Run For Your Life

Run for your life:

Go Home, Where Else Would I Go...?

Well, uphill for one...The first part of the Go Home course winds it's way from sleepy Deep Cove at sealevel up to the Lookout Parking Lot off Mt. Seymour Road. A calf busting climb on the best of days.

I had started with the hope to be able to hang on to the slower ladies, but had to let them go once we reached Indian Arm Rd. I've been training a lot and have worked on my speed, but lately, there just isn't any "umph" in those legs.

The trails were beautiful. Bright yellow mushrooms sprouted in a few spots and gurgling creeks and clear waterfalls greeted me behind every corner. Kept my mind off the fact, that I would be arriving alone, wet and tired in back in Deep Cove with no car and no ride...Hm! Couldn't keep my mind off that one for long. I pondered running most of the course, but turning towards Lynn Canyon once back on the BP and calling my ride from there - if I would get stuck there, at least I would know which bus would get me home before freezing to death. Thought about running the whole course and dropping in on a good friend in Deep Cove while waiting for my ride. Nothing really appealed to me as the rain was falling harder and colder. My brand new test Club Fat Ass Wear technical shirt (boy do I like that new fabric) kept me cozy, but at the historic mushroom parking lot I decided to cut back to the BP in the hope of running into some of the faster runners. Bingo! After a nasty slow motion tumble on a downhill stretch I first greeted Ann, then Curb, then Dom and Cheryl. Things weren't as lonely anymore. Running down into Deep Cove a whole group of Fat Asses passed me on light feet.

After fuelling up at Honey's with mudrunner and Penny we headed home. That hot shower never felt that good.

Buy Nothing Day

Hey, that's an easy one! Buy Nothing Day. Who wants to be stuck in a stuffy store, Christmas tunes jingling in the background, cranky people whacking their shopping carts into you, stressed cashiers trying to be friendly (or trying hard not to be snarly). Go for a run during lunch or after work instead.

The Chili Dilemma (continued)

I went to shop for some of my chili ingredients today. Jackson accepted my challenge to concoct his own "authentic" chili. He found a rattlesnake meat supplier, but the rattlesnake got stopped at the border. I am not kidding. Instead of rattlesnake I got beef for Jackson, not the ground kind...apparently he is chopping the meat up to desired bite size pieces.

I had studied the lore of chili's over the last couple of days and went shopping with the thought in mind that I am going to create an "authentic" chili (no beans no ground meat) but use my bastard recipe (beans and ground meat) as a base to work from. Just before the checkout, I realized that I don't really give a darn about authenticity when it comes to chili. Sorry, Texans! Who gives you the right to claim the yummy chili as your own, exclude beans and ground meat? Back went the chunk of beef and with determination I paid for the ground beef.

Really, you chili snobs, what it comes down to is the taste...I have my secret ingredients at the ready. Let the battle of the chili's begin.

Oh, one last word. With all this purist talk about Texan chili's, I fear we are scaring off the vegans and vegetarian. Please do not feel intimidated and bring your vegetarian chili version before the judge. It's the taste that counts. Rules are there to be broken ;-)

Club Fat Ass Wear - A Sneak Preview

Excitement is in the air. I got my hands on the first mock-up ClubFatAssWear shirts. Vanessa has been busily designing the pattern, running the fabric and mock shirts through the oven at the screener, calculating shrinkage and driving patterns and fabric to and fro.

Today she dropped off a men's and a women's test shirt. I am wearing mine right now. The material feels luxurious, very soft. If you have read the newsletter, you'll know that the shirts are made from a environmentally friendly, non-toxic, anti-microbial material called Chitosante. So far, I am thrilled with the look and feel!

I love the colour...uh uh...this is secret territory. We have not disclosed the colours yet. We'll probably go for different colours for men and women's shirts, just because I was told men don't wear ... (oops, can't say more!).

Ean and I will be "testing" the shirts over the next few days for functionality and fit. I'll take mine for a run tomorrow. Ean will place particular emphasis on the no stink feature - so far so good. I'll run them through the washer and then test again.

