Boston 2013

Yesterday, someone detonated two bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon about four hours into the race. As the first explosion, only five to ten feet from the finish line, went off, some videos capture the clock reading 4:09. Thirteen seconds later (I counted on the video I watched), a second blast went off a bit earlier on the race path.

No one has come forward to say why. No one has told us why a graduate student, a restaurant manager, and an eight year-old boy all had to die for this. No one has told us what the logic or reasoning was for injuring so many people so gravely.

The FBI has now taken the lead on this case, and I'm pretty sure they'll find out who did it. The finish line was a very interesting choice in that the statement is loud, but it's also the target of hundreds of cameras. There are videos of people streaming over the finish line. People taking photographs of their loved ones as they pass over the timing belt; even if only to get the back of their head and the time they cross. Anyone heading the other way would be easily photographed.

The timing is also interesting. Tax Day. Patriots' Day. A full Zodiac cycle since 2001. Or is there any reason? Perhaps finding causation in time and year is a red herring. The Boston marathon is a bit of an easier explanation. It's a 42.2km (26 miles) representation of American endurance.

There are so many things unknown. CNN has a list of known and verified details that they keep up to date.

This is what I know: I know that I've heard of the Boston Marathon long before I was ever interested in running, so it's a pretty big fucking deal. I know my favourite crime-fighting mystery solver, Spenser, would not have any of this in his hometown of Boston. I know that runners, when presented with a brick wall, will keep going, and that that's a metaphor. I know that the American people, despite their reputed brash and bumbling ways on the international stage, will not only be ready for a fight but will also bring it to your door. I know that no one deserves this to happen to them, and that the bombers will never win the hearts of mothers who can envision missing their daughters, or fathers who can imagine their sons hugging them for the last time after their greatest triumph.

The Boston Marathon is one of the most respected marathons in the world, but the insignia of the Boston Marathon unicorn will now become a symbol of perseverance beyond 26 miles.

O guilty party, you may have caused a day of chaos, pain, and fear. But the resilience of Boston is stronger than that, and you'd better run faster than a 3:09 marathon if you hope to get away with this.

Hibernation Effect

I have finally discovered exactly the words to describe the feelings my legs have had over the past few weeks: hibernation.

They feel like how I imagine bears must feel as they start to wake up as spring rolls around. Slow, grouchy, not at all willing to go out and do this 'exercise' thing. There may have been growling involved.

But I did get out twice this week for runs at work. Tuesday was cold and windy, and today was... cool and windy. I'd cautiously start making spring-time plans like walks in the park or rollerblading, but that's just taunting Mother Nature: it's supposed to snow 10cm this weekend.

My legs are sore like they haven't been in a while, but I am looking forward to getting back to shape, where my legs don't sob like whiny children going up seven flights of stairs and a couple of 5km runs are a gentle shake-out.

Most of all, I'm looking forward to sun, warm, and at least 15C so I can run in shorts again!

Awful Run

It is the Easter long weekend, and I went out for a run today.

I am sad to report that, despite the 6C and relatively dry paths (which is not to say that I didn't splash one foot within 50 metres of my house), the run just sucked. I felt slovenly and lazy and generally like not being out there.

It doesn't help that I finally prodded myself out of the house because I just couldn't bear Ragnar's question of "When are you going for a run?" any longer. There may be some misconception that badgering me to do something is the best way to get me to do it. This misconception could totally be eradicated if I stopped responding to the pestering by doing what he's pestering me about.

But I went out, and for about 25 minutes, I ran and I hated every laggardly step, and I'm so glad that I did it that in the end, it is worth it (which is totally different than it having been worth it, in the past because in the past, it just sucked).

In other news, it is International Tabletop Day, a day to partake in board games, video games, hopscotch games, or whatever strikes your fancy. I've been pondering the dichotomy of being at once athletic (or approaching a similarity thereof) and being a geek. Can these two peacefully co-exist? Of course they can. History can cite many examples: me, my friend who introduced me to Ragnar, Ragnar, Vin Diesel, Geeks in Running Shoes... So I think this concept requires more development.

More to come.

While I've been lazy...

I've really been waiting for Spring to (finally) arrive. The Onion wasn't far off when it ran its article about Puxsatawney Phil being beheaded for false predictions of warmer weather.

Unfortunately in Alberta, the weather cares nothing for my fitness, or my level of spirits, or time of year. If it wants to snow in August, it will damn well snow in August.

In any case, as I had promised my running buddy at work yesterday, I would run today. And to avoid a work social event, I really really did.

