Creative November Challenge Day #19: Dog people versus cat people

I've always thought of myself as a cat person. Until the Sausage (aka Jackie) arrived, we'd only ever had one dog - years ago when we lived in Papua New Guinea. His name was Canuck and he was an awesome mixed breed boy who smiled constantly. We inherited him from fellow volunteers returning  to Canada, and passed him on to other good-hearted folks when it came time for us to do the same. Honestly, as much as we loved him, I never thought we'd invite another dog to live with us given that, before and after Canuck, we only ever had cats.

If you'd asked me why I was a cat person, I would have said it was because cats are smarter, more interesting, cleaner, and easier to care for. I might also have mentioned that I feel more comfortable around cat people, who I generally think of as more intelligent, sensitive, introverted, creative, independent and - yes - more neurotic than dog people.

Many of my cat-loving friends express the firm view that they'd never have a dog. Take my friend, R., for instance. He's a cat person all the way, as you can tell in this photo.

Wait. What? Isn't that a dog into whose eyes he's gazing  so lovingly? Why, yes. Yes, it is. How strange. Because I assure you R. would never want a dog. He's said so dozens of time so it must be true. He prefers cats because they're independent and "stay out of his face"- a sentiment I've heard other cat people express often.

Now, some might characterize R's attitude as essentially selfish because he makes it sound like he doesn't want to commit the time and energy needed to care for a dog properly. But I know better.  The real reason R. and most of the other cat people I know can't bear the thought of having a dog is that they're so caring and sensitive that they can't imagine coping with the anxiety and guilt that come with having a dog.

Almost without exception, cats are independent and self-reliant enough to get along on their own for lengthy periods of time. Sure, they're happy to see their caregivers when they arrive home, but they don't go out of their way to make them feel guilty because they had to be gone all day working to pay for food and litter. Cats understand that their people have responsibilities, and do what they can to reduce their stress at the end of a long hard day.

Dogs are entirely different. When their caregivers arrive home - whether it's been 15 minutes or 6 hours since they left - they go out of their minds with happiness, whining with relief at their people's long-awaited return, insisting they must never ever leave them again, and so on and so on. Though such intense doggy affection can be endearing, it's positively disabling for cat people, who are simply too kind, sensitive and caring to cope with the emotional responsibility of a dog.

So the next time you assume that dog people as a group are more caring and loving than cat people, think again. Some dog people are every bit as caring and sensitive as cat people, but it ain't necessarily so. In fact, it's quite possible for a dog person to be a cold-hearted narcissistic jerk who doesn't give a damn about the health and well-being of his canine companions so long as they shower them with love and affection. Sad but true.

Creative November Challenge Day #18: Selfie reflections

Selfies are ubiquitous on social media and I have to admit I've shared more than a few over the years.

For me, selfies aren't about showing off - or not usually anyway. Rather, they're a means of expressing my existential angst by communicating who I am and what I'm experiencing at a particular moment in time. It's only looking at the photos later that I realize, more often than not, that the woman peering into the camera isn't anyone I recognize.

Currently...redux!

Blogging's felt hard lately, though I can't say why exactly. There's plenty to write about - running, politics, food, travel, photography - but somehow I don't feel motivated - which is why, in an effort to get some creative juices flowing, I decided to revisit a blog prompt from last year. 

Time and place...

Tuesday evening after the long Heritage Day weekend, I'm wrapped in a warm blanket, sitting by the fire, sipping red wine, with husband reading contently beside me.

Cooking...

Not at the moment, but I cooked lots over the weekend - homemade biscuits for breakfast, pork tenderloin with mustard and wine cream sauce for supper on Saturday, squash and risotta cakes (to accompany husband's yummy BBQ lamb chops) on Sunday, and lemon and thyme "beer can" chicken on Monday. It felt good spending time in the kitchen for a change.

Awaiting...

A city crew to haul away the snow piles in front of our driveway after the last week's monster storm. It's a good thing we don't need our second car, since it's still completely inaccessible. These photos were taken after the big storm but before a second one, which dropped another 20 cms. The pile in front of the car is at least two feet higher now.

Experiencing...

A strange mixture of fear, sadness, anger, determination and euphoria in response to the spectacle unfolding south of the boarder and people's responses to it.

Working on...

So. Many. Things. For starters, various projects at work, which has been more hectic than usual lately. Also, my training for Cabot Trail Relay, which was interrupted by a nasty flu last week, and knitting a wool hat to replace the one I lost last winter. Oh, and selling our country house, and working on a special birthday present for Husband, and figuring out what I want to be when I grow up... amongst other things... 

Reading...

Several books at once (as usual). I'm nearly finished Virginia Woolf's Orlando, and just started Laura Bates' Everyday Sexism and Margaret MacMillan's Paris 1919. Last week I finished Donna Morrissey's The Fortunate Brothers, which I highly recommend. Next, I hope to reread Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale and Orwell's 1984.

Listening to...

A wood fire crackling in the fireplace. Also Nemmie the cat, who's more talkative than she used to be - and somewhat more willing to having her picture taken. I grabbed these shots while she was lazing on our bed last weekend.

Craving...

Warmth and sunshine. It's hard not to with so many friends posting snapshots from their vacations "down south", but I'm determined to stay strong and save my vacation days for later. If the country house sells quickly enough, we'd like to head back to Europe in the summer or fall.

Hating...

All things Trumpist - here in Canada as well as in the US. And, yes, I do mean Kevin O'Leary, Kellie Leitch, and their nasty little friends. 

Loving...

The hope, optimism and determination that's springing from the ashes of the US election. Need proof? Check out this video, and this article. And there are plenty more where they came from. Here's hoping love and compassion triumph in the end. There are millions working hard to make it happen.

Also, the mild weather we've been having. It was so runny and warm on Saturday, we stopped to sunbathe for a bit after snow shoeing at Risser's Beach Provincial Park. It was glorious!

