red, white, and awesome – aka: sleepless in seattle

I make no secret of my love for America.

Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond proud to come from a country best known for politeness and comedians – actually, nobody knows us for our comedians, they all assume they’re American – and I can accurately tell you our national sport and animal without having to Google it, but there’s something to be said for the nation that invented Funfetti Cake.

I also make no secret of my love for driving around, often aimlessly; it fills my suburban teenage heart with such joy. So, when a friend asked me for a Sunday drive, a run for the border seemed like an obvious choice. What was originally intended as a one hour grocery shop morphed into an overnight stay in Seattle. Why? Because driving is fun. And because we missed a few exits.

Riding the Jigga lane down the I-5. Throw your diamonds up.

Sleepover essentials provided by Trader Joe's.

Learnings:

~ spontaneity is good for the soul.

~ i possess little to no self control when it comes to yogurt covered raisins.

~ america broadcasts an inordinate number of sandwich commercials, particularly late at night.

~ sing loudly while driving. really loudly.

~ my ability to visually recall the location of a hotel i stayed at 2 years ago appears to be better than my ability to visually recall the location of idaho on a map of america.

~ in america, it snows inside malls.

~ in seattle, if you ask someone where they got their coffee, they might respond with “everett” and then provide you with driving directions. you know, just in case you wanted to drive 36 minutes out of your way.

~ escher and usher are two very different things.

~ if you happen across a carousel in the middle of downtown in the pouring rain, you should talk your way onto it. it’ll be worth it.

~ my theory on east coast vs. west coast men and chivalry still stands strong but is open for challenge.

~ i sometimes forget that asking a total stranger to join you for dinner isn’t normal. it’s not until i’m thanked for having the balls to do so do i remember that not everyone finds this a commonplace practice.

~ i eat ridiculous things.

~ funfetti cake is real.

So, dear Seattle, thank you for your hospitality, new found friends and late night amusement park rides. I’ll see you soon.

Oh, and you look beautiful in the rain.

actual conversation between me and my ART:

dr: your digitorum brevis is pretty aggravated, has the swelling or tension spread up your calf?

me: no. it’s fairly centralized.

dr: i notice you’ve got some bruising up the front of your shin. are you sure there hasn’t been any swelling?

me: oh, that? no. that’s from trying on pants.

dr: pants?

me: yeah, i had just put on moisturizer about 20 minutes before trying on some jeans. they were hard to pull up and i smoked my leg into the dressing room bench while trying to step into them.

dr: i see.

me: yep. my very own ross gellar moment. minus the baby powder.

dr: and that? *points to bruise on my other knee*

me: opening a desk drawer.

dr: i see. i think your running injuries have less to do with your running form than previously anticipated.

fail harder

Fail harder.

This was on a poster I recently saw and I instantly fell in love. With the idea. Not the poster. That would just be weird.

Training for the New York Marathon this season has proved to be more challenging than I had previously anticipated. Not because I’m injured (thank god) but because I’m finding my focus really divided. Who knew that working full time, going to school and full time training would be a bit of a handful? Um…

Vancouver has to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world for a runner – I feel as though I can make that statement with a fair amount of confidence considering I’ve run all over 5 of the 7 continents – but there are a lot of parts of YVR that feel just like other cities. Coming along the seawall and climbing Prospect Point reminds me of coming through the Presidio of San Francisco and Gastown always makes me feel as though I’m back in my beloved Boston. However, there are few places that feel so completely like home as the North Shore trails – where I first learned to run. Tonight I traded my 10km tempo for trails. Did I mention I live right on the Varley Trail? I ditched my Garmin, picked up my iPod and took off. I was alone. I wasn’t watching my pace. I didn’t care. It was perfect.

