With age, things fall apart. Like me.
I mean, I ran 160km, and my knees didn’t bother me. But do a bit of swimming and/or water-polo, and my knees feel like they have been shot. A friend has convinced me to give it a try. It has been a good way to feel totally out of shape. I haven’t been swimming in a long time.
In a parallel instance, my car is following me. Not swimming, but in falling apart. Actually, no, it isn’t falling apart. Not anymore. I’ve had it for over ten years, and I keep track of its maintenance schedule and do my best to follow it. The problem is that I don’t drive as much as the schedule expects. So while things that expire after a certain number of kilometers have been regularly replaced, the things that expire after a certain period of time, haven’t. Today, the Honda dealership figured that out and fingered my timing belt as too old.
I fear I am too trusting of them. It made sense what they were saying, but I wonder if they are trying to milk me for money because of a faltering economy. If I had picked up gas on my way through Calgary I would have spent over a thousand dollars on my car today.
Maybe it is time to get a new one?

I really should update my journal more often. A lot of the time I only have a single thought. It seems a shame to bore people with a entry when I can just put the succinct moment in as a Facebook status update.
I worked from home today just so I could slip away to the grocery store. Today is the cheapest day to get a turkey, and I wanted to get a good one before they sold out. And I did. I have now lost my freezer because a large bird has taken up residence. Thankfully I don’t have to thaw it out for this weekend. I’m saving it for American Thanksgiving.
I’m going to need a lot of people to eat this bird.

I did my first real run since the Lost Souls. It was only 19km, but my feet started hurting in the last part. I think my blisters aren’t fully healed. I need more callouses.
The fun part of the run was that a race started just as we were passing by. Suddenly, our little group was surrounded by a lot of other runners. It was only a 10km race, so there were a lot of people. Interestingly, we were still passing other runners.
A race really does reinvigorate you.

On Thursday I finally got my new shoes. I am being very liberal in my use of the word “shoe” though. These are the antithesis of shoe really, and can only really use the term as “thing that goes on my foot that isn’t a sock or boot”. These are shoes that do nothing to support the foot. The only thing they do is protect the bottom of the foot from sharp objects.
The point is to get the foot muscles working again. Our feet, apparently, have been coddled by being in shoes and have lost all their strength. And with their weakness, it passes on to other muscles that are then doing all the work. This leads to injury. Indigenous people who do a lot of running and do not have shoes do not have all the injuries that a modern runner gets.
They look freaky. They are brightly colored (orange) so they do attract attention.
They also feel very… sensual? Because each toe gets its own sleeve, they are getting more sensations than they are used to. It was weird driving a car with them, because my feet would wrap more around the pedal, and so my toes were feeling things they had never felt before.
Kinky!
I’m right now wearing them when I go out to get my feet used to them. Eventually I will start running in them. Hopefully on grass first, but it is hard to make that promise in a concrete wasteland.
In other foot news, I’ve decided to get a pedicure. I’m really not sure what the procedure is still, but I know it is a foot spa treatment. After all the abuse, I figure it would be nice to give something back to my feet.
And yes, I do realize this sounds very girly. But the person on the other end of the phone sounded like she has handled runners before. I’ll let you know how it works out.
I am of course going to have to express my manhood the entire time. But all I can think of is reading a manly news magazine instead of one of the women’s magazines that litter spas. That said, I want to get my money’s worth. Is part of the treatment getting nails painted? Do I say “no”? If I’ve paid for it, that doesn’t sound like the economical attitude.