Anticipating...

A provincial election call. No one knows when it will come but the government seems anxious to return to the polls asap. Also, a long weekend in Prince Edward Island to celebrate Husband's 65th birthday in March. We haven't been to "the gentle island" in a couple of years so are keen to get back and visit some dear friends there.

Watching...

My waistline. I'm determined to drop a few more pounds before tackling my fifth Cabot Trail Relay in May and, so far, my efforts seem to be paying off. Reducing my alcohol consumption, eating fewer sweets and more leafy greens, and running regularly appears to be having an impact.

Promoting...

The causes that matter most to me - environmental sustainability, feminism, social and economic justice, human rights - on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and this blog. And, no, I don't care if it makes people uncomfortable. As a species, we're headed in the wrong direction and running out of time. Many more of us need to take a stand - fiercely, peacefully, and with openness and compassion. 

Avoiding...

Thinking too much about CTR - now just 13.5 weeks away. On Saturday, I managed to run up and down Logan Street hill 5 times but it felt harder than I hoped it would and I took more walk breaks than I intended. I'd like to think it was because I was still recovering from the flu and running conditions weren't ideal, but the reality is I'm a long way from ready to tackle North Mountain. Here's hoping 13 more weeks of training will be enough.

And what about you, dear readers? What and how are you doing...currently?

Painfully Personal Post #2 - I get why Lucy did what she did

It was painful watching the Jian Ghomeshi trial unfold.  As a lawyer and feminist, I've long been concerned about the way victims of sexual assault are treated in court - as if they're the ones on trial, the ones who must prove their "innocence", the ones who bear responsibility for the violence. But the Ghomeshi trial took that cruel absurdity to a whole new level.

Let's be honest. No one believes for a minute that Ghomeshi's innocent. Dozens of people - male and female - have now spoken out frankly about who he is - a deeply misogynistic, violent, manipulative narcissist. The only question is whether the women "consented" to his attacks. As proof they did, Ghomeshi (conveniently) offered up email messages and letters providing evidence that the women were nice to him after the attacks - even continued to pursue him.

Of course, what they did or didn't do after the attacks doesn't prove anything. Where are the messages from before the incidents confirming that Lucy and the others consented to "rough sex", wanted to be hit and choked? There aren't any, of course.  But there don't need to be. Because we're so sure we know what we'd do if we were assaulted that we're quick to judge his accusers and discount their evidence.

Painfully Personal Post #1: Why everyone should see a good therapist now and again

Last fall, I wrote that I wanted to start writing some "painfully personal posts". I admire bloggers who do it but I've never had much stomach for writing stuff that makes me feel vulnerable. However, after an excellent session with my therapist this week, I decided it was time to revisit a post I started back then and see if I could work up the nerve to hit "publish". Here goes.

I see a psychologist every month or two. It's not a big secret but it's not something I talk much about either because - you know - people might think I'm "crazy" or "emotionally unstable" or something. In fact, the opposite is true - that is, I'm saner and more emotionally stable when I've got someone to talk with about things that are worrying me.

Not all therapists are created equal, of course, but the best ones offer a safe place to test your perceptions of yourself and others and strategize about how best to deal with life's challenges. They also provide objective perspectives you can't get from friends and family and put your issues in the broader social, cultural and behavioural context so that (a) you feel less weird about having issues and (b) you learn from others' experiences.

The first time I sought counselling was during my freshman year at university 30+ years ago, when I felt overwhelmed by the realization that the world was a truly awful place that was going to be much more difficult to change than I thought. It sounds ridiculous now but that was honestly what was distressing me at the time - the fact that I couldn't fix the whole world.  Fortunately, my counselor was a very wise woman who recognized my desire to bring about positive change was sincere, and helped me develop an appropriate Plan B, which was to focus on contributing in more modest ways to advancing causes I cared about.

The next time I went looking for help was soon after I began practicing law. Like many lawyers, I was disheartened by the cutthroat realities of private practice - even in a relatively small firm. To be frank, the psychologist I saw that time didn't impress me much but she did offer some practical advice that helped me make some difficult professional choices - choices I've never regretted - and I'll always be grateful for that.

The last time I was referred to a psychologist was a few years ago when suffering from insomnia and struggling with assorted personal relationships, I found myself at risk of sinking into clinical depression. During the darkest part of that period, I found it nearly impossible to drag myself out of bed some days, there was no joy in my life, and (occasionally) I even considered suicide. Depression's a tough thing to talk about - especially when you're acutely conscious (as I was) that your life is so much better than the lives of most people on our little blue planet. How could I be depressed? How could I feel so hopeless, helpless?

Once again, I was fortunate to find the help I needed - therapists who not only commiserated (because we all need sympathy from time to time) but, more importantly, helped me sort out what I could do about the things that were troubling me. Their goal and mine wasn't just to figure out why I was confused and hurting but to get me on the road to recovery as soon as possible. Together, we re-framed my situation in more hopeful terms, developed action plans that enabled me to regain control of my life, and celebrated each step out of and away from the abyss into which I'd fallen.

Clearly, therapy has helped get me through some tough times but why do I think everyone could benefit from having a good therapist?  Because, in my view, we live in a pretty screwed up culture - one that encourages people to believe things about themselves and others that are downright destructive. The beliefs serve advertisers and others who with an interest in modifying/manipulating our behaviour, but do little to help us find peace and contentment.

For example, there are far too many of us working to make money to pay for toys we never have time to use with friends we rarely see. Worse, we're told we're unambitious if we don't aspire to have a bigger house, a more expensive car, a higher paying job, the perfect look, etc. And the flipside is that we place very little value on time to just be, or on being compassionate with ourselves and others.

I can't know for sure I'll never fall into a dark place again but having more tools gives me confidence I'll be able to cope if I do. In the meantime, occasional sessions with my psychologist (incidentally, one of the coolest women I know) help me deal with routine challenges before they balloon into something more serous.

