Why do I still subject myself to this insanity?

Well, that sucked. That's how I would describe my finishing time at the North Olympic Discovery Marathon. Official chip time was 4:44:56, which is my slowest time to date in a marathon. But I still finished. And I will always maintain that crossing the finish line, no matter what your finishing time is, is truly an accomplishment. I just ran a marathon! I should be proud of myself. And I am. But I can't help feeling a little disappointed with my slow finishing time. In my defense, however, there were quite a few contributing factors that caused that particular slow time.
I'll also take a second to point out just how far a marathon is, to put things in perspective for those of you that haven't been privy to my previous blogs. A marathon is 26.2 miles, or 42.2 kilometres. That's really, really far. If you were to get into your car and drive 100 km/h, it would take you a little under 1/2 hour to go that far. It's far. And it feels even farther when you're standing at the starting line realizing that you're gonna be running for a minimum of 4 hours.

My training and the whole lead-up to the race didn't go as well as normal. I had several bad long runs in the last couple months where I just couldn't maintain a decent pace to save my life, and when I got home after them I was so wiped I couldn't do much but lay on the couch and watch TV for the rest of the day. I have no idea what could have caused them, and I'm still at a loss to explain exactly why they turned out so badly. But my confidence definitely took a hit with those bad runs, and I don't think it really helped my endurance tolerance either. I also normally run the full marathon in May, but the NOD Marathon was the first week in June, so I was running a month later than I'm used to. The training thus lasted a month longer than normal, and it felt a bit long to me. I think the same race done a month earlier might have gone a little better for me 'cause the training would've been shorter and quicker.

A couple days before the race I managed to tweak my right foot playing ultimate frisbee. I was really nervous that it was going to start hurting so bad that I would have to stop, but fortunately it didn't. I did my best not to aggravate it, and it held out and didn't really bother me much at all. That was one of the few things that went right for the race.

Normally, during the race I drink water and eLoad (basically a powdered energy/electrolyte drink), and that's enough for me, and works quite well. Today not so much. eLoad has always been my old standby. It's always worked. It tastes like crap when you're not actually running, but when you are running, it hydrates and provides energy and electrolytes enough to get me through a race. It's sweet but no so sweet that it leaves that sticky gatorade feeling in your mouth. Today my stomach decided that it didn't like eLoad, and started churning with the first sip. And it didn't get any better as the race went on. I just kept feeling more and more nauseous. So there I was, running a marathon, trying to stop myself from throwing up, but at the same time trying to choke down the eLoad enough that I have the energy to finish the race. Yuck. I ended up switching solely to water at one point, just to make the nausea stop.

The course itself was another of the reasons I had such a terrible finishing time. For the most part it was beautifully, mercifully flat and very enjoyable. It followed the North Olympic Discovery Trail, which is an amazingly long, paved trail that goes through fields, over streams, and is for the most part isolated from actual roads. It's lovely, really, because there's no traffic noise, and it's surrounded by trees so it's very peaceful. Well, peaceful when you're not trying to cover 42.2 km on foot in as little time as possible. There were, however, several ravines it went through where it dipped down a steep hill into the ravine and then climbed a steep hill on the other side. Even the race officials recommended walking the steep sections (the picture below is of me walking up one of the steep parts). So that's a spot where your time takes a hit. There was also a section where the trail went over some rolling, short hills. Unfortunately they were nearer to the end of the race, where any hill really spells sudden doom for your finishing time. Hills. Hills will always be my undoing. Someday I must accept this. But not just yet, my friends.

The one problem with carrying my own hydration is that I have to have someone along the course to switch bottles with, as my fuel belt can't hold enough for the entire race. This race was a little tricky 'cause it was linear, and we had to figure out where were good places for Glen to be (and how he was gonna get there) in order to swap bottles with me. Luckily the race course was conducive to that, and he managed to get around pretty well in the car, after we did some quick reconnaissance the day before.

So now some of the little tidbits I can remember.

The hotel. We stayed at the host hotel, mostly just for convenience sake, as it wasn't exactly the cheapest place in town to stay. It ended up being a good choice, as it was literally almost on top of the finish line. We could see it from our balcony. And it was right downtown, so no need to walk too far to get to any restaurants. Port Angeles is actually a pretty nice little town.

Race expo. The race expo is always a bit of a treat for me, in that it usually has some type of free samples, and I get to be surrounded by "my people" (read:runners) for a little while. This race expo was teeny, it only really had 4 or 5 tables. But one of them was a company called "One More Mile", which makes running gear with funny sayings on it. I had to buy some stuff, obviously, and I gotta say it was pretty hard to hold myself back. Should I get a t-shirt? Or maybe 2 hats? Would it be wrong to put more than 2 running-related bumper stickers on my car? Luckily sanity won out in the end and I didn't buy much.

The volunteers. I love the volunteers at any race. The race really can't exist without them, and myself and all the other runners out there are more than grateful for their time and effort. This was a small race, but extremely well organized. There may not have been as many volunteers at the NODM, but they made up for it in enthusiasm. It was awesome and I give major props to the organizers this race.

The water stations. There was a contest for the best water station, as voted on by the runners. I don't know what the prize was, but some of them were quite impressive. I didn't actually manage to vote, as I was too preoccupied with trying to remain vertical once I crossed the finish line. My favorite was the Roman station, they had inspirational music, we got to run through columns, and the kids had togas on. Who doesn't love a toga? There was another one that was straight out of the 70's (tight polyester pants and all), one with pink flamingos, and one based on Finding Nemo. The Finding Nemo one even had people standing out front blowing bubbles. And yes, I did turn into a 5-year-old for about 5 seconds when I ran through the bubbles.

The old guy. There was this old guy that caught up to me near the end. And when I say the end, I mean, like, kilometre 33. He was wearing a grey sweater, and was running up the hills still. I have no idea how, given that the hills were wickedly steep, but he was. I shook my fist angrily at him, but he kept right on going. I had almost caught up with him in the last 2 km, but somehow he got away from me. I always find it a little embarrassing when old guys pass me.

The Relayers. I have, and will always, hate the relay runners. They come out of their exchange stations all fresh and ready to go, and there I am, an inch from death after having already covered 30 km on my own. And I feel as though they pass me with their smiling faces, wondering why I look so exhausted. Evil, evil relay runners. Is it wrong to hope someone trips on their own shoelaces?

Size of the race. This was a small race. It was capped at 1500 people for both the half and the full. I think the full may have only had about 700 or so people in it. So it was tiny compared to what I'm used to. And I liked it. There were less people to dodge.

The Chafing. This section's for Kari, 'cause I know she loves reading about my chafing issues. I knew from the start line I was gonna have chafing issues. Why? The timing chip for the race came on a velcro ankle strap. Yes, fellow runners, you know where I'm going with this. Velcro isn't exactly cashmere. Now strap that around your ankle and run for 42 km. I'm pretty sure it's gonna scar. I also had some issues with my fuel belt. Not in the same spot as I had for the half marathon, but a good strip along my back. I'm pretty sure that's gonna scar, too. So I guess my modeling career is over. Oh well, I'll just add it to the long list of running wounds I already have.

So how salty does one get whilst running a marathon? Pretty salty. I think the picture below illustrates this quite well.

So that's it for today's adventure, I hope you enjoyed the ride. Next up, the West Coast Trail. Stay tuned!

Sure, you look good now, but I'm just gonna pass you later.

Well, hello again, kiddies! It's spring now, and suddenly we find ourselves at the beginning of another fabulous running season. Or rather, I find myself there. Today's adventure will bring you along on my little jaunt for the morning, the Vancouver Half Marathon. If you all remember, I have officially called an end to my running the full course of this particular race, as I've decided after three goes at it, I really hate the course. So the half marathon it was!