Last Friday I started running the Lost Souls ultramarathon. It was hard. Really hard. Harder than the Death Race. But I did finish in 32 hours, 50 minutes and 55 seconds.
The course is through the coulees of Lethbridge in a route that is 53km. You have to do it three times. I can now speak from experience that the coulees are deeper the further north of the city you go. Conditions were bad. It was dusty and a completely clear sky with a hot desert sun.
How did I do it? Aside from the training, it was truly a mental challenge. I had a few strategies that got me through.
The first loop was a complete unknown for me; I didn’t know what to expect so I didn’t worry about it. Any hard parts I covered were then a problem for future-me. (I don’t like future-me, he gets all the cool toys and sees all the movies that I’m stuck waiting for. But he’s had it out for me ever since he got signed into a stupid ultramarathon.) Focus on the now! Blissful ignorance will get you very far.
The second loop was mostly in the dark. You can’t fear what you can’t see. You can’t help but focus on the small spot of light in front on you and ignore the rest. (Although I hear if I stopped and looked to the sides I might see a lot of eyes staring back.)
The third loop was again in the light, and it was mentally hard, but it was also the last one. Every step I took, I never had to do again. That helped.
The biggest mental help though was a rock. The day before the race, when picking up the race kit, I learned what the award was for finishing. A big rock, with the Lost Souls logo, your name, and your time sandblasted into it. I was told the logo and the name had already been engraved into it, and it was only awaiting the time. If you didn’t finish, you still got the rock. Let me emphasize that: You still got the rock! In other words, people who fail get a rock with their name on it reminding them of their failure. My mantra during the run became “I am not going to get mocked by a rock.” Obviously it worked.
The aid during the race was fantastic. The best I’ve ever seen. The aid stations have tents and huge amounts of food. And, most importantly, very helpful volunteers. Often I could just come in, sit in a chair and ask them to bring me stuff. I felt spoiled. I tried to always have a glass of coke and a banana. Sometimes the cheap (read salty) chicken noodle soup. During the day I made a habit of getting a handful of ice to put into my cap. I may have frostbitten my scalp, but the gradual cooling helped.
My friends had gullible girlfriends who drove around to all the aid stations, bringing supplies, but I never felt that I was doing worse. I certainly never subjected anyone to staying awake for my entire run. Part of what helped me survive being gullible-girlfriend-less was that I could stow a bucket with my own personal supplies. Which the volunteers would bring to me while I sat in a chair.
Before the run even started, they made everyone get up early to get weighed. (83.3kg) They would then weigh you after every loop to make sure you weren’t losing too much weight; a sign of dehydration. 5% weight loss would get you pulled.
My friends and I didn’t plan to stay together, but we have trained together too often that we all had the same general pace. At pretty much every aid station we saw each other. Robert is usually the fastest, but apparently he is also stealthy; I would assume he had left already and was ahead of me on the trail, when he was just somewhere else in the aid station. I would only find out when he passed me on the trails. The first loop was quite hot, but we were fresh and I made sure to drink a lot. The threat of being pulled helped to remind me to hydrate. By the time I was done, I had gained 0.2kg to 83.5kg. It took us generally nine hours, with a half hour rest at the main station.
The second loop was STARTED in the light. I had thought to store my headlamp at the second aid station, but I’m glad I didn’t. I was with Mike and we tried to get there, but after awhile we had to admit defeat and put on the headlamps. The leg between the main station and the second aid station is somewhat depressing. Forty-five minutes in you can easily see the aid station at the end, but it takes over an hour to reach it.
When darkness fell, it also got cold. With the clear night sky, all the heat escaped. I didn’t wear a jacket, but continued wearing my t-shirt and shorts. I did have arm-warmers that were great. If I got hot, I could roll them up to just my wrists. Often at the aid stations I would need a blanket to keep warm, despite the heater they had in the corner. The volunteers were concerned when I left without a jacket. I would agree with them, but by the time I hit the first hill, I would be overheating and need to roll down the arm warmers. There were very few aid stations that weren’t immediately followed by a tall hill/coulee.
By this time, my teeth were starting to hurt. I hadn’t brushed my teeth in a long time, and I had been eating lots of sugary stuff all day. Since it was cool, I wasn’t feeling as thirsty, so I didn’t drink as much. I actually don’t think I drank any gatorade at night. By the time I was done, I had gone down to 83.1kg. Still healthy enough to continue. It had taken slightly over eleven hours to do that loop, with another half hour rest at the main station.
The third loop was started in the dark, and my friends all left before I was ready. I probably ran too fast to try and catch them. I only caught Mike and I stuck with him. Then I found out that Robert had actually taken a wrong turn and he needed to catch up with us. The first leg is just a short loop to and from the main aid station. I left, as the sun was rising, for the second aid station before them, but I thought I would be going slow and they would catch up. I like running with Mike because he is a good pacer. However, my mind was doing the math and I started thinking about the 35 hour deadline and I couldn’t afford to take it too slow. (I will not be mocked by a rock!) So I didn’t, and only saw them at the second aid station. By this time the people who were only running 50km, who started that morning, were beginning to pass us. I hated them; flaunting all the energy they had and showing off their hope for the future.
The third aid station, Pavan, has a 15km loop to do. This is the hottest area, and the coulees are never ending. I was ahead of my friends (unknowingly of Robert), and I wasn’t doing that bad. Just slugging along. However, on the tail end, I noticed that I didn’t have any sweat on me. I would feel cool in a breeze, but there was no moisture. I don’t know if I was thinking logically, but I was worried I had heatstroke and my sweat mechanism wasn’t working. I was drinking plenty, but I took to splashing water on myself. I even dunked my head in the river to help. Of course, I started slowing down. Eventually Robert came from behind me and talked sense to me and I started running/walking with him.
By this point we had a good enough margin that I wasn’t worried about making the cutoff anymore. I actually started thinking about time; as in getting a better time. I don’t mind if Robert comes in ahead of me, but the one time I let Mike beat me, I got teased about it. He’ll tease me anyway, but it has less sting if I beat him. Robert and I left for the second aid station ahead of Mike.
When I reached it, I only stopped long enough to get some ice and left Robert behind. Only 7km to go, why bother resting? I was sure they were right behind me, so I shuffled along as quickly as I could. There was only one hill left, but some uneven terrain was slowing me down.
While climbing the last hill towards the finish, I kept looking behind me, but I still couldn’t see my friends. Then at the top, there was just a short stretch to the end. I walked a bit, and then resumed my shuffling run. What was that? Someone was letting a dog run free on the course! I don’t have the energy to defend myself. Wait a minute? I know that dog!
My parents had driven down to surprise me at the finish line. Indeed it was, and it was greatly appreciated.
I finished the run.
I had people there to welcome me. I could rest. I could also do the stretching I had long planned to do, and yet I still did not. That loop had taken me nearly twelve hours. About fifteen minutes after I crossed, Robert came in. Thirty minutes later, Mike finished.
We have now all three completed the Alberta Triple.
Half my toenails are in open rebellion. As Darth Vader has taught us, you must crush the rebel alliance. Where’s my hammer?