So I failed at being able to do it all. I won’t PB in NYC and that’s fine. I will, however, run a race I’ve been dying to do for 10 years with people I love. I will do this knowing that if you want to run the race, you’ve got to make it to the finish line first. And to do that you’ve sometimes got to fail first.

in case anyone’s wondering what i did this weekend…

dear 16 year old me…

There is a beautiful video making its viral way around the interweb. Seen here, Dear 16 Year Old Me talks about how to prevent melanoma. As an athlete that literally spends hours on end while training throughout the summer and has skin so fair she can burn under a 60 watt bulb, this video really hits home. But it also got me thinking. As I round out the last two weeks of my twenty fifth year on this planet and look at how much has changed in 365 days, I begin to think about how much has changed in ten years and what, perhaps surprisingly, has remained the same. Much of my joy in life comes from never knowing what will come next (well, that and a good, strong americano) but there are some things that I would want me to know.

Dear 16 Year Old Me,

~ in 10 years from now, you’re still going to love Rancid as much as you do now, it will just be in a completely different way. Mad Caddies not so much.

~ you have breasts. deal with it. most girls would kill for what you’ve got. enough with the sports bras.

~ you are not going to turn out to be the person you think you are. which is a good thing because at this point you’re pretty sure you’re going to grow up to be janeane garofalo and she’s already taken.

~ please and thank-you and hard work will get you everywhere.

~ you will break hearts.

~ you will have your heart broken.

~ you will heal.

~ let. it. go. whatever it is. nobody is going to remember it in 10 years. hell, nobody is going to remember it in 10 weeks.

~ you are going to make mistakes. some of them are even going to be big ones, potentially involving law enforcement. resolve to learn your lesson each time and then move on.

~ stop being ashamed of your laugh. it will become your trademark.

~ at some point you will get over your fascination with putting chocolate milk powder on plain yogurt. your pancreas will thank you.

~ seriously. the sports bras.

~ you can not pull off those blunt Uma-Thurman-in-Pulp-Fiction bangs, despite your best efforts.

~ you will continue to be (sometimes painfully) blunt, despite your best efforts.

~ you’re going to be just fine.

True Facts.

hello, old friends…

let’s see if we can remember how this is done.

friday night musings:

• my inability to open individual packets of soy sauce without producing the asian condiment version of arterial spray stretches beyond dexterity incompetence and into the realms of “i’m sorry but we’re going to have to put you down.”
• the term “wash closet” is both deceptive and upsetting.
• i am unsure how botox’s “express yourself” campaign managed to slip by the advertising department’s irony filter.
• animals wearing cones are their heads are always funny. always.
• laughter and sushi are both very good things. together they can be hazardous to your health.
• i never thought i would live to see the day where i wanted to go back to track practice.
• i wish you were here.

why i do what i do

As you may or may not know, I am a runner. That title comes with a certain amount of pride for me. I am an athlete. I have an indescribable love for something that brings me the kind of joy you simply can’t buy. I have early Saturday nights and even earlier Sunday mornings. I have ice baths and blisters. But, above all, I now have the ability to choose hope. Almost two years ago I began running for the Leukemia Lymphoma Society of Canada with Team in Training and since then I have undergone some pretty significant changes. Not only did I rediscover my love for my sport but I managed to rediscover my love for myself. I have challenged myself to do something I swore I would never do again. I have pushed forward when the idea collapsing seemed more than appealing. I have stood in the pouring rain, losing my voice at a rapid rate, to watch someone reach their goal. And, most importantly, I have stood and been witness to my loved ones be celebrated – be it in a museum atrium filled with teary onlookers absorbing every last word of a poem to first missing and then crossing the finish line to standing up in a room filled with 7,000 applauding people, all of them just feeling honoured to be near you.

Because you refused to quit. Because you chose hope. Because your story is my reason.

Choose hope. Help cure.

Your Story is My Reason – A collection of video clips compiled by Janine Karlsen and Sandy Tanaka of the BC/Yukon Chapter at the Nike Women’s Marathon 2010 in San Francisco.

