Life is good

The late afternoon lighting over New Denver glacier sky winked at me, saying ‘I’m off now. See you tomorrow’. The brilliant, clear white light reflecting off the virgin snow dazzled me for a few seconds, as I felt that rush of adrenalin and sheer pleasure of being alive. But then I realized I still had 6km to run in 12” snow, with two dogs intent on chasing every deer in the area and no headtorch. Life is fun, and if not, make it fun!

I had been intent on going for a run, without really giving any practical thought as to where I was going and the time of day. I left at 3.15pm, and ran up the ‘old highway’, a dirt track, called Old Sandon Road. I call this run of mine the ‘bucket loop’ and its one of my favourites. 12 – 13km of pure fun, and includes a bucket crossing of Carpenter Creek. There is a fair amount of climbing too, and I was blind to the consequences. As I climbed out of New Denver, I noticed the snow getting thicker, the dogs ever more excited. I lost them twice big time which cost me about 10 minutes of precious daylight, but I kept saying to myself ‘nah, it be reet’. But that view as I topped out at upper Alamo Siding mine site was inspiration in itself, making me realize that we lead such sedate, safe, TV lives.

All through the run, I was pondering over something I had said to a good friend of mine, Colin, who happens to be my boss. (I’ve been fortunate over my time of employment to have had predominantly good bosses, even if their superiors were useless). But I had said to him earlier on that week that I hoped one day to be an inspiration to him. It had bothered me at the time, and it had been bothering me ever since, as to why I had said that to him. Was I seeking recognition? Friendship? An ego massage? His answer was very politically correct which was good, but left me puzzling over this issue even more. It was whilst running down Alamo Siding, up to my ankles in drift snow, the dogs long gone, light fading, with the prospect of a dark run through forest, down towards the coveted bucket crossing, that it suddenly dawned on me why. It had little to do with our  relationship, as a friend or employee; It had everything to do with Tim and the relationship with himself and the outside world. That moment of topping out had said it all.

Since the Victoria marathon, I have only been out running a few times, and only once on the dreaded road. Every time I went out, I have been in my running haze, winning all these races, breaking all those PBs, breaking the 3.30 marathon. I was the best I could be. If you are a runner, you will know exactly what I mean. But since the snow, I have done nothing. No endomorphine flow. But here was I physically maxed out, head buzzing, heart pumping. I need to be fit enough to be able to do these special things. It’s too easy to sit back and watch the world go by. We all need to keep our head strong. Live for the moment and let your footsteps be the first in that snow.

It was a long run back in the dark.

We have snow here now. Winter has not fully arrived, but its certainly knocking at the door. I am continually in and out of work. Its tough, but reality; the cost of living where we do. I’ve tried once again knocking on the Federal MPs door to see if I can help. I’ve become a board member of our local ski club, along will all the frustrations it brings. The new snowblower has bust, our fridge saga continues and the diesel truck is up for sale. I’m not doing well with mechanical things right now, so I’m glad not be a mechanic. Natasha’s book continues to generate interest, book 2 on the proof reading table. I'm dabbling in the cosmetic world, using my beeswax for skin cream. Hardly redneck manly, but its quite fun.

I was given a ‘Life is good’ T shirt by Jane years back. Life is indeed good, but its not necessarily easy. If you lose sight of it, go looking.

Tim

Adieu or Aurevoir?

The weather was the first hurdle. Canadian Airlines decided that the storm was so bad that no flights were happening. So how to get from Kelowna to Victoria in next to no time? On pondering our choices, the announcement came that the plane had sneaked in and all should be ok (just how does a flight sneak in?). The flight left on time. There was no storm. There were no delays.

The second hurdle was the taxi journey from Victoria airport to registration. 30-40 minute journey became a 90minute torture, with our beloved driver talking for England. Drove us potty and we eagerly disembarked, somewhat jaded. Registration was lacklustre, with merchandise being pushed more than the race, its history, the athletes commitment to their arrival at the start line, the course etc. A sad reflection on where we have come.

The third hurdle was finding our sleeping quarters for the weekend. However, we need not have worried for the only obstacle was a grumpy bus driver. The directions we had been given and the residents who helped us en route were superb. The flat we had taken over was perfect - thanks Sarah!

The weather on the Sunday was supposed to be bad for the race, too, but as the stars shone on 6000 runners for the start of the Victoria half marathon, it was obvious that there was no storm. There were to be no delays. Everyone should finish on time, legs 'n lungs permitting. The main announcement was that the police were happy, as they had been observing the 5000 + crowd that morning: no drunks, no violence, no vandalism, no riots. All was set for Natasha's journey of 21.1 km.

My 42.2km journey started 85 minutes later, joined by 2000 others. By this time the sun was poking out from behind the clouds. Ideal conditions. Why is it that (mainly men) runners have to tell their stories at volume 9? Why is it that (mainly men) runners decide that the race is the place to tell the world how good they are?  The miriad of electronics and equipment had to be seen to be believed, enough to start a revolution for sure. Perhaps folks should concentrate on their running as opposed to the flag they were flying? They'd sure go a bit faster.

Fortunately, the two guys who obviously should be in London 2012 faded after 25km, and the faithful few in my group concentrated on getting home. It was hard. 30km onwards, my time slowed and there was nothing I could seemingly do about it. I finished slightly disappointed in 3.33.54, having set out to break the 3.30 barrier. Why that time? No reason other than the belief I can. However, I had run the best race I could. The course record was broken by both male and female athletes. Record numbers, fantastic weather, and the MC Steve King is king indeed. He knows more about the runners than the runners themselves.  Natasha met me at 38km which was fantastic, she herself having run a superb 1.44 for her half marathon. We both lazed on the grass, outside the Legislature buildings (for Victoria is the capital city of BC) soaking up the atmosphere, relieved our personal journeys were over.

Monday morning was spent with good friends, catching up, attempting jokes, eating a hearty breakfast. But time cut us rudely short, and we were driven out to the airport by our personal taxi. This time, perfect.

Its been a tough 16 weeks, pounding the pavements, more often than not alone. For me, I've been training really since January. No more marathons for me, but perhaps I might persuade a bunch of us to run one in 2016 (my 50th year). However, I love running. I love feeling fit. I love eating what I want, when I want. I love the freedom and simplicity it brings. So I wont stop, not till I have to. I look forward to planning a few shorter races next year.

