Surfing, the return.

Well, I am back from another surfing expedition, and I made it alive, though with one or two new bruises to show off. Let me start off by saying that I am a terrible surfer, and I will likely always be a terrible surfer. But I'm okay with that.

We arrived in Tofino this long weekend to rain and cold. It was just getting dark so we put up a tarp to hide under, pitched our tent and went to bed. It poured all night, even when I had to get up to go to the bathroom. The morning came and I finally convinced Glen to try and start a fire with the soggy wood from the campground. It wasn't easy, but he managed to get it going and we dried out a good amount of wood for burning later in the day and hid it under our picnic table so it would stay dry. After finally warming up by the fire, I decided that I hadn't driven for 4 hours down those windy roads for nothing, I was going surfing, raining or not. Glen opted not to, he was a little tired and I think laziness may have played a small role too.

So we went into town and I rented a wetsuit and board. We got to the beach and I arrived at my first challenge. Putting on the wetsuit. This particular wetsuit had an attatched hood, to keep my head warm, or annoy me, I can't decide which. The zipper for the ridiculous thing was in the most bizzare spot-right across the collarbone and down both biceps at the top of the suit. This means that there was even more wetsuit that had to be yanked on before the zipper would go anywhere near closed. The thing was damp to start, so it was cold as I started, but they warm up quite quickly. Well, after you get this thing past your knees, it gets difficult. Most people know I'm not the strongest person around. I almost needed Glen to help me pull this device over myself. I decided the best way to go about it was to get it straightened out and then pull it up similar to the way most women would pull up their nylons. Pull a little up around the leg, then work it the rest of the way up 'til the top moved. This continued for about 20 minutes until I finally had the thing in the right spot at my neck. Then came the hood.

It was built with 2 collars, an inside one and an outside one with the hood attatched. The inside one slipped on easily over the top of my head from the front. The one with the hood squashed my face into an unrecognizeable mash as I was attempting to yank it over my hair. It actually hurt to put it on. But I managed to squeeze all of me in the wetsuit, and off I went to the ocean.

The actual surfing itself was still as difficult as it was before, and to my surprise, I hadn't gotten any better with the complete lack of practice I've had since the last time I tried. It is very tiring, though. I only managed to last 2 1/2 hours before I was so tired I almost couldn't carry my board back to the car. But I did have an idiot grin on my face the whole time, and for several hours afterward.

The next day wasn't much better, weather-wise. Still cold and rainy, so we packed up camp and headed to the beach so I could tire myself out for the ride home. Trust me when I say wetsuits are even harder to put on when they're wet than when they're just damp. You pull on the material to get your leg in, and nothing happens. It doesn't move an inch. So I ened up doing this delightful little shimmy for about 1/2 and hour to try and get into this silly piece of clothing in the parking lot of the beach.

And all in full view of the delightful, rippling biceps, muscley guy surfers. If anything, the weekend was worth it just for that particular eye candy. April, I know you enjoy a man with well-built shoulders...well you should visit Tofino sometime. Just sit in the parking lot and watch these guys change. And they do. Right in the parking lot. I even witnessed a full monty. From the back, anyways. And they like to walk around with their wetsuits half off, so they're shirtless. Give me a second to wipe the drool off my keyboard...

So I must describe also the process of removing the wetsuit, because it is nearly as amusing as the getting into the wetsuit. I decided the easiest way would be to peel it off, banana style. Again I'd like to bring up my aversion to bananas, but I digress. So after mashing my face yet again trying to get the silly hood off (my lips actually hurt for several hours afterward), I tried pullling it off. Well, it's really hard to get our of a wetsuit when you can't really move your arms, 'cause they're pinned to your sides from trying to get out. I actually needed Glen to help me get my arms out. Keep in mind that the suit is now wet, thus making it impossible to slide at all. So you get it to about your knees, at which point it gets so thick around your legs the banana doesn't peel anymore. So you wriggle for a long time until finally you can free one leg, at which point getting the other leg out is comparatively easy.

I've decided getting the wetsuit on and off is nearly as difficult as ths sport itself. They should have wetsuit changing olympics. The first person to get a wet wetsuit on and off first wins. It could even be a spectator sport. As Glen will attest to, it's quite funny to watch. I will give the wetsuit credit, though. It kept me nice and warm the whole time, and wasn't completely uncomfortable once you're actually in the water. I also noticed it's relatively hard to look bad in a wetsuit. It smooths out all the lumpy bumpies and holds everything in quite nicely.

Despite the rain and cold, I did enjoy the weekend. Though next time I think I need to drag Glen into the water with me whether he likes it or not. Mostly so he's too busy trying to get his own wetsuit on that he doesn't have time to laugh at me struggling with mine.
PS-Kristi-I think I've almost got that beach bum look down.

42 km is, like, far!

Just a note before you start reading. This blog is going to be very long, so make sure you have enough time to read it all before you start.