The ClubFatAssWear shirts will be a very special edition and only available for members on record 1 January 2008 (that's when the order goes in). To make sure you'll get yours don't forget to register or renew your Club Fat Ass membership before the end of the year. As a special incentive to sign-up early, we will enter everybody registered by 1 November in a draw for a refund of their membership dues. Don't miss out!

Saturday Morning Runs

I can’t remember how many years Pat and I have been running together on Saturday mornings. It probably started with a marathon clinic after my son Erik was born 7 years ago.

The clinic day and time didn’t fit our schedules. Pat attends mass Sunday mornings and I would like to have my run done and over with by 10:00am to be able to spend the day with my family. The clinic was Sunday morning at 9:00am… needless to say, after the 18 week clinic and finishing the marathon (Pat’s first and my first AC - after children) we started meeting on our own terms, usually Saturday morning, as early as possible, depending on the daylight hours, the distance we were training for and our general energy level.
Locations vary. First we’d alternate between Stanley Park, Pacific Spirit Park, Southland and the beaches. Eventually, my family moved to the North Vancouver and now it seems we almost exclusively run on the rugged trails of the North Shore mountains.

Pat and I are slow runners. We have done a number of marathons and a few ultras, but we are end of the pack slowpokes taking in the scenery, stopping to look at a woodpecker, an owl, wildflowers, the rushing waters below a canyon bridge, helping lost hikers, collecting trash…you get the picture. Our runs are relaxing, no stress, no pressure. If one of us has a bad day, the other sticks with her and adjust the pace. We are however religious in keeping our planned runs. If we plan a run, you can count on us being there. Torrential rains, snow, ice, no sleep - it doesn’t matter. We are committed!

Over the years, I invited other slowpokes along. Often, they join us a few times, sometimes folks express the desire to run with us, but in the end other commitments get in the way and it is just Pat and I again.

Today, was an exceptional day. I had invited a new Club Fat Ass member, who felt she hadn’t trained enough to come out to our events. I also had mentioned time, distance and start location to my neighbour and another friend. It is always an open invitation to join Pat and me on our slow, peaceful runs and today 5 of us showed up to do the Night Run course. Definitely a record in numbers.

The morning dawned misty and moist, but the forecasted rain never materialized. The trails in Capilano Canyon were magical, fog hanging between the trees, rays of sunlight fighting their way through the canopy of the rain forest, coloured leaves floating down to the forest floor. The air smelled earthy and fresh.

The Night Run course is my favoured run, both for its distance and terrain. From my house it cuts west through residential neighborhoods and green ways to hook up with Capilano Park. Capilano Canyon always changes. Today, the water from the heavy rain we had a couple of days ago, was rushing over the rocks, making it difficult for the spawning salmon to fight their way up river. The trails parallels the canyon for a few kilometers, undulating, but steadily loosing altitude and eventually descending to the river bank. Down here the water flows quieter, slower. The river is wide and will empty into Burrard Inlet just a couple of km further south. My route, however, veers eastward, hooks up with another trail system and eventually follows Mosquito Creek north back to my house. A perfect loop for a perfect run and for perfect company on the trails today. I hope Pat, Michelle, Gabi and Louise enjoyed it as much as I did.

Want to join us? The invitation is always open.

My first blog Post

Finally being pushed over the edge and decided to start blogging. No idea what this will turn into and if I am going to keep it up…really no time for self centered posts…and not that philosophically inclined to write meaningful things about the mundane we encounter everyday. So, lets just wait and see where this will take us

My Sorry Fat Ass

After last years epic 50km on New Years Day I had my heart set on a repeat, but alas it wasn’t meant to be. Despite an increase in our training runs, Michele, Pat and I just couldn’t get our mileage up enough to realistically attempt 50km. When the snow in late November and the storms of early December put a damper on some of our runs we finally declared defeat and aimed for the 25km distance.

The question in the final preparation of this run always is how much partying and drinking can you handle without suffering too much the following morning. Well, my neighbors child decided he can handle a hell of a lot of partying and didn’t consider my need for sleep after an evening of snowshoeing and chocolate fondue on Seymour Mountain (Dom, take note, you can get altitude and snow and still brave the wet elements to start the New Year) and before a 25km run.

