I found another pair of club runners from Quebec who looked to be pacing well. The woman in front, probably half my weight and two-thirds my height, was running easily – just another ho-hum run in the park for her I’ll bet. (In my daze I thought no-one was suffering as much as I was). I latched on to her and slowly we moved up through the ranks.
Near the 39-kilometer sign I caught La Foule and passed him. The street was lined with cheering spectators and wow, did we ever need it now. I was so happy they were there, and so happy to be almost done, that I did actually shed a tear this time. It took all my effort to concentrate on moving one leg in front of the other, just step after step through the pain. My head was pounding. The most awesome thing was running down the far left side of the road and being near enough for spectators to read my race bib. “Way to go April!” yells a complete stranger, then another. Buoyed even more, I take it up a notch when I hit 40, then 41 km’s. Now all I can hear is my own breathing becoming more laboured by the minute. I continue to fly by the trailing half-marathoners and continue to pass some of my fellow marathoners. I stay left to avoid traffic. I see the 750m sign, and I grin up into the sky and into the rain and feel this huge, HUGE joy and relief. I sprint. It’s all a blur. I hear someone say: “look at that”. I can see the finish line now. My head tilts up like I am praying. I want the pain to end, I want to get there now. I can see the screen on the right, see the finishers as they cross the line. I can’t see myself. The announcer tells us to raise our arms in victory but I can’t, I’m exhausted, I just keep moving my legs as fast as I can. I’m still looking up at the sky with this huge, dazed smile. The blessed beep of the chips and thank heavens it’s over.
I walk down the chute, gasping. Some guy walks over with a mylar cape and wraps me in it. He gives me water and asks if I’m ok. I am helpless, I can hardly move. I stagger forwards in the crowd. I put my foot through the bars and some kid with a knife removes my chip. I am dimly aware that he could cut my toes off. Within seconds I am freezing, my teeth chattering. My head hurts. Every muscle in my body hurts. Brutal! Remind me never to do this again!
But I am happy, because I did well. 3:55:38 gun time, which is much faster than I expected, and not bad for my first-ever marathon. Trashing my legs is the price I pay for that satisfaction, I guess. It'll be a week before I can walk up and down stairs again.
Next event: Olympic Duathlon, June 16th.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Pomp and Anxious Circumstances
The School of Management has dealt its graduates a final blow. After scalping us with “student fees”, picking favorites with TA’s in “the Old Boys’ Club” who arrange cash-grab tutorials, assigning us professors who don’t even pretend to read our work or their own email, allowing cheaters and posers to steal copies of exams while administration turns a blind eye, and making us wait in long queues only to discover that our final required class or prerequisite is already full (sorry!) we are relegated to suffering through the long-awaited convocation ceremony at 9:30 in the morning on a weekday.
Did this “education” not prepare us adequately for the work world? Perhaps the administration doubts the ability of its graduates to find REAL JOBS. That is, real day jobs. Why do I have to book a whole Wednesday off for this? Why waste my precious vacation time? Why not schedule it for the evening or the weekend, or even 8:00 – a normal workday start – so that we can get back to the office after lunch?
Ah, you say, but the School might just assume that graduates put so much VALUE on this important event in their lives, that a missed day of work in the middle of the week is of no consequence. Oh yes indeed. So what will this ceremony offer to ME as a symbol of academic accomplishment (other than a single sheet of paper which I might easily have received in the mail?)
Let’s do some simple calculations. If the ceremony is 3 hours (9:30-12:30), we’ll allocate at least 30 minutes for grandiose speeches and other rhetoric aimed at past and current students, the bestowing of honorary doctorates on various presidents and generals, exhortations for world peace, and applause.
That leaves no more than 9,000 seconds for the other 652 of us, of which perhaps a dozen award-winners will clamor for a larger share in which to accept their cheap plaques. That’s an average of 13.8 seconds per person. How very sad.
Here's how I'd break it down:
* 5.5 seconds to walk from the back of the stage to the middle while your name is being called (for me, 3.75). That's a long time because the average girl is wearing high heels.
* 2.25 seconds to put your hand in the dean's hand and grab the diploma with the other and turn for the cameras
* 1.75 seconds to hold that pose for the cameras
* 2 seconds to walk to the top of the stairs
* 3.5 seconds to walk down the stairs
* Total = 15 seconds because during the final 1.2 seconds (while you’re halfway down the stairs) they are calling the next name and that is part of the next person's 5.5 second walk and name announcement.
Should I get a bonus for shaving off 2.25 seconds? Ennui! I’ll smuggle a good book under my robe.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Scavengers in the Night
First some business about recycling Brita water filters: it can’t be done. Not now, not in Canada anyways (see an explanation here). The University of Ottawa claims that the City will do it through the Take it Back program, however it's not currently listed and I assume that was a mistake. Altogether, considering that a Brita filter takes up substantially less landfill space than hundreds of plastic bottles, not to mention the new notion that filtered water is better for your health and the environment than bottled water, I’d still think it to be a wise choice.
I have used the Take it Back links before though, mainly to dispose of used clothing and shoes and do research on where certain batteries should be recycled. It's a great resource. Also recently, I've found that leaving your old furniture on the curb (at this time of year anyways) can actually be an effective way to recycle. I have observed - right from my window overlooking the street! - week after week, the most incredible household detritus being salvaged by students and others who've recently moved. Bookshelves that seem barely fit for firewood disappear into dilapidated pick-up trucks under the cover of night. A dresser, standing bare without its drawers, garners excited whispers as young couples promise to return later for its rescue. While I still would recommend using Take it Back and Freecycle, if you live in a busy neighbourhood that favours students and other bargain-hunters you might have an easy time of it.
