Today I am in Lethbridge. Tomorrow morning I run, starting at 8:00 in the morning. Hopefully finishing by seven in the evening of the next day. I have 35 hours to do this.
I am not confident about this run. My ankle is still hurting. My toe is probably still broken. I haven’t trained enough. I am starting to come down with a cold. I have not been sleeping much since Montreal.
But the hardest part will be not using any of those as an excuse to give up. This is a hard race, and it would be very easy to just stop. But I can’t do that. If I finish this, I’ve got an Alberta Triple under my belt.
I won’t have real support, but this is a well organized ultra, so I am not that worried. My sister is in town with me, but that is so she can interview someone as part of her thesis. Then she will just stay in the hotel and work. Hopefully she will come out and see me a few times. But I am not requiring it.

I would like to say that I didn’t cover the last two days of Montreal because I was “living in the moment”, but that would be a lie. I was just not motivated. I had read this article about enjoying your alone time while traveling. Maybe I should stop constantly updating people as to what I am doing. But at the same time, I have that New Year’s Resolution to be a creator…
In any case, at the very least I should stop talking about the late night partying I did. I don’t want to sound like some “douche” with a tan that belongs on reality TV. I think “Jersey Shore” might be the one I’m thinking of, but I’ve never seen it.

Sunday in Montreal involved sleeping, to try and catch up for the little I was doing. In the afternoon, a huge bunch of us did a tour of Montreal. Not really to any famous sites, but more just to soak up the atmosphere. The city does have a nice subway system, so the two hundred of us were able to get around fairly well, even if it was like herding cats. We even got ourselves on TV at one point.
For dinner, I finally went out to a non-fast food restaurant for dinner. Previously I had been in too much of a rush to sit down for a long meal, but I made the time now. It helped that it had been planned with two friends from Edmonton. It was just a Japanese restaurant, but it had the same pace you would expect from a French restaurant. (We were there for a long time.) And they were an easy couple to talk to, so I had a good time.
In the evening, another party. This one was conveniently in the hotel. But even with the easy access to alcohol in my own room, I just didn’t feel like drinking. I still felt lonely, and did spend time with my Edmontonian friends.

Monday was the day I should have gone for a run, but my ankle was hurting from the long walk the previous day. But in the afternoon I got together with the Edmontonians and did a personal walk. We investigated old Montreal and the waterfront. I had seen it all before, so I didn’t take many pictures, but it was nice to actually get out.
In the evening was a fancy dinner with the group. I think I heard that the restaurant was normally closed on Monday, but they were doing a special dinner for us all. They had us outside, in the back, under a tent. It did start raining, torrentially, and the back corner where I was was getting flooded. Our table moved inside, away from the rest, but nice and dry. There I had a nice salmon pâté for an appetizer, a duck confit for the main course, and a dessert of chocolate marquise.
I sat next to an old Montreal friend I hadn’t seen in a long time. We talked, and reminisced, and she gave me some sound insight into my character. I’m going to have to think about what I learned.
Then back to the hotel to pack, because I had an early flight. Fortunately there were no problems getting home. I made it to a physical therapy on time, and then to the Apple Store to get a replacement iPhone.

Oh look, it’s morning.
It was a weird day for sleep. I rolled out of bed at ten-thirty in the morning and joined friends for brunch. Then out to see if I can find someone who might be able to repair my iPhone, which I got rather wet last night. The one place I did find said they wouldn’t be able to get it back to me until Tuesday. That is when I leave Montreal, so that won’t do. I got a bag of rice, and now my iPhone is marinating in that. Maybe it will fix it, but I have my doubts.
The rest of the day was really spent in bed trying to get my sleep deprivation over. It wasn’t a good sleep. But around 6:30 in the evening, I got up, and started doing stuff.
The next party was at a club nearby. It started with an hour long fashion show; I got some nice pictures of it. The club was seven separate stories, and each floor was pretty varied. The best floor was the roof, where it was quiet and you could talk to people. But the places where the A/C was blasting in your face were also nice.
That shut down at around three o’clock in the morning. I joined a small party of people at their hotel room for some drinks. That wound down after half an hour, and then we hit the official afterparty.
I got to try something fun. This woman had industrial balloons, and a leaf-blower. She would inflate the balloon, and then stuff someone in through the opening before it deflated. Then lather, rinse, repeat. You could get a lot of people in a single balloon. I think the one I got in on had thirteen people before it popped. It was like a weird version of Twister. Hope you make friends easily. I think someone was wearing cologne though; that could have been better.
And at about six in the morning, I headed back to my room to finally get some sleep.
I’m not that sleepy yet, but I should try and function tomorrow. Or today, because I can see the sun rising.
2013-9-1 6:23