I crawled out of bed with a splitting headache, feeling like I was the one who emptied all the beer bottles that littered the street. Luckily, there is always vitamin I By the time Ean send us of around the east side of Stanley Park I felt slightly better and enjoyed the morning scenery around Coal Harbour and Lost Lagoon.

Photo: Turtlepace, Michele and Isabelle rounding Kits Point

Like last year, we kept leap frogging Baldwin, who followed some version of the run/walk schedule. As we approached Burrard Street Bridge, he was definitely ahead of us and I started to feel my hips and was looking forward to the trails of Pacific Spirit Park.

Turning onto Chestnut Street right after the bridge we picked up a lost lamb. Turned out Isabelle Thielen missed Kits Point and backtracked, loosing her front position. Thanks for staying with us for a while, Isabelle. You certainly pushed us to be much faster than usual.

Photo: Approaching Burrard Street Bridge, not the pack of Fat Asses crossing the bridge

Despite the forecast for rising temperatures, it felt like it was getting colder. The rain was now mixed with snow and a steady icy wind blew in from the ocean. Getting into the protection of the trails felt good. My strides were getting shorter by the minute. Michele was going strong, but kept me company. Thanks, Michele.

Photo: Karen Smith cheering on the Fat Asses

After crossing 16th Ave, we began to see the faster runner on the return leg. A welcome distraction and the first sign that the finish was in reach. Boy, do I love that slight downhill on the trail parallel to Marine Drive just before hitting the turnaround, or in our case the finish. Pat and Gottfried welcomed us and supplied hot beverages. I would have liked to hang out longer to see the few runners that were behind us, Sharon, Rhonda and Danelle and her friend, but we realized that we needed to get out of our wet clothes quick and took Owen and Joyce up on their offer of a ride back to the start.

As always, despite the adverse weather we seem to have every New Years Day, it was a great way to start the New Year.

Of Fabric Softeners and Plastic Bottles

I am a sucker when it comes to nice smelling fresh laundered clothes. It's like comfort food for me. Maybe it brings back childhood memories or it makes up for the years travelling or using washing machines that left the laundry gray and murky looking and smelling. Several years ago I was able to buy a second hand Asco frontloader and there is joy in doing laundry again (just kidding).

While always limiting the use of chemicals in my life, I find it hard to say no to the fabric softener. The other day I needed more fabric softener and realized that the store where I buy most of my household items and dry groceries, did only sell softener in big plastic bottles. I was looking for those refill packages that make a mess, but use less packaging. No such luck. I almost walked away without the product...but as I said, I am a sucker for that nice smell. Ok, I thought maybe I can do without the smell, but who likes stiff, hard laundry? I settled on a product without perfumes...laundry is soft, but no fragrance.

Did I really need to research to find that fabric softeners contain chemicals that can be toxic to humans...no. For those reasons I have never dyed my hair, bleached my teeth or used pesticides in the garden...but duh, I am a sucker for that smell. I found an article on the Grinning Planet outlining the dangers and alternatives.

I will slowly cut down on my softener and will not buy a new bottle (funny, all I wanted to begin with was not buying yet another plastic bottle). Have to try adding vinegar to the rinse cycle. Vinegar is not necessarily my favourite perfume. Over the summer I will also hang my laundry outside more frequently to conserve energy on the drying.

Any hints and tip on how you deal with your laundry without damaging our environment or health are appreciated.

Out Of Balance

I've always felt compelled to wag my finger at the person tossing garbage out of a driving car, idling their SUV while sitting in a parking lot, driving around the block to drop the kids of at school and doing other stupid things that would harm nature and my enjoyment of it.

Unfortunately, my personal pet peeve is not so personal anymore. Our globe is at risk. The earth is warming, species are becoming extinct, habitat is lost, humans are getting sick. I believe, we can change. I believe it is possible to change the direction we are heading. All of us are in this together, but rather than wait for our governments to implement change toward sustainability (and believe me, as soon as it hits the pocket book, change will come) we can start changing small habits of ours... think before hopping in the car, using pesticides on your roses or heating the house with the windows wide open. Small changes by each of us can have a huge impact.

