hellohowareyougoodbye

I spent 3 weeks in East Africa last June and July. Specifically Uganda and Kenya. I'm not sure why those countries, but when I was planning my trip I looked at a couple of different areas of Africa and those are the ones that spoke to me.

When people hear of Uganda, they immediately think 'Idi Amin' and think terrible things, why would you possibly want to go there? Granted, I had heard bad things as well, but upon arriving at the airport in Entebbe I fell in love with the place. The city of Kampala was a bit overwhelming for me-this was my first trip ever ever ever, on my own. And I chose Africa. Yup, go big or stay home I say!

The main point of my trip was to go on 'safari'. I don't particularly like that word as I think it generalizes your experience a bit. But that's essentially what I wanted: drive around, see some animals in real wildlife, and experience something that not everybody gets to in their lifetime. I got to see 4 of the Big 5: cape buffalo, elephants, lions, and a baby rhino in the Sheldrick Animal Orphanage in Nairobi.

We tried to ahem, spot a leopard (sorry, that one was for Dad) but had no such luck.

So yes, I saw the beasties, but it's the kids that really stuck with me. Everywhere our group went we were quietly followed by little boys and girls, who were just as curious as we were. We stopped for lunch in the middle of the jungle and one kid popped out of the bushes, then another, then one called for their friends, and pretty soon we were surrounded by school kids in their pink shirts, laughing and pointing at us.

As we drove through village after village, we'd be chased after by kids of all ages. They would drop whatever they were doing and run after our bus yelling 'mzungu, mzungu' (white man, white man!) They'd use up what I presume was most of their grasp of the English language when they yelled 'hellohowareyougoodbye' all in one quick breath. We'd stick our hands out the window and wave at all the kids and they'd wave back. I did this for 15 hours straight one day. It never got old, and the only reason I felt tired was because I had a smile plastered on my face all day long. I also got to spend a day Soft Powered Education, which is a group working with communities in Uganda to improve quality of life through education. We drove to an orphanage in the middle of the jungle and were instantly surrounded by little boys and girls the instant we stepped out of the car. They grabbed my hands and dragged me all over the school yard, showing me their soccer ball collection. They even know which button to press on digital cameras when they want to see the photo of themselves. They sang our group a little song, and welcomed us. Each person in my group bought a Soft Power t-shirt, which buys the kids a shirt as well.

The thing that struck me most was that these kids had nothing. In a world where kids have their own cellphones, credit cards, x boxes and ipods, these kids have nothing and are so so happy.     If they were bored they would find a stick and draw in the sand and be perfectly content. Or roll a tire tube around for hours. They don't ask for much and don't expect much in return.

They are happy with just smiling and laughing and giving a wave. It was an interesting and refreshing  lesson, one I hope to remember and use.

This one's for Shannon

I have two older sisters, Shannon and Ashley. Ashley is a year and half older than me, and not online much, and she's missed all the more for it, even if she does live 3 blocks away from me ;)

Shannon is 4 years older than I am, lives in Squamish, and is headed to Costa Rica in a couple of days to embark upon something called The Coastal Challenge: Route of Fire. Now, I have always looked up to my sister but I'm not sure I'll ever follow in these particular footsteps:  http://www.thecoastalchallenge.com/

Shannon has being training for this particular 6 day stage race for seven months (her blog here: http://shannshann22.blogspot.com/ ) and she's had her fair share of adventure running already:

She's been attacked by an owl, met a few bears, ran by countless deer, and raccoons, and most likely been stalked by a stealth cougar that luckily she never had to know about.

She would wake early enough to go for two hour runs before she had to go to work at the daycare. She spent late hours at the gym while her trusty crock pot simmered away at home. She procured a road bike on which she sustained her first crash when a fierce railroad track tripped her up. The real tragedy there was that no one stopped to help her as they drove by!!
She finally got some rollers so she could train on the bike in the comfort of her tiny living room.

Anyone who has ever collected bottles at the depot knows how little money you get for a lot of bottles. Shannon had her friends save their bottles and cans so she could collect the money. She went to the bottle depot every weekend since August and she saved $500 which I am astounded by because that's a lot of money, not to mention truckloads and truckloads of bottle trips to the depot!