Having trouble thinking through a problem? Need to talk with someone objective? Looking for ideas for dealing with a challenge in your personal or professional life?  My advice is to book an appointment with a good therapist and see what the two of you can figure out together.  Oh, and go for a run. Running's good therapy for whatever ails your head and heart.

Okay, so it turns out that wasn't so hard. Look for another painfully personal post soon.   :-)

Running lessons: Pain is temporary

"Pain is temporary, pride is forever." 

It's a quote I've repeated often to myself over the years - especially, in the midst of my longest, toughest runs. Usually, I focus on the pride I'll feel if I stick with my training but, during my long run Sunday afternoon, it was the pain I was pondering.

Any running coach will tell you you should never ignore pain because it often has important things to tell you. On the other hand, if you pay it too much attention, it can quickly discourage you from training altogether. It's a tricky balance.

My runs felt tough last week - mostly because the tightness in my quads and hip flexors, which I'd thought was resolved before we left for Scotland, returned with a vengeance after I spent a week walking Indy (the rescue dog) 5 or 6 kilometres a day. I suspect the trouble was I was walking too quickly. Or maybe I was over-striding. Whatever the cause, getting out of bed in the mornings had once more become an ordeal.

Before subjecting myself to more of Dr. Warren's tender ART, I decided to try doing some gentle yoga each morning to see if I could get my body moving normally. So far, it seems to be helping and I must say it's a lovely way to start the day - once I get through the first few rounds of creaky sun salutations, that is.

One of the things running has taught me is that I shouldn't let pain discourage me too quickly. In the past 13 and a half years, I've had a wide assortment of running injuries - from shin splints, IT band tightness, and plantar fasciitis to frozen shoulder, back pain and anemia. And, each time I've been injured, one or more of my family and friends has suggested it's time to give up running. Fortunately, I haven't been inclined to do that, and have always managed to recover through some combination of body work (massage, chiro and/or physio), stretching, strength-training, rest, diet and (occasional) anti-inflammatories. The key I've found is to remain patient, attentive, committed to finding solutions for however long it takes to get back on the road.

On Sunday, as I ran one of my favourite routes through Shubie Park, it occurred to me that the same holds true in respect to healing emotional pain. On days when the state of the world seems too bleak to bear, when old griefs come circling back to knock the breath out of me, or when anger and fear undermine my peace of mind, I need to remind myself that emotional pain is just as temporary as physical pain - that, with enough patience, attentiveness and commitment, it too can be healed.

It's an important lesson. Too many people are discouraged from living happy, caring and productive lives by the belief that their physical and/or emotional pain is insurmountable when, in truth, it isn't. Need proof? Check out this video about Arthur Boorman.



Or this open letter from Antoine Leiris to the terrorists who killed his wife in Paris last weekend.

Pain is temporary. I'm hanging on to that thought. For as long as it takes my body and heart to heal this time around.

Happy running and writing friends.

Sad, dark days ahead

It will have to be a short post tonight. I'm too tired and emotionally drained to write much.

Husband's sister Maryanne is slipping away quickly so life feels unsteady. It's as if we're standing on the upper deck of a ship desperately clinging to ropes to keep from being tossed overboard and watching long dark waves roll towards us. There's no way to avoid what's coming. The best we can hope for is to survive the storm, knowing nothing will ever be the same.

This past weekend, we began preparing for Christmas. Maryanne has always loved Christmas so we want to honour her by making the best of it, difficult as that will be. We didn't decorate a tree because we don't know where we'll be for the holidays, but we unpacked an assortment of ornaments, listened to Christmas music and drank our first glasses of eggnog.

I also went for a long, slow run up the river on Sunday, and spent the time remembering all the adventures we've shared with Maryanne and her partner Dick over the years - hiking, snowshoeing, bird-watching and canoeing. Their enthusiasm for the outdoors is infectious. A visit with Maryanne and Dick always involved plenty of fresh air and exercise, not to mention fabulous food, wine and conversation.

Tonight, as I sit by the fire writing this, it seems surreal that, just a few months ago, the four of us sat on Maryanne and Dick's back deck savouring a warm summer's night, sipping wine and talking of future adventures together, blissfully unaware of the sad, dark days ahead. How can so much have changed so quickly?

I comfort myself by remembering something my friend Annette told me shortly before she died of breast cancer. She said she believed death would feel like stepping outside into a cool, clear, starlit night after being stuck too long in a hot, smokey room. I hope she was right about that. Given everything Maryanne's been through, death should feel worth dying for.

With "real life" taking up so much of my time and attention at the moment, I don't plan to write much in the next few weeks. Hopefully, by the time January rolls around I'll feel ready to pick up a pen again.

Until then, happy running and writing, friends.

Running Lessons: Attitude is everything

Last evening, as I was walking home from the bus stop, I was reminded of the importance of attitude.

It was a miserable night - dark, rainy, and cold - and I'd just avoided being struck in a crosswalk by an inattentive driver. The wind was blowing so hard, I kept one hand firmly on my hood to hold it in place. As I hiked morosely up the hill towards home, my clothes and boots were soaked through and my mood was bleaker than the weather.

That's when it happened. From down the street, a child's laughter rang out and I looked up to see a small boy - perhaps 5 or 6 - coming towards me, arms outstretched, face upturned to catch the full force of the rain. He was skipping - no, dancing - down the street, savouring the excitement of the storm and chattering cheerfully to his mother, who walked beside him.

How, I thought to myself, could anyone be so happy on such an awful night?

How indeed?

I've not posted anything in awhile because, to be honest, I'm struggling to stay positive these days. Things aren't going well for Husband's sister so he was in Ottawa the past two weeks. Work is challenging. I feel as if I'm fighting a virus. The cats are squabbling constantly. By all accounts, it seems we are on the brink of a new Cold War. Bombings, killings, and injustices of all kinds dominate the news.