I don’t know if there will be continual updates on the Lost Souls website but I am racer #2.
May god have mercy on my soul.

I don’t really have anything to say. I’m just trying to distract myself. Tomorrow is my big run. I’ve got everything packed and ready to go. I just have to have lunch and then I’m off to Lethbridge.
I am nervous. A lot is riding on this ultra. Doubt is creeping in.

The past two years, I’ve been in Montreal for Labor Day. I would dearly have liked to be there this year. I meet good friends there and it is a lovely city. I especially enjoy going for a run along the St. Lawrence Seaway.
But I have my ultramarathon very soon. I need to be ready for that; it is the culmination of a year’s worth of work. The nutrition alone is a big part of it. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to go for a long run.

My big run is next Friday. It’s in Lethbridge, so I’ve come down to my parent’s place for a vacation before the race. I won’t have as far to drive on Thursday.
This has been stressful. I was worried about the race, until I heard descriptions of it, then I felt more confident. I’m back to being worried. So much can go wrong.
I bought new trail runner shoes a week and a half ago, thinking I could break them in. I probably could, but I’ve noticed that since I’ve been using them, my ankle has been hurting. And I think it is squashing my little toe. This is not the kind of shoe I want on my feet for 53km. I’ve stopped trying to break them in. My ankle has since gotten better, due to the run-it-off method of medicine.
Is that quad muscle injury acting up again? Hard to be sure. I need to take it easy.
Have I been running enough to maintain myself? The problem there is that after the Death Race I didn’t run much for recovery. Now I’m in the tapering part before the next run. I haven’t had a really long run since the Death Race.
I’ve been trying to find good compression shorts. I’ve been unable to find an “affordable” pair in Edmonton and was forced to make a stop in Calgary to pick some up.
I’m also on the Atkins part of carb-loading. No carbohydrates for three days. I had planned to eat a lot of chicken wings for lunch, but the place that had said they would not be breaded this week, lied. So I had two chicken breasts wrapped in lettuce. And after the drive down, the only place I could find to eat was a Subway. However, they had no decent nutrition information. I had to go online with my iPhone in the parking lot to figure out what I could order. This would have been so much easier when the Atkins diet still had credibility. I found it surprising that the wraps had more carbs than most of the breads. That is counter-intuitive.

I took a nap on my couch this afternoon. It was oddly recursive; I dreamed I was on my couch napping, unable to wake up but still having a dream. The final dream was actually interesting. But only boring people force others to listen to their dreams.
I went and saw Adam today. I’m not sure what my opinion of it is. I did see some scary similarities between the main character and myself. Especially chilling was the similar size of his bed, and the exact same cover.
I’m going with the theory that he was an extreme case of Asperger’s. I don’t think I’m that bad.

A Final Whimsy (7 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
A nice David Belke drama. It concerned itself a lot with the stories (whimseys), true and false, that families tell each other. This one has a side-story for me. The ending was ambiguous. I don’t like an ending that I can’t figure out. It makes me feel dumb, that I missed some clue that would have explained it. I can understand the enjoyment of of having an ending you can think about, but I want to know that the author knows what is going on. Conveniently, the author was right there at the back of the theatre and I could interrogate him. He did know what was going on, but he also repeated the last line. “That’s the problem with whimseys. You never know which ones to believe.” Hearing that gave a nice recursion to the piece that increased my enjoyment a lot.

Or maybe I’m just socially inept and I can’t blame it on anything but me.
I would like to thank my friends for the compliments that they’ve been giving me; cheering me up and presenting some evidence otherwise. But I would also like to apologize. I’ve done something in this blog that I’ve been trying to get away from. Whining. No one likes to read whines.
Or at least if I’m whining, whine about something interesting.
My haircut appointment today kept me waiting 35 minutes!
No, that isn’t interesting…

Now that I’ve written it down, it has become more real for me. Either that or it is because I can now see a movie on the condition.
I have not done a lot of research, but the term Aspergers has come up.
So I’ve been out of it lately. It is rather depressing to read a wikipedia page and see it describing your life; enough so that I’m finding I don’t want to read too closely. The line “Childhood desire for companionship can become numbed through a history of failed social encounters.” is particularly chilling.
But what does it mean? I now have an excuse as to why I am terrible at relationships. But is that all it is, an excuse? I still should socialize. Don’t decide it is impossible and not try. But I remember people telling me talking to girls is easy. Now I can say it is not.
Driving home, I saw pretty girls on Whyte Avenue. I don’t think I have a chance with any of them. I would rather stay at home and do some computer work.
I’ve been looking back on my life with a different viewpoint. I distinctly remember times in Jamaica, at Hedonism, where I’m pretty sure beautiful girls were interested in me. And I was too clueless to realize.