This past weekend I ran the Vancouver marathon. A marathon, for those who don't know, is 26.2 miles, or about 42 km for those of us who grew up with the metric system. And let's just say that that distance is, well, really freakin' long! It doesn't really look so bad when you plot it out on a map. But if you were to get in your car and drive 42 km at 100 km/h, it would take you just over 25 minutes to go that far. That's bloody far, man! But back in January when I signed up for the full marathon clinic, it seemed like a good idea. Don't get me wrong, I was ready for the race. I had done most of my long runs, the farthest being 34 km three weeks before the race. But there's still 8 km left after you pass 34 before it becomes a full marathon.

We checked into our very swanky resort hotel, right on the waterfront in downtown Vancouver. It was the official host hotel for the race, so it had the whole expo and registration right at the hotel, and a shuttle to and from the race, so it worked out quite nicely. We ended up getting a room with two double beds, and Glen's parents stayed in the same room as us. I checked us in and as Glen and his parents were getting parked and organized, I picked up my timing chip, race number and wandered around the expo for a few minutes. It was then that I remembered how much I love free stuff. They were handing out everything from McDonald's fruit & yogurt parfaits to fancy hair elastics. And you can bet I took everything that was handed to me. Never before have I felt quite so in my element. I was surrounded by runners. My people. People who understood what it was like to get up and feel the need to hit the sidewalk with a good pair of Mizuno's on. It was awesome.

The next day was race day. The race started at 7:30, so we planned to be downstairs waiting for the shuttle by 6:30, to avoid the rush. It was a cold, dreary day in Vancouver, but it wasn't raining. Everyone decided they were going to come and see me off, which was nice since then I could bring my sweater and just give it to Glen before the race started, and I wouldn't freeze to death. I lined up between the 4:15 and the 4:30 pace bunnies. Apparently in most marathons they have pace bunnies to tell you how fast you're going. They're just runners with a lot of experience that have watches and know how long they take to finish a marathon. The bunny part comes in because they have foam rabbit ears sewn to their hats, that stick up and have their expected finish time written on them. It's quite hilarious, actually.

About 3 minutes to start time, and it starts to sprinkle. Not rain, just lightly sprinkle. I ordered no rain that day, but as previously mentioned, apparently I have angered the weather gods. The starting gun went and we were off. Sort of. After slowly walking for about 4 minutes, I finally reached the actual start line. But it wasn't so bad, because they give us each timing chips that we zip tie to our shoes. So our time doesn't start until we actually cross the start line. I crossed the start line and started with a very slow jog. About 1/2 way down the block I saw Glen and his mom wave as I went by. There were a lot of crowds cheering for the first few km, and it started to dwindle after that. It also continued to sprinkle.

The first part of the race went well, and about 17 km in, I passed Glen and his parents again, right near our hotel, waving and cheering. Then the race headed into Stanley park, where I was meeting my coach, who was switching me for a full set of fuel bottles at the halfway point. He was right were I expected. He even said I looked "fresh" still. And I'm sure at that point I did. But it was a quick deterioration after that. After the little tour of Stanley park, the route headed back through downtown Vancouver, where I saw my cheer team again. And much to my surprise, Glen actually came out onto the course to offer me chapstick, a dry pair of socks, and some water. I quickly remembered why I married him, and took the socks. My hands had been cold since the fifth kilometer, and socks make excellent mittens when your hands are cold and wet. It was still raining. That's right after this picture was taken.
It gets a little fuzzy after that point. All I really remember is feeling very tired and very sore, and praying for the finish line. Oh, and thinking, when it this road going to turn around so we can go back towards the finish line? All I could really think was, don't stop don't stop don't stop. The road seemed to go on forever. Then as I rounded one corner, a glimmer of hope...1 mile to go. But let me tell you, that was the longest mile I have ever run. It just wouldn't end. Both my knees were burning, and I was almost limping from the pain. I was so thirsty. And then I saw it. The finish line. The best sight I have ever witnessed. I nearly burst into tears I was so happy. And when I finally crossed it and my timing chip beeped I was done. I have never been so happy to be finished something in my entire life. Some wonderful volunteer hung a medal around my neck, another was handing out water, and a third clipped the timing chip off my shoe. Then we headed into BC Place for food and warmth.

They gave us plastic sheets to wrap around ourselves to stay warm, and kept us moving so we wouldn't pass out. And then we got to eat. Yay for food! Milk has never really tasted so good. I got my finisher's t-shirt and met up with my cheer team, who were all very proud of me.

Now I'll break it down into numbers for you:
Total time: 4:30:51
First half: 2:17:26
Second half: 2:13:25 (that's right, I ran the second half faster than the first)
In the 25-29 year old female division, I was 779 out of 1304
Out of all the women in the full marathon I was 2162 out of 3114
(To check the numbers yourself or to see the pictures taken of me by the official marathon photographers, Google "Vancouver marathon"-I plan on ordering one or two official pictures, so if you want one let me know and I'll get them all together)
That's me crossing the finish line. And you can't see it, but I have a smile on my face.

Now comes all the good little tidbits I remember.