I should start by prefacing my stories with the fact that I ran this race in support of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, who raises funds for research to find a cure for blood cancers. The Society actually has what's known as the Team in Training, whereby they train people to run races in exchange for their help raising money. I did actually sign up for the Team, and I did raise a fair amount. However, in order to participate in this particular race, the minimum fund-raising amount was $2000(they set it up so a minimum of 75% of the funds raised go straight to research instead of paying for race entries and the like). Halfway to race day, they have what they call a recommitment date, where if you decide you want to continue, you give them your credit card number. Then, if you fail to raise the required amount, they charge what's remaining to your card. While I support what they do, I personally believe that amount for a local race was too much. The whole deal included 2 dinners at a price high enough I had to wonder what the food was going to be, private transfers to and from the race, and a hotel room for a night. After thinking about it, I figured I'd really rather the full amount that I raised go straight to research rather than renting me a hotel room I don't need (I'd actually rather spend a night in my own bed, thank you). So at the recommitment date I opted out of the program, but continued to ask for donations. I paid the race entry fee myself, slept at home the night before the race, and took the train to the race start. Thus, if you were one of the amazing generous people that chose to support me, I can tell you that 100% of your money will go towards funding research.

I might also mention that I have a little cousin that was recently diagnosed with leukemia, which is one of the reasons I chose to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma society. She'll be five years old soon and the little that I went through physically for this half marathon is nothing compared to what she's been going through with chemo and all the rest. Her name's Trinity.

All right, now that the housekeeping's done, on with all the goodies, 'cause I know you're all dying to hear how it went.
It went well. The day before this race, I was still unsure of whether I wanted to simply run this race for the fun of it, or I wanted to race it to see if I could post a good time. In the end I decided to go with a little of both. I didn't completely race the whole thing, but I didn't take my time or dilly dally either. Finishing chip time was 2:02:35, which isn't too bad, if you ask me. I think if I wanted to, I may have been able to post a personal best in this race, but given that I did that last year and then the marathon didn't go so well, I figured I should hold back a bit.

It's a nice course, too. There was a bit of a hill just after halfway when the road comes up to Prospect Point, but right after that there's a good 2 km's of downhill that are just, to put it simply, freakin' sweet. On Friday night I printed out a map of the course with the elevations on it so I could at least be a little familiar with where the more difficult sections might be, and I remember thinking, "it's so short!" And it was. As mentioned several times in previous blogs, the full marathon is my favorite distance, so today was a bit easy. I could've gone farther. Not that I'm trying to brag...okay, I totally am. I can run really, really far. A half marathon isn't hard for me. Considering that less than 10 years ago I was a couch potato and overweight, I'd say it's okay for me to brag a little bit. I ran 21.1 km and I easily could've gone farther. There, I'm done tooting my own horn.

So now, on with the tidbits!

The weather. It's always a factor in any race. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad. Today, it was bad. 5 minutes into the race I was more than happy that I wasn't running the full marathon. Why? Because it was pouring. And it when it wasn't pouring, it was sprinkling. The entire race. It sucked. Thankfully I didn't get too cold, but it's still unpleasant running in the rain. Though at some point you do just say to hell with it and start going straight through the puddles rather than dodging them. There's really no point in wasting the extra energy, 'cause your shoes are soaked already anyways.

The chafing. It's always going to be an issue, I've just accepted that and moved on. Scars and all. It doesn't help when it's raining, either. There was a little bit of chafing today, but not much. Just a little around where the new fuel belt sits. Hopefully I'll have that dealt with before the marathon in June.

The other people. Sometimes I have a nemesis on the course, sometimes not. You may remember the last marathon when it was the 2 lululemon girls. Well, near the end there was one tall skinny guy I had to make it my mission to pass. I couldn't let him beat me. It just wasn't going to happen. I wouldn't necessarily call him my nemesis, but he was close. I did pass a lot of lululemon girls, though. And one girl whose friends was holding her up and she looked like she was about to hurl. I kinda wanted to yell at her to just get it over with and feel better, but advice from random strangers is often ignored anyways.

Glen. Some of you are aware that Glen has been working up in Fort McMurray for the last month and a half. He comes home every couple weeks for a weekend, and he managed to be home this weekend, so I managed to drag him out of bed early this morning to be my support crew. He's not the best with the camera, but he'll do as far as a free photographer goes. This time we even managed to remember his cow bell, though he wasn't very enthusiastic when I went by. He claims it's hard to take a picture and ring a cow bell at the same time.
I'm gonna pass you later. At the beginning of a race everyone goes out fast. It's inevitable. I've done my best in the few races I've been in to take it easy in the beginning and not go out too fast. But it's pretty easy to tell who is going too fast. So I just let them go, knowing that at some point in the race I'll be passing them. I never say anything, but I always think, "sure, you're passing me now, but I'm just gonna pass you later. So enjoy it while you can, but pretty soon you'll be enjoying a lovely view of my backside."
So that was the Half Marathon. Stay tuned, for in but a mere month you shall be reading about the full marathon down in Port Angeles. And if you've finished reading this and are interested in making a donation to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, you can go to
http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?SID=2442831. The page will be available until the end of May.

Is this What They Call "Road Rash"?

Somewhere in Burnaby, BC, right now, there is a small stretch of asphalt which bears my skins cells. And possibly some blood. Why, you ask, does this particular section of trail contain my particular DNA? Well, frankly, as I was out running, I fell down. And not just any fall, but a spectacular dismount straight into the pavement.

Why did you fall down, Sara? Yes, I have logged countless hours running. And yes, I have run this small section of trail many times before without incident. What was different today? I have no idea. I tripped on a tree root. Or as my family and friends like to say it, "a dog looked at me funny". You see, this has happened before, and after that incident my lovely, caring family decided that I had fibbed when I said I tripped on a tree root. They rather decided that a dog looking at me funny and distracting me enough to make me plow my body fill-tilt into the ground was a more plausible explanation. Thus, to trip over a tree root is really to have a dog look at you funny, and cause you to fall. It really was a tree root, honestly. One of those ones that pushes itself up through the asphalt and causes a big bump. And in my defense, it was a pretty big bump.

I did manage to finish that day's speed intervals before this incident, though, so it wasn't a completely lost session (the 11th commandment-thou shalt not miss a workout during marathon training without a plausible excuse). In fact, it happened just as I was slowing down from the very last sprint. I must have been tired and not paying that close attention. Likely also because I was cold. It didn't look that cold outside, but I made a poor wardrobe decision before leaving the house. Damn you, Sun, for decieving me into believing it would be warm outside. I shan't trust you again.

And a spectacular fall it was. I could've gone viral on YouTube if someone had managed to catch it on camera. But there was no one around to see, so my pride remains intact, if not a little beaten and bruised (much like my body at the moment). I caught my right foot, which somehow sent my body caterwhaling forward, with a slight spin akin to a curling rock. I landed mainly on my knee, which due to aforementioned poor clothing choices was bare, and ended up with a pretty good scrape. I have a feeling my right knee may revolt at some point, as it seems every time I fall, it takes the brunt of the force. It wasn't just my knee that was damaged, though. My thigh, right elbow and the back of my shoulder decided to get in on the action too. I have no idea how I ended up scraping the posterior of my right shoulder, but I have a nice red patch and some oozing wounds to show for it. Essentially the entire right side of my body decided to break my fall.