Today there was a lot of shopping.
First, I signed up for a course at NAIT on GIS. I’ve been wanting to take it for awhile, but last year it was cancelled. I’ve waffled enough, and now I am committed.
Then I went and bought some planters. I have a plan now to actually grow things. My balcony gets far too hot in summer, and I thought that if the walls were lined with plants, they would absorb some of the heat. My friends have recommended hops. It is an ivy like plant so hopefully it will be happy covering the walls.
My final purchase was to go to Fast Trax. I had a 15% off coupon that expired soon and I wanted to abuse it. I needed new compression shorts after my last pair’s seams ripped after a paltry 125km run. I also wanted good trail shoes for the Lost Souls Marathon. And I had been hearing a lot about barefoot running and I wanted to buy some… well not shoes exactly, more foot coverings. They protect the feet but provide no support.
The foot coverings are apparently very popular and although I found a pair that seemed to fit, I might be better with a smaller pair, which they didn’t have. I now wait until they get some in so I can comparison shop. I can wait; I don’t want to experiment in the three weeks before my big run so I would have to hold off anyway.
The compression shorts weren’t available in my size. But I was able to buy new trail runners. I have to wear them a lot now to break them in.
I’ve been told shoes can only handle 50km at one time before they need to recover. So I need three pairs of shoes for the Lost Souls. I figure trail runners are my best bet, and now I have two pairs. For the last lap I’ll probably won’t care as much.

The Further Adventures of Antoine Feval (9 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
This play has everything. Comedy, drama, and an explanation of Canadian culture. Chris Gibbs continues to be funny and intelligent. He is a master of self-deprecating humor. It is easier to write a review if you list all the things you disliked about a play. I can’t think of anything.

The Art of Being a Bastard (6.5 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
This was actually very educational. It might have been better titled, “How to Pick Up Girls in Bars”. I should have taken notes. Not incredibly funny but I had a good time.

Unsolicited Letters (3 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
They did put an honest try into making a good play. And it was a good first try. But they didn’t have enough content. There was only one plot-line in the play and it wasn’t big enough for the 50 minutes they allotted. It felt like it was dragging at points. I’m glad I got to see it for free, although I would have preferred not to see it at all.

I’ve been analyzing myself again. I’m not happy with what I see. I am comparing myself to other people and to what I see in movies. I think I’ve come to conclusion that I’m emotionally dead.
The short of it is that I have never loved. I have cared for people, but I have never been in love. I don’t even know if I could recognize the symptoms. I can’t even say I’ve lusted. I feel I am just pretending to have emotions. At least pretending the happier ones. I have anger, pain, and jealousy.
I am not proud of any of this.
I have friends who just think I’ve been out of the dating scene too long. They put me at the kindergarten level of dating expertise. I can’t disagree. But I still need to try, and hope I can get through this dead zone. (Is that fair on the other person?)
I think I’m autistic. Just skimming through the Wikipedia article on it and I can see a lot of the symptoms in myself. I’m not good with facial recognition or eye contact. I have compulsive behaviour and ritualistic behaviour (I don’t like EVER using the bottom step on a staircase.) I am not comfortable with human contact even though I would like to feel it. I’ve tried to be more open to hugs, and I should like them. But I don’t like initiating them.
Tangent: I’m wondering what would happen if there was a test to screen for autism before birth, or even a way to cure it. If the same thing could be done for homosexuality, there would be an uproar. I would feel the same way for autism. Despite all my problems, I wouldn’t want to change myself completely. Nerds form an important part of modern civilization.
I don’t even know why I’m posting this. (Compulsive behaviour?) My current theory: As I come closer to understanding myself, I want other people to know my thought process.
I don’t like having a conversation die. If I have to say things, that I shouldn’t say in public, to keep the conversation going, that is apparently what I’ll do.