The water stations. At first I just passed them by, since I had my own drinks. But near the end of the race I was so thirsty for straight water that I took a cup here and there. Trying to run and drink water out of a cup is not the easiest thing in the world to do. The cups are waxed paper, and they have cold water in them. So they're squishy. You grab it and it squishes half the water out of the cup. Then you try to bring it to your mouth to drink, but you're moving, and it splashes all over your face and shirt. I'm sure it was quite funny to watch me trying to drink water from a cup as I was running for the first time.

The relay teams. I was cursing the relay teams for almost the entire race. They would switch off every 10 km or so, thus peppering the crowd with people who, at 30 km, were fresh and just starting to run. And there's nothing more depressing at 30 km than having some perky little twit girl passing you with her dry shirt and bobbing ponytail. Especially when you're soaked, tired, smelly and half dead from exhaustion.

The walk/runners. A good chunk of people had the strategy where they would run for a few km, then walk for a bit, then start running again. This was very irritating to me, since I managed to finish the entire race without stopping to walk. To be fair, a good number of these people probably had far better times than me. And had I done the same thing, I would have likely finished with a better time. But then it begs the question, can you really say you "ran" a marathon if you had to stop and walk every couple kilometers?

The pain. I have never been so sore in my entire life. Many of you are familiar with what's known as hiker's walk. Well, marathoner's walk is very similar, just with more groaning and intensified about 15 times. For the day and a half after the run, I had trouble bending my knees without some accompanying yelp of pain. And I hobbled everywhere instead of walking. Sitting down has truly never felt so good. But here I am, 2 days post-race, feeling pretty good. And almost walking normally.

The chafing. Many are familiar with this problem. You do something for long enough, and your skin will break, blister or rash at a certain contact point. Body Glide was invented just for this reason. You smear it in the chafe-prone areas and it theoretically prevents the chafing. This would be great, except that it rained all bloody day! So after about 10 km, the stuff had managed to all wash away and my planning was for nothing. 15 km in, my thighs were chafing. At the end of the race, I could not walk normally. Not because of my muscles or joints, but because if my thighs touched anything a burning, almost unbearable pain would result.
This is a picture of my chest, taken today (2 days after the race). Apparently my sports bra was chafing around the neck, and I didn't notice until after the race. This is similar to what my inner thighs look like right now. But for obvious reasons, I didn't post a picture of them.

The signs. My race number had my first name on it. At first I wasn't sure why. But at 38 km when you're really tired and sore and it would be so easy to just stop and walk for a little while, someone, even a stranger, yelling "keep going Sara", is the best motivation in the world. 'Cause that's you they're cheering for. You don't know them, and you'll never see them again, but just having someone cheer for you is the best feeling you can get at that moment. And it kept me running. It's the same way with the signs. One guy was standing about 2 km from the finish line holding a sign that said "Nobody quits today". He wasn't cheering or yelling, just quietly standing there holding his sign. But I will never forget that sign. One sign I remember had someone's name, and underneath it said "eye of the tiger". And even though it had someone else's name, it still helped.

So in the end, it's going to be a long while before I run another full marathon. But like one of the signs said, the pain is temporary, the glory is forever.

I have angered the weather Gods.

Yesterday was the second last of my long runs in preparation for the marathon, just under a month away. I would normally have done this on Sunday, but I worked until 7:30 Sunday morning, and I've decided, due to prior incidents, that a long run on a day I work is a bad idea. So I decided Monday would be fine. Glen was home Monday, and he agreed to meet me at around 20 km so I could fill up my fuel bottles. I was supposed to go 30 km. Emphasis on the supposed to.

It rained all Sunday nite and into Monday morning, but luckily we slept in until noon, and it wasn't raining anymore. So I got all ready and told Glen where and when to meet me. I should also mention that I took the cell phone so I could call and get a ride home from where ever I ended up after 30 km. As I was about to leave, someone decided to open all the taps and it started pouring. But it was a small cloud and I figured I could wait it out and after that I wouldn't get rained on again. The rain stopped after about 5 min and away I went. I did pretty well for the first 10 km or so, keeping it really slow. The weather was actually quite nice at this point. Not too hot, not too cold, and not raining. Then, at around 13 km, it started to sprinkle. Fine. This is Campbell River, after all. It rains here a lot. Then I heard the ominous sound of thunder. A sound I have not heard since I moved here two years ago. It started to rain harder. My hands started to get really cold. I will now mention that I was wearing only a T-Shirt and my previously described short-shorts. So, 1 1/2 hours into my run, I couldn't feel my hands. I pulled out the cell phone so I could call Glen and get him to bring me a pair of socks so I could warm my hands up, since he was supposed to meet me in 1/2 an hour. I thought socks since my hand were soaked and mittens are hard to put on if your hands are wet and cold.

But alas, to no avail. After having to dial the number 3 times, there was no answer. At this point I was punching the numbers with one hand and holding the phone with the other, 'cause my hands were so cold I could barely control my fingers. Picture me doing this in the pouring rain. I give you permission to laugh. So I left Glen a message and kept going. About 1 km later, the rain got harder and decided to turn to hail. Now you can understand how cold it was. And here I am in a t-shirt and shorts. I have never been quite so miserable. Wait, yes I have. Kayaking Maligne Lake in the snow was more miserable. Though I was slightly warmer then than I was yesterday.

