View.
Intervals.
You know. The four letter part of running.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone.
Location:Montreal
Training Upstream
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Back to Basics
Hill work.
View.
Intervals.
You know. The four letter part of running.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone.
View.
Intervals.
You know. The four letter part of running.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Running for Life
I haven't NOT posted in this long since I started blogging several years ago. And yes. That was a double negative. And no. I won't apologize. For better or worse.
I haven't posted mainly because Paul, my husband, life partner, best friend, soul mate, whatever you want to call him, had a heart attack at age 47. Two weeks later, he had triple bypass surgery. One week after this, he's at home, recovering like the maniacal runner he is. Running is saving and has saved his life. We're convinced.
Let's put it to you this way.
If you're reading this, you might know that I have a kind of love hate relationship with training. I started this particular blog because I wanted to focus the writing and training on a triathlon I'd signed up for last January. Well, it turned out that the race itself (last June) was a bit of a bust: the bike rental got screwed up and I couldn't do the bike part. I was devastated in the moment, but got over it pretty quickly. I was on holidays. I was in Bali and I was with Paul. Not all bad, of course.
Ten days after I returned from this vacation, Paul wasn't feeling well. In fact, he was feeling so poorly, we cancelled doing the 20k Jazz Tune Up race here in Toronto. This is bad news as we've both run races in less than winning conditions, finishing last in at least one of the races we did together. BUT, being the unqualified nonphysicians we are, we figured that he had some sort of infection, maybe even pleurisy, but only in a worst case scenario. Walking pneumonia...something like that...whatever that is. A few days later, Paul went to the doctor, who prescribed him some antacids and offhandedly gave him a proper referral to another doctor, saying "You might want to get a stress test or something."
Paul acted on the referral. Jesus.
Turns out that he'd had a heart attack within the previous 7-10 days and didn't know it. He was sent straight from that appointment late one Friday afternoon to the Emergency Room at Toronto Eastern Hospital. He was then moved to St. Michael's Hospital. Within two weeks, he would have the bypass procedure, not totally uncommon for someone his age, but pretty surprising to everyone we encountered. First question to him: Do you smoke cigarettes. We saw all kinds of people in the ER and later in the ward and post op who struggle with this addiction. As a former smoker, I understand their predicament. Thankfully, Paul has never smoked. He inherited his heart disease. For the record, the care was excellent and had we been in the U.S. we figure we'd owe about $200,000 for the hospitalization, emergency care, incidentals and oh yeah, the surgery itself. We'd probably have to declare bankruptcy because we don't actually own anything worth even a fraction of this that we could sell to pay a medical bill like that.
Anyway. This is a person who ran his first full marathon on a stress fracture and collapsed about 50 feet from the finish line. Didn't know the pain in his leg was being caused by this. Didn't know that what he thought was sweat was actually the marrow seeping out of his bone subcutaneously. I've heard the story a thousand times, and mercifully, fortunately and miraculously I will get to hear it a thousand more times, mixed in with the "I had a heart attack and didn't know it" story too.
I haven't posted mainly because Paul, my husband, life partner, best friend, soul mate, whatever you want to call him, had a heart attack at age 47. Two weeks later, he had triple bypass surgery. One week after this, he's at home, recovering like the maniacal runner he is. Running is saving and has saved his life. We're convinced.
Let's put it to you this way.
If you're reading this, you might know that I have a kind of love hate relationship with training. I started this particular blog because I wanted to focus the writing and training on a triathlon I'd signed up for last January. Well, it turned out that the race itself (last June) was a bit of a bust: the bike rental got screwed up and I couldn't do the bike part. I was devastated in the moment, but got over it pretty quickly. I was on holidays. I was in Bali and I was with Paul. Not all bad, of course.
Ten days after I returned from this vacation, Paul wasn't feeling well. In fact, he was feeling so poorly, we cancelled doing the 20k Jazz Tune Up race here in Toronto. This is bad news as we've both run races in less than winning conditions, finishing last in at least one of the races we did together. BUT, being the unqualified nonphysicians we are, we figured that he had some sort of infection, maybe even pleurisy, but only in a worst case scenario. Walking pneumonia...something like that...whatever that is. A few days later, Paul went to the doctor, who prescribed him some antacids and offhandedly gave him a proper referral to another doctor, saying "You might want to get a stress test or something."
Paul acted on the referral. Jesus.