Have you ever seen a 6 foot, 160 pound woman go headfirst into the ground with no control at all? It's not pretty. And it hurts like hell. The worst part isn't the falling, really. Or the pain. It's the fact that afterwards, bloody and sore, you still have to get home. And what's the fastest way to do that? You guessed it, buy running. So there I was, running back home, knee, thigh, shoulder, and elbow bloody and sore. And quickly swelling up into bright red masses that no longer resembled the body parts they actually are. Then I started to sweat. Oh yes, friends, salt in my wounds. Literally. It burns! It burns! Though not as much as the alcohol when I finally got home to clean it. I almost peed my pants it stung so much.

Well there you have it, the most exciting thing that's happened to me in a week. Sad? Perhaps. But hopefully at least slightly entertaining to you, my loyal fans. Hopefully I don't come across any more funny looking dogs in the near future.

The Siren Song of the Buffet.

Well, as many of you know, Glen and I made a little foray down to Las Vegas for a few days last week. I had been there twice before, but Glen hadn't been (well, at least at a time when he could remember). So away we went, for 5 days and 4 nights, staying at Excalibur.

We got in around noon, and were checked into the hotel by around 2, so our first order of business was to get a couple of yard-tall daquiris at one of the hotel bars. Mmmm...daquiris. Jana and Slacker can testify to the delight that is a Las Vegas daquiri. Then we took off down the strip in search of more adventure. We didn't really do much other than ogle all grandeur that is Las Vegas, and there is quite a lot of grandeur to ogle. They really don't do anything small down there. It's changed a bit since I was there last, but really it's only the addition of a few more buildings and casinos.

The next day we got up a bit early so we had breakfast at the Luxor's buffet. More about that later. Then we met went on the tour of the timeshare condos we had agreed to the day before. We really only went because they gave us free tickets to see the Tournament of Kings at Excalibur that night, but we also wanted to find out how timeshares worked. We were actually thinking about it for a while, until we realized that anywhere we wanted to go there probably wasn't a timeshare property in a very good location, and even if the initial purchase price eventually got paid off, it was still going to cost us a decent chunk of change in maintence fees every year anyways. Plus near the end they just started to get really pushy. Though my favorite part of the whole experience was right near the end we finally said no for the last time, and the woman asked us why. I basically said when we go on vacation we go backpacking and it pretty much costs us nothing. We don't take grand $5000 vacations every year. That shut her down pretty quick, though not without her somehow insinuating that because we liked backpacking that we didn't travel much. Yeah. Because seeing the Rocky Mountains or Vancouver Island from remote, unpopulated areas where only a handful of people have ever been means that we hate to travel. For the record, when I said backpacking, what I actually meant was backpacking-travelling, not backpacking-hiking, though we like to do both. And I can't imagine there are a lot of RCI-approved timeshares available in Kathmadu.

That night we went to the Tournament of Kings at Excalibur (with our free show tickets). After the show we took the Deuce (the bus that goes up and down the strip) to Fremont street to see the lights and check things out. We caught a tribute to Queen on the ceiling, which was appropriate given how much Glen seems to enjoy that particular band. We also picked up another large daquiri, though this one mostly to keep ourselves warm. It gets feckin cold in the desert at night! The next day we took a bus tour out to Hoover Dam, more on that later. The next morning we ate an absurdly large breakfast at the brunch buffet at the MGM Grand, then did a bit more wandering. Then it was Blue Man Group at the Venetian. The next morning we had another breakfast buffet at our hotel, then caught a shuttle back to the airport for the flight home.

So now that the summary's all over and done with, I'll elaborate on the points I think need elaborating on.
Hoover Dam. We took a 5 hour bus trip out to Hoover Dam from Las Vegas. I was a little surprised to find how close it actually is to the city-it's really only about a 45 minute drive. The dam itself wasn't really as impressive as I thought it would be. Yes, it's an impressively large structure. And yes, it's a huge amount of concrete. But for some reason it wasn't as awe-inspiring as I thought it would be. We saw a short video on the making of the dam, then took a very quick tour of a couple of other places in the dam, one of the places being the turbine room. The one thing that struck me, as well as Glen, was the sheer amount of propaganda that was being fed to us throughout our experience at the dam. Yes, it's an amazing feat of engineering that's brought power and water to many people. And they were apt to point out that the dam has made it possible for people to live in a harsh and normally inhospitable climate. They also pointed out that the dam would solve flooding problems downriver, essentially "taming" the mighty Colorado River. So basically, the Hoover Dam was built so people could live somewhere where they really shouldn't be living, and to prevent nature from messing up human habitations farther down the river. Thus the take-home message is that nature needs to be controlled so people can live wherever the hell they want. That's an awesome thing to be teaching our children. There's no need to respect nature when it can be conquered.

Cigarette smoke. I've complained before about the cigarette smoke in London, apparently the British didn't get the memo about the link between cigarettes and lung cancer. Well it appears that neither have most of the people in the United States. And to make matters worse, they have yet to pass a law that disallows smoking in casinos, bars and restaraunts. It's disgusting. Every night we came back to our room and had to shower before we went to bed so we didn't have to smell it all night long. I literally had to wash everything in my bag when we got back. Gross. After 5 days we were both dying for a few breaths of smoke-free air.
The Shows. The Tournament of Kings was excellent. It was a bit cheesy, but more like Havarti than cheap cheddar. It was a dinner show, and given that it's set in medieval era, they don't provide cutlery. The food was actually quite good, made better by the fact that you got to get your hands dirty to eat it. We sat in the cheering section for the king of Ireland, though he didn't actually win the tournament that night. It was a fun, they teach you how to toast and slap the table to cheer. The other show we saw was the Blue Man Group at the Venetian. It was fantastic. It's hard to describe what it's actually about, because the show itself didn't really have a theme or any kind of storyline. I can say that it was hilarious, clever, and very interesting. And pretty much everybody will get it. Before we went we thought the tickets were a bit pricey, but after that show I think both Glen and I agreed that it was well worth what we paid for it. Should you ever be in Vegas and have the chance, definitely go see the Blue Man Group. We actually met an excessively chatty old man on the bus one day that had seen them 15 times. He says they were excellent each and every time he went.

Daquiris. Booze are one of the main attractions in Las Vegas. I've been told if you sit at the slot machines for long enough, or one of the gambling tables, that they'll even bring you free drinks. One thing I discovered last time I was there was that you can buy a drink and carry it pretty much anywhere you want to. Into other casinos, stores, even right out in the open on the street. And there are plenty of places to buy your booze. Most of the casinos now have their own souvenier glasses that you can get with a variety of drinks in them. Glen and I came home with three different kinds of plastic cups, one of them shaped like the Eiffel Tower. The best drink we had though, hands down, was the Bama Breeze at Margaritaville. You couldn't even taste the liquor in it. It was just a delicious, fruity, coconuty delight. Mmm, my mouth waters just remembering it. Oh, and Flippy, the rumrunner-poring bartender from my last trip is still there! And he still sticks his tips to his bald head. Swing by the round bar between Harrah's and Imperial Palace next time you're there and see for yourself. Order a rumrunner. I dare ya.