NWM2010-1

NWM2010-2

NWM2010-3

NWM2010-4

moving lessons (almost) learned

• i will justify sleeping at a 90 degree angle by saying that if i move the boxes off my bed it will jeopardize whatever highly organized system of packing i have created. in actuality it’s because i’m lazy.
• laughter > productivity
• for those of you following along at home, you are most likely familiar with my vending machine dining skill. what you might not be aware of is the ability i have to create a meal employing the sole use of condiments and eggs. horseradish omelette anyone?
• if you can’t remember how you got the cement anchors into your wall in the first place, it’s best not to try to remove them using the first tool you see; namely needle nose pliers.
• friends with trucks > friends without trucks
• plan all you want – you’re still going to forget something.
• if you haven’t used it in a year, don’t pack it. you won’t use it when it comes time to unpack it.
• coffee fixes everything duct tape can’t.
• i’m going to find dodge and then get out of it.
• i’m going to prove thomas wolfe wrong.

12 things they don’t tell you about running…

Runners.

We are like a not-so-secret Secret Society. A group of people driven by an inexplicable urge to wake up and put on spandex before 6 am on Sunday morning. We can be found roaming around the city in packs – chattering away about every situation and scenario that is in need of an update from the last long run – or alone – head phones in and slowly solving the world’s problems while taking on 24 km. 11 am finds coffee shops all over the place flooded with sweaty, red faced people ordering triple americanos and cleaning out the bagel supply. Yes, we are a special breed. And while there are so many reasons to love running, there are a few things that you might not know before you jump into your first pair of compression tights….

- The accessories are not sexy. Trust me. Sometimes I look at myself and am in disbelief that I have chosen a sport in which I am to wear a glorified fanny pack. Sure, call it a Fuel Belt all you want but it’s just a hop, skip and a jump away from Floridian Tourist paraphernalia.

-You would think that any activity that has you putting Vaseline on parts of you that you would normally only show a doctor before 7 am on a Sunday morning might be a really fun idea but it loses it’s thrill pretty quickly when you learn what you’re doing it for. Oh, you’ve heard of chaffing you say? That’s great! Did they tell you WHERE you can get chaffing? Let’s just say that there have been cases of female runners having some difficulty wearing thong underwear after a particularly sweaty 18 miler. Yep. Really.

-You will reach a whole different level of comfort when it comes to urinating. You might even pee your pants at one point. That’s okay, the pros do it. Just try not to do it on a 10k. Oh, and if you see a sponge on the grounds of a race course, don’t touch it. You can thank me later.

-You will wind up telling people things about your life that you never thought would come out in a million years. This is a result of spending literally hours next to someone and realizing that the only thing that you haven’t yet talked about is the time your grandmother went to jail for conspiracy to commit murder.

-The next step after talking about everything under the sun is wishing that the person next to you would simply. shut. up. John Bingham has famously coined this the “Bite Me” zone and almost every runner I know has been here at least once. You could be running with the love of your life and still want to render them unconscious with the nearest heavy object if they utter one more word. It’s natural, it happens, put down the rock.

-Gels? They’re gross. There is no amount of pretending that can make you feel like you are not sucking out the contents of a dentist’s fluoride tray. Get used to it.

-You will not only get used to the idea of submerging your naked, sweaty body into a bathtub filled with ice; you will begin to long for it. Seriously.

-Yes, swelling is okay. No, you probably don’t have to amputate.

-Yes, beer counts as carbo loading.

-Yes, that toenail probably will fall off.

-You will get blisters in places you never previously imagined possible. The arches of your feet, the tips and pads of your toes and, my personal favourite, under your toenails. Yes, that’s right, you get to feel like your own personal OR surgeon when you have to pop those bad boys. Most likely they will continue to fill with fluid so you will have to perform a “nightly draining”. For real.

-You will fall in love. Stick it with long enough and you will soon wonder how you ever managed to live without it. You will form friendships with people that will extend past compression socks and Body Glide. They will become your confidantes, cheerleaders and therapists. They will become your heart and soul. And that? – That makes all the chaffing in the world worth it.