And this might well be my last blog, but as many know - never say never! So, is it adieu or aurevoir?
Tim

Countdown

Countdown

With the summer of 2011 drawing to a close, we await with a degree of wonder to ‘what next?’ Last winter was pretty full-on, great for winter sports and snow shoveling. The dogs were in daily doggy-heaven, but it was hard work with so much snow. We spy the mountain tops daily for a sticking white coat.

My new found employment is working out well. Worked a couple of weeks, then promptly laid off temporarily as it has been so dry. No lawns are growing. This has proved a godsend as I’m busy laying the slate floor. The back has been broken, but its countdown time as I now have exactly one week to finish the floor, paint the walls and trim. Natasha is away for the week on a school trip, so home alone with two dogs, and mess everywhere! When I return to work, the dreaded leaf raking.

The training is progressing for the October 9^th Victoria marathon. We have both been pounding the road, 90% of the time turning left up towards Summit Lake. We play the Generation Game (UK readers will remember that) from time to time, to see who can remember the most roadside junk seen en-route. Natasha invariably wins. I have had a couple of non running related injuries, one resulting in a complete week rest from running. Ross, my nephew, completed the Sydney marathon today. His message to me on how he got on was simple – ‘ouch’. Sums it up nicely - my turn next. I’m thinking that 3hrs 30mins might be just out of reach, bar an exceptional on-the-day performance, but I have to beat my Vancouver time of 3.37.

The bees continue to recover from their ‘new house’ ordeal. Their numbers were down when I had to replace all the equipment, but they have appeared to have bred away and fill new comb with nectar. At least they will go into winter with odds on chance of making it through to spring 2012.

The B&B is also drawing to a close, which income wise is a bit of a shocker. It has been a great summer and we hope for winter guests, wanting to play in the snow. Natasha’s new laptop lasted a week and then hard drive failure. A new replacement Dell is being posted, but in the meantime she has made lots of new friends in India…

So, it is indeed ‘countdown time’ for us with so much change in the air. For me, the countdown is Oct 9^th, for Natasha Sept 28^th – ‘A Place to Play’ is published (Pegasus Publishing, UK). Please do look for it on Amazon.co.uk or .com, and order a copy. Indeed, order two and get one gift wrapped. Christmas is on its way.

Getting serious...

Natasha let slip the other day, as we were heading back down the sublime, very English ‘London Ridge’, high above the Kaslo mountain pass, that it was only seven weeks to go till Marathon Day. Gulp. This is getting serious, I thought. My running is going well, and I am feeling strong. Will I make sub 3.30 in Victoria? We will find out, but whatever the result, that’s it for me and marathons. Natasha is hanging on in with her training, and is suitably determined to do as well as she can.

The bees have pulled out all the stops and produced healthy colonies and a whack load of ‘Seriously Valhalla’ honey. But alas, the curse of my original purchase of second hand bee equipment two years back has come back to haunt me. American Foul Brood has not gone away. Tears welled at the thought of having to go through the pain (again) of burning my bees and a complete start-over. But on reflection, I was advised to keep the bees and ditch the hardware (AFB affects bee brood and housed deep in the bee cells, so the bee itself is clean – but the colony cannot reproduce). This is serious and I need to get shot of it. However, Natasha was a star at a recent New Denver Friday market, making over $600 in honey sales. I, alas, was working so could not join in the fun. Farmgate sales are seriously fun, and at last I can start to compete with Spanish Pete in stories of local people and travelers who swing by. The folk range from ‘Oh, that is simply far too expensive – we are rather price-sensitive here’ (reply - if you want cheap honey, go to the supermarket) to ‘Excellent. I’ll take the lot!’. A new bee deck at the bottom of the garden is in the process of being constructed, which will make way for the new picnic bench and fire pit.

The vegetable garden has progressed from being lame to productive, thanks to Natasha’s attention. Garlic, runner beans, chard and potatoes, with raspberries for next year. Apple and pear trees have been ordered for the spring.

Hiking over the summer has been superb fun. The crown was definitely New Denver Glacier, the big downer being the welcoming and hungry mosquitoes. The two nights planned were changed to one, four of us crammed into a two man tent. We also managed to get away for a few days on a local holiday outing, dubbed ‘the Kootenay ‘Cation’. One certainly does not have to travel far here to be immersed in seriously world class landscape. Best of all, few mosquitoes. The highlight was waking up after a storm, to witness snow covered peaks. In August!! I braved the cool lake waters (I don’t do cold water swimming) on a few occasions, and was even relaxed enough to indulge in a book.

Part of India lines our kit room and entrance hall now in the form of slate. It looks lovely and a joy to get part of the house back in to some form of order. I keep putting off the dining room and kitchen, as I want to put up a covered area over our rear deck. Far more fun, and way less serious… using local wood too which involves a donation to the local Eco Group.

The Bed & Breakfast has been a rip-roaring success. Such a wide variety of people turn up, the last couple being honeymooning newly-weds. So, the combined income from honey and guests has been welcomed for sure. We worked hard for it, but worth every penny. I’m starting full time work in September which will be blessing, doing yard work with a friend in New Denver. I have always left my lawns well alone, cutting only when essential. However, there is a certain pride in producing straight cut lines on a nice lawn. New skills to learn for sure – always a good thing. Trying to run a home based business and hold down a job will be tough, though, and the dogs will not enjoy it one bit. In the long run, I’ll like to work three days on yard duties, but I’m hardly in a position to negotiate right now! Anything to keep me out of the classroom….

So, the summer rolls on. Natasha is trying to defer the start of her term next week, but we have the Victoria marathon weekend to look forward to and we are aiming to have another camping trip during the first week in September, ‘Labour weekend’. But it will be an outing with a difference, as we have decided to retire The Pink Slug (the camper). It causes too much stress as its falling apart! It has served us well. Whatever next? A caravan? Now, that is serious.

Pictures found at http://www.facebook.com/media/albums/?id=145082598861572

OUCH!