The hail finally gave way to rain and to appease myself I tried to believe that it would all be over in about an hour, and at least it wasn't hailing anymore. And to my disbelief, the rain actually slowed to the point of almost stopping. Just as my spirits were lifting and I was getting even closer to my rendezvous point with Glen and a sweet, dry pair of socks, the downpour started again. It rained for about 30 seconds, then turned to hail again. And not just regular hail. Big, pellet sized hail that came down with such force it actually hurt as it pinged off my bare skin. It hurt enough that I decided I needed shelter. Luckily I was only a short distance from a walkway that passes under Dogwood Street via a concrete tunnel. So I broke out in full sprint in the pellet sized hail and full-barelled it to the tunnel, splashing through puddles that easily came past the tops of my shoes.

The hail continued after I got inside the tunnel for a good 5 minutes. And this particular tunnel has very poor drainage, so the water started pooling around my shoes, not helping the fact that I was already cold enough for 4 Alberta winters. It was at this point I decided to pack it in. Looking like a drowned rat hiding under an underpass waiting for the rain and hail to slow enough that I could make a break for home and safety. I tried calling Glen again but no answer. I figured he'd be waiting faithfully for me at our pre-arranged corner, so off I went again into the rain, headed straight for that corner, and then home.

I had only gone a little ways before I saw the car pass me, and I turned around to check again. Hallelujah, it's Glen! In his shining Silver Honda Fit, come to save me from the rain! He went farther up the road, turned around and I met him as he came back, dripping all over the upholstery. Needless to say, I did not finish the suggested 30 km. I did, however, manage to go about 20 before giving up. I know I'm insane, but after being hailed on twice, I had to draw the line somewhere.

On the plus side, I would like to say that had it not rained, hailed, rained, and then hailed on me, I think I could have made it 30 km without too much trouble. But we'll see how it goes next week.

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.

The New House

By popular demand, here are some pictures of my new house. It has a one car garage, 2 1/2 baths, and 3 bedrooms upstairs. It's 1449 square feet total. Please be patient if you have a slow connection or are (gasp) still using dialup, 'cause there's a lot of pictures.




The master bedroom. I hemmed the curtains myself and they're actually pretty straight looking. We had to get fairly dark ones so I could sleep during the day when I work nights. Notice the actual bed frame, which I am rather proud of, since it matches my thrift store night stands. I will be refinishing the nightstands, though, since they were a little scratched. But for $125 for a set of solid maple nightstands, I think I can handle a little refinishing.

The walk-in closet leading to the ensuite bathroom. Kind-of nice since now my closet is right next to where I shower, so I don't have to walk around the house in my underpants looking for clothes anymore. An added bonus for those of you that plan to visit me in the future.

The Office as Glen calls it, or the Study, as I call it. Glen has since reinforced the bottom shelf under the window so it doesn't sag quite so much. On the other side of the room is our computer desk, but we're planning on replacing that with a corner desk that has a lot more space, so I won't post a picture of it just yet. We were eyeing one at Staples a couple weeks ago that was about $1500, so it could be few months before that gets done.

The Spare Room, or Spa oom, to my family. It's pretty empty right now with only a bookshelf and a CD rack, but we're planning on putting the futon in here when we finally get a real couch for the living room. It has a walk in closet that is currently filled with all our luggage, duffel bags, backpacks, climbing gear and some extra blankets. I didn't know we had that many bags until they all ended up in one place. This is where any visitors will theoretically stay.
The living room. It's relatively small, about 13 x 13', but enough for a couple couches and our new plasma TV (kudos to those who got us Sears gift cards in the last year). We were about to watch the Illusionist, by the way. It looks empty right now but couches are next on our list of stuff to buy. Note the fabulous Ansel Adams print just to the left of Glen's head. Courtesy of Slacker, and it looks mighty fine in our living room. Just to the left of the TV along the wall is where I want to put my aquarium if I ever managed to transport it out here. Though they look like hardwood, the floors downstairs are all laminate.
My beautiful, beautiful kitchen. The fridge is a Samsung capable of fitting 3 4L milk jugs in the door, the stove (which is behind the Valentine's Day roses Glen got for me) is an LG with a GIGANTIC oven, and the dishwasher (which you can't see) is a whirlpool. The door in the center left goes into a small pantry filled with lots of goodies. Microwave is next to the fridge. Everything is stainless steel, except for the fridge, since magnets actually stick to it, but it's stainless steel colored so I don't actually know what it's made of. Though I was ecstatic when I found out I could stick magnets to it.
The laundry room, and at the time of this picture, surprisingly devoid of Glen's hockey equipment. Both LG. The dryer has a sensor so you can just press start and it knows when your clothes are dry. I put up the shelves above the washer and dryer myself (toot toot).

So that's my house so far. When can we expect you to show up at our door?

Ooooh, the Pain!

Everything hurts. Literally, everything hurts. Including my toes, which rarely hurt. But here I sit, in pain from head to toe. It doesn't hurt so much when I'm not moving, it's when I have to get up out of a chair or lift my arms that causes a groan response.