She suffered injury setbacks, as all athletes do. A random neck sprain, a sprained ligament in her calf, and in a sport entirely unrelated to running she stubbed her toe rather badly while walking to the couch on Loggers Sports sister fun time weekend in Squamish :) 
And, even after a full day of snot nosed kids at daycare she made herself available to babysit most nights to make a little more money.

I wish I could go with her to Costa Rica to support her but I can't. So I will be following along online on Shannon's progress, updating her facebook and twitter status for her and waiting anxiously to hear all about her experience when she gets back!

Shan's theme song through all of this was "Break My Stride". For whatever reason this song stood out in her mind and helped her in her training when things looked a little bleak, or as the runs got longer.

"Ain't nothing gonna break my stride/Nobody gonna slow me down/oh no I got to keep on moving/ Ain't nothing gonna break my stride/I'm running in a one touch ground, oh no

I got to keep on moving. "

I'd post a link to the video but it's just too damned awful. Or hilarious. I haven't decided.

Anyways, to Shannon: You've worked SO hard for this and earned every kilometer you are about to run. This will be an amazing, life changing experience that you will never forget, and it will likely take you a couple of weeks afterwards to process what you just accomplished. I'm overflowing with pride and love and will be following along closely :) Don't let anything break your stride!! Now go kick some ass!

At the Dentist

I've worked in a dentist office for five years as an assistant. My job requires me to develop x-rays, file work done in charts, assist the doctor(obviously) and greet the patients as they enter the office and lead them to the operatory room. I've dealt with all types of bodily fluids, helped the elderly gentlemen pull their pants up and their shirts down, had kids bite me, parents scold me, old ladies pat me on the bum and old men(usually veterans of a/the war, which makes it okay)  hit on me. I am supposed to get them seated in the chair, bib them, and leave the room.

And this is where things get strange. For some reason when presented with the dental chair, people get really confused. It's as if they are trying to solve a sudoku puzzle. "Well, if this leg goes here and this arm is over there..."  I've seen patients sit in the chair with their legs hanging off either side, I've seen them crawl up from the footrest like they were scaling a mountain, seen them shuffle backwards on their bums from the furthest point of where I eventually want them to end up. Some ride the thing like they were riding a mechanical bull in a bar. Others hop on it like a carousel, and kids treat it like a roller coaster. And yes, I'll move the headrest up, and yes the arm rest moves, and I'll place it where it's supposed to be once you are settled.( FYI: You shouldn't be out of breath by the time you are) Some advice: pretend you're in Mexico and you're just sitting down for a beer by the pool. Actually pretend this anyways, even if you do know how to sit in a chair, it'll help with the nerves that overcome most folks when visiting the office.  Those lounge chairs never give you trouble do they?

The proper way to sit? Sit down perpendicular to the chair and swing your legs up and onto the chair. It's that easy.

And then I'll move the arm rest.

The Olympics

The Winter Olympics will be held in Vancouver/Whistler in a couple of weeks and you'll find a lot of people that, simply put, don't like this. I could explore that side of the argument more here but that isn't what this post is about.
The Olympics are coming- hell, they are already here- and I'm excited.

I grew up in Whistler, mecca of snow and skiing, a Vegas in the mountains. I am partial to the Winter Games but have been known to practice my gymnastics on a foamy on the deck when the Summer Games were on (when I was a kid of course). I wanted to be a figure skater so that was the sport I watched the most. Had I started my 'career' earlier and stuck with it I could have very well been competing in these Games. As it were, Whistler didn't get an arena until I was 11, Squamish was a fair drive away in the dead of Winter in an '85 Dodge Aries, and life got in the way.

Fast forward to the summer of 2008 where I was watching the Beijing Games unfold from my apartment in Victoria. People were muttering about Canada not doing well. Then a wrestler won gold, as well as the men's eight rowing team. Things were looking up. I watched all of this with pride. I love the games because it's people who work hard at what they love and will settle for nothing but the best. Their sport could be 30 secs long or 3 hours. It's exciting, dramatic, and emotional.

