Who wears short shorts...

I know I swore I would never do it, but I finally did. I went out and bought actual "running" shorts. You know the ones I mean. Absurdly short, occasionally rather tight, and generally all around unpleasant for the general population to see. It was a difficult decision for me, to purchase said shorts. Long ago I swore to myself I would never wear these monstrocities that show far too much leg. But earlier this week I caved. I wanted a pair of shorts to wear running, and they were the only ones I could get that wouldn't bunch up in the crotchular area. I looked at all the other shorts I could find, and the only ones longer were the exremely tight spandex kind. And let's be honest, spandex is even worse than really short shorts, since it leaves nothing to the imagination. So I purchased the runners shorts. And surprisingly, they don't bunch up. Well, actually, they have nowhere to bunch to. Nor do they have enough material to bunch. There's almost no material that actually goes down the inner thigh. These shorts would likely be banned in many middle-eastern countries.

So there they are, my flabby inner thighs, jiggling about for all the world to see. Many would say, "Sara, you have nothing to worry about, your legs are fine". I'm sure there are even those who would gladly trade their legs for mine. But this will not quell the huge feeling of self-consciousness I get when I step out of the house and the cool air hits that part of my leg which has never before seen the light of the sun. Even though I have been wearing them for nearly a week, I'm still getting used to the feeling of walking out of the house wearing little more than some hot pants on my lower half.

And despite the freezing temperatures, I wore them this weekend for the Merville 15 km race. A side note here that I ran the 15 km in an hour and 24 minutes, significantly faster than I thought I could. Toot toot to me. But back to the shorts. It was proably not the best idea to wear them on a day when we almost had to scrape the frost off the car when we started it. But stubborn me, I wore them anyway. It was sunny that morning. I thought it would warm up. And by the end of the race my thighs were so cold I couldn't feel them. But the shorts weren't bothering me, other than the fact that they had no insulatory properties whatsoever.

So in conclusion, Jana, you can laugh at me all you want. And you can all make fun of me if you so wish. But me and my jiggling thighs are here to stay, 'cause the shorts are comfortable. And when you have to run 42 km, fashion and self-consciousness take a backseat to comfort. So there.

Comox 1/2 marathon!

This is me crossing the finish line at the Comox Valley 1/2 marathon. It took me just over 2 hours to run 21 km. A lot of people did it faster, but I'll bet they have a little trouble walking tomorrow, and I won't. I enjoyed the race, despite the fact that it was really, really long. Now multiply that by 2 and you'll have the Vancouver marathon. I have 1 1/2 months left to prepare. It's not going to be pretty.

As you can almost tell by the picture, I carried my own Powerade for the run. They had Gatorade and water stations, but they apparently get the volunteers to mix it from powder, and well, I really didn't want to take the chance of getting a bad cup. They were also handing out the gel packs about 1/3 of the way along. For those of you that haven't experienced the gel packs before, let me describe them to you. It's a foil-type packet that averages about 130 mL, and is supposedly filled with magical energy-giving goop, electrolytes, and other good things your body would need on an extended run. They like to flavor these gels with everything from mocha to bananas and peaches. The other marathon runner in my clinic swears by them, but they frighten me a little. First, that particular texture is not really something I think was ever supposed to come in contact with the human mouth. Second, they're wicked sweet, since they're filled with sugar. And third, they really don't agree with my stomach. Last weekend I decided to try one on my long run. I was supposed to be going about 20 km. About 1/2 way through I decided to try this gel pack I'd brought along with me. Banana Peach flavored. There was my first problem. Since a very young age I have had a problem with bananas. My mom can explain why. I was fine for the next few km, until my stomach started to cramp. But I managed to get through it and keep going. Then, about 2 km from home and 18 km into my run, my stomach started cramping so bad I had to stop running and walk. So bad I thought I might pass out right on the side of the road. But I kept it together and made it home with a pained look on my face. I got home and spent about 15 min sitting on the porcelain throne, then 20 sitting on the bottom of the bathtub, trying not to hurl. I called in sick to work, where I was supposed to be in an hour. Then I spent a good hour and a half curled in the fetal position lying on the bathroom floor. My stomach didn't feel right until three days later. I don't know if I just ran too hard that day, didn't have enough fuel, or it was the gel. But now just the sight of the gel makes my toes curl. So as I ran along the route it was all I could do to keep from tossing up the Powerade in my stomach when I saw all the gel wrappers lying on the ground.

It's interesting how on extended runs the little things start to get to you. Like the number bib you're wearing crinkling. Or the underwear lines you see through the spandex of the girl in front of you. Or all the bobbing ponytails. The bib thing was fine, I just turned up my music. And the shiny pants with the underwear lines, all I had to do was pass her and I didn't have to stare at them any longer. But the bobbing ponytails. I followed this one girl with really long hair for about 3 km, and I swear if I 'd had a pair of scissors I'd have chopped it off right then and there. It was so heavy it was wrenching her head around every time it swung. All she needed to do was double it back and she'd have been fine. But no. Bob, bob, bob. Finally I just had to pass her to save my self from going insane. But then there was a shorter ponytail to contend with. There was no escaping the bobbing ponytails. So I just kept running, knowing at least my hair wasn't annoying others, and that it would be all over in a few more kilometers.

In the end I managed to finish the race with my sanity intact. Barely. Now on to Vancouver. And over 4 hours of bobbing ponytails. Yay.

Travelling Woes

So, as most of you know, recently I flew home for week and a half to see my family, friends, and get in some quality time with the Alberta snow and cold to remind myself why I moved to the coast in the first place. The plan was to fly in to Calgary and have my friend April pick me up at the airport. From there we'd head to Banff for 3 fabulous days of skiing (or snowboarding, in my case), and I'd catch a ride home with my family, who were also livin' it up in Banff that weekend. Then I'd spend a few days shopping for stuff I can't get here in town. Then the next weekend I'd head down to Nordegg for the Tri-ice to wield a few ice axes and practice my Godzilla/Crampon walk for the weekend. Then back to Edmonton for a Monday flight back home in the evening. Sounds fantastic, right? Well here's what happened.