Skin. Well, sex, really. It's so in-your-face there. I remember the guys on the corners flicking the pictures of prostitutes and dancing girls at you from the times I'd been previous, but I swear the thongs-in-your-face experience wasn't as bad before. Now you can't take more than 2 steps without being assaulted by the image of a half-naked woman with bulging behemoth boobs leering back at you from a billboard, signpost, or piece of trash lying on the sidewalk. I'm no puritan, but does it really have to be so in your face? I mean, people take their kids to Las Vegas. The Sirens of TI outside Treasure Island each night used to be about pirates and treasure. Now it's about scantily clad women enticing guys to come join them on their ship by signing and dancing suggestively. It used to be a family show, but there's no way I'd let my kids watch it now. And you can't get away from it, because it's everywhere. Even on Fremont street there was a stage with women dancing in their underwear. And there was reason or purpose for this show, it was just there. Along with a squadron of creepy, drooling old men.
The buffets. Oh yes, the all-important, ever present buffets. If you've never heard me profess my love for a good buffet, here it is: I unequivocally, unconditionally LOVE buffets. Ever have trouble deciding what you want off a menu? No problem if you're at a buffet! You can have a little of everything, if you like. And there's no need to finish it if you decide you don't like it, just leave it on your plate and go back for something better. How can you argue with that? That, dear readers, is why I love buffets. And holy crap, are there a lot of buffets in Las Vegas. Glen and I ate at no less than 4 different buffets, and they were all good. Though our favorite had to be the Sunday brunch at MGM Grand. Sure, we paid through the teeth for it, but we didn't exactly walk away hungry. That's the only problem with a buffet, really. You eat too much. Well, I do, anyways. I always want to try everything, which in Vegas is nearly impossible given the size of the buffets. And nearly every hotel has one. It might not be huge, but it's there. Then you have to live with the post-buffet guilt, though. You swear to yourself you won't eat as much at the next meal, but what happens? You eat just as much, maybe even a little more. I guess that's why people always gain weight when they're on vacation. Mmm...buffets.

So now I'm done with Las Vegas, literally and figuratively. It was my third time there, and now all the awe and wonder has basically worn off, and there's really not much left to make me want to go back again. I don't really gamble (aside from dropping maybe $20 in the slot machines for kicks), and I really don't drink much except on very rare occasions. So that, I think, was my last trip to Las Vegas. Plus there's far too much more world to see to keep going back to the same place over and over again.

So stay tuned, kiddies, for the next delightful adventure. That was just for you, April. ;)

Rubber Ducky, You're the One...

Well hello again, avid readers! I honestly thought that it would be longer before I regaled you all with another tale of running joy and woe, but apparently, I am insane. Or something very close. And there's significantly less woe in this particular tale than there are in some of the others.

Just this very morning I had the pleasure of running the Rubber Ducky Half Marathon, which is 2 laps around the picturesque Burnaby Lake in the heart of the greater Vancouver area. Why, you ask, did I decide to run this seemingly unknown race? Well, the Royal Victoria Marathon was at the beginning of October, and due to a lengthy vacation in the UK in which I did absolutely no running, I was in no shape to be there for the fun. I wanted to be, but alas, I was not. I might mention at this point that I will never again take a vacation in which I do very little physical activity. Not at all owing to the vacation itself, but to the fact that getting myself back to my regular pace and endurance level afterwards is nothing short of hell. Next time I shall be packing my running gear. That said, after missing the RVM, I was feeling a little lazy and a bit left out. I felt as though I needed an event. A race I could run with a whole bunch of other crazy people. So I went online last week and found the Rubber Ducky Half, and took about 5 minutes to decide I wanted to sign myself up.

I went into this race with full knowledge that I would not be gaining another personal best. It just wasn't gonna happen today, and it didn't. But having known that going in, I am totally satisfied with the way the race turned out. I took almost a full month of holidays without running even once, and have been working my butt off since. The first few weeks after I got home, actually ended up being some of the slowest runs I have ever done (for those that know pacing, I was doing about 7:20 km's, I coulda cried). So crossing the finish line today to find that I had run solid 6 minute km's the entire race made me feel pretty damn good. I'm back, baby!

It still didn't feel like enough. As I have said in this blog before, and as most of you know, my favorite distance is a full marathon. It has been since I ran my first in 2007, and I think it always will be. Halfs are good, they just aren't really long enough. So today's race just reminded me of that. Not that the 21.1 km's were easy, but it was that feeling of crossing the finish line and thinking, "is that it?" So when's the next marathon, then?

It was a good race, and I was in a reasonably good mood for most of it, so I don't really have much to report. But I do have a few things, so here goes.

The Lulu girl. Oh, yes, there was one in today's race. You may remember my nemeses from this year's Vancouver Marathon, but if you don't, scroll back to that particualr blog and you shall understand. It wasn't the same girl, but she was wearing the Lululemon running shorts and bouncing around for the first few km's like she was all that and the expensive shoes she was wearing. Well, I passed her, in all her tiny shorts and new shoes glory. Me, in my Brooks shorts and shoes that needed replacing several months ago. So take that, Lulu girl. Eat my dust, as it were.
The terrain. Normally, a race would be run on asphalt and pavement. On the street somewhere. But this race was run on the trails around Burnaby Lake, thus essentially making it a trail run. Which, if you're a runner, makes a gigantic difference. Unlike pavement, trails wind through the trees, have tree roots and other debris on the actual trail, and they aren't flat. Burnaby Lake, in particualr, is in no way flat. It can't even see flat from where it's sitting. This isn't to say that it's a hilly course. It's not, far from it. There are no siginificant hills, it's just that the trail undulates up and down with very small hills. And there are ruts on the trail that make it difficult to pick where on the trail to run, especially since the ruts keep moving. And there are spots along this trail, some of them cover several hundred metres, that are squishy. It's a boggy area, so that makes sense. But when you're running, and you need the ground to be reasonably hard so you have something solid to push off from with your next step, when the ground is spongy it doubles the amount of work you have to do with each step. Energy sapping squishy ground. It's a nice course, but you just have to go into it knowing it's a trail run, which fortunately I did know thanks to my previous forays to the lake.
Glen and the camera. As many people know, Glen is my pit crew. And he's normally an excellent pit crew. He's ready with extra water bottles, chapstick, or anything else I might need when I see him along the way. Well he lost it today. It was 2 laps of the lake, so he saw me start, then go by once, then at the end. Well, that was the theory anyways. He did see me start, and he did see me on the first lap, though he was a little slow on the uptake, since when I was going past he was half-way across a field 'cause he thought I'd take a little longer than I did. Then at the finish line he totally missed me. He said it was because with his calculations I was going to finish at 2:15. Oh Glen, how wrong you were. He missed me by a good 10 minutes. In fact, I was just finishing off my second delightful orange slice when he came waltzing along to the finish line. I have no idea how he figured this 2:15 out, since every time I passed a km marker I saw that I was running solid 6 min km's. Like, seriously solid. I think I was off by a few seconds near the end, but only in the last couple km's. So there's no victorious picture of me crossing the finish line from this morning. But I think I may take this as a sign that he needs to start running his own half-marathons. He just doesn't know it yet.

So that's one more adventure for me. I hope you enjoyed it. Stay tuned for the next one!

Final Thoughts.

Well, I've finally gotten around to this, sortof. After some re-reading I don't really have a huge amount to add to my previous posts in terms of opinions and the like. Well, I have a few, so I'll share what I do have. And, as always, the disclaimer that these are, in fact, my opinions on my own personal experiences. You may feel totally different about the exact same place, so take what I have to say with a grain of salt. Everybody's different.

I hate London. Okay, hate might be too strong a word. I greatly dislike London. Here's why. I grew up in Canada, where things are green. I like green, probably for that reason. There is a serious lack of green in London. Yes, there is the occasional tree, and the occasional patch of grass, but those are rare, and for the most part it's a concrete jungle. They paved paradise and put up a parking lot, basically is how it went. You could walk for several city blocks and not see a single tree or patch of grass. Seriously. And when you're from Canada, where even apartment buildings have lawns, it's hard to get past the grey of the concrete. It's very monochromatic, and almost irritating.