Turns out that he'd had a heart attack within the previous 7-10 days and didn't know it. He was sent straight from that appointment late one Friday afternoon to the Emergency Room at Toronto Eastern Hospital. He was then moved to St. Michael's Hospital. Within two weeks, he would have the bypass procedure, not totally uncommon for someone his age, but pretty surprising to everyone we encountered. First question to him: Do you smoke cigarettes. We saw all kinds of people in the ER and later in the ward and post op who struggle with this addiction. As a former smoker, I understand their predicament. Thankfully, Paul has never smoked. He inherited his heart disease. For the record, the care was excellent and had we been in the U.S. we figure we'd owe about $200,000 for the hospitalization, emergency care, incidentals and oh yeah, the surgery itself. We'd probably have to declare bankruptcy because we don't actually own anything worth even a fraction of this that we could sell to pay a medical bill like that.
Anyway. This is a person who ran his first full marathon on a stress fracture and collapsed about 50 feet from the finish line. Didn't know the pain in his leg was being caused by this. Didn't know that what he thought was sweat was actually the marrow seeping out of his bone subcutaneously. I've heard the story a thousand times, and mercifully, fortunately and miraculously I will get to hear it a thousand more times, mixed in with the "I had a heart attack and didn't know it" story too.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Life is a Beach
I have just had the most amazing carrot ginger drink. I feel like a 1,000,000,000 rupiah, which is not that much truthfully, but still a significant amount by Indonesian standards, of course. Now I will have Gado-Gado, my second favorite Indonesian dish comprised of peanut sauce and some form of vegetable: I have not had two the same.
My first favorite is nasi campur, basically rice and a variety of side dishes, some spicy, not always identifiable.
The congestion of tourists, traffic and gamelan music has been the most consistent soundtrack to the month I have just spent here, in a stupor of various stages of adjustment. I leave in a few hours and in fact the traffic has been almost as oppressive as the various financial fiascos that have accompanied me in the journey. My small world here has been shockingly literal from the traffic to the monkeys to the bouts of illness...which started on the long haul flight between Vancouver and Taipei. I might have already blogged about how the very nice flight attendant brought me a massive plastic shopping bag when I discreetly informed her that I thought I was going to be sick. You should have seen the passengers around me.
This weird trend continued my first night in Bali, which I spent in Ubud. The aesthetically pleasing home stay was a lot less so when I realized my room faced the noise of the very busy Hanoman street.
That noise-filled first night of jet lag and fatigue met with a strong adversary in Paypal which suspended my account because, well I am not really sure why. I have sent PP three emails and have received three form letters in response. I even messaged PP because I thought that the company site had been hacked.
There are bits of beauty everywhere here, even if and despite the irritating constant drone of horn honking and engines. I never tire of this, for example:
I move forward to train some more, replace my lost i.d. and credit cards and even reset some goals. I have a 20k race in Toronto in about a week and a half marathon in Montreal in September. The triathlon was a bit of a bust and that swim saltwatered the life out of me (never again, I say now), but try I did; screw you bike rental.
My first favorite is nasi campur, basically rice and a variety of side dishes, some spicy, not always identifiable.
The congestion of tourists, traffic and gamelan music has been the most consistent soundtrack to the month I have just spent here, in a stupor of various stages of adjustment. I leave in a few hours and in fact the traffic has been almost as oppressive as the various financial fiascos that have accompanied me in the journey. My small world here has been shockingly literal from the traffic to the monkeys to the bouts of illness...which started on the long haul flight between Vancouver and Taipei. I might have already blogged about how the very nice flight attendant brought me a massive plastic shopping bag when I discreetly informed her that I thought I was going to be sick. You should have seen the passengers around me.
This weird trend continued my first night in Bali, which I spent in Ubud. The aesthetically pleasing home stay was a lot less so when I realized my room faced the noise of the very busy Hanoman street.
That noise-filled first night of jet lag and fatigue met with a strong adversary in Paypal which suspended my account because, well I am not really sure why. I have sent PP three emails and have received three form letters in response. I even messaged PP because I thought that the company site had been hacked.
There are bits of beauty everywhere here, even if and despite the irritating constant drone of horn honking and engines. I never tire of this, for example:
I move forward to train some more, replace my lost i.d. and credit cards and even reset some goals. I have a 20k race in Toronto in about a week and a half marathon in Montreal in September. The triathlon was a bit of a bust and that swim saltwatered the life out of me (never again, I say now), but try I did; screw you bike rental.
Location:Kuta Bali Indonesia
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Moving Forward
I didn't walk away.