I need to learn how to drink better.
It started out well. I felt looser, more open, and happier to be with people. However, the real me is apparently very puppy-like. I want to meet new people and tell them all about myself. It was nice, and most people were accepting. But I might have been Too-Much-Information guy.
I had a few drinks at the bar too, but, good lord!, the prices were obscene. There was a friend that I offered to buy a drink for, and she asked if she could have a double. I shouldn’t have let her get away with that. The drinks were way outside my budget.
By the end of the night though, the crash happened. The buzz wore off because I wasn’t maintaining it. And then the alcohol-is-a-depressant syndrome kicked in. That wasn’t pleasant for me.
Maybe there is a happy medium in alcohol consumption that I should strive for?
2013-8-31 19:05

I am thankful that this hotel has a breakfast buffet until 11:00 in the morning. I needed to sleep in, although I could have slept better. In any case, it was a nice buffet, and I ate with some friends of mine from Colorado and Belgium.
Then I went back to bed.
In the afternoon, I did a foot patrol of Montreal. It’s a good weekend to explore Montreal; They’ve shut down St. Catherine’s street so it is pedestrian traffic only. But even if that wasn’t the case, this seems like a vibrant community. They have fountains in the sidewalks. Lots of churches. Interesting public art. A temporary basketball court is being constructed across from my hotel. Things just seemed to be happening. I now have a pocket full of Jolly Ranchers. I don’t even know if I like Jolly Ranchers, but now I have ten of them.
Then the question turns to, how do they pay for all of this? I think the answer is that they don’t. I don’t think this province is fiscally solvent. And on the drive in, I did see crumbling architecture. It seems better on this side of the city at least.
It has been warm and muggy most of the day. I enjoyed going into stores just for a bit of A/C. When it finally started raining, it was a pleasant warm one. I’m not used to that. Rain in Alberta is always cold. However, they are predicting a lot of rain this weekend. But the forecast does seem to change wildly throughout the day. Hope for the best.
I now need to get myself some dinner. I have gone to a grocery store and gotten some supplies, but they aren’t for eating. I can now make a screwdriver for myself. It was pointed out last night that I tend to overthink things. This should be able to do something about that. And the cans of Coke will help me stay awake.
2013-8-30 19:32

Except, either I was given the wrong room, or they haven’t gotten back to it yet. In either case, I am apparently going to bed now.
2013-8-30 2:36

The group went out to a burlesque show. The performer who used the hula hoops was very talented. And there was the best belly dancer I’ve ever seen. The others were varying states of “meh”. The sound was terrible, so the announcer may as well have been reciting his doctoral thesis.
I spent most of the time socializing. I met up with a few people from Edmonton. But there were lots of people from around the world that I hadn’t seen for awhile. There was one from Belgium that I hadn’t seen in years.
A friend is having a party in their room now, so I think I will go join them. I am a bit socialized out. This introvert needs to recharge. Which explains why I am updating my blog.
2013-9-30 2:19

In this hotel, there appears to be a reality television show being made. There are scores of people milling around in red shirts saying “The Voice” except, you know, in French. It’s made an interesting atmosphere. I believe it is the auditions being done now, so they are looking for the very good and the very bad. I am in the latter category, so I try and avoid eye-contact with the red shirters. I don’t want to be made fun of on a television show I don’t watch.
And if you hang around the lobby, you can hear random people burst into song.
2013-8-29 20:07

Usually I try and post in the Edmonton airport, before I leave on vacation. But I cut everything a little close and didn’t have the time. It was actually nice not to have to sit around waiting. It came at the expense of more stress from worrying.
But now I am in Montreal. Hopefully for a wild weekend with friends and possibly new friends.
And what am I doing? I’m updating my blog so that people can know that I am out having fun, instead of actually going out and having fun. The opposite of living in the moment.
Something is wrong here.
2013-8-29 19:28

It was a lovely day today. I went tubing!
Some friends and I went out to the small town of Entwistle where you could rent an inner tube and they would shuttle you to and from the river. These were quality tubes, with a nice shelf at the bottom so that you weren’t going to fall through. And it was a beautiful day for it. It was nice and sunny. We got onto the river at around 11:30 and floated for about three and a half hours.
The river was low, so there were frequent times where we got stuck on rocks. In other places I could actually flop off my tube and swim a bit.
At one of these places, there was a straight tree branch sticking very far into the river. It blocked the way, so we needed to maneuver around it. On the very tip of it, there was the most vibrantly green grasshopper I had ever seen. It would have made a great picture if I had been stupid enough to bring a camera. The grasshopper jumper on to one of our tubes as we went past. Then, a few minutes later, while swimming, I came across it struggling in the water. I picked it up and put it on my tube while I kept swimming. It seemed happy enough. But then after awhile I watched it jump off into the water again. I rescued it and waded to shore with it. I’m probably doing evolution a disservice.
My biggest problem was that I was too manic. I needed to calm down and just enjoy the slow river. The water wasn’t even cold. But I seem to be competitive when there is no need to be, or even anyone to compete against. Thankfully, I had one friend who would tell me to calm down; even if I didn’t always listen, I appreciate anyone who gives me sound advice.