But it's not just that. It seems that most of the UK didn't get the "smoking causes lung cancer" memo, so nearly everyone smokes. Or it seems that way when you walk down the street. I will give them credit for banning smoking in restaraunts, pubs, and other public spaces, though. But they don't have the 6 metre around the door rule, so the get out of the restaraunt or pub you have to walk through a plume of cigarette smoke. Yuck. And everyone walks along the street smoking, so it's a constant barrage of lung-clogging stench. I swear just walking around in London for an hour is like having a pack-a-day habit. And because they all walk around polluting the air, there are cigarette butts everywhere. Which makes the place seem dirty. Now if you threw a few trees in there for some greenery it might not seem so bad, but there aren't any trees, thus you feel as though the cigarette butts are as endless as the concrete. So London came off as dirty and smelly to me.

The Underground is fantastic, but needs some ventilation. The Underground, or the tube, if you like, is fantastic. We took it from the airport and then back at the end of our trip, and it was cheap and really quick. There are tons of stations everywhere, so wherever you might want to go, you don't need to go far to get to a tube stop. They've also made it very easy to use by coming up with the Oyster card. It's a card with a chip in it, and you tap it on the turnstyles when you enter the station, and then tap it on the out turnstyles when you leave. You can load it up with as much as you like, and it makes it really easy to get from place to place without having to figure out how much change you need for a ticket or how many zones you need to pay for. They need to ventilate the stations and the trains, though. There was absolutely none when we were there. The second you step into the tube station, you break out in a sweat because the air is hot and stagnant. So they also smell a little funny. And on top of that, if it's busy at the time, you're shoulder to shoulder with other sweaty passengers. It ends up as a big, sticky, uncomfortable mess. And you feel that way when you get off. But really, a little A/C or some fans and the problem would be solved.

London is expensive. Don't let anyone tell you different. Sure, you can save with "budget" accomodation, but even the hostels charge upwards of 30 pounds a night. Do the conversion. That's $60 Canadian. For a shared bunk bed and shared bathroom. The food isn't any cheaper, either. You could eat for maybe 3 pounds if you needed to, but you're not exactly getting a fantastic, filling meal for that much. And do the conversion, and that 3 pounds becomes $6. You can get a footlong sandwich at Subway for that much in Canada. And good luck finding a cup of coffee, tea or hot chocolate for less than 2 pounds. Yeah. It ain't cheap. But if you know that, and you go mentally prepared for it, then it's really not so hard to suck up the exorbitant prices. That said, you can sometimes get a pint of beer for 2.50 pounds, which is still $5, but if you consider that some places in Canada are now charging $6 for a 355 mL bottle of beer, a 500 mL pint for $5 really isn't that bad. And it's actually borderline cheaper than water in some places. And given the choice, who would drink water?

I really sound like I'm running London down, but after the second time I decided I didn't really like the city. Mostly it was the lack of green. I figured that out when I spent a couple hours wandering around Hyde Park and my mood improved greatly. I'm Canadian, and I like the wide open, green, natural spaces. Give me trees or give me death, apparently. It's who I am, and I'm okay with that.

You know what else I noticed? When they want to memorialize someone over there, they build a statue. Or a fountain. Or a big fancy building that has little purpose other than just looking pretty (the Scott Monument comes to mind). Or some other structure that requires concrete, stone or metal. You know what Canadians do when they want to memorialize someone? We plant a tree. Or name a mountain after them. Or a river. But it generally involves the natural landscape in some way. I think I like that. Instead of changing the environment to remember someone, we just make them a part of what's already there. I'm not saying building a statue isn't a good way of keeping someone's memory alive, it's just that if someone were going to remember me, I think I'd prefer a mountain or a tree. I think I might be a tree-hugger.

Oh, that brings me to another point. Okay, I get that you built a statue, but why did you put it on top of a huge pillar so no one but a giant could see it? They've done that everywhere. There's a life-sized statue of so-and-so, but it's on top of a 30 foot column, so you can't really tell how beautiful or detailed it is. I don't get it. If I were an artist, I think I'd be a bit offended, 'cause no one would be able to see my work. You stand on the ground, stare up at it, and wonder if you should bother trying the zoom on your camera or just not bother taking a picture because it's so high and the angle is so weird that it's not really worth it. It just doesn't make sense. If anyone knows why they do this, please tell me, because it's very perplexing to me.

Overall, I had a fantastic time in the 24 days I spent in the UK. I did a lot of stuff that I never thought I would, and saw so many places I've nearly forgotten about some of them already. I saw famous places that I've always wanted to see, and a few hidden gems. It was definitely a good trip, and I'm glad I went. Now, on to the next adventure.

The Last Few Pictures.

Here are the last few pictures from the big UK trip that I thought were probably worth posting. Enjoy!Haggis! At the Drover's Inn, a very cool place that actually makes fantastic haggis.

Me with our driver/tour guide/music junkie Russell.

At Albert Dock in Liverpool.

The first Lambanana sighting!

Stonehenge, in the event you didn't know what it was.

Me listening to the audio tour at the Roman Baths in Bath.

Must...keep...house...from falling over...

Inside Shakespeare's Globe.

In the Natural History Museum in London.

The gate to the Egyptian Avenue at Highgate Cemetery.

The end is Nigh!

Hello again, avid readers! Well, it appears that yet another of the YHA hostels we've ended up in demands a far too great sum of money for me to bother paying for internet. Though, there is a pub within walking distance that has free WiFi for customers. So, I can either pay the YHA for internet, or go down to the pub and have a pint with my internet for the same price. Which would you pick? Exactly. That's why this particular post isn't proper with pictures and all. Now, on with the show.

We've spent yet another day in London, and this time we started with the Museum of London. Thankfully, because it's a museum, admission was free. I'm learning to appreciate the free where I can get it, 'cause this city is damn expensive. It was another museum. It went through the history of London since basically before time, and then right up to the present day. There were artifacts in glass cases and whatnot. And a lot of info boards. I think after this trip I'm gonna be info boarded out for at least a year, if not more. That's really all I have to say about the museum of London. Some of it was interesting, some of it wasn't. It was a museum. We then proceeded to have lunch on the steps of St. Paul's Cathedral, since we were nearby anyways. Despite that being the 3rd time we've done that, it has yet to get old.

Next was Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. No, it's not the original one, but it's a replica made in excatly the same fashion. If you've seen Shakespeare in Love you know what it looks like. Round building, open to the air, 3 stories, thatched roof. Very cool. I took the tour and saw the exhibition. I didn't really learn a lot, though I did learn that they signal they're showing a play at 2 pm by running up the flag. Apparently they used this because the majority of the population lived across the river and this was before newspapers where you could check to see if there was a play that afternoon. So they'd put the flag up the flagpole and people across the river would see it and know they could go to the theatre that afternoon. There was also some information about the roof over the stage but that was really only relevant if you got to see it.

Then at 2 pm we went in to actually see a play. Yes, it really is a working theatre. And a good one, at that. We saw As You Like It, which is apparently the play all the good Shakepeare quotes come from. Remember “all the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players”? That's from As You Like It. It really was an excellent play, and very enjoyable to watch. The acoustics in the theatre are amazing, too. You could hear nearly everything the actors were saying despite the fact that there's no roof and there were planes going overhead. Really, the sound was just fantastic! The atmosphere was amazing, too. Sitting in an open-air venue seeing a classic play where the actors actually come out into the audience was probably one of the highlights of this trip for me. It was just something about being there, getting absorbed into the surroundings and the words and the costumes. If you are ever in London, go see a play at the Globe. You will not be disappointed. Though I would recommend biting the bullet and actually paying for a seat. When they say standing room around the stage, they really do mean standing room. April and I were watching them from our seats and were very grateful we didn't have to stand for 3 hours. Oh, and get the back rests. Worth every penny, man.