Not completely, though I had to talk through every possibility with Paul so that I could feel good about whatever I ended up choosing. Stupid bike.
I did not complete a triathlon, but chose the one event that haunted me the most in the six months of training: the 500 m open water swim in Jimbaran Bay.
I will never do it again, so this helped me deal with the incredible disappointment of the bike debacle here. The poor woman at this end who was in charge of the rentals seemed more devastated than I was. The bike was even too big for Paul, and so were two others proposed to us at 5:30 this morning.
So, I swam. And, man, that is totally hard. I stopped twice en route and couldn't see where I was going. I did the back stroke, front crawl, float and dog paddle. I love the dog paddle. It saved my ass today. Another plus was the bathing suit I agonized over and purchased last January. The one piece wrestler suit was not out of place here at all. Swimming is not for weaklings, not that I ever thought that, but wow. All the stuff I learned about breathing and form and all of that evaporated the nanosecond my toes touched water.
I finished second to last of the yellow-capped sprint tri crew in less than 30 minutes, my fastest time ever for that distance! Oh the irony.
The person who finished first in the 1500 m event was done in just under 22 minutes, a result which in itself knocked the breath out of me.
Now, I will enjoy the rest of our Bali and Lombok vacation with Paul. We leave for the Gili Islands and Paul's scuba diving expedition tomorrow.
- Posted using BlogPress on the i-touch.
Location:Jimbaran
Size Matters
I could write this in the form of a letter, but I would not know how. Really.
It is 3:05 a.m. and the race starts at 7:30 a.m. The transition area opens at 5:00.
Paul, my husband arrived yesterday. I get better and longer holidays than he does, and so I opted to travel here a little before the race event. All was clockwork beautiful. In fact, right now, Paul has melatonined himself into an unconscious, though evidently blissful state. I sit here anxious and sleepless. All was going according to plan. I know, the word itself is an invitation to the universe to muck things up.
...which it did.
The organizers of the bike rental thought they were doing me a favour when they offered to deliver the bike and helmet to my hotel. Wrong. Unfortunately, the delivery people didn't arrive when they said they would and so I wasn't here to receive the stuff. I was at the race site picking up all the things you need for a triathlon, such as bibs and safety pins, entry bracelets, bathing caps and coupons. I would have known immediately that there was trouble had I been here when the cursed equipment arrived. Also, I missed the bike blessing ceremony on Friday which might have given my performance an advantage of some kind.
Simply, the bike is good for someone about a foot taller than I am, someone over six feet in height. Me, I'm not a tall person and I am very particular about bikes, particular in that I actually need to be able to touch the ground with my feet. You know that feeling you had as a kid when your mom or dad or older sibling sat you on their huge, giant grown up bike? Maybe you've done this with your own child. That is what this bike is like when I try to use it. I actually need to be physically supported. Plus, it doesn't have proper pedals or traps or anything that a regular running shoe might rest on to set the thing in motion. Aesthetically, it works, but then everything in Bali is pleasing in this way. More or less. Man, I have a headache.
So, there are a few options:
Swim, and not do the cycle part and then run.
See if Paul can do the bike portion.
Switch bikes because lowering the seat is a joke in this.
Walk away from the whole thing.
Votes?
Expletive to the 100th exponent.
- Posted using BlogPress from the iPad that has come into my possession.
It is 3:05 a.m. and the race starts at 7:30 a.m. The transition area opens at 5:00.
Paul, my husband arrived yesterday. I get better and longer holidays than he does, and so I opted to travel here a little before the race event. All was clockwork beautiful. In fact, right now, Paul has melatonined himself into an unconscious, though evidently blissful state. I sit here anxious and sleepless. All was going according to plan. I know, the word itself is an invitation to the universe to muck things up.
...which it did.
The organizers of the bike rental thought they were doing me a favour when they offered to deliver the bike and helmet to my hotel. Wrong. Unfortunately, the delivery people didn't arrive when they said they would and so I wasn't here to receive the stuff. I was at the race site picking up all the things you need for a triathlon, such as bibs and safety pins, entry bracelets, bathing caps and coupons. I would have known immediately that there was trouble had I been here when the cursed equipment arrived. Also, I missed the bike blessing ceremony on Friday which might have given my performance an advantage of some kind.