I sat down on my couch to watch the men's triathlon, a sport I'll admit to never having watched or paid much attention to. I knew the basics (swim/bike/run), and the only reason I was watching was to cheer on a local hero Simon Whitfield.
The swim and bike portions were done and things were looking okay for us. Again, I didn't know much about the tactics of the sport except that the Canadians were using one that a lot of people didn't agree with, but one that was working well for them.
The 10k run portion of the race was coming to a close and Whitfield was 'fading' as the commentator had put it and said that it didn't look like there was any way he could fight towards the 3 runners in front of him.

Cue the visor.

The guy took off. He caught up to the others in a way that seemed effortless. It was amazing. And then he passed them. And put space in between. It was so incredible to be able to witness this, and so exciting that I felt like I was running right along with him. An 88 yr old patient at work said the same thing to me the next day!

At this point I was screaming at my poor TV, Jan Frodeno caught up to take the gold and Whitfield was claiming his hard fought silver and he had recruited a new fan. I thought to myself 'I want to do that.'
The next day I registered for the next race available to me, the 8k road race in Victoria held during the RVM in October. I ran that 8k race, giving myself an hour to run it not knowing my pace or how long it would take me at all. As I ran passed the 2 km mark Simon was on his way back at the 6km mark already. That guy is fast. Wait a minute- I'm in the same race as an Olympic athlete? Cool!!
I came through the finish at 50.07 and I was hooked. A week later I registered for the half marathon clinic held at The Running Room, and the rest of that story is in the previous post, but my experience was everything I had hoped it to be: emotional, hard, and rewarding.
So my dream was to be a figure skater and I ended up running, because I was inspired by an Olympic athlete and that little stunt he pulled while doing something he loves. I still go for skates at the rink and try some jumps and spins and adore the time I get to spend doing something that I enjoy. I always look down at my feet when I skate thinking 'wait a minute, I can do this? Cool!'
While I know that I will never run as fast as Simon Whitfield I'll continue to train in Victoria and enter in races. I never run them expecting to win, but just to say that I did it and finished, and to do it and enjoy it. I'll be watching the Olympics in February with Canadian pride, cheering on our athletes in all the different sports.
I think this is an important thing to remember when it comes to the Olympics: it boils down to athletes doing something they love, trying their best and inspiring kids (and grown ups, if I can call myself one) to get out there and try it too. One day I'd like to race in a triathlon. I may never win an Olympic medal but I'll damn well earn my finishers medal and that means just as much.

My first half

Two half marathons in, two 8k races and countless solo and group training runs and I'm still not sure if I can call myself a runner. Do I qualify?
My oldest sister is a runner, in fact she is headed to Costa Rica in a couple of weeks to do a six day stage race with The Coastal Challenge. And my Dad used to head out for a 'jog' once in a while. So I wouldn't say running is in my genes or anything.
But it's an impulse. I love the motion and the idea of it. I may not love every run I complete but I do love when you receive the silent nod or acknowledgement from another runner you may cross paths with. And the looks you get from non runners is hilarious, especially on a day that may be less than ideal weather wise.

I ran my first half marathon in May 2009 in Vancouver. I had trained with The Running Room clinic in Victoria, and found it much easier to run with a group and to have a set schedule that I actually looked forward to. I took the ferry over from Victoria and met my sister who was running her first full marathon, so we were both nervous as we prepared for the next days adventure. We lay around in the hotel room and ate, and mused about how long our combined running distances was. 63.3 km is a long ways!
The next morning our Dad met us in the hotel lobby, and we walked down to the starting line together. My Dad and sister wished me well as the half distance runners started a half hour earlier. Standing alone amongst thousands and thousands of other runners was an odd moment for me. Not very often (okay, never) have I taken on a challenge such as that one, and I am prone to giving up halfway through a project or hobby because of boredom, or because I thought I would fail. There I was at the starting line, or somewhere near it anyways, with my water belt on, my chip secured to my shoe, and off I went.