Chocolate Poppy Seed Bars

Ingredients:
Dough:

• 300g whole wheat flour
• 150g sugar
• 200g unsaltedbutter
• 1/4 tsp baking powder

Poppy Seed Filling:

• 250g butter or unsalted margerine
• 200g sugar
• vanille extract
• 5 eggs
• 400g yoghurt
• 200g whole wheat flour
• 3 tblsp baking powder
• 200g poppy see

Chocolade Icing

• 30ml milk
• 200g dark chocolate (melted)

Mix dough ingredients and press into the bottom of a high baking tray. Mix everything for the poppy seed filling and spread onto dough. Bake at 200C (180C convection) for 20min. Gently and evenly pour 30ml of milk on the hot pie. Spread chocolate over pie and let cool. Best to bake a day or two ahead.
(note: the original recipe calls for 300cc cream to be poured over cake and 300g sugar and 400g sour cream in the filling - turns out way too heavy, fatty, sweet and soggy)

The Story Of the Stolen Bike

The Story Of the Stolen Bike, originally uploaded by Turtlepace.

You may remember that a few weeks ago I found my stolen Norco Hybrid bike in the ditch off Capilano Road. It was quite battered and needed some love, but the frame, crank, pedals etc seemed still ok. I had already replaced the bike with a used Norco Mountain bike and offered the bike to whoever could use the frame.
The response was overwhelming. Not only did my bike find a new owner, we also got a very kind offer from Dave the bike guy at DeD Metal Cycle Repair : “Hi, Saw your add was wondering if you would like me to fix the bike for you? At least that way whoever gets it will have a decent running bike just thought I would throw a little good karma back into the situation…I would be willing to do the labor for free the cost of the parts however would have to be picked up by yourself or the lucky person that gets it. Cheers, Dave”
Sounds like the new owner is taking Dave up on his kind offer.
A nice ending to this story.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys!

Bad Boys, Bad Boys!, originally uploaded by Turtlepace.

I’ve always had a special relationship to the bikes I owned over the years. My first memory of riding a bike is my dad holding on to my hand-me-down bike just after he had removed the training wheels. I was scared and screamed “Don’t let go!” and then realized that he already had and I was just fine. Flash forward to my first full size bike, a brand new shiny purple bike with three gears. Was I ever proud of my bike…Nobody was allowed to touch it. My little sister decided that she wanted to test drive it anyway. She crashed my bike into a parked car and bend the fork. My parents tried to cover up and the bike was repaired without my knowledge…Of course, the new fork colour didn’t match and I found out anyway. The mismatched colour always made me sad.

I owned that bike until I decided to cycle the Panamerican Highway from Mexico to Argentina and purchase a cheap 18 gear Specialized mountain bike. That bike was my home for 19month. I learned how to fix tires, brakes, gears, chains and derailers. After settling in Canada it became my commuter bike, but its heydays were over. I still feel I was disloyal to my travel buddy, but I didn’t have room for two bikes….

The replacement was a Norco Hybrid all tricked out for commuting in the city. It was stolen together with half our wordly belongings in the great heist of 1997. Another replacement, a Norco hybrid. It wasn’t a flashy bike, but it was sturdy, survived some trails, but mostly I used it to haul the kids in a trailer, haul the kids in a bike seat and haul groceries and library book. It was perfectly fine for my everyday commuter needs.

Alas, my trusty (not rusty) Norco hybrid bike was stolen in the fall of last year. I kept looking for it when running on the trails or walking in the neighborhood. Eventually, I replaced it with another Norco, a used mountain bike. My “old” Norco was in perfect condition, tricked out with fenders (we are living on the Wet Coast afterall), a bell, lights, a rack (to attach bags for my groceries) a bottle holder, a rearview mirror and a kick stand. My bike was my transportation!

Yesterday, Ean drove up Capilano Road noticing a green bike in the bushes. He couldn’t stop, but called me to check it out. Sure enough…it was my bike. Wrecked and stripped bare. Brakes are gone, fenders half gone, rack gone, bottle holder gone, kick stand gone, mirror gone. Spokes wrecked, tires/rims replaced and wrecked….a total write off (but for the little light clip that I can salvage and use on my new bike).