Well the post title could also refer to my penchant for midnight snacking, even though...
It’s taper week before Sunday’s marathon. I should have lots of time now that my workouts are curtailed. But somehow I’ve managed to fill it with … reading. Eating, sleeping, reading, and chillin’ all week. Forget the usual fare: on global warming, rational mysticism, the looming energy crisis, world politics, city planning, other apocalyptic scenarios. It’s one whole week of FICTION, folks, and what a treat it is, what a relief!
So far in 4 days, 4 books:
* The Beauty Box (Bonnie Dunlop)
* The Broker (John Grisham)
* Kite Runner (Khaled Hosseini)… amazing!
* Veronica (Mary Gaitskill)
Interestingly enough, I have to moderate my food intake this week (no more carbo-loading for me) since my eyes are so much bigger than my stomach now. Amazing what cutting a few long workouts will do. I ate almost 1 lb (unpacked, that’s about one square foot in volume) of mixed salad greens & spinach last night (bad idea) in my chicken salad, plus half a bag of Farm Boy Tostitos & yogurt, which I would've handled fine on any other week. You could have rolled me down the street after. However I still made room for gelato.
The Skorpion gelato at Sugar Mountain is INSANELY good and I highly recommend it. As you may guess, it’s Skor-flavoured. Pair it with the dark chocolate and you’ve got a winning combination.
In other news, my apartment door is fixed!! It actually opens and closes smoothly now, sans le squeaking. There is a nice, soft thud when the door swings to a close. It even locks on the first try. I’m elated.
Now just to deal with those mysterious sounds coming from under the sink, add a bit more furniture, and it’ll be a real Par-tay chez moi.
Friday, May 4, 2007
My bike
Gratuitous shot of my recently tuned steed and the new (white) tires... yes, white tires... I know it violates the eurosport etiquette rules or whatever but I was curious.
And with lesser excitement I point out my new floors, new paint, and new apartment.... more on that later.
And with lesser excitement I point out my new floors, new paint, and new apartment.... more on that later.Thursday, May 3, 2007
Oven Bliss
Even though the week left much to be desired, I could forget about it tonight while making two carrot loaves... my first use of an oven in 4 years! I'm watching them right now; they look gorgeous, smell yummy, and I hope they taste good too... they still have 30 minutes to go and they're swelling right up over the dish so I kind of hope they stop rising....
The new place is coming along, slowly but surely. I am in dire need of some real furniture (the bigger pieces) to store the unsightly out of sight - ha! - before any wine-and-cheese housewarmings can occur. And I'm slowly building my pantry arsenal... everything from glassware to bakeware to cast iron skillets (still looking for a good cast iron skillet, no Teflon for me!) Thrilling event of the day was the vegetable/ cheese grater I bought at Loblaw's, or maybe second to getting two glass loaf pans at Sears for under $12.
One day I will even get an iron and ironing board... so I can iron my new, very wrinkled curtains!
<-- Sure could've used a jeep! 
--> I love my new tub!
Thanks to Paul, Ang for these photos. More "before" and "after" shots will follow!
The new place is coming along, slowly but surely. I am in dire need of some real furniture (the bigger pieces) to store the unsightly out of sight - ha! - before any wine-and-cheese housewarmings can occur. And I'm slowly building my pantry arsenal... everything from glassware to bakeware to cast iron skillets (still looking for a good cast iron skillet, no Teflon for me!) Thrilling event of the day was the vegetable/ cheese grater I bought at Loblaw's, or maybe second to getting two glass loaf pans at Sears for under $12.
One day I will even get an iron and ironing board... so I can iron my new, very wrinkled curtains!
<-- Sure could've used a jeep! --> I love my new tub!
Thanks to Paul, Ang for these photos. More "before" and "after" shots will follow!
Friday, April 27, 2007
Small House
Here is a guy who is living in a house even smaller than my apartment! Now I don't think it's directly comparable because he technically has two stories in it (the top section is a cute little sleeping loft), and he definitely has it better arranged with furniture and the like, but it's worth a look.
Obviously he doesn't have pets or kids... and no wife. Wives tend to have this thing about full-size kitchens, you know. Good thing I don't have a wife. I'd much rather have a mechanic.
Obviously he doesn't have pets or kids... and no wife. Wives tend to have this thing about full-size kitchens, you know. Good thing I don't have a wife. I'd much rather have a mechanic.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Amazing Revival!
My old mouse had been dead for 24 hours already, when I contacted PK the Tech Miracle-Worker. I was just getting used to the idea of life without my trusty laser mouse, when he suggested that letting it dry for a day or two might restore it to its former glory.
At best, I was dubious. Before it died, it was limping along pathetically, totally incapacitated in the left button area, and the scroll wheel was maimed beyond description.
But then this morning, I decided to uncover it from its shallow paper grave on my desk, and try connecting it again to the life source of my computer. What a miracle! Full function was restored, and a living, breathing mouse it was again once more!
Many thanks to all for your kind thoughts during this time. I exhort you all to value your mice, as you never know what tragic events may befall them without warning...
At best, I was dubious. Before it died, it was limping along pathetically, totally incapacitated in the left button area, and the scroll wheel was maimed beyond description.
But then this morning, I decided to uncover it from its shallow paper grave on my desk, and try connecting it again to the life source of my computer. What a miracle! Full function was restored, and a living, breathing mouse it was again once more!
Many thanks to all for your kind thoughts during this time. I exhort you all to value your mice, as you never know what tragic events may befall them without warning...