I do like my coworkers. They're a very friendly lot, but while we celebrate Les rendez-vous de la Francophonie (basically, a big celebration across Canada of being Francophone), there's a lot of mixing. Today, there was singing, and my introverted self was having none of it. I was so happy to be outside with one other person, rather in a dark, boisterous and loud meeting room that I sort of feel like I won a jackpot.

The jackpot being my peace of mind.

The sun was gorgeous and bright, the route was (mostly) flat and not-mushy, and the wind was quiet. My running buddy coworker and I caught up on each other's news, and essentially enjoyed ourselves.

Then my knee complained that we hadn't done this in a while, but I ignored it in favour of not only finishing the run but staying at least half a foot ahead of my friend as we finished our run with a sprint.

All in all, it was a lovely day.

First February Run

Yesterday, my boyfriend returned from two weeks in sunny beautiful Petawawa (where it snowed so heavily, I was afraid he wasn't coming home on time, so that's sarcasm).

Today, we went out for a casual run. I didn't bring my running watch or music because I wanted to be out there, running with my boyfriend, on a sunny, warm winter day.

It was a nice near-5k loop up to the house. At first I was a bit worried about my hamstrings because I have been really lax on the running, and they were still twinging from my Friday run at work. There was a little wind from the west that cooled everything down but once again, I chose exactly the right amount of gear: my  favourite Under Armour shirt, and Running Room pants, jacket, and toque.

Quality time with me and the bee-eff.

Why I Enjoy Groundhog Day (even if the premise is utterly ridiculous)

January was not the best running month for me. I started off sick, and then I became a little lazy; then it became stupidly cold, and I was very lazy, and then it got warm again and now it's February.

As we say in fond tones but with gritted teeth, only in Canada can you have -40C and +2C in the same week. Those Arctic fronts come in and wreak havoc, from snow to black ice, from stuck-solid windshield wipers to the car not starting, from having to keep various weights of coats in the front closet to trying to remember when you last saw the really warm toque.


February is deceptive. Sometimes it can be warm, but those Arctic fronts are still on the northern horizon, lying in wait for us to sigh happily in the sun, put our coats away, and think that winter is over. Then it sneaks in behind us, clocks us over the head with an icicle and refreezes everything.

The possibility of an earlier spring is incredibly enticing to any Canadian runner who has checked the weather and realized that the air is too cold to breathe properly.

Then this little rodent of various name and location is woken to pop out of the ground on February 2 and predict whether there will be six more weeks of Winter or if Spring is coming early.

In Alberta, it's Balzac Billy. Manitoba has Winnipeg Willow and Manitoba Merv, Ontario with Wiarton Willy, Shubenacadie Sam in the Atlantic provinces, and Quebec has... Fred. Since British Columbia doesn't have proper winter, they don't need predictions. Saskatchewan presumably relies on the predictive abilities of the cows (which I'd find a lot more reliable, myself).

I'm kidding, BC has plenty of winter. They call it 'rain'. (okay, so that's southern BC, sheesh, fact checkers...)

I do find the idea that a groundhog will accurately predict the oncoming of spring to be hilariously faulty. The problems with the hypothesis are fundamental: what if it's a cloudy day? What if the groundhog died the night before? What type of extrasensory perception ability does a groundhog actually possess? What if the groundhog is cranky the morning of February 2 and lies just to get these pesky humans off his back? The independent variables are so, er, independent.

They also ruin the fun of it. There's a simple amusement in waiting and hoping every February 2 for an early Spring (or six more weeks of winter, if you love cross-country skiing). If the groundhog predicts unfavourably, you get to hope he's wrong. In either case, you hope there's enough pancake breakfast (or whatever the local tradition is) for everyone and that they're still hot when you sit down to eat.

Anyways, most Canadian predictive groundhogs are calling for an early Spring. At press time, Billy had not announced whether Alberta would be lucky or not, but I'm just happy that my car will start today.

If I get a moment today or tomorrow, I may even be able to go enjoy the nice around-0C climes with a run.

2013, in With a Whimper

It is now four days into the New Year, and I haven't run once yet.

This is due to the cold that has settled into my lungs, which seems intent on creating a homestead on which its grandcolds can thrive.

Of course, this coincides neatly with the beautiful 0C weather we're having, so I'm pretty bitter about this.

There is also the matter of missing a boatload of work, being up all night due to coughing, and pondering sleeping on the couch so I don't wake Ragnar.

If this continues into tomorrow, I'm going to the medical clinic. I'm sick of this shit.