I grew up in Winnipeg. It is very flat there. I remember going on a trip to Milwaukee for a convention and being fascinated by a slope in a downtown street. It just seemed so unreal. Running in Winnipeg was always on a flat surface. When I did my first marathon there, the only hill was an overpass. I wonder if the land of flatness has anything to do with my love of topography?
Now I live in Edmonton where the downtown angles are much steeper than anything in Milwaukee. And they have been excellent training for the ultras I have signed up for.
I’ve been worried about my next one, the 160km Lost Souls in Lethbridge. I know next to nothing about it. Is it harder than the Death Race? Well that has changed. We had a meeting with someone who has run it. I’m now a lot less nervous. It is still going to be hard, but knowing is half the battle.
We’ll be running in the Lethbridge river valley, which is twice as deep as Edmonton’s. Each 53.3km loop I need to do three times should take ten hours to complete. I have 35 hours, which gives me a five hour safety margin. I don’t need to carry too much water or equipment, as the support they have there is fantastic. (He mentioned that smoked salmon was available at one time.) It may be very hot though.
The confidence is nice.
We’re trying to figure out what we are going to do on Sunday for training. We could run 40km, or we could go on a really long hike. I overheard on the Death Race that hikers do better than runners, so a hike might be preferable than just another long run. We’re at a late enough stage that we can’t do much more to get ready.
We also seem to be turning into a gang. Mike got a BMW and has been raving about the German engineering. Now Robert is thinking of getting one. Apparently I need to get one as well, and then we can all wear our Death Race jackets. Maybe go racing in the flood control channel.

How is this for pressure? Instead of movie night, I thought going to see a fringe play with my friends would be a better idea. I had an idea of what would be a good play, so I recommended that one and made a plan to see it.
Twelve other people went with my recommendation. I enjoyed the play, but I kept hoping all these people I dragged to it would also like it.

Space (7.5 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
I really enjoyed this. There have been other plays that are more moving, but this one was a comedy that didn’t take itself seriously. It was really low on plot, and more focussed on having fun. i.e. Check your brain at the door. And I think they added an extra subplot just to allow the use of special effects on the robot.

Totem Figures (7 out of 10)
Style: Autobiographical
TJ Dawe isn’t as funny as he used to be. But he is more thought provoking. I saw a late night show after a long run so I wasn’t paying as close attention as I would have liked. This is still a good play and you get some good insight into who he is. Bonus: You learn how he got his name.

Grimmer than Grimm (6.5 out of 10)
Style: ADD Skits
I’m probably giving this a lower rating than it deserves. I had dragged a dozen people to see this, so I was more critical of all of its faults. I liked it, but there were a few slower parts that dragged on a bit. But they did their job of graphically portraying the worst of the Grimm’s fairy tales.

Spiral Dive: Episode Two (8.5 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
Fantastic, but I think you should only see it if you’ve seen Episode One already. It would be too hard to follow otherwise. The actors are very good, able to portray multiple characters and make it easy to tell them apart. I especially liked the pilot from Montreal. Only one downside; forgive my language, but I think this blew its wad too early. They had a vivid description of an aerial battle that I think would have been better later in the play. It was too close to the start and I hadn’t really gotten into the show yet.

The Occulist’s Holiday (8 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
Stewart Lemoine once again does a nice play. It isn’t that memorable, but it has a good story. The characters are interesting and they develop quite a bit. I want to go to Switzerland now.

The Maltese Bodkin (6 out of 10)
Style: Traditional play
This is an early David Belke work, first performed in 1991. He wasn’t quite the powerhouse he is now, but he had good fundamentals. I did enjoy this, but I think I would have liked it more if I knew Shakespeare better. But you only really need experience in that to recognize characters, and it isn’t a requirement to get the full entertainment value. However, it really helps to know MacBeth.

I think I’m getting burned out. Previously, I loved the Fringe Festival and would easily see a dozen plays. But now I’m just too tired to get excited about it. (That, and money isn’t flowing as freely as it used to.) I’ve still got plans to see eight plays, but there are others that I would also like to see. I just can’t seem to gather the energy to go see them.

Thursday, August 13th
8:00 – 10:00 The Maltese Bodkin
Saturday, August 15th
1:00 – 2:20 The Oculist’s Holiday
7:15 – 8:35 Spiral Dive: Episode 2
Sunday, August 16th
3:00 – 4:15 Space
9:45 – 11:15 Totem Figures
Monday, August 17th
8:30 – 9:30 Grimmer than Grimm
Tuesday, August 18th
8:15 – 9:15 The Art of Being a Bastard
Thursday, August 20th
9:00 – 10:15 The Further Adventures of Antoine Feval

