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.