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
A Fallen Mouse
Here lies my trusty mouse, laser dark forever, scroll-button stilled at last. Never again will I hear its soft “click” or feel its smooth, ergonomic curves; surely I will miss the ease with which it glided over my desk, the graceful roll of its wheel and the gentle grey colour which so perfectly matched my grieving keyboard.
Tragically felled by an errant cup of hot tea, despite numerous attempts to resuscitate …
R.I.P., Mouse. I will always regret this day.
Tragically felled by an errant cup of hot tea, despite numerous attempts to resuscitate …
R.I.P., Mouse. I will always regret this day.
Monday, April 23, 2007
Canadian Gas Guzzling Stats
As noted on CBC.ca today:
How about, "Despite the devasting potential effects of climate change, the worldwide impending oil/energy crisis, the massive problem of resource depletion, and the health-destroying pollution that causes cancer and disease at increasing rates, Canadians, symbolic of the reckless and short-sighted North American disregard for anything but immediate pleasure and convenience, continue to willfully jeopardize the future of the world and the viability of the human race."
Sell bicycles. Close roads. Get people off their couches and get them walking to work. Grow food. Talk to each other. Build a community. Connect with your environment. This must all be done in order to survive.
WAKE UP
Shocking. Saddening. And most of all, this makes me angry. "Despite rising gas prices..."???!!! Are you kidding me?"Despite rising gas prices, the sales of gas-hungry minivans, sport utility vehicles, light and heavy trucks, vans and buses surged to a new record high.
Consumers bought 803,166 of these vehicles in 2006, up 2.3 per cent from the previous year." (full article here)
How about, "Despite the devasting potential effects of climate change, the worldwide impending oil/energy crisis, the massive problem of resource depletion, and the health-destroying pollution that causes cancer and disease at increasing rates, Canadians, symbolic of the reckless and short-sighted North American disregard for anything but immediate pleasure and convenience, continue to willfully jeopardize the future of the world and the viability of the human race."
Sell bicycles. Close roads. Get people off their couches and get them walking to work. Grow food. Talk to each other. Build a community. Connect with your environment. This must all be done in order to survive.
WAKE UP
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Response to Survey of Organizational Culture
*an appeal to our senior bureaucrats and other government leaders*
While efforts such as the e-newsletter, service excellence awards, all-staff/ Branch meetings, formal departmental events, and surveys (such as these) do certainly have their place, it is important to remember that organizational culture is not an "add-on" or an overnight fix: it is simply an attribute and a by-product of the business, and can only be built one employee at a time.
To front-line employees (the "face" of our department), fancy terminology and carefully-planned "Culture-Building" events lack resonance. Employees need to know how their tasks fit into the big picture, they need to be listened to (not just heard), and they need to be recognized by their immediate supervisors - not in a contest, not once a year with a Departmental birthday cake, but simply with a smile and a "well done!"
Finally, we need to grow our service culture with the training and grooming of young talent. We need to encourage young graduates, and show them that the public service offers exciting and challenging career opportunities. We need to respect their ideas - which may conflict with our more traditional ones - and invite their participation. We need to offer them the chance to put their education and intelligence to good use in serving our country and its citizens.
While efforts such as the e-newsletter, service excellence awards, all-staff/ Branch meetings, formal departmental events, and surveys (such as these) do certainly have their place, it is important to remember that organizational culture is not an "add-on" or an overnight fix: it is simply an attribute and a by-product of the business, and can only be built one employee at a time.
To front-line employees (the "face" of our department), fancy terminology and carefully-planned "Culture-Building" events lack resonance. Employees need to know how their tasks fit into the big picture, they need to be listened to (not just heard), and they need to be recognized by their immediate supervisors - not in a contest, not once a year with a Departmental birthday cake, but simply with a smile and a "well done!"
Finally, we need to grow our service culture with the training and grooming of young talent. We need to encourage young graduates, and show them that the public service offers exciting and challenging career opportunities. We need to respect their ideas - which may conflict with our more traditional ones - and invite their participation. We need to offer them the chance to put their education and intelligence to good use in serving our country and its citizens.
Monday, April 16, 2007
A Gem
Overheard at work:
"We can derive intake using a mathematical formula".
A.K.A: Using addition and subtraction (those mind-boggling arithmetic functions) we can develop the following:
Beginning Inventory + Incoming Work - Work Processed = Ending Inventory.
Then rearrange to form: Incoming Work = Ending Inventory + Work Processed - Beginning Inventory.
Public Sector = Rocket Science
"We can derive intake using a mathematical formula".
A.K.A: Using addition and subtraction (those mind-boggling arithmetic functions) we can develop the following:
Beginning Inventory + Incoming Work - Work Processed = Ending Inventory.
Then rearrange to form: Incoming Work = Ending Inventory + Work Processed - Beginning Inventory.
Public Sector = Rocket Science
Thursday, April 12, 2007
10 Things
10 things I love and will miss the most when the Oil Age ends:
10. Having Sunday brunch with my friends
9. Drinking coffee
8. Cycling in Gatineau Park on a carbon racing bike
7. Going for a run on a rainy afternoon
6. Making and enjoying music, in the traditional sense
5. Blogging
4. Hot showers
3. Kissing
2. Sleeping in a soft, warm, bed
1. The knowledge, science, and marvels of our globalized, modern world
10 things I love that I can still do when the Oil Age ends:
10. Have Sunday brunch with my friends (roasted squirrel and gull eggs over a campfire, anyone?)
9. Eat local, organic foods
8. Paddle along the Ottawa River
7. Go for a run on a rainy afternoon (but without Asics dual-density midsole runners)
6. Make and enjoy music, using whatever resources I can find
5. Read & write
4. Swim in the lake
3. Kiss!
2. Sleep in a quieter, cleaner world
1. Be a contributing member of a close-knit, local community
10. Having Sunday brunch with my friends
9. Drinking coffee
8. Cycling in Gatineau Park on a carbon racing bike
7. Going for a run on a rainy afternoon
6. Making and enjoying music, in the traditional sense
5. Blogging
4. Hot showers
3. Kissing
2. Sleeping in a soft, warm, bed
1. The knowledge, science, and marvels of our globalized, modern world
10 things I love that I can still do when the Oil Age ends:
10. Have Sunday brunch with my friends (roasted squirrel and gull eggs over a campfire, anyone?)
9. Eat local, organic foods
8. Paddle along the Ottawa River
7. Go for a run on a rainy afternoon (but without Asics dual-density midsole runners)
6. Make and enjoy music, using whatever resources I can find
5. Read & write
4. Swim in the lake
3. Kiss!
2. Sleep in a quieter, cleaner world
1. Be a contributing member of a close-knit, local community
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
Overheard
It's my last day of being 25... my youth is gone, my hair is going white, and I noticed two wrinkles on the right side of my forehead yesterday. On the bright side, I've decided that I've had a good and full life so far, living at the "pinnacle" of human progress (take that lightly!) in relative peace and prosperity. I have great friends, and have experienced many great moments during the last quarter century. Doesn't leave me too much to be sad about I guess, except the future of humanity ...
Overheard at Work (more proof of stupidity):
"Button, button, who took my button? The button I’ve been using all day is gone. "
That’s not really a bad word, it’s in the Bible… but I think they call it ‘procreation’.
Middle-aged woman: “How’s the baby doing?”
Retirement-aged man: “Good, good… she’s 8 months old now”
(Questioning looks exchanged among elevator passengers)
“She’s not mine, I mean she’s my grand-daughter … not that it couldn’t be, I mean, it definitely could be! Really, I still can!”
"Not Marie Antoinette… it’s Mario."
(To me): "Why can’t you eat pizza? Is it because of your biking?"
“Others may have found this information informative.”
Overheard at Work (more proof of stupidity):
"Button, button, who took my button? The button I’ve been using all day is gone. "
That’s not really a bad word, it’s in the Bible… but I think they call it ‘procreation’.
Middle-aged woman: “How’s the baby doing?”
Retirement-aged man: “Good, good… she’s 8 months old now”
(Questioning looks exchanged among elevator passengers)
“She’s not mine, I mean she’s my grand-daughter … not that it couldn’t be, I mean, it definitely could be! Really, I still can!”
"Not Marie Antoinette… it’s Mario."
(To me): "Why can’t you eat pizza? Is it because of your biking?"
“Others may have found this information informative.”
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Smell the roses, hear the Strad
I walked around the grounds of Parliament today at lunch hour. I watched the Centennial Flame, and read the dates on the provincial plaques. There was a woman doing yoga on the front lawn, amid the flurry of passers-by and idly strolling RCMP officers, while the clock tower struck a quarter-to-one. A few snowflakes fell lazily over downtown Ottawa today, and I was alive and happy to experience it all as I soaked up the early spring sunshine.
What a mystery this world is, and what a gift! How much do we miss everyday, scurrying off to our posts with nary a glance to left or right, with no time to appreciate the beauty around us. We are so caught up in complexity, in technology, in haste …
In January 2007, the world-renowned virtuoso violinist Joshua Bell donned a baseball cap and jeans, and went busking in a subway station in another “government town”: Washington, D.C. For 43 minutes, among the hustle and bustle of the subway during morning rush-hour, he played his heart out on a $3.5 million Stradivarius. He played Bach, Schubert, Ponce; masterpieces of melody and song.
The whole stunt was recorded on video camera. How many of the 1,097 passers-by stopped to listen? How many of them even noticed his playing at all?
Only 7 (article here)! Not including, interestingly enough, each and every child that passed - enthralled - but propelled along by annoyed parents.
The story frightens me… because although I hope - beyond all hope - that if I would have been in the Washington subway that day, I would have stopped to recognize beauty for what it was, I cannot be sure. I cannot know absolutely that I would not have continued on my way in a rush, going to wherever I was headed, oblivious.
And that is the deepest sadness and the darkest blindness I can imagine.
What a mystery this world is, and what a gift! How much do we miss everyday, scurrying off to our posts with nary a glance to left or right, with no time to appreciate the beauty around us. We are so caught up in complexity, in technology, in haste …
In January 2007, the world-renowned virtuoso violinist Joshua Bell donned a baseball cap and jeans, and went busking in a subway station in another “government town”: Washington, D.C. For 43 minutes, among the hustle and bustle of the subway during morning rush-hour, he played his heart out on a $3.5 million Stradivarius. He played Bach, Schubert, Ponce; masterpieces of melody and song.
The whole stunt was recorded on video camera. How many of the 1,097 passers-by stopped to listen? How many of them even noticed his playing at all?
Only 7 (article here)! Not including, interestingly enough, each and every child that passed - enthralled - but propelled along by annoyed parents.
The story frightens me… because although I hope - beyond all hope - that if I would have been in the Washington subway that day, I would have stopped to recognize beauty for what it was, I cannot be sure. I cannot know absolutely that I would not have continued on my way in a rush, going to wherever I was headed, oblivious.
And that is the deepest sadness and the darkest blindness I can imagine.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Green Energy & Transportation show
Ottawa's first Green Energy & Transportation (GET) show is scheduled for May 12-13th, 2007 at Lansdowne Park. Think Home Show, Auto Show, Sportsman's Show, etc. in nature, where exhibitors set up booths and visitors wander around getting info and trying products.