I haven’t been to the Fringe much. It used to be my favourite festival of the entire year. But I missed a few years due to being out of town, then unemployed, and then I just got out of the habit.
I have lists of plays I would like to go see. But I just can’t motivate myself to get out. I could use the excuse that I’m busy. What I seem to be busy with is that I’m trying to get my ankle feeling better before my race in September. And I have a barbecue party on Saturday. But I think I know the real reason.
I don’t have the energy to deal with the lines.
The plays I want to see are all by well known local playwrights. Any Edmontonian who enjoys plays will know about them. So they will be crowded. If I could just roll out of my place and go see a play, I probably would.
And I would like to go see a good Stewart Lemoine or David Belke.

Lately I’ve been sleeping poorly. I think it has started affecting work; I feel lethargic and unmotivated. Or maybe work was affecting me; I keep waking up really early and am unable to get back to sleep.
Last night something changed. I had gotten very little sleep over the weekend, staying up too late and being unable to sleep in. I have always had the chronic problem that once I wake up after eight in the morning, I am unable to get back to sleep. So, I expected that I wouldn’t be getting enough sleep. But I slept great!
What changed?
I started exercising again!
I haven’t had a good run in months. What with the broken toe and twisted ankle, I’ve only been able to get three runs in in the last six weeks, and two of those were ultras. I’ve been doing physical therapy exercises and been icing my entire foot. (My foot is in a bucket of ice water as I type this.) I was hoping the ankle was getting better.
On Saturday I attempted to go for a run, and wasn’t even able to go for a solid minute. I was hobbling more than running and it didn’t seem to be getting better. So I stopped.
But I am concerned I’m going to get fat or muscles will evaporate, so I should try and expend some energy. So I figured I would cross-train on Sunday. But with the whacked sleep schedule, I could only fit in an hour of stationary cycling at nine o’clock in the evening. And I was asleep all night, and felt refreshed in the morning.
It isn’t running, but it looks like I will have to start doing a lot more cycling in my gym. I just finished another hour. I would do it outside on my bicycle, but I don’t know of any good cycling routes that don’t involve scary traffic or lots of stop-n-go traveling.

I’m out of practice with my Blog. All the entries I’ve done for the past couple of months have been about insane races I’ve done. Even if I try and spread it out, it probably doesn’t interest most people. And it is just the reporting of facts. I need to get back to my thoughts.
I’ve been feeling old lately. I suppose it is inevitable with my 40th birthday coming up in November, but really, I’ve forgotten that is happening. I’m more noticing the physical effects.
Oddly, the big physical effects are the ones I least associate with oldness. Broken toe, twisted ankle, poor knee. Those are all results of ultramarathons, so I can ignore them.
There was a video I saw yesterday about How Old Are Your Ears?. My ears are right on target for hearing loss.
But, more of a bigger threat, I think I’ve noticed that I don’t seem to enjoy learning as much. I enjoy figuring things out, but a lot of what I’m doing at work is trying to learn how to program a new operating system. It is not an operating system I personally use, but I have to learn it and make software for it. I haven’t been enjoying it.
What I seem to like doing is figuring out how to use the tools I already know to solve problems. But I noticed that the tool I want to use, JavaScript, I only really learned less than a year ago. But now that I have, I want to use it solve problems.
So, hopefully once I learn this new operating system, I’ll be happy. But until then, I don’t feel especially challenged. Or that might be the problem; I’m not challenged. I’m just learning, not solving.
Hopefully recognizing the problem will put me on the path to solving it.