I remember the last time I ran the Death Race. It was hard, but not as hard as expected. The training was harder than the actual race.
That was not true this year. A heat wave descended on Grande Cache for the weekend. It was stifling, and not the best conditions for running. The weather really changed the conditions of the course. Alberta has had a drought for the summer, but it had been raining recently in the area. So there were places that were wetter, and places that were drier.
In some races they weigh the runners to make sure they aren’t over- or under-hydrated. Since running makes you stupid, our support people were also thinking intelligence tests should be administered as well. I tried to keep myself from over-exerting myself. I took any reasonable chance to sit down if I could. Fortunately some volunteers stationed around the course were willing to give up their chairs. I never stayed too long, but I think the short rests helped.
The food provided was very disappointing. It almost looked like they had raided a grocery store. There were very few energy bars. I was more likely to find melted chocolate bars. Most critically, they had very little salt snacks. When it is that hot, you need salt! At least there was a good supply of Gatorade.
The day started out nicely, and I thought that if the temperature stayed that way for the entire time it would be perfect, but of course that wasn’t meant to be. By the time the first leg was done, it was already warm and I had blisters forming. I had also passed a girl who had collapsed.
Last year, the second leg had rain. This time it was hot sun. The climb up Mount Flood was slow. But coming down, and going through “The Slugfest” was much easier. There was no sliding down mud slopes into creeks; It was solid footing. Also, my feet didn’t hurt this year. Last year, my right foot was in pain almost immediately and it only stopped when I changed shoes. But I figured out what was wrong a few months ago; My shoe had been on too tight. I actually wore the exact same shoes this time and had no problems.
Near the top of Grande Mountain you could see lightning off in the distance. I would have failed the intelligence tests as I was trying to figure out if the long aluminum poles I was using were a good conductor of electricity. The rain that followed did help a lot. But plummeting down a mountain side wasn’t exactly safe to begin with. And for some reason, near the end of the leg, a bystander darted out right in front of me as I was coming down the hill. She wanted to grab a pack of cigarettes on the trail and I nearly hit her.
The third leg was the pinnacle of the heat wave. I ran it at the hottest point of the day. As advertised, the valley was a heat sink. Fortunately there were no bears this time. However, I had sunglasses at the start of the leg, but I appeared to be missing them by the end…
At the transition to the fourth leg, I drank two bottles of Gatorade, had an eDisc and a salt tablet. It was a few too many electrolytes, and I couldn’t run for awhile. Fortunately, leg four is well known for Mount Hamel appearing immediately; I was going to walk anyway. And because it was so dry, there was no longer a stream running down the trail. There was a gaping crevasse in the middle instead, but that was easy to avoid. I got to the top just as the sun was setting. The nearly full moon wasn’t as helpful as I had hoped. I ran down the other side with the headlamp going. This was when things got better. It was now cool, and I was going downhill.
At the Ambler Loop station there were a pair of ambulances. Many people were getting pulled off the course. I stopped by them and got some medical supplies put on my foot to help stop the blisters that had formed, or were going to form. Then it was a run down a hill to the start of leg five.
Leg two is the hardest, but I think I hate leg five the most. It comes at a time when your legs are tired, and they make it full of uneven ground. In the night, with only a headlamp, you can’t tell if it is a leaf, root, or rock you are stepping on. You will trip if you run. I have to walk. And once you start walking, it is very hard to get back to running.
Hell’s Gate was lit up nicely with bright lights, so I could see a bit of the landscape. It looked very nice. I think I cheated a bit here. While the boat was crossing, I un-kinked my water tube so I could gulp instead of sip, and I ate an entire powerbar. In other words, I took my sweet time to get going again. But none of this counted against me, because the clock stopped until I decided I was ready to go again. I’m not sure if that counted as cheating. I continued on, and once again got mixed signals about distance as I ran. 13km. 8km. 9km. 5km. Hopefully I’ll figure it out someday although I think the last two distances quoted were correct. I gained a huge blood blister on the sole of my right foot. It seemed to come into existence over the fifth leg because it wasn’t there when the doctors looked over me.
I crossed the finish line at a little over 23 hours. It was tough but I had done it. And it was provably tough. Only 33% of people who had signed up, finished. Jack Cook, who had finished first the last three times was unable to complete.
I beat Jack Cook!
The rest of the weekend was spent napping and eating. I didn’t have the energy to go see the festival. We didn’t even stay until the end of the closing ceremonies before driving home. I did discover that I appear to be allergic to the official race shirt.
Since then, I’ve been concerned about the nail of my left little piggie with roast beef. It looks like it is trying to make a break for it.

I’m in Grand Cache right now. It is blazing hot. And tomorrow is looking worse.
Tomorrow, bright and early, I start the Death Race. I WAS feeling fairly confident, but now, not so much. It is very hot, with a plan for 31 degrees tomorrow. That is higher than the melting point of . The orientation didn’t make it sound any better.
I’m trying to formulate a plan of how best to finish tomorrow. I think I have to acknowledge I won’t be as fast as last year. I’m just focussing on finishing for now.

It was a nice run today. It got started early enough so it wasn’t hot yet. Plus it was a short 10km (tapering!) I had to do a lot of it alone; Most people going that short a distance are too slow and I would injure myself trying to keep pace with them. So I joined a longer group and then left them when I thought it would be appropriate.
The finish was spectacular though; A Flash mob was there cheering runners coming in, acting as if everyone was finishing a marathon. It felt like Disneyworld all over again. So I tried to make my finish as good as possible. And I won a trophy, nominally for being the most into the event. It does look more like a curling trophy though; Reuse centre apparently.
Honestly though, through a complete fluke, I found out about the event beforehand. So I made sure to show up and be supportive of the supporters.