The times, they are a changin’. I smiled to myself as I sat back in my camping chair, supping tea, reminiscing 1979/80 Jam, Who, Stranglers (and so on) concerts. Here I was now, watching The Sheepdogs do their stuff on stage, at our local Nakusp music (rock) festival in 2011. It was a snapshot from 1960’s Woodstock, young energetic lads with long hair and bandana’s, eating the microphone and make love to their guitar. I could not fault their energy and passion. It was not the average 40+ age which amused me, it was designated camping chair area for us to sit back, relax, drink tea and watch youngsters (and not so young) thrash about on their stage. Awesome event and I’ll definitely try to go next year. Kevin Costner and Modern West were spirited – I admired him for getting up on a stage which can so easily go horribly wrong. Missed the high tempo workout by Gary Hoey, but judging by the last 30 secs I caught as I wandered onto the field, his performance was electric. The Grapes of Wrath, childhood mates now well into their 40s reunited for a superb performance, Spirit of the West pumping out known tunes, but the accolade must go to the aging rockers I remember only too well on TotP with hits such as ‘What a fool believes’ and ‘Minute by Minute’. The Doobie Brothers - simply fantastic. Naively I spent time working out who the Doobie brothers were, until I read that a ‘doobie’ is a joint. What world do I live in??!

However, my time sitting in my camping chair was short lived on all three nights – not because of the dogs being home alone, or Natasha being away (in the Rockies with her girlfriend Billi), but injury. Alas I have been forced to stop running, having suffered a literal body blow. A piece of wood kicked back from my bench saw into the left side of my groin – apart from seeing stars for a long while, little ‘down below’ was recognisable due to swelling and I did not think that the viewed hue of black and blue existed.

Meanwhile, my bees are making honey. Lots of it. Busy little critters. Ill be extracting some this summer for sure, and maybe even try selling some of it. They are without doubt quite a remarkable insect. I hope that good fortune shines on me and them this winter, as to enter the spring of 2012 with four intact hives would be very special. Our summer is not treating them well, as we are not really having one just yet. This morning was fun – I hobbled off on my dog walk, but forgot my umbrella (middle aged or what?!). Yet another thunderstorm kicked in, and as I sheltered under one of our massive cedar trees, I watched the ferns and bracken dance to the beat of the raindrops. I would have missed that I had remembered my man made shelter. Look for nature, don’t hide from it.

My pile of India slate is slowly shrinking, mixing floor goop and laying tiles as I listen to my new cd purchases (signed, of course). Its fun – bachelor conditions kicking in as floor work takes over. I aim to finish the kit room by the time Natasha returns. My running remains on the back burner till Thursday. It was my rest week anyway, so full training shall resume, hopefully, next week. Meanwhile, our suite guests left happy this morning - over the weekend they had bumped into a certain Mr Costner coming out of our local food shop without knowing he was in the area.

Good times. Tim

The lazy days of summer

I love it when I run well. I feel like I’m on top of the world, running on the balls of my feet as opposed to clumping on my heels. Training is going well, the mileage (‘kilometreage’ as Bryan pointed out, does not read right) increasing, the aches and pains kept at bay. The sun is shining on the Kootenays now which brings out the smiles on people. A great time of year for sure. Natasha is also training for her half marathon and she is working hard. October looms, too close. But I feel confident – as before.

So much snow fell over the winter that access to the inner mountains is restricted. Our local peak, Idaho, is still shrouded in snow. We drove up the access road the other day with Natasha’s friend, Billi, (and the dogs) and got within three kilometers of the parking lot. However, the abundance of snow keeps the tourists away, making the hike up the mountain divine. So peaceful, tranquil and adventurous.

Billi is English, parents live in Scotland, currently lives in Switzerland, met Natasha in Hungary (and so on…). She is visiting for three weeks and its great having the company and the enthusiasm to get out to do stuff. Its funny living in a landscape full of opportunity – sometimes you have to be reminded to get off your backside and get on with it! We all canoed on our local lake the other day, something we never do. Even the dogs settled down, noses resting on the side, tasting the water as it skimmed by. The last few weeks have been full on with trying to get landscaping done on our property, but now we are seeing the rewards as the newly seeded grass is turning the stony ground a fresh green. The B&B has been busy too, with August filling up. This provides us with a bit of money to plough back into the house which is good news indeed. I have ordered from a local guy some wood to build a roof over our rear deck and assemble some railings.

Natasha and Billi go of on their travels next week to the Rockies. I get left behind to do dog walks, running and laying the chunk of Indian slate we brought back last month from Kelowna. The clearing of the rooms has started and so the clutter increases. The running machine is now outside, under our front porch. Great view! As Richard from Port Hardy says ‘always think to the finished product’. My eyes can see a lovely slate floor, but my knees and back are already feeling the anticipated pain.

So, hardly the lazy days of summer. The bees are buzzing (still four hives, though pretty much touch and go sometimes) and the honey is starting to come in, defying the odds. House jobs abound, never enough time to complete the tick sheet. Eight acres of property is too much, but great fun. It’s a constant battle in the garden to keep law and order between the acceptable and wilderness. But its great and I love working outdoors.

We have booked out a week to go traveling, second week in August. We aim to swing a backpack on our backs, the first time for ages, but who knows what will happen! But what I do know is that our running shoes will be packed and am looking forward to exploring new trails.

Fun times!

Tim

Kooteny Trials and Tribulations

Not wearing a watch, I asked the check out girl in Home Depot the time. She started punching buttons on her computer and it was then I realised she did not have a watch either. But she was so slow. Surely the time is displayed on the screens of all computers?? Bottom right, right? A receipt was duly printed on the printer, grabbed, examined and then the time proudly relayed to me. My, what a palaver. I have not worn a watch for years, not since my third year of teaching back whenever, but for a youth not wearing one? And having to print out a receipt to find out the time? Oh how times have changed.

And so my Kelowna city experience continued. Natasha and I had traveled across the Monashee mountain pass on the Thursday, she on a seminar in Vancouver, me on my own with two dogs, a truck and trailer, and a tent. No one came to any harm, or damage caused, but Kelowna provided me with enough stress to fill a swimming pool with swear words. Traffic, red traffic lights, queues, rainstorms, lost dogs, no camp stove were all thrown at me whilst I shopped for slate floor tiles. Natasha flew back to an ailing Tim on the Friday night and on the Saturday we headed home with ¾ tonne of India, 150kg of floor goop, 60kg sugar, 40kg flour, 130kg of human and 60kg of dog. Plus very wet camping gear. It was a slow journey indeed! We passed and thought our thoughts at the memorial plaque where only a few weeks back the young New Denver man in his pick up died when a chip truck wiped him and his family out. It’s a strange human trait to have to try to understand what happened, but we spent the next few kilometers trying to do just that. Why can’t we just accept that it did and move on? On an opposite note, whilst in Kelowna Home Depot, I bumped into a former work colleague from Port Hardy Home Hardware days. Chris, who I always had time for, had a place in my heart as his wife’s son was very ill with a heart condition. We all moved from the Island about the same time, but what of his step-son? ‘He had a heart transplant’ said Chris. and….? ‘Last night he was playing baseball!’