For $10 admission, I'm game to go and if anyone is interested in checking it out with me, drop me a line!
Also, I just heard about Bullfrog Power: Ontario's first 100% green electricity provider. Drawn through Ontario's existing grid, your dollars go to clean, renewable electricty providers.
In summary:
Have I switched yet? No, but I am seriously considering it for after my move. It takes about 3 months to switch, but you are free to switch between your local provider and Bullfrog at any time (Bullfrog pumps green electricity into the Ontario grid, and its electricity sales cannot exceed the amount of power it supplies).
For $10 admission, I'm game to go and if anyone is interested in checking it out with me, drop me a line!
Also, I just heard about Bullfrog Power: Ontario's first 100% green electricity provider. Drawn through Ontario's existing grid, your dollars go to clean, renewable electricty providers.
In summary:
- Yes, it will cost you up to 1$ more per day.
- No, the reliability of your service will NOT be affected.
- Yes, alternative energy sources are a LONG way from replacing fossil fuels, but also YES we are running out of said fossil fuels.
Have I switched yet? No, but I am seriously considering it for after my move. It takes about 3 months to switch, but you are free to switch between your local provider and Bullfrog at any time (Bullfrog pumps green electricity into the Ontario grid, and its electricity sales cannot exceed the amount of power it supplies).
Friday, April 6, 2007
175 Square Feet
I'm going through all my worldly possessions to find out what I can jettison ... before I move. What's funny about that? It will only take me a day or two to go through every paper, object, clothing article, and furnishing. But before I make the move to 375 square feet and an oven, I wanted to capture some memories of the last 4 years of living on the cheap.
Here is how I made it work, complete with photos: check out my virtual apartment tour on Flickr.
And here's a preview: you can see 3 out of my 4 walls with this shot.
Here is how I made it work, complete with photos: check out my virtual apartment tour on Flickr.
And here's a preview: you can see 3 out of my 4 walls with this shot.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
100-kilometer breakfast
Ever wonder what a truly local, springtime breakfast would be like? Well here's the Ottawa version, as served by the Table vegetarian restaurant in Westboro: "roasted potatoes, sugar-free pancakes with maple syrup, eggs, mushrooms, hot house tomatoes and herbal tea" (CBC, April 7)
Sounds pretty good, doesn't it? With the notable lack of coffee... I still intend to try the "eat local for a month" experiment, but I gotta find a way to grow coffee beans. Coffee, the second most valuable commodity in the world (behind petroleum). (Fair Trade Toronto).
Why eat local? To support our farmers, to encourage a healthier diet, and to reduce the pollution & greenhouse emissions that result from trucking food to our tables.
Sounds pretty good, doesn't it? With the notable lack of coffee... I still intend to try the "eat local for a month" experiment, but I gotta find a way to grow coffee beans. Coffee, the second most valuable commodity in the world (behind petroleum). (Fair Trade Toronto).
Why eat local? To support our farmers, to encourage a healthier diet, and to reduce the pollution & greenhouse emissions that result from trucking food to our tables.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Eco toilets et al.
If you wanna go really EcoTech, you gotta check out this waterless composting toilet. I'm still unsure as to the logistics (I mean, how about the smell of the compost?) but it certainly looks nifty. More importantly it cuts down on the water waste and costly treatment, while recycling those "nutrients" eventually back into the soil. Certainly beats burning your garbage for energy... still haven't got over the stupidity of that one (air pollution, fellas?)
I also read an article in the Walrus this morning (at 4am, no thanks to my neighbours with the blaring stereo) about chemical pollution. Yes, right here in Canada... now we've all heard about the MP's who underwent chemical testing this winter, but I suppose it didn't really hit home for me until I read about how formaldehyde from embalmed corpses seeps into the ground...
The Walrus is really good with the gritty imagery, but seriously I could have done with a little bit less of it this time (Janine MacLeod: "Forgotten, But Not Gone"). The most poignant thing, however, was the simple revelation that while so many cancers are caused by chemical pollution, there are far fewer funds dedicated to preventing cancer through cleaning up our environments (and by extension our bodies) and preventing toxins from making us sick, than are invested in finding a pharmaceutical solution... who lobbies the government for funds? The biotech industry, the "drug companies": the ones who seek to profit most by "us" getting sick.
Of course that is NOT to say that medical R&D should be thrown out the window. It's just an observation... and it's tragic that cancer incidence continues to rise despite improving treatment options. Why no examination of carcinogens?! Why no investigation of cause?!
It makes me angry to think that the potential exists for pharmaceutical companies, short-sighted policy-makers, and other powerful individuals - by their negligence or omission - to seriously jeopardize the personal health of you and I.
I also read an article in the Walrus this morning (at 4am, no thanks to my neighbours with the blaring stereo) about chemical pollution. Yes, right here in Canada... now we've all heard about the MP's who underwent chemical testing this winter, but I suppose it didn't really hit home for me until I read about how formaldehyde from embalmed corpses seeps into the ground...
The Walrus is really good with the gritty imagery, but seriously I could have done with a little bit less of it this time (Janine MacLeod: "Forgotten, But Not Gone"). The most poignant thing, however, was the simple revelation that while so many cancers are caused by chemical pollution, there are far fewer funds dedicated to preventing cancer through cleaning up our environments (and by extension our bodies) and preventing toxins from making us sick, than are invested in finding a pharmaceutical solution... who lobbies the government for funds? The biotech industry, the "drug companies": the ones who seek to profit most by "us" getting sick.
Of course that is NOT to say that medical R&D should be thrown out the window. It's just an observation... and it's tragic that cancer incidence continues to rise despite improving treatment options. Why no examination of carcinogens?! Why no investigation of cause?!