At work today I got a phone call from a blocked number. That probably should have been the first clue that it was a telemarketer, but I bit anyway. Turns out it wasn’t.
It was someone from Visa. They were concerned about the security of my card. Had I received my last statement? They confirmed my name and address, and then wanted me to tell them the expiry date to confirm I was who I said I was. That sounded suspicious. I told them “No”. I didn’t know him from Adam!
It was hard to understand him because he had a thick East Indian accent. (Or Nigerian?) But it sounded like he was getting threatening. Apparently if I didn’t tell him, then they would consider my card to be at risk and it would be cancelled. I would need to go to the bank to reactivate it.
By this point, my co-workers had overheard what was going on and were listening in. On their recommendation I asked to speak to his supervisor. His accent wasn’t much better, and I didn’t get any different information. He did tell me his name, gave me a phone number to call once I had the information, and a website.
The website looked like it was slapped together in FrontPage.
I phoned the telephone number on the back of MY Visa card. It took a few minutes to talk to a human. Apparently there are no issues with my card. I relayed everything that had happened. I think she was amused at how laughable an attempt this was to get my credit card information. But it is scary to think that this must be working on some people, otherwise they wouldn’t keep doing it.

Over the weekend I was part of an expedition to summit a mountain in the Bow Range, far to the south of here. (Mount Temple. The same one we climbed last July.) In the course of events we lost half our party. We were forced to deal with avalanches and inclement weather. One foolhardy climber broke through the ice into rushing water. There were injuries and equipment falling from our grasp. It is a wonder any of us made it back to tell the tale.
We set out that day with fourteen brave souls. Two hours in we had already lost three men to the Minnestimma Lakes. (Actually, three women who had decided to only go that far and then turn back.) The remaining members continued on, assaulting Sentinel Pass. There, we expected the wildlife to set upon us, but once that caught sight of our countenance, they wisely hid. (The squirrels that usually demand to be fed were already full and didn’t beg as much. So we couldn’t get any cool pictures of hand-fed rodents.) However, here we lost two more people to grievous injury. (Two people who had only intended to go this far. The girl twisted her ankle on the way back.)
From here the fight to the top became more treacherous. We were going up, and we had to make our own trail. Still, us nine climbed. But three started to falter, falling further and further behind. Eventually these stragglers could no longer keep up and were losing the trail. They were forced to admit defeat. (Yeah, someone didn’t handle altitude change very well and had to turn back. His two friends stayed with him. Those friends were really ticked off back at camp. The overindulgence in alcohol may have exasperated that.)
With half our party gone from our sight, it became harder to keep our spirits up. The path up became perilous. A route through a crack in the wall, that was previously passable, had come undone; The rock of ages had fallen apart above us. (It is actually interesting to see that a mountain can change in a year. There was a crack in the mountain that we used to climb through to get past some cliffs, but this year, the crack was gone, and the rock/boulder that was part of it could be seen on the scree below.) We were defiant, and persisted. We removed our packs and formed a human chain to pass them up the cliff. But calamity! Our parties’ water supply was not secured and fell from our grasps down the side. (A water bottle fell out of a side pocket. It dropped a few meters where one of us picked it up and passed it back.)
With supplies running low, we stopped for nourishment. I noticed some of my provisions weren’t fairing that well in the upper atmosphere. (My airtight sandwich bag had ballooned from the air pressure.) I decided to save that consumable for later and to instead indulge in liquid courage (AKA Boost.) But cruel fate! My victuals proved poisonous and I was distressed. (Don’t chug a bottle of Boost. It will give you a stomach ache for half an hour.) Still, I would not admit defeat.
Up we climbed! Our numbers spread out further apart, but above we could see our goal. Our destination!
Then the ominous rumbling could be heard. Was it stormy weather coming to assail us? Nay. An avalanche! (On another mountain. There were several of them. Cool to see. Glad they didn’t happen on this mountain.) Luck was on our side and we avoided the worst of it, and all hands survived. Despite the snow we persevered, and forged our way to the very peak. To the heavens themselves. And there we let our presence be known to all. (I, ahem, “marked my territory”. Plus I could get cellphone reception, so I called a few people to crow about where I was.)
Our battle to reach the top was done in a mere six and a half hours. (An hour faster than last year!) We enjoyed the fruits of our labor for half of an hour before the grim realization of what awaited us became clear. To prove we had conquered, we would have to return from whence we came. Our ordeal was not over.
We steeled ourselves and descended away from the firmament. Truly this was easier, but still it could not be done lightly. Our muscles were pained, and the slope was slippery. (Knees hurt when you are pounding down on them.) At times our way was blocked by drifts of snow. We laughed at this attempt to sway our resolve. Instead we used it to our advantage and gamely slid down them. (Sliding down on our butts. You can go faster than you would like, and it looks comical to the people who aren’t doing it.)
But all was not a walk in the park. (Technically it was, in a literal sense.) Ways that had been clear and obvious in years past were not so anymore. (It was better last year. Back then the scree was easier, or there was a more obvious path. But we seemed to get lost in an area where that seemed impossible. Like getting lost in an open field.) We were blocked by a river of water, rushing through the ice. (Actually a small stream of meltwater.) After searching we were able to find a ford, before it descended under the snow and ice. With no idea where the deceptive water was hiding, we returned to the honest rocks. But one of our party was not so careful. He, in memory of our previous encounters with snow, decided to once again slide down this one. Tragically, he fell through into the rushing water. (Well one leg broke the ice and got scraped up a bit; In the hole he had made he could only hear rushing water. It didn’t deter him and he continued to slide down the snow all the way to the bottom.) With this lesson learned, the rest of us stayed on the rocks until we had returned to the relative safety of the Minnestimma Lakes. (We had misheard him yelling that he had gotten waist-deep in water, so we didn’t follow.)
From here the path was clearly marked, but the heavens opened up and tried to drown our commitment. (A light sprinkling of rain. Eerie, because you could see it hitting one part of a lake, but not the other.) But with the end in sight, we continued on. And soon we had reached civilization. Broken and weary, but together and triumphant. (It took us four hours and forty minutes to get down; Forty minutes longer than last year. I guess we really did get lost on the way back.)