The final leg was all that I had left. 23km and I would be done. I had five and a half hours to do it, and I think that was what it took me to do last time. Still, I took 20 minutes in transition. I’m sure Rod passed me in that time, but I needed to regain myself. I had some delicious soup my mother made. But we also noticed a light on in my backpack. My backup light had somehow gotten itself turned on. We tried to turn it off, but it wouldn’t. I think some water may have gotten at it and the short circuit wouldn’t allow it to go dark. Oh, well, I probably won’t need it.
I hate the first 7km of Leg 5. It starts with a very steep climb. It didn’t help that 20 meters in my mother called out that I had forgotten my belt of Gatorade. I didn’t have the energy to go back down, so this leg would be electrolyte free. After the steep climb, there is a brief moment of okay trail. This is followed by a narrow six kilometre trail, with many tripping roots and stones, covered by foliage that makes it impossible to see where you will trip.
But oddly, it was easier this time. For the first time, I had put my headlamp at maximum power. I was able to see better, and that made all the difference.
Until my batteries ran out.
And when I took out my auxiliary light, it started dimming too. Fortunately, it is required to bring extra batteries. So in the middle of the dark trail, with a dimming light, I changed them. Unsuccessfully the first time, which induced a small heart attack. I had put one of the batteries in backwards. When I fixed it, I was good again. I could keep it on maximum light.
For this part, I usually don’t run, but now that I could see, I was able to. I even passed people! That had never happened before. But I still hadn’t caught up to Rod.
After the river crossing with only 15km to go, I climbed up the monster hill on the other side. I found some flat parts and I ran them. I was feeling fairly good, and I passed a lot of people. At this point, it was fairly safe to walk because you had enough time to finish. But I had a goal to finish with Mike’s time. But when I suddenly hit the sign that said there was only 5km to go, another problem showed up. I was way faster than I expected, and faster than my support team expected. If this kept up, I would cross the finish line long before they got there. I started using my walkie-talkie to report progress, but there was never any answer.
I passed a sign that said “The beef is near”. I long ago stopped trusting that kind of sign. There is never any good food at the end of the run. Only once was there actually a hamburger, but now I’m convinced I hallucinated them.
Then I was out of the woods and on to the road. An uphill road, so I walked a lot of it, reporting my progress to the empty radio waves. Then I started to pass a house. The end was really close. And then my mother started to answer the radio. She had to run to the course.
I was close, no one was ahead for quite some distance. No one was behind for quite some distance. There was a slight uphill. I walked. And then I caught up with my mother, and we walked together. The last 100 meters I ran, but I made sure to do it slowly and to regain my energy. I wanted to cross looking good. And not with the hidden pain that you can usually see in my eyes.
22:07:48
I didn’t find the exact time until later. The time shows was about 22:15, but they lopped off eight minutes due to the time to cross the river. Mike showed up in civilian clothes soon after and I heard his story. I later found out that I had left the last transition before Rod had even showed up.
I beat all of my friends.
And this should be my last time doing it. I’ve done the Death Race five times. That is enough. I have nothing more to prove with it. There are other ultras to run; better ultras.

I started leg four with my fast female friend. With the stair training I’m doing, I felt pretty good going up Mount Hamel. In previous years, I would have had to take breaks. But this year, I kept going without stopping, and even had the energy to run in the few areas where it was flat. I left my friend behind soon after the uphill started and I don’t think I ever saw her again until I was on top of the mountain looking way down.
I passed the next checkpoint on the way up. It had a cutoff time of 10:15, and I passed it at 9:15. The end of Leg 3 cutoff doesn’t make sense if I’m going past the next checkpoint with an hour to spare.
Over the mountain and down the other side. Of course, this would be where I twisted my ankle the first time. I don’t think it was too bad, or I was past the point of caring. I yelled, swore in Danish, and I kept going.
I caught of with Rod at the Ambler loop aid station. Nutrition was still negligible there, but I was sick of my protein balls at this point, so I had a couple of cookies. I headed off to do the 5km loop, convinced that Rod was right behind me. If he caught me, he would tell me to go faster, and I didn’t want to give him the opportunity.
Beaver Dam road was next, 7km on a gentle slope down. I ran it, passing a lot of people walking. They were also several dumb people on it; when I announced I was passing, they would look behind themselves with their headlamps right in my eyes. I was instantly blinded. I’m surprised I didn’t run into anyone. I think I twisted my ankle again on the 3km to the end of the leg.

Leg three is supposedly easy. But if you are a soloist, it is one of the tougher legs. Because you are running through the valley of the Smoky River, it focuses all the afternoon heat. And you are tired.
But this year it was much cooler. It didn’t rain for the rest of the race, so my lack of jacket wasn’t a problem.
I did need to go to the bathroom the entire time, but I didn’t want to risk missing the cutoff.
There is one part that I call the whirlpool. It isn’t actually a whirlpool, but the river does a bend there that is slowly cutting away the ground. This year, they stopped having us dance along the edge, and instead we had to climb up a steep slope to get away from it. It was pretty brutal to do at this stage.
I caught up with a friend, Rod, who was good at keeping me going. He kept telling me to keep running when I wanted to stop. He is a master of ultramarathons, so it is hard to argue. I made the cutoff with fifteen minutes to spare.
My fast female friend caught up with us part way, but then she fell behind later. She did make the cutoff with five minutes to spare.
I then spent twenty minutes trying to regain my humanity. My friend Mike, arrived at the transition at 7:00:30. Which was past the point of cutoff, if you forgot that the race started late. They were very petty and didn’t allow him to continue. If they had, I have no doubt in my mind he would have finished the whole thing. I didn’t see it, but a lot of people sided with Mike.