And, on top of all that, I gave up on both the goals I set for this month - to run 100 miles and write 50,000 words - soon after Husband left for Ottawa.  I just didn't have the heart or the energy to pursue them with so much else going on. 

The writing goal was the easier to give up. I knew when I started NaNoWriMo that all I really wanted was to write a single short story that I liked. I managed to draft three - including one I hope is worth revising - so I was content to let the challenge go for this year.

It was much harder to give up on the running goal. As recently as a few days ago, I was still trying to work out how to squeeze 40 kms into 5 days - arithmetically possible, but foolhardy given how tired and stressed I already was. Pushing myself to run so much in so short a time would only have made things worse.

When I stopped to think about it why giving up on the running goal was so difficult, I realized it was because I don't think of myself as "fit" unless I can run 16-20 kms with relative ease and, since I haven't done any serious training since June, that's no longer the case. In fact, a slow 13k to Shubie Park and back was the most I could manage last weekend.

And here's where attitude comes in. I could be frustrated and discouraged by the fact that I'm in such relatively poor shape. Alternatively, I could be grateful that I'm still able to run (when many others can't) and either get more serious about training or adjust my definition of what it means to be fit. My attitude towards both the rain and my current degree of fitness is entirely up to me.

I suspect I may not be done with running long distances just yet. A few weeks ago, I watched an amazing video that inspired me to think about what more I might want to accomplish in my running career. After all, there's no reason to think I can't get stronger and faster if I decide that's what I want to do. The question is do I?

Happy running and writing, friends.

Plunging into the New Year

“Plunge boldly into the thick of life, and seize it where you will, it is always interesting.”
- Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

I wear a necklace bearing the first phrase of this quote nearly every day. I purchased it a few years ago when I was feeling sad and dispirited. It reminds me to pay closer attention to my life, to taste the sweet and sour of it, to appreciate all of its aspects - even those that cause me discomfort from time to time.

I stumbled on the quote again when I went searching for reflections on exploration a couple of days ago. As I mentioned in my last post, I thought about choosing "explore" as my word of the year for 2014.  However, with a few more days of reflection, I concluded "plunge" is the better choice. The type of exploration I have in mind - spiritual, physical, emotional, and creative - involves immersing myself in things that matter to me - not tentatively, but with abandon - so that I may follow where my heart and soul lead. 

I hasten to add that I took seriously the suggestions of those who responded to that post by encouraging me to consider making self-care a greater priority in 2014. I assure you I will do my best to make my plunges into life are as joyful, healthy and balanced as possible. 

As part of this quest, I borrowed the idea of starting a photographic gratitude journal from 365grateful.com and launched a new blog entitled "Janice's Gratitude Journal". (Daily photos will appear on the sidebar of this blog as well.) I hope the exercise of documenting a gift from each day will deepen and expand my appreciation of the many good things in my life while providing insights into what truly motivates, moves and inspires me. For the sake of simplicity, the photos will mostly be taken with my phone camera but I am optimistic the journal will encourage me to pick up my Nikon 5100 more often as well. 

As I plunge into 2014, here are a few more quotes to inspire: 

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste it, to experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”
- Eleanor Roosevelt"

“The camera basically is a license to explore.”

― Jerry Uelsmann

“Writing is all at once an exploration of what is, and what is not. Of the known, and the unknown. A journey into the depths of self, and all of humankind.”
― Madelaine Standing, Heaven In The Meat Packing District

“The depth of a man is a limit only he can know, should he have the courage to explore into the dark.”
― Kyle Schmalenberg

“Adventure is allowing the unexpected to happen to you. Exploration is experiencing what you have not experienced before.”
― Richard Aldington, Death of a Hero

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
 - T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets, Little Gidding

“We can't be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don't have something better.”
― C. JoyBell C.

“Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
― André Gide

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
- Mark Twain

“Always do what you are afraid to do.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

“I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it.”
- Rosalia de Castro

“A man practices the art of adventure when he breaks the chain of routine and renews his life through reading new books, traveling to new places, making new friends, taking up new hobbies and adopting new viewpoints.”
- Wildred Peterson

“Not all those who wander are lost.”
- JRR Tolkien

“Wherever you go, go with all your heart.”
- Confucius

Best wishes to each and everyone of you for the year ahead. Namaste.

Present Perfect and Post-Marathon Recovery

Port Medway Harbour

Ten days post-marathon and I'm deep in the throes of post-marathon blues, feeling disappointed with my performance and a discouraged about training for the next event. I know from talking with other runners that feeling let down after a marathon isn't unusual. However, it seems my perfectionist tendencies have made my blues a little more intense than normal.

Fortunately, I recently finished reading a helpful book entitled "Present Perfect", which provides some excellent insights and advice for recovering perfectionists like me. The author, Dr. Pavel Somov, argues perfectionists are so often unhappy because they tend to judge things (the past, their own and other people's actions, their current circumstances) based upon what they think those things should be (or should have been) rather than what they actually are (or were). He goes on to point out how illogical that is. We can't change the past. Everyone does the best they can in the circumstances. What is, is. Given that, a healthier approach is to redefine perfection to include anything that can't be improved and to accept "perfectly imperfect" realities as the best they can be.

For example, take my marathon last weekend. I feel disappointed because - once again - I failed to run a sub-4:30. In fact, my finish time of nearly 4:49 was one of my slowest marathon times ever. But the fact is it was never realistic to hope I'd run the race in under 4:30. I'd only trained for 8 or 9 weeks leading up to it (rather than the recommended 12-16), the course was hillier than I expected and I hurt my ankle the evening before running to catch a ferry. Added to which, I decided not to jeopardize my chances of running well in Newfoundland by pushing too hard and injuring myself.