Simply, the bike is good for someone about a foot taller than I am, someone over six feet in height. Me, I'm not a tall person and I am very particular about bikes, particular in that I actually need to be able to touch the ground with my feet. You know that feeling you had as a kid when your mom or dad or older sibling sat you on their huge, giant grown up bike? Maybe you've done this with your own child. That is what this bike is like when I try to use it. I actually need to be physically supported. Plus, it doesn't have proper pedals or traps or anything that a regular running shoe might rest on to set the thing in motion. Aesthetically, it works, but then everything in Bali is pleasing in this way. More or less. Man, I have a headache.
So, there are a few options:
Swim, and not do the cycle part and then run.
See if Paul can do the bike portion.
Switch bikes because lowering the seat is a joke in this.
Walk away from the whole thing.
Votes?
Expletive to the 100th exponent.
- Posted using BlogPress from the iPad that has come into my possession.
Location:Jalan Sanggar Agung,Kuta,Indonesia
Friday, June 22, 2012
Personify This
Dear Credit, Debit and Health Cards,
Look, I am really sorry that I didn't take care of you well enough not to lose you. If it's any consolation, I am really suffering the consequences. There are a few when this happens many thousands of miles from home. Also, believe me when I say that I am really mad at myself now. I feel guilty and drunk with the self loathing that you know I have felt before and that I will probably have again. I really didn't mean to let you out of my sight. And, now, I am paying for it. Please don't enjoy that too much.
We had such good times together, especially you, Health Card. You were practically brand new. Why just last month I had to present you to the nice man at the Hotel Dieu hospital in Montreal for blood tests. Who could forget the crazy antics when we had to return the following week for the poop test? I know. I won't remind you. It is nice knowing that we have some secrets, though. We will have more, I am sure, though hopefully not soon.
And you, Credit card. It is just as well that we part ways, though that latest pay pal stunt is still making both of us a little sick, isn't it? Rememer the time that you got hacked on Skype? Good times. Do not worry about a thing. When I get home, pay pal and everyone else will hear about our breakup. I promise that your short life will not have been in vain. I could never fit my signature properly on your back anyway, so it's all for the best. Yes. I will let all of your friends know that our relationship status has changed. Yes, even iTunes.
I feel actual remorse for you Interac bank card. We have been through a lot, too much. I gave up bank books for you way back when, and you have been nothing but helpful. I have been a terrible girlfriend too, haven't I? I thought you wanted to be used. Please forgive me. I even rearranged my bill payments for you. Oh well. We will have good times again. Remember all those machines? That can't be good for you. Take a break.
No. You are not easy to replace, but I have to do it.
It's me not you.
Yes. I will always remember you, of course.
... A little less to carry for tomorrow's event, I know. I know. Jayzus.
- Posted using BlogPress from the iPad that has come into my possession.
Look, I am really sorry that I didn't take care of you well enough not to lose you. If it's any consolation, I am really suffering the consequences. There are a few when this happens many thousands of miles from home. Also, believe me when I say that I am really mad at myself now. I feel guilty and drunk with the self loathing that you know I have felt before and that I will probably have again. I really didn't mean to let you out of my sight. And, now, I am paying for it. Please don't enjoy that too much.
We had such good times together, especially you, Health Card. You were practically brand new. Why just last month I had to present you to the nice man at the Hotel Dieu hospital in Montreal for blood tests. Who could forget the crazy antics when we had to return the following week for the poop test? I know. I won't remind you. It is nice knowing that we have some secrets, though. We will have more, I am sure, though hopefully not soon.
And you, Credit card. It is just as well that we part ways, though that latest pay pal stunt is still making both of us a little sick, isn't it? Rememer the time that you got hacked on Skype? Good times. Do not worry about a thing. When I get home, pay pal and everyone else will hear about our breakup. I promise that your short life will not have been in vain. I could never fit my signature properly on your back anyway, so it's all for the best. Yes. I will let all of your friends know that our relationship status has changed. Yes, even iTunes.
I feel actual remorse for you Interac bank card. We have been through a lot, too much. I gave up bank books for you way back when, and you have been nothing but helpful. I have been a terrible girlfriend too, haven't I? I thought you wanted to be used. Please forgive me. I even rearranged my bill payments for you. Oh well. We will have good times again. Remember all those machines? That can't be good for you. Take a break.
No. You are not easy to replace, but I have to do it.
It's me not you.
Yes. I will always remember you, of course.
... A little less to carry for tomorrow's event, I know. I know. Jayzus.
- Posted using BlogPress from the iPad that has come into my possession.
Location:Jimbaran, Bali
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