What caused this pain, you ask? Well, in all my infinite wisdom I decided that yesterday I wanted to learn how to snowboard. So I dropped Glen off at work for the day and up Mt. Washington I drove, bent on taking a lesson. I rented a pair of boots, a board, and got myself a "discover snowboarding" lesson. So I get to the lesson, and one of the instructors is younger than me. The other one is an older fellow named Ken, who reminded me almost too much of Dave from the tri-ice a thon. You remember Dave. Crack those walnuts! Well this guy was just like that. Without the walnuts bit.

So they started out by teaching us the basics, like how to walk around with one foot attatched to the board and the other free. Simple in theory, except that the attatched foot gets torqued at very unpleasant and sometimes painful angles while moving in this postion. But don't worry, that's normal. That's right, the pain is normal. Disturbing, I know. Next they went through how to gracefully get off the charilift without falling flat on your face. I swore I would never get it, but once they showed us how it wasn't really that hard. Four times yeaterday I got off the chairlift without falling. Four times! I feel like I should get a medal just for that.

So next came the hard part, standing up. Hard part, you ask with skepticism? Yes. Because the the damn board MOVES while you're trying to stand up. Do you know how hard it is to stand up when your feet keep slipping out from under you? Pretty damn hard. But it turns out, if you use your hand to grab the front of your board and wedge your fingers underneath, it makes it a lot easier to get up. This is, of course, from the sitting position. It's much easier to get up from being down on your knees, 'cause all you have to do is stick your butt gracefully in the air and lift your body up. Not nearly as hard as the gynastics you need to stand up while facing down the hill.

Next comes edging, which is basically slipping down the hill on the edge of your board. This requires a decent amount of balance, but it can be done. Both forwards and backwards. With a little practice I could even go back and forth across the hill. So now all I have to do is learn how to switch from forward to backward and back again. Which isn't so hard on flatter hills, but when you point the board straight down to turn on a steeper hill, you get going pretty damn fast! Which then, of course, means you bail onto either your knees or your butt to stop, rather than just digging the edge of your board in. Did I mention I'm a beginner? So you fall on your butt, but rather than trying to get up facing forwards and needing to do the now painful gymnastics move on a steeper hill, you flip yourself over. Not an easy task when you consider your feet are fixed to the board and you need to flip the whole apparatus over. So you do this wonderful graceful move where you fling one leg over the other and whip the board up into the air so you can start on your knees. Then you lift your arse gracefully in the air, push yourself up and away you go again.

One of the principles of this sport is that you need to hold you arms up to about shoulder level to steer well. So the whole day you're holding your arms up. Let me tell you you'll feel it the next day. And all the moves required to get standing, stay standing, or turn around requires the use of many, many muscle groups. If you ever wonder why most snowboarders are so ripped, try it. You'll understand. A few more days and I'd probably have washboard abs. Another nice thing is that if you fall backwards and you're facing up the hill, you fall hard. It's not just ass meeting ground, it whole body meeting gound after a few seconds of free fall backards. Luckily I only managed to wind myself once this way. And I'm glad it was only once. I believe this particular problem is the reason snowboarders wear helmets. Next time I will be renting a helmet.

So now here I sit, in utter pain every time I need to bring the coffee cup to my mouth, and groaning every time I stand up. But it was totally worth it.

Ever been biking in gale force winds?

So the snow has finally almost completely melted, so I'm back to biking to work and the gym again. And let me tell you, a week of a treadmill to a running junkie like me is pure torture, so I'm glad the snow is finally gone. Though looking out the window right now depresses me a little, since it's now snowing again, and I heard it's supposed to keep going for a day or so. Super.

Anyway, so Monday and Tuesday this week we had really strong winds and rain from two separate storms. Our power went out Tuesday night sometime because of it, too. Actually, because of trees that have blown over and such, a lot of people on the island have been without power for about a week. But anyways, back to my story. So on Monday I decided that even though it was sprinkling a little, I would ride my bike to work, so that when I went to the gym after work it wouldn't take me a long to get home as if I walked.

As the day progressed the weather decided to get worse and worse. The wind got stronger, and it rained harder and harder. Probably one of the reasons Monday was such a nice day in the lab. No one wanted to leave their house to go out and do anything. So finally, 3 o'clock arrives and the wind is the strongest it's been all day. But I decide, since I'm a brave Albertan, that it's just wind, I'm going to the gym anyways. So I change into my pants and away I go. Well, my pants were still damp from getting to work in the morning, but I only had to get to the gym, so I figured I'd stick it out. I couldn't go my normal route, since they had it blocked by danger tape from several fallen trees, but still I headed for the gym. I made it most of the way to the gym all right, but when I got to the top of the hill the wind was so strong I had to get off my bike and walk the rest of the way.

I've been in my share of windy situations, but this was completely insane. The wind was so strong I had to lean on my bike and hold it against the ground so it didn't blow away. I could barely stand, not to mention walk. I stood waiting for the light to change and I swear I thought I might just blow away. For those of you who were there, it was Skyline Ridge wind times 10. And the rain came at my face so hard it almost hurt. Yeah, I called Glen to come pick me up after I was done at the gym.