My bees continue to delight, entertain and cause me stress. A former UK work colleague, also Chris, used to use the phrase ‘it’s like wrestling with jelly’. Bee keeping is a bit like that, as you never quite know what is going to happen next. I had five new bee nucs / queens, but now I have only four. All seem to be healthy, but who knows? Im not a natural at this malarkey, but it does give me a degree of satisfaction. My aim is to produce some honey which I like. ’10 honey was lupin nectar, which I did not like so much, so this year we have planted lots of bee loving flowers and hopefully pull some honey off a bit sooner than last year.

My buddy, Peter ‘Buff’, who is English is now a fully fledged Canadian. He attended his citizenship ceremony last week along with lots of other nationals, all getting their own Canadian passports. I quote:

From Australia to Zimbabwe people clapped or cheered when their country was called.  Iran, Iraq, India, all over Europe and around the world.  A very tall and very blue/black man from Sudan proudly stood when they called his country and he got an enormous cheer!  His journey was probably very different to my own.  But we were all new Canadians!

I felt very proud and humbled.

What a lovely story – it’s our turn next. Our Citizenship applications are in and the wait begins. Meanwhile, our UK passports have been surrendered for renewal. Amazingly, we had to send them to Washington, DC (Yes, America) and not here in Canada which just happens to be a fully signed up and active member of the Commonwealth. The newly we Royal couple are even visiting Calgary stampede in July. See, the UK really does have a ‘special relationship’ with the US. In the meantime, I hope I don’t have to do an emergency UK return – cos I can’t!

My marathon training started June 1^st. Rest day. Superb.

Tim

Spring fever

The young deer had got caught up in the wire fence, hapless. Its eyes were elsewhere, in the land of beyond, its breathing shallow and quick. I had its head on my lap, its fate in my hands - I should end the nightmare, put it beyond pain. The dogs had felt the full force of my fury, and shame, for they had only been doing what is inbred. Natasha and I were out for a run, the dogs off lead. Tasky had been the first to spot the bobbing white tail and screamed after it, Bonny hot on his heels. Normally I tend not to worry too much about deer chasing. It happens infrequently and I have always assumed the dogs are no match for the athletic deer. But on this occasion fate had got the better of life and it was up to me to do what was right. But what to do? I am no hunter, no keeper of animals. Yank the head back and twist? Hesitation, tears well. Cant do it.

Crestfallen, I leave the deer to the fate of the resident coyotes that would soon smell its incapacity. I was beaten – was my heart too big or just cowardly? I have still not yet discovered how to quickly kill a deer. It was my fault the deer was dying and yet I could not take the full responsibility of my dogs actions by doing what was undoubtedly right. It was days to get over the feeling of cowardice. The carcass had gone within 48hrs but bad memories take time to fade.

So spring is definitely here now, the bees are zapping all over. Warmth has finally melted white, to be replaced with green, nature going crazy trying to make up for lost time. Our newly purchased BBQ not only means that we are finally fully Canadian, but we can enjoy burnt food on the deck. Enthusiasm has meant that our planted runner beans have been severely weakened by night frost, the words from our locals of not to put anything out till after the full moon ignored. 

I’m painting the suite siding, but easily distracted by the sound and sight of hummingbirds. Lots of them, never seen so many. If I get too close to their feed, they bomb me. Sadly, one flew into the sliding glass door and died on impact. Death is never far away, life is so precious. A former student at Natasha’s school was recently killed whilst driving over the nearby Monashee pass. A huge out of control chip truck coming the other way wiped his truck out, the chip truck driver left physically intact. But what of all the bad memories?

Our two wwoofer helpers, Brigid and Sarina, have moved their adventures onwards, leaving a slight vacuum behind at Smiling Hills. We look forward to the next visitor, hopefully in July. Meanwhile, Natasha continues to work incredibly hard at Lucerne, but buoyed from the prospect of holidays not far away. We have both booked our journey to Victoria in October, so the stage is set for our next running challenge. My running legs have returned, but are acutely aware of the psychological journey ahead, as my June 1^st training start looms ever closer.

Paid work is still scarce, my truck soaking up any spare cash we collectively have. A conundrum indeed. Repair bills are undoubtedly still cheaper than a payment for a new one, but it’s the uncertainty and immediacy of breakdowns that throws us. It’s getting old, poor thing, but it will have to hang on a bit longer. We aim to go away this long Mayday weekend - the weather looks ok, the small generator packed away in the truck nestling alongside the battery charger, for the glowplugs are not working and the starter motor tired. But to get away is important, even for just a couple of days. I might even be spotted supping a beer! Our dogs have the right approach – live for the moment. It has consequences, but they don’t have to deal with them. Like it but simply cant do it.

Tim

A new beginning

What part of BC are you guys from? I asked, just to spark a conversation. “BC maaaan” was the drawled reply from one of the bearded objects slouched in the car. “Hey, this is our home maaan” the other blurted. “We are just moving into another room, maaan”. (throaty laugh all round). And so the conversation ceased. I was thus duly introduced to the official world of ‘Couch Surfing’; another day in the Slocan Valley, giving two modern day Romany’s a ride nearer to their chosen destination. I love giving rides to the ‘thumbers’ of the world, and even Natasha has been known to open the passenger door to a stranger. This is despite my attempt at hitch hiking the other week proved completely unsuccessful, resulting in a hurt pride retiring home till a lift could be secured the following day to retrieve a newly repaired truck.

Spring has sprung, the bees are getting fitter, the daffodils poking their yellow heads up through the sodden soil. The swamp land below us is slowly drying up as the trees produce their pollen laden catkins in preparation for their green display. For the last 10 days, post Vancouver marathon running has been on hold as we entertain and keep busy two wonderful WWOOFers, young and energetic at 19 years of age, who have opted to grace us with their presence lending us their muscle and charm in exchange for board and lodging. In reality, in addition to the welcome social company, they have ensured much needed progress in that messy post winter / pre summer phase, where trees are cleared, wood split and stacked, exterior painting undertaken and vege plots prepared for planting. Sarina stayed for a week, and her friend Brigid one extra - a win / win scenario if ever there was one.