Taking everything into account then, 4:49 was "perfect" result - in as much as it was as fast as I could run all things considered. I didn't achieve my goal of running sub-4:30 but my performance wasn't a total failure. I finished my seventh marathon, for goodness sake. I can choose to be disappointed about my finish time or celebrate my "perfectly imperfect" achievement instead.

Which is not to say that we should never try to do better in future - only that there's no point being angry with ourselves or others when things don't turn out the way we hope. It's easy to say "I/they could have done better" but the truth is I/they couldn't. Given who we are, the knowledge and capacities we have, the things we've experienced and the circumstances in which we find ourselves, we're all doing the best we can.

That's something I'll try to keep in mind as I complete my training for Cape to Cabot. The race is just over 4 weeks away now and, based on how I'm feeling at the moment, it's hard to imagine I'll finish. However, last week I read an article in Runner's World that talks about how to prepare for races scheduled a few weeks apart. The author suggests the best approach is follow a training plan that enables you to recover fully from your first event while maintaining/improving your capacity to tackle the second. She also suggests that you be realistic in your expectations. Running back to back races in a single season is tougher than running a single race so you should expect to run them more slowly than you would just one race.

The article goes on to say that the first week between races should be all about recovery. That was certainly the case for me last week. I only ran three times and spent a lot of time doing other things I enjoy - eating, sleeping, walking, taking pictures and riding my motorcycle. (Here's one of the photos I took during my ride Saturday afternoon.)

Lighthouse Park, Port Medway

I ran my longest run on Sunday - a 13k to Peace Park and back. Since it was a warm sunny day, I donned my Maritime Race Weekend buff and most serious hot weather running gear, determined to feel like a "real" runner.

Unfortunately, dressing the part didn't help much. The first 5 or 6k felt good but then - wham - I hit the wall. My heart rate soared, my legs felt like lead weights and my motivation dropped through the floor. I made it home under my own steam - but only by taking more walk breaks than usual. I suspect the trouble was partly that the weather was muggy and I was dehydrated from too much wine and coffee the day before but it was still pretty discouraging. In any case, after all the R&R I've had the past 10 days, I'm hoping that I'm now ready to get back into more serous training and my long run this coming weekend will feel easier.

After the run, Husband and I headed to Risser's Beach where we visited with my mum and took a few pictures. Here's one of me on the boardwalk that crosses the marsh behind the beach. I love the colours this time of year.

And here's one looking back the other way toward Petite Riviere.

This is my favourite shot from the outing.

En route home, I stopped at Crescent Beach to grab a few photos of this kitesurfer. I love the way his bright red kite "pops" against the bright blue sky.

It's was nice having  more time for photography and other things last weekend but I'm looking forward to getting back into training. I need a couple of good hilly runs under my belt before I toe the start line at C2C. I'll let you know how it goes.

Happy running and writing, friends!

Running lessons: Tough runs teach me a lot!

From the top of the biggest hill  - the photo doesn't really do it justice

Today's long run was all about form, strategy and pacing. There was a 23k run on my schedule and my friend, Janet, suggested I run up the Conquerall Mills Rd. so I'd have the experience of running some serious hills before Husband and I head for St. John's in October. She warned me the route was a tough one and she was right. Here's the elevation chart created by my garmin:

Over 23.4 kms, I climbed and descended 577 metres. The route wasn't quite as challenging as the one I'll face in Newfoundland - particularly since Cape to Cabot finishes with a nasty climb to the top of Signal Hill - but it was a darn good test of whether I'm likely to survive what's billed as "the toughest race in eastern North America", and I'm happy to report that I did just fine. I won't attempt this route again between now and the marathon on September 13th but will try to run it at least twice more before C2C. 

I was thinking about a few things during my run today. The first was how important it is to remember that, hard as the run was, I have no right to complain about it. After all - I chose to do it. The burning in my lungs and legs as I climbed the hills and the aches I feel as I sit writing this are the direct results of choosing to train for two big races this fall.  

By contrast, a couple of people close to me are undergoing cancer treatments at the moment. They didn't choose the discomforts they're experiencing. They didn't choose to be faced with a decision to be treated or risk losing their lives. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to wake up every morning for months knowing that they have no option but to undergo radiation and/or chemotherapy treatments that are likely to make them feel pretty ill for awhile. Given what they're up against, how can I feel anything but grateful that I'm well and strong enough to train for a couple of tough races? My aches and pains are the price I pay for that privilege.

Another thing I thought about was how often people (including me) avoid taking responsibility for our choices - particularly when things don't turn out the way we expect. Of course, it's often easier to blame other people or factors beyond our control than to accept that we exercised poor judgment or made bad decisions. I get that (boy, do I get that!) but it's rarely helpful to think of oneself as a victim and/or to sling mud at others. In general, the better option is to acknowledge and accept responsibility for those choices, get on with finding ways to improve the situation, make amends as needed and commit to doing better next time. 

Finally, I was thinking about how important it is to have good strategies for coping when times get tough.Throughout my run today, I did my best to focus on keeping a positive attitude, running at a moderate pace, and maintaining good form. 

For the reasons I've already mentioned, keeping a positive attitude wasn't difficult, but I struggled with pace and form. Like many runners, I have a tendency to speed up when climbing a hill. It's natural to want to reach the top as quickly as possible but I've learned that the better strategy when facing a series of tough hills is to moderate my pace so there's something left in the tank when it's time to tackle the next one. 

As for my form, I can't count the number of times I reminded myself to drop my shoulders and let my arms swing naturally - particularly, when a thunderstorm blew up and I became worried about the possibility of lightning. Fortunately, though there was plenty of rain and thunder, the lightning never arrived but my anxiety about it reinforced my natural tendency to hold tension in my shoulders.

Of course, the same is true when we're faced with other kinds of challenges in life. Magic solutions rarely present themselves. Instead, it's a matter of keeping a positive attitude, acting with integrity and doing the best we can in the circumstances. If we work hard and have good coping skills and a supportive network of family, friends and colleague, things usually work out in the end.