I didn't know wind could get that strong. I was wrong. So next time I hear that a storm's bringing gale force winds, I think I'll just go home instead of to the gym.

It's just like home...

So winter has finally arrived here in Campbell River. Real winter. With snow, a freezing temperatures and windchills. Yes, it is winter. As illustrated in the above pictures I took on the way home from the gym today. On the way home from the gym because there's too much snow to run outside, so I have to use the treadmill at the gym. Actually, the walk to get to the gym is a workout in itself, because the plows like to spread the snow from the road up onto the sidewalk, thus making walking very slow and irritating.


So this all started last Saturday, while I was sleeping off my last night shift, and the insanity has continued since. Normally, the snow melts as soon as it hits the ground, and it's all gone within a few days. But not this time. This time it's about -4, and it hasn't gotten any warmer. So the snow's not melting. Which is, to a former Albertan like me, hilarious to watch. On Monday, the RCMP were telling people that if they didn't have good snow tires, to stay home if they didn't have to go out. SNOW TIRES! Who in Campbell River has snow tires? The roads were fine, by the way, as long as you kept it slow and knew what you were doing. Which, of course, most people here don't. Case in point, Glen and I were on the on the way to the video store on Saturday night, walking, and this one car swerved off the road and CLUNK! Right into a light post. On a straight, flat road. Neither of us could figure out what he was doing but it looked like he had just steered right into the post. Then he sits there for a minute, and just drives away. Doesn't get out of his car to check the damage, just drives away. So Glen and I checked the lightpost, and he'd lost about a foot and a half off his bumper, and his headlight. And he didn't even get out to check!

It started snowing again last night and has kept going all day, leaving us with a snow base of a good 2 feet. Schools everywhere north of practically Nanaimo are closed. I can't quite figure out why, since most of the main streets are plowed, and again, it's only -4 degrees. On Monday when I went into the gym, the lady asked me if I drove and when I said yes she was amazed. But then I had to qualify that by saying I'm from Alberta and this is nothing. Really. All of you probably wouldn't bat an eye at this weather. But Campbell River has ground to a near stand still. I just watched a guy try to get out of our parking lot, and he needed three people to push him out. Of course, if he had stepped on the gas slowly instead of stomping on it, he wouldn't have had a problem. But that was funny for me to watch.

So Glen and I have had a good chuckle at the expense of all the Campbell Riverites. And we've gotten a taste of home at the same time. Now if only it would go away so I can go jogging again...

Surfing causes bruising!

Well, it's official, I have now been surfing. Jana, I'm sorry but the opportunity presented itself and I just couldn't say no. The opportunity being a free weekend and it not being freezing cold yet, so still available for camping. Glen and I drove to Tofino this weekend to check it out and we took a 2 hour lesson with an outfit called Surf Sister that's centered there.

First of all can I just say that i look damn fine in a wetsuit. It squeezes in all the cubby areas and smooths out the bumps, thus giving the impression that I'm actually much better looking than I really am. I'd post a picture but I haven't figured out how to do that yet. Jana, you would love them, since they also squeezed my chest into nonexistance. Not the most comfortable things to wear by far though, since they make you feel like you're choking, and they zip up from the back, so you can't really just leave the zipper open to prevent the choking feeling. But much needed 'cause I'm sure I would've frozen to death in about 0.005 seconds were I not wearing one. The waters of the pacific are quite cool, you see. Not arctic fresh, but nearly so.

Anyways, so we get into our wetsuits and get a little lesson on the beach on some theory of how not to kill ourselves, and then they take us into the water. Not entirely unpleasant since we have the wetsuits and all. For those who don't know, here's how it works: You go into the water to the depth you want, in our case it was about waist level. Then as the wave approaches, you hurl yourself onto the board floating in the ocean next to you, and correctly position yourself on the board. At this point I felt tlike a beached whale, as I had some difficulty finding the correct position on the board. I blame my 9 1/2 meter legs. Then as the wave approaches, you paddle until it catches up to you. You paddle about three more times, then do a push-up move, fling your feet underneath you, and somehow try to stand up without falling over and getting a snoutful of saltwater. All this while the wave is still pushing you, so you have a chance to actually ride it.

There are many flaws in this theory. First, it's damn hard to get yourself up on this board without falling off the other side or turning yourself sideways. Second, the paddling never really seems to do much. And third, the push-up/leg fling move is nearly impossible if you have no upper body strength. I have no upper body strength. And finally, if you do get up, or nearly up, there is no graceful dismount. You basically just have to bail off the board. Which is not to say that I didn't have fun. I had an excellent time, all I need now is practice.