So, where does my running fit in to all this? It took me till this sunday to look into my post marathon goody bag  - my medal ended up in the recycling bin but the crowning turd in the trifle was my 'technical running shirt' - the right sleeve some 20cm shorter than the left! I also realised with horror that I still have a plastic bag full of ‘near end of date bargain bin’ SIS energy gels sent to me by some Ottawa bicycle shop.  What to do with them? Peter recommended a bargain bin store donation, but that would be contrary to the challenge laid down by my 3.37 marathon. On the return flight home last week, my ‘never again, what’s the point?’ changed to ‘maybe, sometime someday, somewhere’. Slowly my head and heart realised that I need a sub 3.30. Natasha needs me to do it as well, for her peace sake. So, the date has been set – October 7^th, venue Victoria. Marathon day. Natasha has also jumped into the canyon by entering the half marathon with a pledge to bear her previous time set in Sheffield, that of 1.41. So, Tim sub 3.30, Natasha sub 1.40. A big party for sure if success is secured.

Last Sunday saw us both run the local 5km fun run. My legs did not find any of it fun, nor did Natasha find any amusement in the solitary hill. But she finished a credible third in her category of being female and I had my success by complaining that males did not get a finishing flower at the end. Flowers were soon handed out to all finishers, and there was much rejoicing! My local vet, Mr. ‘100 dollar’ Bill surged ahead of us, with 2km to go and was pleased as punch with his run. He was clearly worried at the start of the run when he declared a concern as the advertised event wording had changed from ‘run’ to ‘race’. Local events – you can’t equal them.

So, my official Victoria marathon training starts on June 1^st, and I now have something regular to write about. There will, hopefully, be much rejoicing later on. After the inevitable pain.

The perfect race

It was strange being at a mass participation event, where families and friends were all together, supporting each other – and me on my own. It was fun being an onlooker, watching the occasional like minded stray wander, a bit lost in the organised mayhem and buzz of the Vancouver marathon. On the other hand, I found it had less of an attachment to me – maybe a good thing. I was there to run as hard as I could – no smiling for the cameras, no keeping an eye out to see if I recognized anyone I knew on the course. It was me and 26.2 miles.

The lead up to the race was perfect. I found the two weeks wind down very odd – it was like having your legs taken away from you. From full on commitment to virtually nothing. But I stuck to my training programme, religiously, like I have all along. The journey down to Vancouver was excellent as the weather was clearing, the sun was shining and snow adorned the peaks. I drove the 2hrs 15 mins to Trail airport – a wonderful outfit where you sit only metres away from the aircraft you fly in. On the return journey, I noticed with amusement that the waiting room was the field itself, with passengers sitting in sun chairs, waiting the order to board. So small, so informal. I love it. I dozed for most of the hours flight to big city.

Vancouver was as vibrant as ever. So cosmopolitan. Cyclists, skaterboarders, roller blades, runners, joggers, walkers, dog owners, the compulsory party of Japanese tourists and the pack of beautified young women out in their pack pouncing on poor unsuspecting seemingly single men… I escaped, but I thought of you Bryan! The weather was set to be sunny, if a little warm for the big event on the Sunday. I felt good, confident even, but not overly so. Just focused. The Sunday sun broke the cloudless sky, and I was out of the flat I was staying in (thanks Missy and Mitch) by 0630. I had downed my meager breakfast – the same as it has been for the past 3 months, and very relieved that I had performed on the toilet (three times no less). So all was set, all toilet queuing potentially avoided. Focused. The stage was set for the perfect race, unless you were a leader as the course is too windy for ultra fast times. But for us mere mortals at the back of the good pack, a few extra turns would do us no harm at all. Perfect preparation, no injuries, great weather and confident. What could go wrong?

At the start, I failed to spot my 3.30 ‘bunny’ pacemaker. One minute before the start I noticed a pair of 3.30 ears way back, milling around with the 3.45 ears. I decided there and then to run my own race, and tag on if they joined me. I paced myself well, if a little quick but not overly so, over the first 30km. I felt somewhat claustrophobic in amongst the high-rise buildings, but the sun and the light cool breeze took my mind off it. I marveled at the shapes, sizes and techniques of all the runners around me, taking an instant dislike to all the loud mouth braggers who I seem to be forever tagged to in these events. Stanley Park arrived, the half way point. Up to now I had been having a bit of a problem spotting the km signs – they had been placed too low and were blocked by spectators. My gps Garmin was playing up as it could not locate the satellites in amongst the tall buildings, so I was having to work hard at maintaining the correct pace. The water stations were not perfect either – well intentioned water providers were simply standing too close to each other, so if you missed one or the station was too crowded, you were stuffed. I missed two, but no real biggies, as it was not that hot and I was well hydrated. The other annoying thing was that we were getting a bit confused between the half marathon and full marathon distance markers – not a big issue in itself, but when you are working hard and concentrating, small distraction like that do not do you any good. Half way came and watches read. And then it arrived again, to our surprise – another half/full marathon marker confusion. Oh well. What did I left in the bank?  I was really enjoying the run by now, happy with my pacing. But at the arrival of 30km, I did think to myself a big cautionary ‘uh-oh’. By 32 km I knew that 3.30 was off the cards, and I just wanted to get home. The last 10km were long and hard, trying to stave off cramp. The well intentioned cries of 'You're looking good' prompted the silent response 'but feeling crap'. But I was determined not to walk, which I didn’t. I finished in a lackluster 3.37. The perfect race had been set for me, but I had failed in my attempt to run sub 3.30. I did not even look at the medal given to me by some smiley girl. I collected my food, picked up my bag, , got changed, alone, and wandered off to the nightmare of the train station steps. My legs were not happy, but I was strangely not too tired. My body had not been pushed, my head fitter than my capacity to run, my determination to finish carried my pride, but barriers had not been broken.

Too fast too soon? Maybe, but nothing too untoward. Should I have stuck with the 3.30 race bunny? Maybe. I was only up on my 3.30 time by 2 mins at the half way point, hardly a mass uncontrolled sprint. The simple truth of the matter was not enough long miles in my legs for a 3.30 time. Pacing myself slower would have been a 3.30-3.35 run, as opposed to an ugly 3.37. Will I attempt another one? Don’t know. Undecided.