Phew. That's a lot of heavy stuff for one day. What can I say? I guess tough runs encourage me to think a little more seriously about thing than easier ones do. In any case, below is a rundown of my training for the past week. 

Total mileage: 38.4 kms

Total # runs: 3 

Longest run: 23.4 kms

Hill training: 8 x hills

Tempo run: 1 x 6kms

Oh, and here's a picture from my run today. I call it "Clandestine". Doesn't it look like they're whispering to one another?

Happy running and writing, friends.

Running lessons: Imperfection might be good enough

After three weeks of European adventures, I feel a lot like my elder cat looks in this picture. I'm disinclined to be overly ambitious, shall we say. Nevertheless, it was back to real life last week and I did my best to return to regular training as well. I have to admit it felt hard. I didn't run as much as I should have while we were traveling and the weather was brutally hot and humid during much of last week so it was challenging to complete even short runs - let alone a longish 8k yesterday.  

Given that it felt so hard, I found myself wondering if it was realistic to plan on running a full marathon at Maritime Race Weekend in September. When I signed up a couple of months ago, I was expecting to run a lot while I was in Europe but, since that didn't happen, I've lost much of the fitness I gained through the spring. With race day just 11 weeks away and a busy summer planned, it's hard to imagine I'll be ready to run a "personal best" time - which was my main reason for signing up in the first place.

After much discussion with Husband yesterday, I decided it would probably be better to run the half marathon instead - particularly since I still hope to run Cape to Cabot in October - but that decision isn't sitting well. Once I set a goal, I find it almost impossible to give it up. It's the perfectionist in me. No matter what the circumstances, it's difficult for me to accept that real life has a way of interfering with the best laid plans - even when I know that no one except me really cares whether I run a full or a half marathon.

That's the trouble, of course. I care. No matter how irrational or self-destructive, I care. Which means it's back to thinking a little more about whether imperfection is good enough in these circumstances. Will I be content to finish my running season without attempting another marathon? And how will I feel if I try but fail to run sub-4:30 again?

I'll keep you posted on what I finally decide. I suspect much will depend on how my runs feel this week and next. If they start to feel a bit easier - or more natural, at least - perhaps I'll still decide to go for it. In the meantime, here are a few quotations I'll be pondering:

“At its root, perfectionism isn’t really about a deep love of being meticulous. It’s about fear. Fear of making a mistake. Fear of disappointing others. Fear of failure. Fear of success.” ― Michael Law

“The grandest seduction of all is the myth that DOING EVERYTHING BETTER gets us where we want to be. It gets us somewhere, certainly, but not anywhere worth being.” ― Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way

“I am careful not to confuse excellence with perfection. Excellence, I can reach for; perfection is God's business.” 
― Michael J. Fox

"Perfectionism is not a quest for the best. It is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough - that we should try again." ― Julia Cameron

Happy running and writing friends!

Race Report: Cabot Trail Relay 2013

6:30 am - at the start of leg 1

This report will have to be short and sweet. My week's far too busy to spend much time writing it.

I had another awesome Cabot Trail Relay experience this past weekend as a member of "To Gno-me is to love me". The Gnomes have been a fixture at CTR for many years so it was an honour to suit up for them, and the weather was much better than expected.

Watercolour landscape - taken with my phone at the start of leg 8

I'd opted to run the relatively easy leg 12 but it felt challenging nonetheless because it started at 12:30 in the morning and, by that time, I'd already been on the road driving, cheering and supporting my teammates for more than 10 hours. Fortunately, although I was very nervous beforehand and struggled to pull myself together in the first kilometre (when both sets of shoelaces came untied and I had to stop twice to adjust my headlamp and the light attached to my shoe), things improved quickly.

Once I'd settled into a good pace, it felt magical running through the darkness on such a warm spring night, even with occasional headwinds slowing my progress somewhat. By the time I'd completed the first section, winding my way over two good-sized hills and out of Cape Breton Highlands National Park, I felt relaxed and comfortable enough to savour the sight of the full moon shining above and the sound of waves breaking on the shoreline below.

I'd been hoping all day that the skies would clear and make running at night easier so, when the moon suddenly appeared from behind the clouds and lit the road ahead, it seemed like a sign that all would be well. I ran the remainder of the leg feeling immensely grateful - for the good fortune to be participating in CTR again, for all that had inspired me to participate in the first place and, most importantly, for the people who had encouraged and supported my crazy running habit over the past 11 years - especially Husband.

A quick word about our team's performance. The Gnomes finished 47th out of 70 teams participating in the event with a total time of 25:39:02 and no penalties! (Penalties are tough to avoid so we were very proud that we didn't get any.) My own performance was less impressive. I completed 15.78 kms at an average 5:56/km pace - quick enough to "make the mat" but in only 59th place.

The last thing I want to mention is how well my friend David did running leg 9. For those unfamiliar with CTR, leg 9 takes runners more than 385 metres up and down North Mountain (approximately 6 kms each way), trashing every major muscle group in their legs before challenging them to run a final tough 5 kms through "rolling" hills in the dark. Until he signed up to run it last December, David hadn't been running all that consistently and, to be honest, I was concerned he might seriously hurt himself attempting to slay this Goliath. But, after months of hard training - including hill repeats up and down Signal Hill in his home town of St. John's, NL - he did himself and all of us proud by completing this very tough 17.5 km leg at an impressive 5:59/km pace and crossed the finish line looking strong and determined. Well done, David!

There's lots more I could say about this fabulous race - about the incredible volunteers, the breathtaking beauty of the Cabot Trail, and the camaraderie that only an event like CTR can generate - but I'll leave it to others to fill in the gaps. A huge thank you to my fellow Gnomes for making it possible for me to participate again this year. I hope to see you all back on the trail in 2014!