It makes me angry to think that the potential exists for pharmaceutical companies, short-sighted policy-makers, and other powerful individuals - by their negligence or omission - to seriously jeopardize the personal health of you and I.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
April Fool
So it's the first day of the best month of the year. No jokes played on me today - not yet anyways - although I was close to pouring balsamic vinegar on my pancakes this morning. Note to all Ottawa residents: Carmello's on Cooper has amazing coffee, and amazing service.
The month also heralds the dawn of a new age... literally, my new age. Closer to 30 than 20 and what do I have to show for it, other than more white hair???
Today I also scored a new bathing suit at a decent price: Speedo Endurance in splashy blue and black, and I may have scored a potential swim coach too (can't jinx it 'tho). I need to swim well enough so that the macho guys lounging on the deck will be too respectful to say: "Nice tan" as I walk past. In fact, since I'm practically an old geezer now, I think next time I will just respond: "Nice ass".
Whatever. Since you know how I got that tan, shut up already and race me up the freakin' road, loser.
Sick of all this time off, bring on the darn workday already (never thought I'd say that).
The month also heralds the dawn of a new age... literally, my new age. Closer to 30 than 20 and what do I have to show for it, other than more white hair???
Today I also scored a new bathing suit at a decent price: Speedo Endurance in splashy blue and black, and I may have scored a potential swim coach too (can't jinx it 'tho). I need to swim well enough so that the macho guys lounging on the deck will be too respectful to say: "Nice tan" as I walk past. In fact, since I'm practically an old geezer now, I think next time I will just respond: "Nice ass".
Whatever. Since you know how I got that tan, shut up already and race me up the freakin' road, loser.
Sick of all this time off, bring on the darn workday already (never thought I'd say that).
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Sleep Aid
Another lunch-hour meeting… I’m sitting in a cold boardroom bored out of my mind, furtively trying to stop my stomach from growling; meanwhile "Tulio" is doodling in his notebook and trying equally hard not to doze off. I glance over and he’s written “KILL ME” in the margin, in appropriately faint script. I find this suddenly hilarious and laugh cough chortle just a bit too loudly. After a few questioning looks from my boss I feign the utmost attention, smiling and nodding as dutifully as I am able. I think it worked.
This particular “working group” meeting is particularly fruitless because everyone talks *at* each other and doesn’t listen. We’ve been at this for months now, and haven’t made much progress. I think we’d do better if we taped our sessions and sold them as sleep aids: the soothing monotony, disconnect and repetition is the perfect cure for insomnia.
The rhetoric alone makes me drowsy.
This particular “working group” meeting is particularly fruitless because everyone talks *at* each other and doesn’t listen. We’ve been at this for months now, and haven’t made much progress. I think we’d do better if we taped our sessions and sold them as sleep aids: the soothing monotony, disconnect and repetition is the perfect cure for insomnia.
The rhetoric alone makes me drowsy.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Pixel Death
There’s a dead pixel(s) on my new 19” LCD monitor, argh! It’s positioned halfway down on the left side, so particularly annoying for work. It resembles a rather forlorn accent aigu, stranded (in Excel) at the uppermost edge of the cell C15.
Never a dull moment here… ever been to a pixel wake? Remind them to sign organ donor cards before leaving that mysterious black hole called “PROCUREMENT”. My monitor was lost in Procurement for weeks; that probably had a negative effect on pixel lifespan, depression or claustrophobia or something. Or maybe they’re bored too, suffering brain-death, what with answering silly questions and fending off busybody emails from bosses.
Oh goodness, right on cue. 2:30 and the semi-retired guy sharing my cubicle wall is napping at his desk. Sparing his pixels. Welcome respite actually, since this morning I put up with his tirade against Caribbean cruises, streams of database design gobbledygook, and in-depth discussions about the weather (always too hot or too cold). I get the most work done when he’s playing Solitaire, because then he’s rather more quiet and focused. At least the “Easy” button toy is having a rest for now; I thought I was going to throw it out the window, especially when (get this!) he bought another one in French. Then he’d slap the English and the French immediately after. Officially bilingual, and twice as annoying.
Still grieving the pixel, hoping it’ll morph into something more interesting. Perhaps I should give it a name, now that it will be a permanent fixture in my life. Nobody say “Spot”.
Never a dull moment here… ever been to a pixel wake? Remind them to sign organ donor cards before leaving that mysterious black hole called “PROCUREMENT”. My monitor was lost in Procurement for weeks; that probably had a negative effect on pixel lifespan, depression or claustrophobia or something. Or maybe they’re bored too, suffering brain-death, what with answering silly questions and fending off busybody emails from bosses.
Oh goodness, right on cue. 2:30 and the semi-retired guy sharing my cubicle wall is napping at his desk. Sparing his pixels. Welcome respite actually, since this morning I put up with his tirade against Caribbean cruises, streams of database design gobbledygook, and in-depth discussions about the weather (always too hot or too cold). I get the most work done when he’s playing Solitaire, because then he’s rather more quiet and focused. At least the “Easy” button toy is having a rest for now; I thought I was going to throw it out the window, especially when (get this!) he bought another one in French. Then he’d slap the English and the French immediately after. Officially bilingual, and twice as annoying.
Still grieving the pixel, hoping it’ll morph into something more interesting. Perhaps I should give it a name, now that it will be a permanent fixture in my life. Nobody say “Spot”.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Post-weekend blues
So there I was on St Paddy's, sitting on Mike & Ang's couch and sipping water out of a Magner's can (thx for understanding guys) and suffering from post-purchase anxiety, having dropped yet another few hundred bucks on tri gear. I'm not sure that anyone was impressed by my explanation of just WHY I now own 3 pairs of identical Asics running shoes in various states of wear and disrepair. While I remedied the first problem with a second visit to Bushtukah/ MEC today, I still have the second. Whoa, can you say party-pooper?