I had a fantastic weekend however, the travel was exciting and it was great to be part of a mass event with lots of razzmatazz. I really enjoyed my winter training and its great being fit again. Ill keep the running going, but maybe concentrate on a good half marathon time. Three and a half hours is just too long to pound a tarmac road. A mountain trail would be different, however.

Thanks to Buff for the entry sponsorship and Natasha for race weekend cash. Till next time. But what shall I write about now?

Lacking imagination...

I described todays route to Natasha as ‘lacking in imagination’. Our house, New Denver and return. 32 km, 20 miles. My last long run before the Big Day. How wrong can one be? We sometimes go through our daily lives living as if we can’t see. My buddy, Tony, once said to me years back that he encouraged his school students to look up whilst walking along the High Street – as it’s above the modern shop fronts where the old architectural beauty lies.

I have been trying to get up at 6am to have breakfast and to do my training run at 0730 to emulate the Big Run day. Got to get my body used to sitting on the toilet at that time! Today was no exception and success all round. Armed with nutrition in my stomach and goopy gels in my running pouch, off I set exactly on time. My eyes soon lifted up from the road to the surrounded beautry. The mountains and lakes breezed by, no cars, no people, only nature and a man made highway. The water was mirror flat, the mountains mirrored as if they were looking up at you as opposed to towering over. Two Canadian geese, chatting quietly by the roadside decided to take flight before I overheard their secrets. Their path left me in awe of nature, this run which ‘lacked imagination’. The birds opened their wings, and glided effortlessly down to the snowy reflection, some 20 metres below. Feet outstretched, wings backbeating everso, landed in amongst the images. A camera could not have captured what the eye had seen and the mind interpreted. If you are a bird, then spring has arrived, but elsewhere winter still lingers; nights still below freezing, daytime rarely in double figures, the sun rarely seen. The snow line hovering just above us, the grey earth still camouflaged with its white shroud.  For on this run which lacked imagination, nature was around me in all its guises provided I just opened my eyes.

The kilometers clicked by, my body working hard. I was pleased with my run as my legs are tired, aches and pains rearing their ugly head and I was determined to put heart and soul into doing as best I could. Time to slacken comes now as I taper off my mileage, gathering strength for the Big Day. I managed the return leg from New Denver in exactly the same time as the outgoing time, and the highway has some energy sapping hills. I was worried in case the outgoing mountains which had breezed by, would crawl by on the return, but I need not have worried. Nature continued to marvel and entertain as Spring battles with Winter to dominate.

I finished my 32km in 2hr 39 mins, which is everso slightly slower than my target Big Day race plan. However, I am happy with my effort. My mind now turns toward keeping injury and illness free, which up to now has been the case. Natasha marked the end of winter training with a house spring clean. My tired legs and mind struggled with assigned jobs, but our lovely house is now fit for the year ahead. My new bees arrive this week, so all hands on deck to ensure new homes are ready for my Kiwi girls. I also discovered a rare breed round here – another runner. I passed a young lady on my way out to New Denver and again on my return. She had done the same route as me, also training for the Vancover marathon. Small world. I had never seen another runner before whilst out training – nor had she. ‘See you there!’ I exclaimed enthusiastically, ignoring the odds.

Glad the hard work is now behind me and the Big Day looming closer.

Route stats:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/78485506?sms_ss=email&at_xt=4da28fe9c149b0b1%2C0

Tim

Birthday Blog

Actually, it’s my second birthday, today being April 2. My proper birthday is March 28, (which for 44 years I believed was also my mother’s birthday, until she told me recently that it could be the 27^th. Does it matter? Makes me smile.) Last week I was in Canmore, $ working with my virtual training partner Peter, who is relocating his Buff empire to Canmore (www.buyabuff.com). But today I am back home at our lovely house in Hills, BC, with Natasha and the dogs.

So, I am now officially 46, not 47 as I had originally thought on my birthday proper, so I feel as if I have gained a year. Fantastic. Senility arriving early for me I think.

Natasha and I had a fabulous visit to the UK, and thanks to everyone for making us feel so welcome and at home. It was a streamlined friends and family tour and, as ever, many missed out. Next time. The weather was beautiful, no rain, only sun. We struggled with our inner selves as to our relationship with our mother country, whether we return sooner or later. What is clear is that we once again saw England through rose tinted spectacles which we thoroughly enjoy wearing. The countryside was a vibrant green, skipping lambs scurried with no purpose around fields, amber nectar poured from casks, dry stone walls asking to be touched. The list goes on. And so does my marathon training.

I had the delight of running through the English countryside and managed to do so with three good friends: Kevin lead me through the rolling Dorset hills from Hardy monument to the sea; Tony chatted non stop around Carsington reservoir in Derbyshire; Bryan’s satellite tracking watch beeped us along the river Tyne in Newcastle. Natasha and I even managed to squeeze in a run together. All good. I upped the mileage too, now hovering at about 35 per week, due to be over 40 this week. My triumph run was from Hugh’s house in Matlock which was a stunning 18 miler through undulating lands owned by my nemesis, the Duke of Devonshire. This did my confidence no end of good.

But now the nerves are beginning to set in. I am starting to create a check list of ‘things to do on the day’ in my head: Bryan’s unpleasant toilet story at the start of his recent Barcelona marathon was harrowin.. Get the pace right. Energy gels – what to use? Will I make the flight home after? What about my belongings? Stick with the 3:30 race hare (‘bunny’). 3:30 might elude me. Devastating. Perhaps 3:20 might be possible? Don’t even think of it.

The snow is now melting which is a blessing, but we now have the aftermath – mud, water and mess. The field at the bottom of our property is now one vast network of rivers and lakes. Pretty amazing. Last week I was training in snowy Canmore so that thankfully is now behind me. Tomorrow’s run is another 18 miler on open roads, but this time armed with my new birthday toy from Natasha – a Garmin 305 satellite tracker watch. I can now annoy myself with my very own beeping noises, waving at the occasional car, staring at wonder at the beautiful countryside we live in, imaging what Race Day will be like.

On a personal note, thanks Peter for your hospitality this last week in Canmore. Hope your illness has not set you back too much for your Mallorca cycle race training camp. I’ll do my utmost to make sure your Buff marathon sponsorship does us all proud! 