The first ten km went by fairly easily. I saw some of the girls from my running group and we chatted for a bit, congratulating each other and eventually they dropped back, or went ahead on their own. I had to pee, of course, but the line ups for the toilets were long and slow so I thought I'd just wait.
The big hill was looming in Stanley Park. We had done a lot of hill training and I felt confident but not happy about a hill at this juncture in my run. But this turned out to be my strongest point as I passed a lot of people who decided to walk the hill, and once at the top there was a real bathroom there with no line up so I took a couple of minutes to forget about what I had done so far and focus on what was next. Running down the hill we only had about 6km left which I told myself was just like a quick training run. I saw my Dad with about 3 km left and that was just awesome. He said the finish line 'was just around the corner.' Sure Dad! Don't let anyone tell you that the .1 of the run isn't anything either! The final kilometers were tough, and I was struggling. This would be the longest I had run ever, and my so called form was getting sloppy. Then I ran by Willie Mitchell from the Vancouver Canucks as he tried to cross the street with his dog and his lady friend. The team had just lost the night before in a playoff game so he wasn't in a super good mood but I was just so shocked to look up and see him, so all I could think of to say was "Hey Willie!" and he responded with an automatic "Hey how you doing?" I said, 'oh you know, just out for a run' That humorous chat got me through the final stages of the run, and then I saw the white dome of BC Place, and the finish corral.

I did not expect it to be that emotional. I've never been happier to see a finish line really. I smiled hugely as I heard the crowd cheer everyone on and picked up the pace and I ran my little heart out straight across the finish line. 2:22!!! I burst into tears immediately. Couldn't see straight. I had finished something that I had worked so so so hard for, something I never thought was even in my reality, and I had seen it through. Someone put a finishers medal on me, someone else gave me a space blanket, and then I heard my Dad. I looked up to see him frantically trying to take pictures and hold on to two lab puppies who liked crowds a lot. I stumbled over, not worrying about stretching or recovery but just trying to see through my tears. He gave me a huge hug and asked me how it was and said congratulations and all I could blubber was "I saw Willie Mitchell!"
I made it home and was exhausted and happy and proud. I can name the emotions I had at the finish line as relief, as in 'gosh I'm glad that's over', pride in that I actually finished something, and a sense of empowerment. I can and did run a distance that most can't. Or won't. And I couldn't wait to do it again!
I ran the Oak Bay Half in Victoria exactly 3 weeks later, which is too soon for a beginner runner and just a little bit nuts actually. I finished 3 minutes faster, was just as emotional coming through the finish, but the run was much much harder.

Tonight my new half marathon clinic started, once again with the Running Room, and I saw a bunch of old friends that I had a chance to catch up with while we ran the first easy 6k run. It was great. I felt at home, even part of a community. So yes, I qualify as a runner, I'll allow myself to be labled as that.
So get out there. Even if it's just a run around the block, or for 10 or 20 minutes, you never know, you might actually enjoy yourself!

Jumping in

I've been toying with the idea of starting a blog for a while now. I certainly read enough of the ones floating around on the web already, so I thought I might contribute. Except I was never sure of what to say or what it would be about. I thought 'does the world need another blog?' Initially my answer was no, but 3 other questions popped into my head- 'does the world need another tree planted?' 'is it that important to recycle?' and finally 'did I really need to eat that last cookie?'

The answers to those questions respectively are yes, yes, and probably not but it was good while it lasted.

So last night as I lay in bed waiting for my eyelids to get heavy enough to stay closed, I came to my decision that yes indeed I would start a blog. Did this immediately put me at ease into a deep, untroubled sleep?

No it freaking didn't.

I immediately started coming up with the words you are reading now, a title for the blog, what the layout would look like, etc. I got so excited about it I almost jumped out of bed and fired up my computer.

See, I enjoy writing a lot. I am a huge advocate of getting thoughts out of your head and onto the page (or screen) as this will hopefully leave space for something more useful or productive. Also I remember things better if they are written down. I have a lot of ideas, ponders, and both shallow and deep thoughts bouncing around in my head. I find once they are written down, whatever they are, I just feel better.

I can't tell you what you can expect to find here because I'm not sure myself. But I can tell you that I was excited about a new project and that I was writing again and it felt fantastic.

I apologize for any errors, both in grammar and in judgement in the future. I was always better at spelling than I was grammar, and as for the judgement thing...I'll get back to you.