The night before I was scheduled to leave, I was working an evening shift. Not so bad, since I should've been off at 11 pm, plenty of time to get home and sleep, and be at the airport at 6 am the next morning. Well, it was probably one of the worst nites I've ever worked. Three super-stat crossmatches, and it was really busy in ER. One guy had blown his hand completely off on a mining accident, and he was bleeding like a sieve. So they kept calling for more units on him. And it was busy everywhere else in the lab, too. And then they brought us a CSF. Yeah. So I stayed until 12:30, at which point I told Dave I really had to leave, since I had a 7 am flight the next day. Thankfully he understood and said he'd be fine. Dave's good that way.

So the next morning I get to the airport, and everything started off well. They didn't charge me extra for my snowboard bag (which I thought they would), and I didn't get any patting from the anal Campbell River Airport screening people. The flight to Vancouver was fine, and I got something to eat and a coffee in the Van airport. I'm sitting at the gate for my 10:30 flight, and at 10:35, they announce we'll be delayed about 15 min, because they have to change a tire on the plane. OK, so they change the tire and load us all on the plane about 45 min late (15 min delay my butt). After sitting at the gate in our seats for 30 min, the pilot comes on to say we'll be further delayed, they just need to fix some hydraulics in one of the engines, but only another 10 min delay. After another 30 min he comes back on and says the plane is unserviceable and the flight is now cancelled. But they'll put us all on the next flight to Calgary leaving from another gate at 1:30 pm. We all get off the plane and go get our tickets changed for the new flight. I did manage to get a hold of April so thankfully she wasn't sitting at the airport for me for the four hours that I was late. That particular flight took off another 20 min late. But finally I made it to Calgary, and finally Banff, where the snow was fantastic and I had way too much fun.

The ride home was fine, as was the rest of the week. To get to Nordegg, it turns out I had to take my sister's Cavalier, since no one else was willing to lend me theirs. I tried to get Beau to lend me the WRX, but for some reason he just kept saying no. Something about impressing the ladies. Anyways, Jana's car had been sitting unused since early October, so it was buried in about 2 1/2 feet of snow and ice. And everyone was pretty sure we'd have to jump it to get it started. But lo and behold, "Betsy" actually fired right up on the first try. Not bad, I thought, maybe it'll be all right after all. So I dug it out of the snowbank it was sitting in and drove it around for a couple days just to make sure it was OK. I got my Vanilla Latte on Friday afternoon, and away I went, planning on getting to Nordegg around 8 pm. I stopped for a burger in Drayton Valley and continued on my way. Halfway between Rocky Mountain House and my burger stop, the car really started pulling to the right. So I pulled over to see what the problem was. It was nearly dark and I couldn't see a thing, but thankfully my Mom's paranoia paid off and there was a flashlight in the emergency kit she'd bought for Jana to keep in her trunk. Sure enough, flat tire. 50 km from nowhere in the dark on a semi-deserted road. Super. So I rip apart Jana's trunk and start changing the tire. Apparently her hubcaps are held on with the nuts for the actual tire. I learned this after some cursing of the silly thing for not coming off. It's now pitch black and about 30 cars have passed me, without even slowing down, and not a soul stopping to ask me if I needed help. Chivalry is dead, my friends. But luckily, my mom didn't raise no fool, and I am capable of changing a tire. I get the ridiculous donut on the car and away I go again, after my delightful 1 hour delay, and whacking my head on Jana's fender at least once. Now I have less time to get to Nordegg to register for the icefest, and I can't go over 90 km/h because of the donut. I did make it in time, just barely, but I made it. Thank you, Mom, for your paranoia, 'cause without that flashlight I'd probably still be sitting there fumbling with that silly hubcap.

Oh, and to top off the night, when I got to the Goldeye Centre in Nordegg, I looked down at my hand and there was blood everywhere. I had apparently scraped my hand on the pavement and not noticed, and had been bleeding ever since. Somewhere along highway 22 there is a tiny chunk of my skin. The icefest was wicked, and on my way back through Rocky I stopped at the Canadian Tire to get a new tire for the car. Apparently a Sunday is a bad time to get a flat in Rocky Mountain House. The only place I could get a new tire was the Kal-Tire, and only after I called the guy they had on call and woke him up from a dead sleep to come change my tire at 2 in the afternoon. They charge and extra $125 to have the guy come in if he's on call. End result is I got the tire and made it back to Spruce Grove alive.

So Monday comes and I'm all packed for my 4 pm flight back home, when Westjet calls at 11:30 am to tell me my flight's been cancelled, and the next flight they can get me on is at 8 am the next morning. Why? Because apparently there was bad weather in the east and my plane was going to be too late for me to catch my connector in Calgary so I could get to Comox. I call Air Canada, but to get home that day would've cost me $600. So I call my mom to tell her she's stuck with me for another nite, my Dad to see if he's willing to get to work early the next morning to drop me off, Slacker to tell her there's no hurry to get me since I no longer need to get to the airport 'cause she was going to be giving me a ride, and Glen, who was supposed to be picking me up at the airport. Glen had to take time off work to get me in Comox, since I would be landing at noon. My flights the next day were uneventful, though I'm really starting to hate those 2 hour connector waits in the Calgary airport.

Overall, the trip was totally worth it, and I'd do it again, even with all the problems I had. But it just goes to show you what can go wrong when you plan a trip involving any kind of travel. Though it does make for a pretty good story.