So look y'all, while I know you love me and my idiosyncrasies I just want to say thanks for the good time (Ang you're a wonderful host, Mike you make good Pogos :P) I've hit two milestones this week then: I've actually watched the Godfather trilogy (thanks to Paul) and eaten my first Pogo. Anything else I need to know? before I hit the ripe old age of *chokes*
... I can't say it. 3 more weeks to make my mark. PK says I should *ahem* flirt with one new guy for each new year. Ang says she'll give me lessons. Amanda says she'll take me shopping, if I promise not to dart into any bike shops or buy more running shoes. Heather just laughs.
Spring comes late to the capital, forgot to knock on wood and look what happens... freakin' windchill. I put off my run later and later, slept in, lazed about aimlessly, not wanting to go outside. However my 'coach' would not be impressed with this shit. Mapmyrun.com and my personal pace clock both agree: 16 miles/ 25.7k today. Got as far south as Riverside/Uplands, and had this urge to go all the way to the airport, but then I kinda freaked myself out because that is how I start my 90+ km rides (via Manotick) and here I was, on foot with no water, fuel or Gatorade, with the sun setting. NOT smart. I saw few runners today... blowing snow and wind scared 'em away. Maybe I'm the crazy one.
Don't want to go to bed because I'll dream about work... how pathetic. I'm usually trying to explain something to someone and they don't get it.... and I get frustrated and grab them and scream... you know, that would be nice to do in waking hours. PK: yes, let's discuss résumé next week.
So look y'all, while I know you love me and my idiosyncrasies I just want to say thanks for the good time (Ang you're a wonderful host, Mike you make good Pogos :P) I've hit two milestones this week then: I've actually watched the Godfather trilogy (thanks to Paul) and eaten my first Pogo. Anything else I need to know? before I hit the ripe old age of *chokes*
... I can't say it. 3 more weeks to make my mark. PK says I should *ahem* flirt with one new guy for each new year. Ang says she'll give me lessons. Amanda says she'll take me shopping, if I promise not to dart into any bike shops or buy more running shoes. Heather just laughs.
Spring comes late to the capital, forgot to knock on wood and look what happens... freakin' windchill. I put off my run later and later, slept in, lazed about aimlessly, not wanting to go outside. However my 'coach' would not be impressed with this shit. Mapmyrun.com and my personal pace clock both agree: 16 miles/ 25.7k today. Got as far south as Riverside/Uplands, and had this urge to go all the way to the airport, but then I kinda freaked myself out because that is how I start my 90+ km rides (via Manotick) and here I was, on foot with no water, fuel or Gatorade, with the sun setting. NOT smart. I saw few runners today... blowing snow and wind scared 'em away. Maybe I'm the crazy one.
Don't want to go to bed because I'll dream about work... how pathetic. I'm usually trying to explain something to someone and they don't get it.... and I get frustrated and grab them and scream... you know, that would be nice to do in waking hours. PK: yes, let's discuss résumé next week.
Friday, March 16, 2007
This is what my education is for.
Today I was coached - patiently and with the best of intentions –by a senior colleague on the intricacies and inherent complexities of proper data entry in MS Excel. While I valiantly attempted to restrain my laughter, this fine gentleman explained in all earnestness how I was to procure a simple daily count, then sum to a weekly count, then sum to a monthly total. “Now just a minute!” you say, “did you not recently receive an honours degree in Commerce/Finance with an A average?”
Bah, what’s a piece of paper anyways? Never mind that: when this senior colleague was in school, the personal computer did not even exist. In fact, the sheer power of the Excel program is basically lost to him; the entire realm of matrices and calculations and charts and conditions floats on the horizon of his understanding. Once in awhile he will venture to change the font size or the cell shading, but beyond that all bets are off. It is not that he isn’t smart enough to learn; it’s more like he’s standing at the edge of a lake, not quite ready to take the plunge into cold and mysterious waters, unsure of his ability to swim.
As for stumping my superiors at least once per week, I filled my quota beautifully during this same meeting… with only this simple logic:
Beginning Inventory + In – Out = Ending Inventory
Another day, another dollar.
Bah, what’s a piece of paper anyways? Never mind that: when this senior colleague was in school, the personal computer did not even exist. In fact, the sheer power of the Excel program is basically lost to him; the entire realm of matrices and calculations and charts and conditions floats on the horizon of his understanding. Once in awhile he will venture to change the font size or the cell shading, but beyond that all bets are off. It is not that he isn’t smart enough to learn; it’s more like he’s standing at the edge of a lake, not quite ready to take the plunge into cold and mysterious waters, unsure of his ability to swim.
As for stumping my superiors at least once per week, I filled my quota beautifully during this same meeting… with only this simple logic:
Beginning Inventory + In – Out = Ending Inventory
Another day, another dollar.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Pecking Order
God
Exxon
Shell
President Bush
Harper
Harper's friends
the DEPUTY HEAD
the ASSISTANT DEPUTY HEAD
the ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT DEPUTY HEAD
the Acting ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT Vice-DEPUTY HEAD
the Acting ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT Vice-DEPUTY HEAD when the AAAVDH is on vacation
the DG
the DIRECTOR
the MANAGER
the Team leaders
everyone who is at least 50 years old AND smokes
everyone who is at least 50 years old
everyone who is at least 40 years old AND smokes
everyone who says they SHOULD have been promoted many years ago
the Tech guys
the co-op students
the Cafeteria Lady
the Mail Guy
the window washers
the toilet scrubbers
Conrad Black
the Fly that I found in my soup
the Plebes
...
me.