I got to the top of Mount Flood in a good time and took my picture next to the cairn. I am pretty fast at marching up mountains these days. I’ve got a training regimen for it. Going down mountains, not so much. And then there was the muddy slugfest between Mount Flood and Mount Grande. Thankfully, my Goretex socks protected my feet from the worst. Near the base of the next mountain, I ran out of liquids. I guess I should have filled up when I had the chance. The ominous thunder and lightning was promising that I wouldn’t have to worry about the lack of water for long, but I was also only fifteen minutes away from the aid station. Hopefully they wouldn’t have run out of water yet. But there is always a chance they will, because it is hard to get more in a remote area.
Well, they did have water and I filled up, just as the rain started. And this was a rain that decided to make it personal. I had a brief moment of thinking about not putting on a jacket, because the rain was nice and cool. And putting on a jacket is not something that you want to do when you are tired, even if you are in a sheltered aid station. Thankfully I did put it on. I wish I had also put on the toque. The hail that started coming down was not pleasant. It was mostly pea sized, but every so often there was marble sized ones. And when you are only wearing a cap, your ears hurt when they are hit.
By the time I summited Mount Grande I was miserable. Rain, hail, lightning, and me carrying two metal poles. I was really hoping that someone with more sense than me would cancel the entire race; I certainly couldn’t give up, so that was the only way to get out of this. And there was no way I was stopping to take out my camera to get a picture of the next cairn. Heck, the course photographer was hiding in a truck. And I don’t think the background view was that impressive anymore. Usually, from this point, it should only take an hour to get to the end. There was no way that would happen this time.
I started the descent down the powerline cut. It was steep, muddy, and slick. I fell down a couple of times. Thankfully I wasn’t seriously hurt, although my knee still feels bruised a week later. The actual powerline itself flashed every so often; I think it was getting hit by lightning. Happy thoughts! Someone gave the good hint to try and step where the water was flowing, because that was where the mud would be washed away. It helped a bit. But the whole idea of coming down the mountain felt monumentally stupid and dangerous.
But, by the time I got to the bottom, it started to clear up. When I was in town, getting close to the end of the leg it stopped raining entirely, and blues sky was showing. But I was a mess when I got to the transition. The Goretex socks I so loved had gotten filled with water and now produced a very fine foot soup. I had a bit more than three hours to get to the next transition before I would be cutoff. And the last time I did leg three, it took me three hours. Since it looked like it would be clear for awhile, I gave my mother my jacket so that it could hopefully get dried off. I ate and drank and took some Tylenol and then off I went.

I did the Death Race last weekend. Let’s just get it over with and admit I finished in a time of 22:07:48. Not my best time, but not my worst. I am comfortable with it. My goal time was 23 hours. My friend Mike had told me his goal was 22 hours, and part of me became jealous of that idea.
Last year, I failed to finish the Sinister 7. It taught me something very important; ultramarathons are not easy. I had been taking them for granted. Now, I go in and work to keep moving. I do my best to minimize the time in transitions. I’ve figured out what to eat (protein balls and hammer gel, with occasional soup) and what to drink (water and gatorade).
I’ve also figured out that the Death Race is very poorly organized. Chiefly, that I cannot trust the aid stations. I have no idea what will be in them, hopefully water and Gatorade. But beyond that, they usually just have sugar. Which might be good for a team runner, but not for a soloist! The Sinister 7 gave me a sheet detailing what each aid station would be serving. It was great! But the Death Race seems to pander more to the teams instead of the soloist. They only use us for advertising.
I attended the mandatory pre-race meeting, but I got bored and left halfway through. I had seen it all four times before, and even the announcer looked bored. I think this was his thirteenth time doing it.
There was a program called Passport to the Peaks. Basically, you get a passport and then on the top of mountains there are cairns with stamps. You can stamp your passport to prove you’ve been there. Once you’ve done all six of them, you can upgrade to the next passport. Three of the mountains are covered by the Death Race. I checked on getting one, but the tourist centre was out. They did say that if I took pictures of myself next to the cairns, they could pre-stamp my passport when they did get them in. Sounds simple enough.
On the morning of the race, the weather was nicely overcast. The announcements were made with all the local politicians trying to get in on the act. So we started late. They reset the start timer to compensate, but we officially began running at about 8:04 in the morning.
I started out well. My toe wasn’t bothering me. I did feel a little off though. I don’t think I was completely recovered from the Sinister 7 four weeks before. Or the Tour de l’Alberta two weeks before. Still, I made it to the end by my expected time. And I kept up with my fast female friend.
The end of Leg 1 was a nightmare of people. I had a hard time finding my support person, AKA my mother. I didn’t bother to fill up my water backpack as it looked too busy to even contemplate that, and I hadn’t drunk much. I then went to march up the first mountain on Leg 2.

