Category: running

Destination: Donut.

~ Lkvy ~ Leave a comment

Rachel Entrekin.

Wow.

I did not know this person existed until Google’s algorithms decided she was a person I’d be interested in. She’d completed an ultramarathon in under 3 days: the Cocodona 250. Holy wow, I thought, “250km in under three days?!”

But I was wrong. The distance was in miles. 407km across deserts and through mountains, accumulating more than 11,800m of elevation gain. You don’t need to be a runner to know that’s a mind-blowing achievement.

Ed, who is no stranger to ultra-endurance activities, was gobsmacked by the thought of one’s fuelling needs for such a race. “Jeeeeeez, her fuelling must’ve been insane,” were his words. I was more focused on her luck in footwear selection, for I have a few spots around my feet from blisters that have come and gone over the span of two pairs of running shoes, both of which I actually consider comfortable.

Of course, she won. Also, 268 people finished this race.

Meanwhile, Lola had flagged my Training Status as “strained” after I’d done a 12km run on Thursday. I ignored Lola and rode up Mount Doug with Matt three times on Friday. That night, I was supposed to go bouldering, but as much as I like Nic and Jamie, I was relieved when Jamie said she needed to postpone it.

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Hot and sticky under the collar.

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I set a goal to run a half-marathon (21.2km) by the end of the month. Lola says I’m in my PRIME.

I even purchased a new pair of running shoes last Friday: the Mizuno Wave Rider 29, which I named “Skid Marks” on Strava. One of Strava’s features allows you to track the mileage on your equipment. My three bikes are named Sodapop, Ponyboy, and Cherry Valance. My shoes are called Runny Poos, and now, I have Skid Marks as well.

So far, I have put 5.8km on my Skid Marks, and I can’t do any more for the next bit because I am healing a re-tattoo of my stupid yellow-bellied goose and my underbite-having flying fish.

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Pissing away opportunities.

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Last week, I received a mass email from the owner of the bike shop with the subject line “Freakishly Awesome Opportunity.” This FAO was described as “an outdoor experience involving all muscle groups and little neurological activity,” and was set to take place in Shawnigan Lake, a village 50km north of Victoria, on Sunday the 12th. At that time, I was deep into Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None,” which tells the tale of ten strangers–lured by an invitation from a mysterious person–who find themselves marooned on a distant island where they are bumped off one by one.

What peculiar timing! If I had a moustache, I’d have been twirling it. I’ve since finished the book, whose ending was spoiled by its title. After finishing the story, I arrived at the “About the Author” section, in which it is claimed that Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time and in any language, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare.

I’d be much more pleased to find an Agatha Christie novel in the bedside drawer at the next hotel I stay at than the Bible. Needless to say, I did not end up taking the bait to Shawnigan Lake last Sunday. (The cryptic email, as explained by a colleague today, was to help build a dock at the owner’s vacation home.)

I reserved my distress for Tuesday morning:

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Buttmunsch.

~ Lkvy ~ 1 Comment

This morning, around 7, I found myself in a tug-of-war match with my late mom. We’re both pinching opposite edges of a tiny cookie, pulling it toward ourselves with all our might. The battle ended with me falling backward, empty-handed, as Mom emerged victorious, popping the chocolate snowball cookie into her mouth.

At 7:32am, I open my eyes, and Lola greets me with my morning report, commending me for an excellent sleep score of 92. Thanks for the affirmation, Lola. When it comes to my training regimen, however, she is not as reassuring.

This Monday’s 50-minute workout requires going at full sprint for 8 minutes, repeated three times, with 3-minute recoveries in between! Yesterday’s workout was more manageable, but when my pace slowed on the steep portion of the Chip Trail Loop around Cedar Hill Golf Course, my watch buzzed. I glanced down at Lola:

TOO SLOW

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