But there'a really nothing like that first mouthful of saltwater to remind you you're in the ocean. It tastes horrible, and I don't even want to think about how many amoebas/bacteria/algae/other assorted creepy crawlers I swallowed during my many, many wipeouts. Oh, and I've not found anpther sport that produces the infamous "hip bruises" that us hikers are so well acquainted with. Only these hip bruises you can actually see. I'd post a picture, but it's hard to get the whole thing without showing a little too much skin, and no one wants that. I think it's because you're lying belly down on the board so much, and they just get pressed against it or something. It also bruises the bottom fo your rib cage and makes your arms really, really sore. And it gives you some fabulous sore areas where you get beaned by the board or the sand when you fall. And that happens a lot. But it's totally worth it.

So in conclusion, I'm definitely going back to Tofino to go surfing again. And you can do it there year round, so that might be soon. Perhaps a certain family might be interested in coming out at Christmas and we can go...

If that nurse rolls her eyes at me one more time...

Yargh! Okay, I have my bad days every now and again, I'll admit, and today is no exception. One of the lad aides is sick, so I've been collecting and going to ER to do the collections since 2 pm. It's now 4 pm, and it's been the most annoying 2 hours EVER. I'll just get back from emerg, and they'll phone again to get me to come bakc to draw blood. They saw me walking out the door. They know I'm leaving. Why not stop me before I leave ot save time? But noooo, they let me leave and then call to get me to come back again.

And bloody hell, if that nurse in emerg checks on me while I'm collecting and rolls her eyes at me one more time, I swear I'm gonna punt HER through a plate glass window. She's small enough, and I have enough rage that I think I could actually do it right now. Yargh! Okay, so I missed one patient. Fine. It happens. But then she has to get me to stand there, while she gets ready, and then we go back to the patient, 'cause we're gonna get that blood come hell or high water. According to her, anyway. She doesn't care that I'm only actually allowed to poke the patient twice, and she doesn't really seem to care that I don't want to do it again, because I know if I've already missed twice, I'm gonna miss again. That's just the way I work. SO back to the patient we go, and she starts manhandling this poor lady that's been vomiting so bad she actually came to emerg. And you know it's bad vomiting if they come to emerg because of it. So she's feeling around on this patient, and she asks me where I tried. Both arms, I said. So she grabs a hand. Hand veins ae seriously painful, and rarely work very well, and generally you end up bruising the patient pretty bad. But a hand vein it is. So she's in there with the needle and it's just not coming. Oh, the incompetent lab tech screwed up again. So finally she weilds the needle and gets soemthing. Well, it's barely moving and a HUGE blood blister's forming on this lady's hand. Plus she's groaning 'cause it hurts like hell, but we're getting blood, so the nurse is VERY pleased with herself.

So I'm in with another patient, and I miss twice again. Big surprise. I'm sucking today, what more do you want? And as I'm leaving I hear them talking "oh, maybe we should send (insert nurse's name here) in with her to help again". Okay, if your nurse can get the blood and I'm so incompetent I need help to get any blood from anyone, why do you phone me in the first place? Do it your freakin' self! And don't tell me how to do my job! Yes, I can get blood, but not under these poor conditions, with everybody and their dog telling me what to do and checking up on me very 5 minutes to see if I'm doing my job right (despite the fact that they don't really know what my job is to be able to tell if I'm doing it right). Oh, and by the way, this isn't my job. It's a lab aide's job, but they're all sick or don't want to work 'cause of the condtions here, caused mostly by your "friendly" emerg staff.

So stop rolling your eyes at me like I'm incompetent and I don't know what I'm doing. I do know what I'm doing, it's just hard to work when everyone's looking over your shoulder and you're already having a bad day. And beware emerg nurse, 'cause there are PLENTY of plate glass windows here at the hospital.

Enough of the damn babies!

As though it wasn't enough that Glen's family brought his 3 year old nephew to visit and I had to deal with hearing "Evan, stop that!" for 3 days, but now there are babies everywhere! There are babies at the grocery store and the dollar store when I go shopping. There are babies at work to take blood from. In the past couple weeks, I've taken blood from two babies. Nearly three, but luckily the lab aide came back from her break before they decided they wanted bloodwork on the second baby that had come into emergency that night. Two babies! One was so new he was still red. And when I say new I mean, like, 2 hours new. Like he popped out of the womb and there I was, waiting to jab him in the heel.

And it’s not as though I really mind taking blood from the babies. Yes, they scream bloody murder, but they’re a lot more tolerable than some adults ‘cause they don’t try to tell you what to do, and they don’t get all overdramatic and act like they’re gonna faint. Yes, they cry, but they just have to sit there and take it, ‘cause they can’t say otherwise. It’s the parents of the baby, who are always there, telling me what to do and gasping when I stick the needle in because I’m hurting their poor defenseless, sick little baby. Oh, what a cruel person I am. But lets face it, moms and dads, you’re baby’s sick, and it’s probably better that I take blood and we find the problem than to not hurt your little bundle of joy because you can’t stand to watch me do it. And you try to send them out of the room, but they don’t want to leave their poor little baby. It’s a frickin’ baby! It’s never gonna know you left the room when I was taking blood, ‘cause it’ll never remember. So just leave the room because your obsessive cooing and telling the baby that it’s gonna be ok is making me sick. And me being sick does not bode well for the fact that I’m about to approach your screaming baby with a very sharp needle.