UK tour pictures – http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=347331&id=792629362

Garmin personal training data - http://connect.garmin.com/activity/77020606

28 days to go and I’m nervous.

The long hard road.... (with apologies to Ron Hill)

It’s a funny old game, this ‘training for an event’ malarkey. You put all your eggs in one basket, as opposed to adjusting your training to fit a particular race.

In a ‘regular’ running program, the mileage and variety would be akin to a sine wave: big mileage one week interspersed with a bit of variety and conditioning, lower mileage another but focused on quality and speed. But with my training for a specific race, May 1^st, with a background of ‘good, basic but nothing in particular’ fitness, that line is a steep incline!

Illness, injury, skipping sessions are simply not on. Tricky when the entire Kootenay population seems to be suffering coughs and colds and those who aren’t, go playing in the mountains on skis.

Let me give you some examples.

1. Injury

I was helping to set some cross country ski tracks over the weekend, and in my enthusiasm to do a ‘good job’ I managed to get the skidoo stuck. Well, jammed is a better description. Jammed in setting concrete and even though the machine was only 2m from the perfectly good trail, it was positioned at right angles to it, buried. What had I done? Tried to turn the darn thing around to give the trail another good beating. My perfectly innocent actions cost me nearly four hours of toil and a strained back.  Down but not out, fortunately.

2. Playtime

I was lucky enough to be called into Natasha’s school for some much needed work last week. Thoroughly enjoyed it, but in chatting to some colleagues one was spending the weekend in a hut some 20km off the highway with some buddies (why is this not me? I wondered to myself) and another was skiing up from his house, into the mountains for some play. Would I like to join him? Is the Pope Catholic? Does Natasha like plain, greasy crisps? What a stupid question. YES! But on reflection, I had to tamper my enthusiasm. ‘Bin the training or do it’ was the advice from my virtual training partner, Peter. ‘But don’t reschedule’. Made perfect sense. Could I afford to bin my 12 mile run on Sunday? The steep training mileage incline image burned in my mind, with the May 1 deadline getting perilously close. I declined. Damn.

3. Illness

Natasha has had a cold this last week. She is not alone. It was inevitable that I succumb at some point. On Thursday I was duly dropped off at New Denver golf course to run home. 9 miles. Fartlek. I was up for it. But within 30 seconds I knew in my heart of hearts that not only fartlek out of the question, it was going to be a case of ‘get home as best you can’. I felt lousy. After, my legs were a soreness I had not witnessed for a long time. Muscle soreness you get after a very long run or a race. Painful to walk downstairs. But only 9 miles? Odd. I could not put my finger on it. On Sunday I ran a blazing 12 miles. Back on track. My legs? Tired but not sore at all. But I had the makings of a rasping cough and got me banished to the couch for the night. Illness.  Affects us in so many different ways. Peter has had to stop his training for a few days – I feel spared. I hope, though, for sprightly legs until 10.29.59 on May 1^st. Only then can I be ill and legs stop working.

To quote Kevin:

Yeah, some days you go out with the best of intentions but you just

have a crap run. Other days you start off feeling like s**t but 

recover to have a good session. Running is a funny old game.

Sure is!

I’m trying a home made energy mix: 1/3 banana, 1 tsp honey (home produced of course). Yum. The challenge is the dispenser and how to carry it. Ideas welcome. My head is turning toward our UK visit, my runs, my training, how to fit it all in, but how to be flexible enough to incorporate running with mates. I’ve got to keep that inclined mileage line going….

Get up and go

Fartlek is a word which still, at the aging age of approaching 46, I find funny. Makes me smirk – it’s my boy humour. However, do it properly and all bets are off. Smirks are replaced by grimaces, car drivers thinking you are either sprinting for Olympic Gold or asking themselves as to why you are near walking and what are you doing in the middle of nowhere?

Sometimes I get confused in remembering the difference between ‘anaerobic’ and ‘aerobic’ – try out the former and you soon remember. The pain, the empty lungs, the sweat, the challenge, the tired legs and not forgetting the big question: ‘Is this all worth it?’

Fartlek = Speed play – work hard, recover quick. Repeat until…. I’m convinced someone keeps increasing the distance between those telegraph poles. Jog one. Fast one, faster one, sprint one. Jog one…. 6 miles of it.

My Canmore buddy Peter is also training for a pedal jaunt in the UK – well, hardly a jaunt: Lands End – John o’ Groats race.  We have become virtual training partners which is a great incentive, as if one slacks you know darn well that the other will make your guilty life even more miserable than it already is. Training is certainly ‘all pain, no gain’ mentality – if you don’t put the time in, then the body can’t perform on the day. But it’s also about being kicked up the backside by those you love and respect and an interest shown in what you are doing. All runners of all shapes and sizes spend hours pounding the road or trail, or running machine and someone egging you on is a necessary evil.

I’ve been following Bryan in South Shields in his attempt to break the four hour marathon. Stubborn bugger and all power to him on Barcelona marathon day. May your commitment and home made energy gels power you across that finish line! Then there is Kevin in Wells – a rower in his time, but loves running. Taken up ‘hashing’ in his local area and loves it. So does his dog. But he keeps adding miles to his shoe soles, determined to be better in the next race. Peter in Spain – a former runner and skier, now a committed hiker in his local hills. His blog brings his local stories and jaunts alive – it feeds my imagination.

You guys keep me training, and its amazing the strength it gives me when I lace up my shoes to step out into the frigid air. Thanks. When is Spring? -10C this morning and a fierce northerly.

I won’t unfortunately get a training session in with Peter before Natasha and I depart for the UK next month as winter still has its grips on the roads. Ice and skinny tyres don’t mix well… but hopefully we can hit the gym the morning of our flight, as we stay over with him the night before we fly. Kevin has promised me a pasting across the Dorset Downs, meeting at Hardy's Monument, 10am on the 16^th: 12 miles, Tim, he says. 6 miles down to the sea, and 6 miles back up. Bring it on! Bryan will have done his marathon so doubtless we will just sit, drink beer (migraine pills easy to hand, of course) and shoot the breeze. Natasha’s parents have just moved to Penrith, so the thought of running the mountain trails in the Lake District is akin to Bonny and Tasky waiting to be given their bone.