This evening we also managed to get our first drink-in-the-street pint. Oh yes. You go into the pub, order your pint, then take it back out into the street and just stand there as you're drinking it. It's the weirdest thing to see to someone who grew up where you could literally be arrested for having open alcohol in the street. Well tonight we finally got to do it. It was a little strange, especially since they let you take the actual glass glasses out there. You think more would get broken, but apparently not. And you can just leave them there, too. You don't have to take the glass back inside, you can just set it on a window ledge or on the sidewalk next to the building, and they'll send people outside every now and again to pick up the empties. It's weird, but fun to someone who's never experienced it before.

That was our day, today, and I know this won't get posted until tomorrow, so I'll get back to you then.

Well, we've come to our final day in the UK. Tomorrow we fly out of Heathrow around noonish, so it's up and to the airport first thing. So here's what I did on my last day in London.

First up, April and I went to the Natural History Museum. Again, museum=free admission. And I have to say, it was highly enjoyable. Should you be headed to London at some point in the future, it is not to be missed. And I'm not just saying that because they had Charles Darwin finger puppets in the gift shop (I wanted the bigger doll but couldn't justify the expense or the luggage space). It was all about the earth, plate tectonics, minerals and gems, dinosaurs, the human body and how it works. Basically all the things I love and then some. Plus they have a statue of Darwin right in the main hall, you can't miss him. Did I mention I'm a fan of evolution and natural selection? Anyways, it was a really good museum. I suggest you go and see it.

After that April and I parted ways for the afternoon and I took the tube up to Highgate Cemetery. Yes, it is, in fact, a cemetery. But I've wanted to see it ever since I read Necropolis by Catharine Arnold. A little morbid, but this is me we're talking about. I'm a little off to start with. They run tourist tours through every weekday at 2 pm, so I got there at one and wandered around the east side, where you don't need to be with a tour guide to see it. Karl Marx and Douglas Adams (Hitchiker's guide to the Galaxy) are buried there. Marx has a big, monolithic tomb, whereas Douglas Adams has a tiny little tombstone with little more than his name and dates he was alive. Though someone did leave a little dolphin toy on top of it. The east side was cool, all crumbling gravestones and creeping ivy. They've really crammed them in there, too. The graves are pretty much shoulder to shoulder with no room in between. At 2 pm I went on the tour of the west cemetery, which you can only get into as a visitor with a tour guide. It's a creepy, overgrown place that's all shadows and vines. Very atmopsheric. And very cool. It was THE place to be buried back in the 1800's, and a good chunk if high society is buried or entombed there. Right now they're working on conserving it, since it's been in total disrepair for a good 100 years. It's a very cool place, made all the better by how exclusive it seems it is to get in. The guides are very respectful of the fact that it is still a working cemetery, and you aren't allowed to have bare shoulders if you're going inside. I was fascinated, but it wouldn't be that exciting for most people. Oh, and apparently in the new movie Dorian Gray there's a scene in a graveyard, which was filmed at Highgate. I have a picture of the exact spot.

After that I headed down to wander through Hyde Park, which is just one huge green space. But it's a very welcome green space given how much of a concrete jungle London is. I managed to find the Diana Princess of Whales memorial fountain, which I dipped my feet in because the sign said you were allowed to do that. And if the sign says you can do it, that's pretty much an open invitation to me. I also got myself a flake ice cream before going into the park, which was delicious. The guy that sold it to me was a little bummed 'cause it was his birthday and he was working, but he was very much excited about seeing his team play Croatia in a soccer match at Wembley tonight. He looked the football hooligan type, I think. I really enjoyed walking through Hyde Park. After 2 more days of the crush of people that is London it was nice to hear and see trees for a little while.

On the way back to the hostel I stopped in for the spectacle that is Harrod's. And a spectacle it was! You could definitely spend a lot of money in there if you were looking to spend money. I found a mini cupcake in the food court they were charging $5 for. A mini-cupcake! That's one bite! Ridiculous. But it was working because there was actually a line for them. It's the first place I've been in that's sold authentic Gucci stuff. So a little too high-brow for me. But it was worth going in just to see what the other half spend their dough on.

Tomorrow we're back on a plane and back to reality. I plan on posting again with a few more pictures and some final thoughts, but I've no idea how long that's gonna take me, because as soon as I get back there's my brother's wedding. And then I'm headed to Vancouver with Glen. So I can't promise any decent timeline. But just stay tuned and I do promise I'll be back at some point.

An update from the UK! Finally!

Well, we've somehow come to another free WiFi void, so you'll be reading this the day or more after the actual writing, since I've decided I'm too cheap to pay for internet tonight.

This morning we set out to explore the Isle of Sky. There's really not a lot of touristy places on it, just a lot of amazing scenery. The whole day basically made me wish I'd brought my hiking books and waterproof gear and had several days to just wander aimlessly. We went to quite a few picturesque places, but they all had Gaelic names so I really can't remember any of them anymore. Well, I really couldn't have repeated any of them 2 seconds after he said them, 'cause the Gaelic language is, well, not at all phonetic. Anyways, we saw a lot of really cool places, one of which was apparently where the movies Highlander and Stardust were filmed. Very cool. And very pretty. I felt the wanderlust there, just needed more time and my hiking boots. Next time. For I will definitely be back.

Oh, our first stop was this random river, where we all got out of the bus and Russell told us this story about it. I'll try to re-tell it, but I can't guarantee accuracy. If you want the more accurate story, take a tour to the Isle of Skye with Haggis Adventures. Okay, so there were 2 clans on the island that were constantly fighting each other. The chiefs of these clans finally decided that this was ridiculous, and figured if they started intermarrying with each other the fighting would stop. So one chief offers up his daughter and the other offers up his son. The daughter, who was apparently wicked beautiful, heads for the church on her wedding day on a donkey, followed by her servant boy and a little dog. On the way to the church she falls off the donkey and smacks her head on a rock (sounds like a Sara thing to do), slicing her face open and breaking her jaw. But the boy convinces her to keep going, get to the church and go on with the wedding. So she drops the veil over her bloody face and gets to the church. The groom then decides that, since he's never seen this woman before, he'd like a gander before he goes through with it. He lifts her veil and sees her, gets enraged and races out of the church, stabbing a bunch of people (including the boy, the donkey and the dog) in the process. The girl then heads away from the church and ends up at this river where she meets the Fairy King (whose name I can't remember). He tells her the river has magical properties and if she dips her head in the water for 7 seconds she'll have eternal beauty, or something to that effect. She figures she's got nothing to lose, so she goes for it. When her head comes back out, voila, all is returned to it's former beauty! So the donkey, boy and dog all follow her, and all their wounds are healed as well. So now, before you cross over the bridge, you have to stop and dip your face in the water for 7 seconds so you too can have eternal beauty. I was convinced right there, but then Russell said that if you cross over the bridge without dipping your face in the river you'll be cursed with 7 years bad sex. And no one's gonna risk that, so we all looked like whack jobs leaning over and dipping our faces into the river for 7 seconds. It might feel silly, but would you risk 7 years bad sex for 7 seconds of dignity? I think not.

Next we stopped at a little town where they brew Isle of Skye beer. And we had some, because though you aren't allowed to drink on the street there, you are allowed to drink on the bus. So we drank on the bus as we headed off the island. We made quite a few picture stops after that, but not really anything of too much note. This evening we're settled down in Oban, where we all headed to a chelidah (that may be spelled completely wrong, but it's pronounced kay-lee). It's basically a party with music and lots of dancing. This one was more of a show with audience participation, but it was still fun. There was plenty of hand-clapping and foot-stomping. And I even managed to get up and dance with one of the other girls from the tour for the last audience-participation song. I believe it was called stripping the willow, but I could be wrong about that. It was wicked fun! It starts with spinning your partner at a ridiculous speed, then spinning the next person in line, then back to your partner, then one more down the line and so on. So much fun! I just wished they would've kept the song going a little longer.