I guess the positive fall out from this story is that when I was checking out the abandonded bike off Cap Road, a man approached my and asked if I was ok. He had driven by and thought I had a tumble. I told him the story and he offered to help me get my bike home in his pick-up. I declined as I knew I would be able to get the bike into the trunk of our Subaru Forester. When loading the bike I was approached by a second guy, inquiring if I was ok and helping me getting the bike into the back. Thanks to all the nice folks on this earth! Thumbs down to thiefing, stealing, vandalizing scum.

The bike is of no use to me as it is no longer functional, however, I suspect that the frame could be salvaged and used to put a new bike together. It’s a 19″ Norco Arctic Hybrid frame, as far as I can tell the derailer, pedals/crank, chain are still ok. If any of you is into rebuilding bikes and could use a frame (and some tangled components) let me know and it’s yours.

Almost There

Almost There, originally uploaded by Turtlepace.

We were all quite tired, but walking along the rim towards Elfin Cabin stimulated all our senses. The sky was endless and changed colours every minute. The sun was still illuminating the surrounding peaks from golden to orange to pink to purple.

Abandoned Cross Atlantic Bridge

Abandoned Cross-Atlantic Bridge, originally uploaded by Bemep.

Gotta love it!

Stolen Truck

Stolen Truck, originally uploaded by Turtlepace.

This just in from my friend Gary in Squamish:

Hi everyone,

Not all of you know Adam Protter, but I am passing this along just in case any of you see his truck.

His daughter is severely handicapped and the equipment she needs to be able to ride in a vehicle was in that truck.
Read below for more info and to see a picture.

Maybe people with blogs and websites could help pass this along as well?

Thanks,
GR

Hello
Someone stole our truck tonight. Out of our driveway while we were eating dinner. No kidding!
The real problem is that Mary’s Van was at Barney’s for a repair, so Morgan’s Easy-On Vest, her ONLY car harness, was in the truck and stolen with it, along with my�aluminum wheelchair ramp.
Morgan is grounded. She cannot travel unless it’s by cab. She’s a prisoner.
We are a minimum of 4 months away from a wheelchair van, and only if funding is approved. It took a year and a half for Transport Canada to Approve her Easy-On Vest/Harness and 4 months for it to be custom made in Florida and shipped here.
No school bus will take her to school, so she doesn’t go unless we cab it, 11 KM each way.
Talk about a mobility issue.
Spread the word. If you see it, in a ditch, a field or lane, call the police! Please!
Thank you
Adam

River Thieves

Just finished “River Thieves” by Micheal Crummey, an unsettling, hopeless story set in the Newfoundland of the early 1800’s. Here is a review from the Guardian:

Saturday October 12, 2002
The Guardian

River Thieves
by Michael Crummey
371pp, Canongate, £10.99

This is a novel with a vast epic sweep, a tale of racial conflict set against the harsh and beautiful backdrop of Newfoundland in the early 19th century. John Peyton and his ageing father set their traps and fishing lines in a country whose native inhabitants, the Beothuk, have been driven to the verge of extinction by the activities both of the European settlers and the neighbouring Mi’kmaq tribe. The narrative centres on one incident, the murder of two Beothuk men by a raiding party which includes the two Peytons.

It’s an unsettling tale, not least because of its author’s admirable refusal either to moralise or to simplify. There’s a telling ambiguity in the very title: are the “river thieves” the raiding Beothuk - the embattled warriors who steal traps, destroy salmon nets and at one point plunder the Peytons’ loaded boat - or the usurping settlers, pillaging native dwellings and burial sites as they move clumsily through a land they can never honestly call their own?

One of the settlers, Reilly, has in fact been transported to Newfoundland after a misspent early life as a river thief on the Thames, and it’s through this shadowy but important figure that Crummey most fruitfully explores the complex patterns of possession and dispossession that run through the novel as a whole.

Doubly displaced as an Irish Londoner exiled from England, Reilly is in some respects the counterpart of the frightened and bewildered Beothuk girl whom Peyton remembers being exhibited on a tavern table during his own childhood in England. Yet at the same time he is, of all the settlers, the one most truly at home in the wilderness: married to a Mi’kmaq woman and on reasonable terms with his Beothuk neighbours, he seems to hint at the possibility of some more humane and accommodating existence. But then - and it’s in such twists that the novel’s unsentimental realism is most strikingly apparent - he is crucially, if not entirely culpably, implicated in the murder.