I am in Grande Cache now. Nervous, of course.
I tested out my toe by wearing my running shoes all day. I could feel something was there, but there wasn’t any pain. Hopefully I’ll be good. It does hurt if I poke at it, so I’ll try not to do that.
There was a pre-race meeting. Mandatory. I practically fell asleep halfway through. It was the same as the last four times. Even the presenter sounded bored. The only difference is that he has colored the water in his jugs this year. I left early.
The hotel room I have is great. It’s bigger than my first apartment. The full kitchen meant I could make my own spaghetti dinner, instead of taking the complimentary pasta dinner they serve to all runners. Pasta is always the traditional meal before a race. And runners are apparently superstitious. You can always tell the newbs at a race; they’re the ones wearing their race shirt before they’ve finished the race.
I’m not sure what my goal is this year. The first year it was just to finish. The next year it was to beat my friends. (I could have beaten them the first year as we were all walking the last leg together, but I wanted to try and be uncompetitive, so I let them cross the finish line first.) This year I want to finish without damaging my toe. But I would also like to have a fast time. Really, if I run fast, then that is less time I have to use my injured toe. That makes sense, right? I have planned out a 23 hour race, but my friend, Mike, wants to try for a 22 hour race. I hate having him beat me, as I’m far too competitive. But I’ve also learned a lot since the last time I did this race. I now have better nutrition plans, and I think I’ve got a better pace strategy. And he hasn’t finished the last two ultras he’s done. But he doesn’t have a broken toe.
I have another friend, who is a girl, who wants to run with me. She is fast, but at Blackfoot we paced each other the entire way. It helped us to push each other to go faster for longer. So this could be a good way to be a faster Death Racer. Assuming my toe holds up.
If I feel a sharp pain, I should stop. That would be the sensical thing to do.
Unfortunately, past performance does not indicate a lot of intelligence here.

On Sunday I did the Tour de l’Alberta. This year it was slightly longer at 187km (although only advertised at 185km.) I was a bit nervous with the broken toe, but it never really became a problem; it was locked into a non-flexible shoe so it didn’t have any straining to do.
The locking-in shoe did cause me to fall over twice, which may have been a bigger injury problem.
The first time was while waiting at the start line. I decided to turn around and take a picture of some friends. If you’ve been standing still for awhile, it is apparently easy to forget that one of your feet is stapled to your bike. I got the picture and then gracefully tipped over.
The second time was just after lunch. I apparently forgot how to get on a bike. I think I fell onto my back wheel.
The falls each had their own effect on my bicycle.
For the first leg, my bike was making a gear sound as I cycled. It went away if I kept my gear shift engaged. At the aid station there was a mechanic, so I got him to take a quick look at the bike and he did some adjustments to the gears. Soon after, while shifting to the lowest gear, my chain fell off. Easy enough to fix by myself, but I suspect my “mechanic” went too far in a certain direction. Since that was the last significant hill, it didn’t become a problem again.
After my post-lunch fall, I noticed that I couldn’t get into my highest gear anymore. That’s unfortunate, but it also removed the pressure to always be in the highest gear. I could ride a bit easier. And the back-half is rather nice. Well, once you leave Legal. You go through some nice country roads. A lot of the rest of the ride is on big highways with large trucks going by. They have good shoulders, but it isn’t as relaxing.
That’s the nice thing about running ultras; you get to see scenery. You climb mountains and see spectacular views. With a bike, you are confined to roads and civilized areas. I suppose it is different if you are a mountain biker, but they seem to have a crazy mentality that doesn’t suit me.
Mind you, these cyclists also are weird. They want to travel in packs. At one point I discovered I was leading a parade of people. It prompted me to go faster than I should have. I wised up after the aid station. Good thing, because before Legal there was an ambulance taking some cyclists away; two cyclists had collided, and caused a pile up with the three cyclists behind them.
At the end of the whole ride, I raced the last ten kilometres. I wanted to beat eight hours and 45 minutes. Because, why not? I think I beat 8:40, but it is hard to tell because it took me a few seconds to turn off my timer.
Once again, they gave us a stupid water bottle as a finisher prize. The only thing stopping me from screaming obscenities at the volunteer was that I know I’m supposed to be polite to the volunteers. I was hoping for something more permanent that would let me remember the effort. Another water bottle on the pile will quickly be forgotten.