Today was rather exhausting, emotionally more than physically.
I’m going with some friends to climb Mount Temple this weekend. This morning though I found that my ride had decided to leave early with his new lady friend instead. Luckily I was able to find a replacement ride. Slight abandonment issue. I was not looking forward to the idea of driving all the way back down to Banff after my long trip last weekend. (It probably would have been more plausible if I had cruise control.)
Yesterday I got a therapeutic massage. Today I noticed that my knee was hurting on stairs. I would have thought the former would have prevented the latter, instead of exasperating it. I do not want to have a weak knee if I’m going to be using it climbing a mountain. I decided to skip my evening run to give my legs more recovery. I thought I would do orienteering, but the inclement conditions stopped me from doing that as well.
Instead I went and picked up a new lens for my camera. The photography course I had taken had turned me on to the idea of a polarizing filter. I thought it would be a good thing to have for the mountain climb. Unfortunately, it makes the camera too big for the case, so I’ll need to store it separately from the camera. I tried to find a case just for the lens, even going to WEM to pick one up, but finding that it was way too big and unwieldy for my needs. Now I’m trying to figure out what to store it in that I can take it up a mountain with.
Best option seems to be my dice bag.

I was dong my annual training run at my parent’s place today. Basically I start from their home, run west on the highway towards the mountains until I run out of road, and then I turn around and run back until I’ve accumulated 50km. My father is nice enough to accompany me in the car. He spends the time reading, listening to news, and enjoying the scenery.
This time was slightly different. I got up very early today, and was able to set off at around 5:30 in the morning. I told my family I would have enough water for three hours of running, so why don’t they sleep in. It was nice and cool out, good for running. I was a little concerned that in the distant mountains it looked like it was raining, but that was a problem for the future. However, ten minutes in, I noticed that my back was getting rather wetter than sweat should allow. Even accounting for the slight drizzle.
I checked. My water backpack had sprung a pinhole leak. I figured that I would just ignore it and drink the water quickly before it all drained away. That sounded like a reasonable plan.
Five minutes later there was a waterfall going down my legs. That small leak had ripped open into a gushing torrent. I was quickly out of water, and it had gone all over my shoes.
Wet feet are not something you want as a runner. It is a recipe for blisters.
In the end however, everything worked out. I was wearing new socks that seemed to do a good job of blister prevention; I finished the run without any. My father arrived twenty minutes after I had finished my Gatorade bottle so I had liquid again. I did the run, and ended it feeling strong and vital. I could have kept running, but I chose not to.
We just finished watching Run Fatboy Run. That is still a great movie.

There are times when I don’t feel Canadian. I am one. And I am very proud of my country. But I don’t have a real connection to it. While driving to Calgary today I listened to a Vinyl Cafe podcast from Remembrance day. It was a very touching story concerning a family who had lost a grandfather to World War 2, but at the end I felt I couldn’t relate.
I think the issue is that my family doesn’t have a lot of background in Canada. I am the first one in the family to be born here, and we’ve always been separate. We don’t follow hockey. I don’t say ‘eh’ at the end of sentences. These are stereotypes to be sure, but they form part of the Canadian identity.

Yesterday I saw Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen.
It hit every cliche. People outran explosions. Cameras orbited a couple making out. Battles went into slow motion. Things blew up. Lots of things blew up. World landmarks were destroyed.
It was awesome!
I think we can all agree that Transformers was the best movie ever made (If you disagree, you are dead to me), but I’m honestly wondering if it has lost that title. Giant robots beating each other up is the litmus test of a good movie. And as much as some people have deluded themselves into enjoying The English Patient, it is quite light on the fighting robots.
This new movie had more giant robots fighting. It still had some humans so you had somebody to relate to, but they didn’t overpower the film like the first one. They were elegantly swept aside every so often so we could get back to the basics.
I was lucky in the theatre. The entire row was filled with people who also enjoyed it and stayed until the credits were completely over. Dare I say, nerds? I got to conclude the movie with well thought out discussion.