Tomorrow's the last day of the tour, so I know we end up in Edinburgh, but I've no idea how we're getting there or what we're doing along the way. As Russell, our current guide would say, how exciting! So until next time!

Well, as it turns out, yesterday brought us to yet another free WiFi void, so here I am updating yet again without being able to post. And this time I've no idea how long it's gonna take 'cause we're on our own again, with no more tours to go on. Well, there's one, but it's just a day tour, so we'll be in the same hostel the day before and after. We've only got two hostels left, actually, and then it's back home for another wedding for me. But we'll get there, don't worry.

Let's start with the obvious. I don't want to leave Scotland. It's fantastic here. The accents are, shall we say, very pleasing, I love the weather (though I could understand how most wouldn't with all the rain and cold), there's lots to see, and we had a wonderful tour over the past 5 days. We really did have a fantastic group of people on our Haggis Tour, and I have to hand it to Russell the driver for picking what was (in my humble opinion) some pretty fantastic music. Couldn't quite figure out some of the band names, though. There was a good one I plan on downloading when I get home called Frightened Rabbit. Where did they come up with that? I've no idea, but as long as the music's good, I guess the actual name of the band is rather inconsequential.

So yesterday...we did a lot of picture stops. The only real thing we did of note was see the William Wallace monument in Stirling. It was big and grand. We didn't go inside, though, since it was rather expensive and probably not much more than a museum with info boards inside. So we saved ourselves the 6 pounds or so and just walked up to take pictures of the outside and enjoy the view. The picture stops were good, but like I said before, all the names are in Gaelic, so I forgot most of them three seconds after he said them. That's if I actually understood them in the first place. But names aren't really that important as long as you're enjoying yourself, I've decided. So, many a picture stop and the William Wallace were done yesterday.

Oh, and we stopped at a really, really cool place for lunch. I believe it was called Drover's Inn. It's in a national park so it's a little quieter, which was nice, but you almost have to see this place to believe it. It's old. Like, several hundred years old. And they haven't done any renovations or redecorated since. Apparently it's where Rob Roy MacGregor used to go as his local pub. Animal lovers beware, though, 'cause for you it might just be a house of death. There are stuffed animals (whole or in parts) everywhere. Right inside the door there's a reasonably-sized fully stuffed black bear. Naturally there was a delightfully dorky picture taken of me with said stuffed bear. And this, my friends, is where I finally tried haggis for the first time. Oh, yes, that delightful concoction that apparently has meats such as liver, spleen, gall bladder, and any other disgusting or disturbing meat you can think of, all ground up with spices and oatmeal. And you know what? It was good! I was a little leery, knowing what liver and gall bladder actually do biologically, but you only live once, so I had to try it. It was really spicy and very filling, and they'd plopped it on top of mashed potatoes and smothered it in gravy. Yum yum! So as long as you can get past what it's made of, haggis is actually really good.

We got back to Edinburgh around 5:30 pm, so we managed to do our laundry in the hostel before we met everyone from the tour for a pint or two on the Royal Mile just to say goodbye. Hopefully that's the last laundry we'll have to do before the end of the trip, but the best laid plans often go awry, right? Normally I wouldn't have been so keen on going out with people I'd just been stuck with for a week, but like I said, we had a really good group and I genuinely liked the people on our bus, so I actually wanted to go. And I'm very glad we did. I found a delicious beer called MacEwan's Lager, which I know they probably don't sell in Canada but wish they did. The company was fantastic and when the live music started it was actually stuff we all knew so we could sing along in obnoxiously loud voices. There was also this really crazy guy who's name I think was Ewan, who was pretty much in a kilt whenever we saw him. He's got this crazy long hair, and April decided she needed to have a picture with him, so she asked. Then, completely out of nowhere, he literally picks her up off the floor damsel-in-distress style and holds her while I take a picture. It was totally random and completely awesome. It really was the perfect sendoff from Scotland, which has basically become our favorite place on this crazy whirlwind trip so far.

So while I've got the time, being on a train for 2 ½ hours at the moment, I'll try and come up with everyone's favorite little Sara-style tidbits of my impressions of Scotland. And again, the disclaimer, these are really just my own personal impressions and should no way influence how you feel. Everyone sees the world differently, and you might have a completely different experience should you ever decide to visit this fantastic country.

Kilts. Oh. My. God. I love a man in a kilt. I don't quite know why. There's just something rather drool-worthy about it. April was quick to point out that my love for the kilt basically means I like men in skirts, but you know, I think I'm okay with that. It doesn't even matter what the guy looks like. Old guys, young guys, throw and kilt on them and picture me with a bit of drool coming out the side of my mouth. I am personally of the opinion that my husband would look fantastic in a kilt, but I refrained from buying him one because I'm pretty sure he'd never wear it in public. And if he did he'd get stared at in Canada. Tragic, but true. Our tour guide wore a kilt the last day, and one rather amusing thing April and I noticed was how he had to sit down when getting into the driver's seat. You see, the stick shift was in the way. We've all seen women gather their skirts to sit down or get around something, but it was a little funny seeing a guy do it. I still love the kilts, though.

The Scenery. The scenery in the highlands reminded me a lot of home. But that's a good thing, because I really, really liked it. I've said before that I wish I'd had my hiking boots and several days just to wander and that's still true. I'll be back to Scotland someday for that. It might take another 40 years (that road in Bolivia's still calling my name, so that's first on the list) but I'll be back. And I'll have my boots and plenty of time.

The Weather. I thought the weather was fantastic, but in case you missed it earlier, I love the rain. I love the rain and the misery and the low cloud cover and the damp and all of it. I just love it. So Scotland was good for me, weather-wise. I imagine (and was told many times) that it gets really cold in winter, and I believe it, but the summer weather was just right. We were very fortunate, though, since we had a few days of no rain and almost sunny skies. Though the sun just really didn't seem right at the time. But I was happy when it was raining.

The Sheep and the Hairy Coos. Sheep are everywhere here, like they were in Ireland. They're just so cute you want to go out in a field and squish a few 'cause they look so fluffy. But this is coming from a former Albertan who's used to seeing nothing but cattle out in the pastures, so I guess sheep should look cute and fluffy to me. They also have Highland cattle in Scotland. But they're more commonly knows as Hairy Coos. They're pretty much just regular cows with longer hair and horns. But they're cool-lookin', so I figured they were worth a mention.

The accent. Oh yes, the accent. April and I have decided that the Scottish accent is by far our favorite, and also the most sexy we've heard thus far. I can't put my finger on why, it just is. Maybe it's something to do with the way the word sexy actually comes out. I don't know. Though the Scottish do have very dark senses of humor and they can get pretty raunchy, so that definitely helps their case. I'm sure not everyone feels this way about it, but it's just my personal opinion that the Scottish accent is the sexiest I've heard to date. You can quote me on that, if you like.

So now we're on a train Liverpool bound. We're staying there for a night and then it's back to London for a few more days.

Well, as it turned out, Liverpool was yet another free WiFi void, and I 'm starting to wonder if this is actually going to get posted before I 'm back in Canada. Though maybe we'll search out a pub with free WiFi when we get to London. Anyways, we got to Liverpool and actually managed to find the hostel relatively quickly and without getting lost at all, which may be a first for this trip. We just might be getting the hang of this navigating thing. We ditched our bags in luggage storage and then promptly went exploring. Liverpool, I read, was supposedly a cultural Mecca, but I don't really understand why. They have the usual museums, which are all free, but other than those and the Beatles Story, there's really not a lot there.