Exxon
Shell
President Bush
Harper
Harper's friends
the DEPUTY HEAD
the ASSISTANT DEPUTY HEAD
the ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT DEPUTY HEAD
the Acting ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT Vice-DEPUTY HEAD
the Acting ASSOCIATE ASSISTANT Vice-DEPUTY HEAD when the AAAVDH is on vacation
the DG
the DIRECTOR
the MANAGER
the Team leaders
everyone who is at least 50 years old AND smokes
everyone who is at least 50 years old
everyone who is at least 40 years old AND smokes
everyone who says they SHOULD have been promoted many years ago
the Tech guys
the co-op students
the Cafeteria Lady
the Mail Guy
the window washers
the toilet scrubbers
Conrad Black
the Fly that I found in my soup
the Plebes
...
me.
Monday, March 12, 2007
Ellipsis
Today we broke the world record for stupid emails received before noon.
Again, it’s Monday morning, so it’s hard to expect intelligence to rear its nerdy head so early… especially in the government.
I’ll spare you the details, but I do need to share a pet peeve. I appreciate that creative use of punctuation can enliven most any prose, but excessive use of one particular element when another would be more appropriate is as disturbing as “Eats, Shoots, & Leaves”. In this case it is not the apostrophe that is the culprit, but the oft-neglected ellipsis.
My dear Nova-Scotian contact has several quirks, among them the tendency to address colleagues using their family names (despite how obvious the choice is – “Why hello there Jones Jennifer!”), and to inject every sentence with at least one ellipsis …
Now an ellipsis is a very intriguing creature: able to soften the blow of a harsh judgement, to join words from an original phrase which was too verbose to quote directly, to lend an air of uncertainty to both death and taxes, and to add a sense of mystery to even the most mundane subject. However, it should be used sparingly and with prudence.
You can see for yourself the difference:
Text: “See Jane Run”.
Translation: See Jane Run.
Text: “See Jane Run…”
Translation: You see Jane running but then Jane smacks straight into a tree or gets hit by a transport truck (you can’t foresee which).
Text: “See… Jane Run.”
Translation: You see, or I think you see—anyways—if you actually can see, you will see many things before you actually see Jane run, if at all you get to see her run, I think.
Text: “See Jane… Run.”
Translation: You see Jane, and she plans to run sometime in the future, but I can’t possibly tell you whether you will ever see her run or not, since before she gets around to running an indeterminable number of accidents might befall her. In fact by the time we get to the running part it might not be Jane at all.
Text: “See… Jane… Run...”
Translation: Whether you can see or not, you need to sign a waiver releasing Jane (or any person that Jane may substitute for herself) from any obligation to run (or engage in running-like activity) either now in the future, since she has an incalculable risk of getting hit by a transport truck or smacking herself into a tree.
So how much softness or uncertainty can you really inject with an ellipsis?
Dear Mr. Smith,
I regret to inform you… that your estate has been seized and unfortunately… no funds remain in your chequing, savings, or business accounts... Your liquidity is now zero…. You may declare bankruptcy within 48 hours…
Have a nice day….
I exhort all of my dear readers to refrain from abuse of the poor ellipsis and concentrate instead on forming mouth-wateringly grammatical sentences.
Much obliged.
Again, it’s Monday morning, so it’s hard to expect intelligence to rear its nerdy head so early… especially in the government.
I’ll spare you the details, but I do need to share a pet peeve. I appreciate that creative use of punctuation can enliven most any prose, but excessive use of one particular element when another would be more appropriate is as disturbing as “Eats, Shoots, & Leaves”. In this case it is not the apostrophe that is the culprit, but the oft-neglected ellipsis.
My dear Nova-Scotian contact has several quirks, among them the tendency to address colleagues using their family names (despite how obvious the choice is – “Why hello there Jones Jennifer!”), and to inject every sentence with at least one ellipsis …
Now an ellipsis is a very intriguing creature: able to soften the blow of a harsh judgement, to join words from an original phrase which was too verbose to quote directly, to lend an air of uncertainty to both death and taxes, and to add a sense of mystery to even the most mundane subject. However, it should be used sparingly and with prudence.
You can see for yourself the difference:
Text: “See Jane Run”.
Translation: See Jane Run.
Text: “See Jane Run…”
Translation: You see Jane running but then Jane smacks straight into a tree or gets hit by a transport truck (you can’t foresee which).
Text: “See… Jane Run.”
Translation: You see, or I think you see—anyways—if you actually can see, you will see many things before you actually see Jane run, if at all you get to see her run, I think.
Text: “See Jane… Run.”
Translation: You see Jane, and she plans to run sometime in the future, but I can’t possibly tell you whether you will ever see her run or not, since before she gets around to running an indeterminable number of accidents might befall her. In fact by the time we get to the running part it might not be Jane at all.
Text: “See… Jane… Run...”
Translation: Whether you can see or not, you need to sign a waiver releasing Jane (or any person that Jane may substitute for herself) from any obligation to run (or engage in running-like activity) either now in the future, since she has an incalculable risk of getting hit by a transport truck or smacking herself into a tree.
So how much softness or uncertainty can you really inject with an ellipsis?
Dear Mr. Smith,
I regret to inform you… that your estate has been seized and unfortunately… no funds remain in your chequing, savings, or business accounts... Your liquidity is now zero…. You may declare bankruptcy within 48 hours…
Have a nice day….
I exhort all of my dear readers to refrain from abuse of the poor ellipsis and concentrate instead on forming mouth-wateringly grammatical sentences.
Much obliged.
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