Headed for home

Running lessons: Making lemonade out of lemons

Less than a week until race day and I feel miserable - not the usual "I'm in tapering hell" miserable, but the "coughing, hacking, I can barely breathe" miserable.  No, that's an exaggeration.  That's how I felt yesterday. Today, after a decent night's sleep, I finally feel I've turned the corner and will eventually recover from the flu that laid me low for most of the past week. It's a weird one too. It started with a slight tickle in my chest that turned to three days of coughing and chest congestion before moving into my nose and ears. Yuck.

Anyway, as I sat in a chair on the front porch yesterday, reading and wheezing, I told myself it was a good time to try turning lemons into lemonade - to remind myself that at least my legs would be fresh come race day. I have to admit I still toyed with the idea of going for a short run to see if I could clear the gunk from my lungs but a quick on-line search convinced me it wasn't a good idea. And news this morning that two young people collapsed (and one of them died) at the Toronto Scotiabank Marathon yesterday was a sobering reminder that it would have been foolhardy to run when my lungs and heart were already working overtime to clear this nasty bug.

It was hard not to run this past weekend. Spring has finally sprung and buds and blossoms are bursting everywhere you look. I made it off the porch yesterday just long enough to grab a few photos of the massive forsythia in front of our house. In the greyness of a Nova Scotia spring, forsythia bring a welcome splash of colour - which likely explains why they're so ubiquitous in this part of the world.

The only other outing I had this weekend was on my motorcycle. We stayed in the city Friday night because I felt too miserable to travel and Husband wanted to get some work done on the kitchen renovation Saturday morning. Around noon, it was so warm and lovely, I couldn't resist firing up my motorbike (I still need to pick a name for her) to go for a first short spin of the season.  My destination was Eastern Passage, a small community at the mouth of Halifax Harbour, where I stopped for a minute to grab a photo.

That's Devil's Island in the far distance. I've never visited it but, even from so far away, you can tell it's a fascinating place. Apparently, there were still people living there as recently as 2000 - a couple of Norwegian artists who hurriedly left under mysterious circumstances. I bet there's a story there.

In summary, it wasn't great week of running, but at least I'm on the mend and my legs will be fresh when I start the marathon on Sunday. And it was pleasant spending the past few days being gentle with myself, reading, taking pictures, exchanging messages with friends, and following updates from fellow runners tackling their first races of the season.  (On that note, hats off to the Blonde who successfully completed her first 50k trail race on Saturday! Way to go, girl!!) Fingers crossed that I feel well enough to go for an easy test run around the lake tomorrow night after work.

For the running geeks in the crowd, here are the stats for last week:

Total distance: 13k
Total # runs: 2
Longest run: 8k
Tempo run: 1 x 8k

P.S. The other fun thing I did last week was take my 12 year old niece to see "Legally Blonde" at Neptune Theatre. It was a terrific production and we both thoroughly enjoyed it. I've been humming tunes from the show ever since but this one in particular stuck in my head. Hilarious! Enjoy!

Running lessons: Everything old is new again

The weather wasn't great on the weekend so, to give myself some incentive to complete my long slow run, I suggested to Husband that I meet him at the Knot Pub in Lunenburg for lunch. It turned out to be a great idea. On a grey, dreary Sunday morning, the road between Conquerall Bank and Lunenburg, traffic was quiet and, as it took me past many familiar landmarks, the route stirred up lots of memories - the community centre in Dayspring where I attended dances in my teens and spent many long evenings rehearsing community theatre productions, the shipyard where a friend worked one summer, the road where a former boyfriend lived. I was struck again by how much more I notice when I'm running (as opposed to driving) down a road.

For instance, though I've driven by them hundreds of times over the years, I don't remember ever noticing the many small cemeteries along the way - some of which are quite old. One I noticed in particular was the Mulock Cemetery. Mulock isn't a family name that's familiar to me so I looked it up when I got home. Apparently, it's Irish in origin, though branches of the family emigrated to Scotland and England and, eventually, Nova Scotia. I found only 17 telephone listings in NS under that name - all in Lunenburg County. Given the age of the cemetery, it struck me as odd there weren't more but I suppose that explains why it wasn't familiar to me. 

Something that always makes me laugh when I travel the road is this sign:

I can't imagine why anyone would name a place "Centre" - let alone, "Back Centre". For the record, there's a "Front Centre" nearby as well.  

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get many photos on Sunday. The light was poor and, in any case, I was trying to conserve the battery in my smart phone. I discovered  as I was preparing to leave the house that I'd forgotten to recharge my garmin again so had to rely on my phone to measure time and distance instead. Fortunately, it lasted just long enough to let me reach Camp Norway on the outskirts of Lunenburg, from where I did a final loop through downtown and ended up at the pub where Husband, dry clothes, a cold beer and a yummy lunch awaited.   

It's too bad my phone died when it did. The sun broke through the clouds just as I reached town and I was looking forward to taking a few photos from across the harbour. Lunenburg is a very picturesque place - a UNESCO world heritage site that draws thousands of visitors a year - so, even on a sleepy Sunday afternoon in late March, it was a pleasure to visit.

One last thing, it was cool enough to snow on Sunday, which seemed amazing. During the same period last year, temperatures reached record highs. On March, 2012, I went for a run along the Dartmouth waterfront wearing nothing but a skimpy running top and shorts because it was so hot. Quite the contrast to this year when I wore full winter running gear on the first day of spring.  I remember the date well because, when I reached the waterfront, I ran into someone I knew and stopped to chat for a bit - amongst other things, about how oddly warm the weather was and my upcoming birthday.

Speaking of which, there are only four days remaining in my 50th birthday year. Overall, I have to say I'm pleased with how I've marked the occasion. I've checked a number of items off my bucket list, dreamed some new dreams, and refocused my life on the things that matter most to me. As I approach my 51st birthday, I can honestly say I'm looking forward to getting older, wiser, stronger, more creative and (I hope) gentler in the years ahead.

