When you think you're the worm...

... you might actually be the fish!

I ran 6km tonight after work while the sun still shone, at least for the first half. The days are getting longer and the snow on the canal from the last blizzard blast is melting; I spied one large hole forming in the snow/ice and there could easily be more of them.



The next season feels close by yet hidden, gathering strength in the shadows, gearing up to chase my cherished winter solace away. I don't feel hibernated enough; I don't want winter to leave just yet. Just a few more weeks in the belly of the igloo. Please?

Without limits

Yesterday afternoon I was moping around and looking for something fun or challenging to do when I had a wonderful, terrible idea: a ZWOW workout! After a week of holiday during which I sampled various communist carbs in the form of rolls, oily white rice and shortbread cookies (you can taste the comrade-ship!) and drank copious amounts of delicious, delicious rum, a short workout is exactly what this lady needs.

So, I call up the latest vid and find that its title refers to vomiting. But for whatever reason I'm not worried by this. 80 push ups? Cool. 40 burpees and 60 jump lunges? No problemo. 

HA! I was loco to think that that could all go down easy like a Banana Mama. No, I would soon find out that it was more like a Zombie, the holiday beverage containing three types of rum that granted me the only holiday hangover ever. (Well, I did consume two in a row.)

After ZWOW #57, I felt great, just as I did after the Zombies. 

Today after waking up, I felt sore muscles spring up like tulips in April. A few around the shoulder area, a pair sprouting on my backside. More of them taking root on my quads. 

And right now, after a 23km run, my body feels like a twisted garden of zombified Venus Fly Traps at the height of growing season, craving small children and stray dogs to quench its overgrown thirst! 

Keep the Ibuprofen flowing, Che.

Welcome home run

Yesterday I experienced a kind of dual citizenship of the world. I woke up in a tropical country and after a four-hour flight fell asleep in my own bed in the northern hemisphere. I've had the good luck to live the experience of exchanging temperatures, languages and what at times can feel like mirror opposites in a cultural sense a few times, just by stepping into a plane, and I wonder how that can actually be possible. Pico Iyer has written some good essays on the experience of jet lag, when you travel frequently around the world, waking up several days in a row in different beds, still overtired. Just think of the Air Miles points.

I ran on the canal for 30 minutes some time after our return. It was dark, maybe around 8pm. The ice was soft from the temperature (zero-ish) and there were kids in snowpants goofing around under the row of street lamp lights. Right now, running on the ice (or any surface) sounds like a monstrous undertaking. I somehow landed the role of host for a gastro bug about a week back, and while the effects are moderate, I am loathe to leave the comfort of my couch, or even change out of my pajamas. A citizen of my living room for today. If only the cat could run out for a few groceries while we convalesce.

   

Gertie the Garmin

I tried out my new running toy today - the Garmin Forerunner 10. The Running Room sent an email cooing about its latest set of running toys; caught in a vulnerable state after missing a Sunday run, I sourced this Garmin's dependability online, and ordered one after finding it well received by critics. Strapped to my wrist today, it proved to be a valuable tracker of time, distance and related factoids. I'd forgotten what a mental stone it can be, always wondering exactly how far I've gone and how much farther to go, the sports watch I'd been using for the past year too simple to provide me with the necessary details. Figuring out metrics like distance from my watch sounds like no big deal, but clearly it expended a certain measure of mental juice because today I ran long and comfortably, knowing that someone else was at the helm and managing things. I believe I will name her Gertie.

I stuck to some usual routes around downtown and then danced onto the canal with the skaters, who I've noticed have a healthy fear of the massive and deafening machines that brush the ice clean, and move promptly out of the way when these machine approach in a convoy, their blue lights flashing. They are escorted by cops on quads, a sight that often provokes a giggle. Anyway, we all made way for the sweeping vanguard, and after it passed, everyone with something sharp on their feet darted for a piece of the cleaned ice, clear and tinted turquoise. Smooth sailing.

Would have included a photo of the blueberry pancakes I cooked after the run but I gobbled them too quickly! 

Treadmills of the future...

...will do the running for you while you hibernate in stasis to preserve precious heartbeats.