When I was running leg five of the Sinister 7, I felt something poking into the front of my toe. I assumed it was a pebble, or possibly a toenail had fallen off and was now jabbing me. When It migrated to the bottom of my foot, I was sure it was a toenail. I took off my shoe, and socks and tried to find it and get it out. I don’t recall finding anything. But it was the middle of the night.
Today, after I had finally cleaned my shoes, I discovered a huge nail in my shoe. Iron, and spiky, and jabbing into the bottom of my foot. I’m surprised I didn’t see it before and was able to continue along.
It ruined the goretex socks I had been wearing.
Of course it happened on my left side. Everything bad happens on my left side.
I talked to my physician at River Valley Health. In theory, she is my chiropractor, but she does active release stretching for my joints. In actuality, I use her as my running coach. I go to her for advice about running, eating, and shoes, while she puts weird pains throughout my body. I suppose this is like a bartender; in theory he is there to serve drinks, but he also dispenses advice.
In any case, she thinks I should be able to do the Death Race. The small toe isn’t that critical. And runners heal quickly. I will need to eat healthier for awhile. And I need to get more vitamin D.
I’m not going to question advice that mimics what I want to hear.
Finally, I posted a comic on my Facebook from theoatmeal.com about running. Several friends now say they understand me. This comic has been a better communicator that I’ve been.

My broken toe has revealed a lot to me. Mostly through the stages of grief.
In the first stage, Denial, I was convinced that I could still do the Death Race, which is in three weeks from now.
Within the hour, I was in the second stage, Anger, and lashing out at people who had the audacity to think that, maybe, running 125km with a broken toe wasn’t a good idea.
Third stage, Bargaining followed as I planned to listen to doctors and they might give me approval. As long as they aren’t quacks. A quack being a doctor who doesn’t give approval.
Then Depression, the fourth stage, hit. And it revealed a lot to me. In my quest for a relationship, I have essentially Given Up. This has ruined my self-esteem. To compensate, I do things that to make me a not-pathetic person. If I can’t have a qualitatively good life, I can do it quantifiably. An ultramarathon is quantifiable; it is an awesome feat of determination. But when this injury hit, well, I can’t do the Death Race. I don’t have a fallback option. It brings the qualitative side into focus.
So, the solution was to find other insane things to do so I can ignore the ugly side. The doctor I saw said biking was okay. And I already planned to do the 185km Le Tour de l’Alberta. Why don’t I see if I can bicycle to Calgary in one day? That would be a similarly stupid thing to do.
I have a final doctor to see on Tuesday. I will give her the final say on what level of stupidity I can do.

My mother thinks I should still do the Death Race. What’s a small toe anyway?