I love it. Power to you all. I hit my half way training point today – its been ‘easy’ up to now, but next week the serious work begins. Natasha continues to encourage - thanks love!

Tim

Working life

I have so many blog entries in my head its got to the point of ‘what is the point?’. Life has continued in its time honoured fashion of downhill skiing: ‘out of control and loving it!’ (but in a controlled sort of way, cos that’s the kind of guy I am).

Before I get too deep and philosophical, my marathon training is going well. May 1^st is still some time off, but not in training terms. My maximum road pace is still slower than my 18 yr old training pace, but that is to be expected; I have a head of grey hair to show for it. My tolerance for the indoor revolving rubber is 6miles, so anything beyond that is outdoors. The weather makes for a cold run, but wrap up well and you are soon warm. Two choices face me each time I venture out: 1. turn right (downhill and then uphill return) or 2. turn left (uphill and then downhill return). Two is my favoured option and I’m not complaining, yet. My mileage average is only about 20-25m per week, but I like to think that it is quality 20m. I’m focused, I’m committed. The marathon distance does not worry me, but my target time of sub 3.30 does.

My severe economic state required a drastic stimulus, so four weeks back I headed back over to Port Hardy. The town has been kind to me, for it housed and entertained me for a year in ’92, and for Natasha and I later in 2006 / 09. Worryingly, I reckoned on landing once again at their tiny airport that I have probably used this airport more times than any other in the world. Doors which I had not knocked on for a long while were opened to me, and I caught up with stories and events - some tragic, some challenging, some funny. Once again it served as a reminder that even though I feel that am continually working to keep friendship doors open, that is not to say that any are, in reality, closed. I worked and trained hard, leading a somewhat nomadic existence for two weeks but left with a warm glow in my heart knowing that I had helped a good buddy of mine out, got some money and reaffirmed old acquaintances. Thank you to all who took me in (and for the massage, Cindy!) But oh, the weather! I spent the entire time in four layers struggling to keep warm in the damp, cool winter climate whilst working with others wearing simply a T shirt. Natasha was very pleased to see me – she had become chief snow shoveler and dog walker on top of full time work.

So, back at Smiling Hills farm, Sanderman becomes Farmer Tim. We have somehow been granted farm status on the basis of my bees. I did tell them 2010 saw a 75% mortality rate and no income, but the powers that be obviously needed to keep their farm numbers up. I can now get an official ‘F’ number plate for the truck. F standing for, naturally, FARM. The B&B saw its first winter guests last weekend, three grown men heading up into the mountains for a weeks ski touring. Very jealous. I do hope for an increase in custom over this next year, and less bee kill.

The snow keeps on coming. The pile to the left of me right now is half way up our living room window. It’s fun, yet challenging. I need a machine to help clear it all and hopefully next year Farmer Tim will have his tractor. But for now, I need to sell my garden tractor snowblower, keep my brand new blower from breaking down, repair a faulty new generator, get the new fridge to work properly. To top it off, Tasky killed three chickens yesterday.  Natasha continues to find work challenging in so many ways and I need a job… need I go on? Get the drift?The grass is starting to look a little greener on the other side, but that may just be temporary. Time will tell.

So, cancel your gym memberships and use the money to get yourselves out here. There is plenty here to keep you in shape!

Natasha, the author blog - http://aliveinthekootenays.blogspot.com/

Paul, the cycling brother website - http://www.pedallingpsychology.com/

Peter, the sports photographer blog - http://www.cuetophoto.com/blog/

 Tim

Damn and Rabbits

 Reality is quite something, hitting you like a bolt of lightening, but usually without the same effect. Your heart misses a couple of beats and you pause for reflection.

Damn. Oh dear. Mmmm….. Ok!

Today I was once again pounding the rubber (the running machine). Running 6.30 – 7.00 min miles equates to the run being over and done with sooner. Negativity is a great way to train! I was mulling over a couple of things, staring at the World Map I have stuck on the wall. It’s too dark outside to see through the window, and in any case it steams up pretty soon. Good job we have not got neighbours as they may get funny ideas about what past-times we have.

I was staring at central northern Canada, laughing to my self remembering my comeuppance with a special needs student in Port Hardy. This lad was learning Canadian geography and he simply could not remember ‘Hudson Bay’. I told him to look closely and we laughed as he realised that it was shaped like an upside down rabbit. It became a joke between us that Hudson Bay was actually called ‘The Rabbit’. Sadly for him, though, in his final geography test, he named it ‘The Rabbit’ and got zero points for that question. Anyway, as I was recalling this funny but sad event, Feb 1^st has been in my mind lots as it signified the start date for my May 1^st Vancouver marathon. My head is ready and I’m happy with my winter fitness. But then the reality of my assumption struck home – ‘May 1’ and work back ‘16 weeks’ does not equate to a Feb 1^st start date. Rats. I’ve missed a chunk of training before I have actually started! My official marathon training start of Jan 10^th missed (but fortunately marked as a rest day, phew). I have to get up early tomorrow and pound rubber for 6 miles. Testing for sure, but no pain, no gain.

I’m not really that surprised I messed up, as clearly memory lapse runs in the family. My dear mother sent me us two Christmas cards. She also sent her sister two as well, one not stamped. My Auntie sent us two bars of Marmite Chocolate in separate envelopes – one addressed to our current house, the other to our old address. It’s great comfort knowing that I’m not alone.

Lack of work has forced me to return to Port Hardy, a mixed blessing. A good friend, Richard, needs help to catch up on renovation contracts and for him to catch up on needed sleep, for he has a new son to be responsible for. Pain for some, gain for others I guess. I shall be gone for two weeks and as has been pointed out to me by Canmore Peter, this means that no ‘funnies’ will be passed on, but you will get two weeks worth in one day upon my return. Enjoy the silence! Sadly, though, my time away means that my introduction to Canada’s ‘Silent Sport’ will be terminated early. Natasha signed us up for curling (note to all: watch ‘Men with Brooms’ DVD if at all possible). What a superb sport! Natasha enjoyed being the youngest there.

Our winter has come to a crashing, screeching stop. The sheer volume of snow has given way to a big melt, with consequences. Mush everywhere. We now go for a dogmush, as opposed to dogski, dogwalk, dogrun… The joy of weather.  I fully expect winter to return for February – I hope so as Natasha and I have some skiing left to do.

Till next time. Port Hardy beckons and yes, my running shoes are packed.

Tim