And just to add insult to injury, I walked into the gym today, a generally baby-free zone (since babies aren't generally concerned with keeping their abs flat and their butts small), and I was assaulted by the crying, whining, gurgling sound of nearly 30 babies! They must have some sort of post-natal class for new mothers where you bring your baby to the gym or something, but there they were. In all their tiny, pink and blue wearing glory. Freakin' babies in my gym! This is usually my oasis. The one place I can go that is baby-free, and I can look like crap and no-one will care, and I can sweat as much as I want and it’s actually a good thing. And they have now invaded my beautiful oasis. And you all know how much I love babies. Stupid little pooping crying machines that they are. And the lady teaching the class was all “okay, now put your baby on your tummy and lets play patty-cake”. Aargh! Stupid babies! I don’t want to hear about all the babies over the speakers when I’m on the stairmaster sweating like a pig. I want to hear the new Fallout Boy song, or a little oldies. Not frickin’ patty cake! Stupid, pooping, peeing, whining, crying, gurgling, smelly babies…

So in conclusion, forces that be, enough with the bloody babies! I’ve had it. I see one more baby in the next week I swear I’m gonna grab it and punt it through the nearest window. And I’ll make sure it’s one of those really sharp, plate glass ones that shatter really well when you break them, too.

Pay attention when you're driving, dammit!

So the riny season has finally arrived here in beautiful BC. Thus, when I got up this morning I put on my bright yellow, water resistant, butt flap jacket to go out for my morning jog. Well, water resistant, my ass, but that's another complaint for another day.

I was happily jogging along, not really enjoying the squishing my toes were making in my shoes. I was nearly finished, when, as I was crossing the street, some lady damn mear ran me over in her car! To be fair to her, there were a group of kids crossing the street in the other direction, but once I waited for them to get out of the way ('cause God forbid they should stop and wait for me, despite the fact that I'm going far faster than them), I started crossing. Well, she stomps on the accelerator and I nearly run into the side of her car. Then she has the nerve to give ME a dirty look when I wave her to keep going. After all, I would've had to run around her car since it's now sitting in the center of the intersection.

But seriously now, how did she not see me? You guys have all probably seen the bright yellow butt-flap jacket. It's bright yellow! And it's a cloudy day! How do you miss that running towards you? But apparently she did, and just decided she was going to keep going on her merry way, and ignore the fact that pedestrians actually have the right of way in Canada. They do, really. It's a law.

But this is not the first time this has occurred here in Campbell River. Drivers here have an irritating habit of ignoring everything around them when they pull up to an intersection. Oh, that jogger in the white T-shirt? I didn't see her, despite the fact she's been standing there since I pulled up to the light and cut her off as she was trying to cross the street. Biker? What biker? Oh, you mean the one I just about ran off the road? Didn't see her, but I do remember seeing a blinking red taillight on something going down the side of the road.

Seriously, one of these days I'm just gonna lose it and throw myself on front of one of these idiots. That's right, I know you don't know I'm there 'cause I saw you not look both ways as you were approaching the intersection. So watch out, 'cause next time I'm gonna fling myself in front of your fancy BMW, put a nice big dent in the hood and then sue you for that half-million dollar house you own. And all because they'll give any idiot with two arms and a right leg a driver's license here. No wonder insurance prices are so bloody high...

I hang my head in shame...

Well, I have hung suspended by a thin rope 30 feet over the edge of a cliff, I have climbed 50 foot waterfall with only picks on my boots and ice axes, and I have floated 2000 feet above ground, held up by only a few meters of paper thin nylon. And by far the stranges thing I have ever done is today, when I went "tanning" for the first time.

I know, I swore I would never partake in this stange, somewhat masochistic ritual. But as I gazed into the mirror this morning and noticed my darkening farmers tan, I decided to suck it up and go to the tanning salon. Well, not really a tanning salon, since it's attached to my gym. I figured, what with the wedding dress being strapless and backless, that a farmers tan might not look so good. So in order to even it out, I purched 3 months of unlimited tanning at the gym. I also purchased the "accessories" that go with what is known as fake n' bake. A pair of goggles that are set on top of the eyes to protect form light damage, which look more like shiny, bulging red eyeballs, and tanning cream, which is supposed to prevent the skin from drying out during the tanning. All I know is it smells fruity.

So they let you into this little room with the tanning bed. You get into whatever little amount of clothing you would like, flip the switch and lay down in the bed. Then you're lying there. Thinking about how stupid you feel. Here you are laying in a bed made of light tubes, risking melanoma so you can look good by having a tan. Man, did I feel stupid. At least it doesn't last very long. Today I went for 8 minutes. Though 8 minutes of lying there thinking about how stupid you feel lying in a bed of lights while nearly naked is actually a very long 8 minutes.

But I'll keep going, 'cause I laid down a fair chunk of change for the time. And because if I wanted to stop the farmers tan I would have to stop running outside. And I'm sure we all know that's not going to happen. So tanning it is. Though I'm sure after these three unlimited months I won't be visiting the tanning salon again. Hopefully.