In closing, here's a summary of my week's training:

Total # runs: 3 

Total distance: 38 kms

Longest run: 23 kms (more or less)

Hill training: 1 x 6 hills

Tempo runs: 1 x 8 kms

Happy running and writing, friends.

Running lessons: Dial down the drama

Last weekend's weather wasn't at all spring-like. In fact, Friday evening brought wet snow and rain that froze over night, before being covered by a soft layer of white Saturday morning. It was pretty to look at (see above) but downright dangerous to run on - though, fortunately, the trails in Shubie Park (where I completed 11 of 20 kms) provided mostly good footing.

Given the icy conditions and the fact I was so tired from another busy week of work and marathon training, it was tempting to see the situation in a more dramatic light than conditions warranted - to tell myself that I was too tired, that the roads and sidewalks were dangerously slippery, that I shouldn't be running the trail by myself, etc. Fortunately, one of the things I've learned over the years is that dialing up the drama rarely helps. When things start to feel tough, the better option is usually to dial down the drama, stay positive, keep things in perspective, and treat others and myself with as much kindness and respect as I can muster.

The same is true in the rest of life too, of course. Which is why I don't understand people who seem to go out of their way to create more drama in difficult circumstances. You know the ones I mean - people who relentlessly characterize others' motives in the worst possible light, tell stories that seem designed only to upset, constantly paint themselves and/or others as victims, and take an unhealthy interest in the misfortunes of others. I've never understood it. In my experience, life is dramatic enough as it is, thank you very much.

A case in point:  My only brother was diagnosed with oral cancer six years ago and had to undergo major surgery to have a good chunk of his tongue removed and rebuilt. When our family learned the news, we immediately switched to crisis management mode. There were no histrionics, no endless talk about the things could go wrong, no using the situation as an excuse for emotional diarrhea. Instead, everyone just stepped up - calmly and quietly - to help in any way they could, putting their own needs and feelings on hold until the crisis had passed.

So what is it that compels some people to do things to dial up the drama in such challenging situations - even one in which they're not directly involved?  Does it feed their egos somehow? Is it an attempt to avoid dealing with challenges in their own lives? Or are they simply bored, selfish and in need of entertainment? Whatever the motivation, their behaviour seems remarkably insensitive and unhelpful to me. After all, when people are hurting, the last thing they need is to have salt rubbed in their wounds.


In closing, a few quotes that seem appropriate:

We cannot direct the wind, but we can adjust the sails.
- Dolly Parton

To practice five things under all circumstances constitutes perfect virtue; these five are gravity, generosity of soul, sincerity, earnestness, and kindness. - Confucius

Taking on too much of other people's drama is just a poor excuse for not taking ownership and control over your own life. - José N. Harris

Some people create their own storms and get mad when it rains. - Unknown

And a  brief update on last week's training:

Total # of runs: 4
Total distance: 41 kms
Longest run: 20 kms
Hill training: 1 x 5 hills
Tempo runs: 1 x 8 kms
Other training: yoga (1.5 hours)

Happy running and writing!

Running lessons: Attitude and intention matter

This morning, one of my Facebook friends posted that she was going for a run and was going to love it.  Apparently, she had a tough run on Saturday so woke up dreading today's run. Instead of giving into the dread and skipping the run, she focused on generating positive energy, got her butt out the door and (it seems) had a much better run than yesterday. Her post reminded me of how important attitude is.

I had to work a little harder than usual to be positive about my runs this weekend too when I discovered I'd left my good running shoes in the city and would have to wear a pair of worn out old Sauconys instead. Once upon a time, I'd almost certainly have used the lack of good shoes as an excuse to skip the two runs I had planned. Instead I opted to run slower and to take walk breaks as and when needed. I can't say either run felt great but at least I got them done and taking it easy meant I had plenty of time to take pictures along the way. Here are a few of my favourites from today's run.

The mouth of Petite Riviere

The road to Green Bay

Green Bay

Risser's Beach boardwalk

My last turnaround point - Crescent Beach

My favourite place in the world - Risser's Beach

Attitude matters in other areas of life too. Lately, my meditation teacher has been talking about the importance of intention. As she explains it, it isn't enough that we do good things, we have to have good intention as well. To illustrate, she invited us to consider the difference between thoughtfully and lovingly offering a gift to someone and throwing it at them with the intention of injuring them. Obviously, the first would result in good karma, the second in bad.

In real life, our choices are often much less stark. For example, suppose I learn that someone I know has been cheating on their taxes. I could certainly argue that the "right" thing to do is to report them. But what if, in doing so, my real goal is to exact revenge for something they've done to offend me?  Does my negative intention obviate the good I do by ensuring they are punished for breaking the law? Karmically speaking, the answer seems to be yes. When we do the right thing for the wrong reasons, we create bad karma that eventually finds its way back to us.

On the other hand, even when we do a right thing with the right intention, the outcome won't always be positive. A few years ago, Husband gave a copy of "Meditations for Women Who Do Too Much" to a colleague he liked and respected as a birthday gift. His intention was to recognize how hardworking she was and to encourage her to take more time for herself. Unfortunately she took his gift as veiled criticism and became quite angry with him. In the end, they talked it out and all was forgiven but it goes to show that, even when your heart's in the right place, others may not perceive it that way. Very often the way people react to the things you do has much more to do with their intentions than with your own.

Which brings me back to running.  Having a positive attitude doesn't guarantee that every run is a good run. However, it does make it a whole lot easier to deal with the bad ones and to appreciate the good ones when they happen.

In closing, a brief summary of my training over the past week:

Total # runs: 4
Total distance: 36k
Longest run: 16k
Tempo run: 1 x 6k 
Hill training: 3 x 200 metres
Other training: 90 min. yoga

Happy running and writing, friends!