Just when I was starting to dig winter running again, the temperature maple-dipped into my orange pekoe discomfort zone, and visions of treadmills began steeping in my dreams (I often dream of mechanical things, like mandroids, doesn't everyone?). I don't need warm weather for running, but I have my limits and those limits are shaking their old man fists in the air and barking orders at me right now. You'll keep us inside until the mercury rises like zombies at a brain party, a warm brain party, and not a minute before! Okay okay, take your hands off me and grab a kabob instead:

// Delicious array of Turkish delights (but not the actual Turkish Delight) //

Yesterday I ran on a treadmill for 18k, and although I was really motivated when I started, I felt increasingly alienated from my goal and my entire body because machines are weird, and why can't they be more like robots of the future that will understand exactly what you want and then give it to you immediately. The machines at my gym are programmed to stop after 35 minutes, and OBVIOUSLY I've only been running for 20 years and haven't quite mastered the 18k in 35 minutes miracle yet OBVIOUSLY. After slipping into a nice groove and maintaining coordinates, the speed would suddenly slow to a crawl and after the shock of re-entering society after being inside my head for a half-hour, I would be faced with punching in my specs yet again, of course while keeping my head down to avoid eye contact with any treadmill-desiring gym person looking to perform a hostile but ultimately fair & legal takeover of my machine, and going through the warm up phase for the umpteenth time. And I had to go through this insane process four times because my hand accidentally made contact with the emergency bar at one point, and the treadmill froze up, thinking I was suffering a stroke and needed immediate assistance. Sigh. Back to the beginning. "What kind of run do you want? How much to do you weigh? Would you like me to run for you while you shave your legs in the steam room?" That's the question I never get asked.

This treadmill experience even affected my appetite. Usually by 18k I would have consumed at least one gel but I didn't feel hungry until I headed home, and by then I could have dismantled and devoured a treadmill by myself, bolt by bolt. I don't think I'm as aware of myself on the treadmill, but on a positive note I definitely have an increased awareness of the awesomeness of avoiding hypothermia! See you soon, TM!


 

Cold but asleep

The weather report sounded like an error: -7 degrees Celcius with a wind chill of -22! I chalked up the difference to Atlantic-strength gales, and swaddled my neck and head in woolly cloths before leaving the building (looking like a small sasquatch from the neck up). The swaddling turned out to be an awesome idea. The wind was fierce in areas. I was thankful to be asleep for most of the run (although I was quite awake by the end). Later on my walk to work I felt the cold more deeply and wished I could have the buffer of sleepiness back. 

People and trucks littered the canal. There were so many red and yellow flashing lights I thought something was genuinely happening there, but sadly, no. Just the signs of canal workers getting on with their daily decision of whether to let thousands of skaters slice up the ice. 

Shifting weight

I always look forward to running on the frozen canal on sunny days in the middle of the winter. Staying on the shoulder usually keeps me out of harm's way (that is, out of the way of weak or fast skaters), and the smooth surface is more forgiving than asphalt if I slip and fall.

Running in January darkness on the bike path puts a different spin on the icy run adventure. The milder temperature loosened up the snow that wasn't scooped into trucks and carted off to Navan or wherever, and eventually the snow relaxed so much it regressed into puddles. Then it changed its collective state of mind and froze solid just to "feel different," I think. I don't mind running on ice when my shoe treads can find a bit of traction, but when I step onto a surface for the first time I can never be sure how it will greet me. Today the ice was frozen solid and not slippery, mostly. It had frozen and thawed a few times, a cycle which usually doesn't create silky-smooth canal-grade ice, but it wasn't slippery or slushy, and it was smooth enough to reflect the lamp light well so I could see where to place my foot for the next step. I had to shift my weight as I ran from ice to asphalt and back to ice, over and over, but this exercise made me anticipate, which is a great frame of mind for doing anything. It means you're in a groove. So I was grooving with my running partner, who just happened to be a mutable surface beneath me, and it was cool.

Only one section of the icy path had to be avoided, a long stretch of perhaps 20 metres. I approached from one end and started to run, but I heard warning creaks that seemed to come from the very core of the puddle and reminded me of the bruised hull of the Titanic about to give way. Beside the puddle I saw a raised shoulder of snow that had been padded down by previous feet, so I hopped up and ran there. Plenty of runners out this morning. My legs felt strong and my stride full. I had no troubles at all.