Woven in with this bleak account of displacement and genocide is another, more intimate story involving Cassie, initially taken on by the elder Peyton as his son’s tutor and now housekeeper to the two men. Shy, inexperienced and hampered by the belief that Cassie may actually be his father’s lover, Peyton struggles variously to suppress and to articulate his own slow-burning passion for her. But Cassie’s reasons for staying in the house are darker and more complicated than he can possibly guess, and this strand of the narrative offers only the chilliest of resolutions.

Crummey has a sharp eye for detail and an often breathtaking lucidity of expression, and much of the novel’s power derives from his skilful delineation of his chosen territory. Snowflakes shining like flint-sparks as they drift through the firelight, the play of shadows on the wall of a makeshift tent, the pressure of icy water against a swan-skin cuff as Peyton works wildly to free a man dragged beneath broken ice - such details bring us sharply into contact with a land which the law-enforcer and map-maker Buchan disturbingly conceives of as “devoid of any suggestion of design”.

Crummey’s attention to detail isn’t invariably rewarding: occasionally the narrative flow is clogged by inert catalogues and tediously precise statistics. But the overriding impression from this novel is of a remarkably gifted writer working with passion and imagination as he recreates the interplay of vanished human lives in a spectacularly inhuman environment.

The Kite Runner

Our new pick for this month is “The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini. His website is at: http://www.khaledhosseini.com/

I’ve only just started but am already enmeshed in the intricacies of the relationships that are portrait.

Isabel Allende writes:

“A wonderful work… This is one of those unforgettable stories that stay with you for years. All the great themes of literature and of life are the fabric of this extraordinary novel: love, honor, guilt, fear redemption…It is so powerful that for a long time everything I read after seemed bland.”

The Kite Runner

Our new pick for this month is "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. His website is at: http://www.khaledhosseini.com/

I've only just started but am already enmeshed in the intricacies of the relationships that are portrait.

Isabel Allende writes:

"A wonderful work... This is one of those unforgettable stories that stay with you for years. All the great themes of literature and of life are the fabric of this extraordinary novel: love, honor, guilt, fear redemption...It is so powerful that for a long time everything I read after seemed bland."

Dusk Over Vancouver

Dusk over Vancouver, originally uploaded by Turtlepace.

Copycats

http://www.bubbleshare.com

Are they trying to copy Flickr? Tough luck!

Mama's Fries

Here are healthy fries that don't put money into the pockets of fast food chains. They are easy to make but take a bit of time.

For two small baking trays and to feed a family of four use about 10 large potatoes. Peel the potatoes. Slice them into wedges. The wedges should be able to sit on the tray without falling over. Spray the wedges with vegetable oil. Sprinkle with salt and curry powder (or other spices to taste). Bake at 175C for 90min or until browned and crispy.

Links - Library Elf

http://www.libraryelf.com/Default.aspx
Cool site to track your library books and manage all your library loans (on different cards) and hold. No more late fees.

Consuming Less

After spending half the day trying to clean-up my kids playroom and having read the article about "compact" - people who vow to not buy anything new (excluding underwear and food) for a whole year - in the Globe and Mail on Saturday I have to admit I am ready to further travel down that road. Not that I haven't taken the turn in the road already (just haven't cleaned up the playroom in a long time and left it up to the kids - mistake).

I am not your typical consumer. I frequent two big box stores out of necessity (food and underwear) and buy my produce at a small neighborhood store. I don't regularly go to a mall or any other stores for that matter. Fashion and fads blissfully pass by me. Frankly, I don't care my dear! We more often than not buy second hand electronics, garden tools and clothes (I have been very fortunate that mother and mother in law dress both me and my husband (we are happiest in fleece and t shirts that we wear to death) and supply hand me downs for the kids from the cousins). We've never owned a new car. We are craigslist afficionados and always post stuff we have grown out off for sale on craigslist.

Yet, there is still too much stuff in the house. Time to clean...once I finish with the playroom of course!

No Traffic on Burrard Street

No Traffic on Burrard Street

Originally uploaded by ClubFatAss.

Ever seen Burrard Street that lonely? Try getting up early on New Years Day and run the Vancouver New Years Day Fat Ass 50…