We went to the Beatles Story first, which is basically the whole reason I really wanted to go to Liverpool. It was interesting to find out where they started and how they ended up so famous. It was quite interesting and had a lot of information I didn't know before. I also managed to get a little Beatles swag whilst we were there, so I'm happy. Next we checked out the Maritime museum and the customs and immigration displays they had there. Interesting stuff, though we may have been a little too tired for just reading info boards that day. The customs displays were the best part, actually. It showed all the strange and innovative ways people have tried to smuggle drugs and the things that have been confiscated by customs over the years. Someone even tried to use a shipment of innocent garden gnomes to smuggle weed. A travesty, I tell you! Poor innocent gnomes.

There is also a monstrously huge pedestrian shopping area in Liverpool. It covers several square blocks and has every store imaginable. And this, my friends, is where we saw our very first Lambanana. Yes, you read that right, Lambanana. My brother was in Liverpool last year for work and he told us all about them. They're just statues all over the place that different people have been given to paint different colors. It's the body of a lamb, but with a banana basically coming out it's butt instead of a tail. They're almost cute, once you get past the weirdness of it. The one we saw was in a Liverpool FC store, and was decorated all in white and red. I may have been a little too excited about my first Lambanana sighting. We were going to try and find the original Super Lambanana (yes, that's actually what it's called), but then we found out they move it around the city every now and again, and we didn't really feel like wandering around for hours trying to find it. But I went to Liverpool and saw a lambanana. My life may now be complete.

The hostel that night was, in a word, fantastic. Originally we were supposed to be in a room with a bunch of other girls, but when we got into the room they had their stuff all over and on the beds April and I were supposed to be in. So we asked to be moved to another room (which was nice because the girls in that room appeared to have converted it to a pigsty rather quickly). We ended up on the ground floor in the handicapped room. And it was lovely. We had real individual beds! No bunk beds, and you don't realize how much you miss individual beds until you have to sleep on bunk beds for 3 weeks. It's a treat not to have either someone sleeping directly over you or having to climb a ladder to get to your bed. And the room was good and spacious. Not only that, breakfast was included in the price, and it was a fabulous breakfast indeed. Sausages, toast, orange juice, eggs, hash browns, cereal and yogurt. Mmm mmm good.

We're now on the train back to London, where we'll be spending another 4 days before heading home. There are still a few things to see there, and we have much shopping to do, so I'll leave it at that.

We're back in London now and it's all coming back to me. The concrete jungle. The crowded streets. The cigarette smoke. The exhaust fumes. And the lovely men on motorcycles. I do love a man on a motorcycle. Especially when he's all decked out in full motorcycle kit...oh, back to the topic at hand, then. We're staying just off Oxford Street this time, which is cool for the shopping but bad for the pocketbook. Yesterday we wandered around and bought a few things, and I promptly decided I don't, nor will I ever, understand fashion. It's quite bizarre and completely not functional anymore. So I give up. T-shirts and jeans it shall be for Sara from now on. Well, sweaters too, since I get cold really easy. We also wandered down to Picadilly Circus, which is apparently just another shopping area that happens to have a few neon signs. Way overrated. But we went and we saw.

This morning we embarked on a single day bus tour of Stonehenge, Bath and Windsor Castle. Stonehenge was fantastic! We got there just as they were opening it up, so there were so few people we felt like we had it to ourselves. You can't go right up to the stones anymore, but they've put the ropes close enough that it's not really a big deal that you can't touch them. I liked it because it still really has that air of mystery. We can do all the research we want on it, analyze it to death, bring it back to life and analyze it again, and we'll still have no idea what it was really used for. It's an amazing place because of that, and you can almost feel the mystery in the air. It's palpable, and it's awesome.

Next we went to Bath, where the attractions are the Roman Baths. They're the only natural hot springs in England, and when the Romans showed up they built a bath house around them, and the waters have been thought to have magical properties ever since. People ever since have been coming from all over to test the healing properties. They aren't used anymore, since the water is, well, completely disgusting, but they're still flowing out all piping hot. There's also an info center and excavations all about how they were used in Roman times. Pretty cool. And for 50 pence you can drink a glass of the water (purified for safety, of course). A lot of people were saying it was disgusting, but how often am I gonna be in Bath? So I plopped down my 50p and my leprosy is miraculously cured! Well, maybe not. It was pretty much the same as drinking a glass of warm water from my Dad's tap, which is well water and tastes a little off. How about that, Dad? You could sell your tap water as a miracle cure! We also did a little wandering around Bath before the bus picked us up again.

Last but not least was Windsor Castle. The queen was not in residence that day, so we got to tour the royal apartments. Very swank, if you don't mind your wall decorations being centuries old and looking rather musty. Lots of guilt gold, too. The chandeliers were the beast part, really. Beautiful and sparkly...very sparkly. It was also fun playing spot the hidden doorways. We found at least 5. The castle itself is huge, and there was a lot we weren't allowed to go into. Actually, while April and I were looking into the rose garden that surrounds the castle and getting closer and closer to one of the barricades, there was one guard who looked like he was about to tackle us to the ground if we took another step. We stopped to save ourselves the embarrassment. While we were there we also saw St. George's Chapel, which is huge and very ornate. But it's royalty, so did you expect any less than the best? Again, it's a church in England, so we weren't allowed to take pictures inside. Just trust me when I say it was very fancy. I could've spent several hours lying on the floor just staring at the ceilings. Though that might've gotten me tackled as well.

Well, I'll end it there. We have plans to head for the pub with free WiFi for a pint, so hopefully this gets posted tonight.

Where to start...where to start? Well, I'll start with yesterday since that's where I left off. I woke up and off we headed down Loch Ness for more seeing of sights. We did make a quick photo stop at one point along the lake, so the above picture is me with me feet in Loch Ness. Squint and you might see the famous Nessie. But probably not. From there it gets a little fuzzy. I think it means you've been travelling too long if you start forgetting what happened the same day it actually happened. Well, anyways, the next thing my camera shows we did was head to the battlefield of the battle of Culloden. That might mean something or nothing to you, it depends how much history you know. I can't quite remember why this place was so important, I just know that it was. Really important. Like, changed the face of history important. But I can't remember exactly why. Next we stopped at a prehistoric grave site, which really looked more like a pile of rocks now, but the rocks look like they actually have a purpose. They're in a circle with a path to the center and a small circle in the center you can stand in. Smelled a little funny in the center, though. After that we went to Fort William, which is still a working English military base. It wasn't particularly interesting. We capped off the evening ending up at a castle that's been converted to a hostel. It was actually given to the hostelling association by the family that owned it, and the get to keep it as long as they continue to use it as a hostel.
That's it in the picture above. It was an actual castle! Complete with awful pictures and nudy marble statues. It's also supposed to have been haunted. Pretty cool. A big group of us all went out that night to the "local" pub, which we learned this morning was opened specifically for us. We had a pretty good night, made even better when a couple lovely boys in kilts showed up and played the bagpipes for us. Ahh, kilts. Insert smile here. It was awesome!

This morning we started out on the road again and made many stops to take pictures. Other than the picture stops we didn't do much except stop at Eilan Donnen Castle for a quick tour. It's apparently been in many movies, most recently "Made of Honor" with Patrick Dempsey. I might have to actually see that one now.
Now we're on the Isle of Skye for the evening, and the local pub with live music is beckoning, so I'm signing off for now. Until later!