The Sinister 7 was last weekend. In 2012 I failed to finish, so this year it was very important to me to make it. The peer pressure from frenemy runners was enormous. A big factor last year was the heat. So I was thankful when the weather report said it would be cooler. I was not happy that there was a 70% chance of rain.
Oddly, it never rained a drop. Although the heat on leg 3 was still there. I think that leg will always be hot. It climbs a mountain that was struck with a forest fire a decade ago, so there is a lack of shade.
I forgot to set my interval timer at the start, so I didn’t do 10-and-1s. But I think that is something I want to experiment with on ultras. I don’t know if walking every ten minutes is a good idea. At the start of the race, when I have extra energy and it is still cool, I shouldn’t waste time walking. Later on, I will be walking plenty when I hit the many uphills. And later in the day, I need to focus on keeping moving, and should ignore excuses to slow down.
That logic helped.
The only problem was I needed to remind myself to eat. Usually the interval timer is good for that. I had to do it on my own honour system. I had a new nutrition plan that seemed to work well. I did not use Boost for liquid calories and instead had a combination of protein balls and gels. That kept me going much better than usual.
I was fast. I had researched some timings by taking a runner from last year and using his times as my goal. If I followed that, I would finish with a nice buffer of time before the cutoffs. But things went better than that, and I consistently beat my goal. Sometimes by quite a big margin. My mother and sister were doing support, and I usually used a radio to let them know when I was coming in. It made a good catch at the end of leg 3, but on leg 4, my radio didn’t work. (Too humid I think.) So I surprised my sister when I just showed up, out-of-the-blue, at the transition just as they were just pulling in.
After that, I didn’t improve my times; last year, by leg five, I was running late, so I had to push it. With less pressure this year, I couldn’t be much faster. It also didn’t help that at the end of leg 4 I ate a lot, quickly, and had a very sour pink lemonade 5-hour energy. I thought I was still hungry as I progressed, so I kept eating. But that wasn’t empty stomach; that was upset stomach. An hour and a half into the leg I threw up. First time for me on a run. But I felt much better after that and did my best to pick up the pace.
The trails were dryer than I expected. With all the flooding that had happened, it could have been much worse. But GoreTex socks are great for keeping feet dry, and that prevents a lot of blisters. But, it doesn’t help with deep water that can go over them. There was a place on leg 4 that has a deep creek that is planned to soak you; they conveniently place an aid station right after it so you can recover. New this year was the lake before it. Usually, you pass to the side of it. But the fence marking someones property slowly went into it, forcing you to follow. That gave me a nice preliminary soak before the creek. So my feet sloshed around for two kilometres until I got to the aid station and changed socks and dried the GoreTex.
The last two legs are each 13km, and they are deceptively hard, especially if you have been running all day. Leg six is “downhill”. Yes, it is, overall. But there are a dozen gullies that have streams running through them, so you have steep downhills and steep uphills all the way. It is hard to get a good pace going. Leg seven was new for me, having failed to reach it last year, and the first two kilometres of if (no exaggeration) is straight up. Followed by a plummet that is too steep to use for catching up.
I was surprised by the ending. I had been told about it, but I didn’t think it would be as bad as it actually was. You can see the finish line at one point. And then they decide you should go on a complete circuit of the entire town instead of heading there. With a big hill right at the end. Malicious.
But I made sure to give a performance at the finish line. I wasn’t racing anyone; no one was behind me. So I collapsed on my knees and cheered the sky so the race photographer would get a good shot. Then I put my chip in the reader and officially finished.
My finisher prize? A bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon Merlot with my name and time on it; a bracelet with “SINNER”–all my runner friends agree that it looks gay; and a small towel because I didn’t throw it in.

And then a day later I lightly stubbed my foot which caused a fracture in the piggy that goes wee-wee-wee all the way home.

I attended the Blue Mile run today. It was, obviously, just a mile long. A run, but you were supposed to wear blue. Well, I can do that in spades. I had a blue zentai outfit, so I thought I could out-blue anyone there.
I only participated in the fun run. And I did it with the hood up. This meant that my visibility was high, but my personal visibility was low. I didn’t have trouble breathing, but I could really only see shapes. I quickly realized how awkward that was when I twisted my ankle a bit in a pothole. I took to following someone in a neon-green shirt, and assumed he would avoid the hazards on the road. If the sun was in my eyes, I was effectively blind.
I got to run on Whyte avenue for awhile, and I was fairly popular there. Better than the walk to the course where I was frequently asked “Did you lose a bet?”
In theory, if you were one of the elites, you could only win the very large prize money if you were wearing blue. Almost none of them were. I didn’t think that was in the spirit, but when they can run a mile in less than five minutes, I’m hardly one to argue.
Afterwards there was a pizza party. And then I went to Feast. All while being completely covered in electric blue.
While driving home, on Whyte avenue, I saw three girls skipping along in their own zentai outfits. I can easily come up with reasons not to go out and meet them; I’m too old for Whyte; I don’t have anything to do with them; I wouldn’t be able to find them after I parked the car; I didn’t want to get harassed by drunk people on Whyte while I’m in a full body-stocking.
I still should have gone out.

The family dog, Harry, died in his sleep last night. He didn’t live with me, but of all the pets I’ve had, he was my favourite. This is because he only knew me as an adult. When I was little, I was not as nice to dogs as I should have been. But with Harry, I gave him attention, I scratched his ears, I took him for real exercise, and I gave him big, honking, cow bones. Dogs are always open to bribery. But even before I started giving him the bones, when I visited, he would go insane with happiness to see me. It is always nice to have someone love you.
I wasn’t responsible for picking him. I had moved away from my family when they got him. On his car ride home, he drooled a huge amount of water. In fact, in any car ride he was a nervous drooler. It took several years for him to calm down. And then he came to love the car rides. Even if he never left the car, he just liked being in it.
He was a rescue, but he had a significant amount of border collie in him. But since he didn’t have sheep to herd, he took to herding the family. He made sure we kept to a schedule: get up now, woof woof woof, eat breakfast, done breakfast so stop socializing and get to work, start making lunch, eat lunch, nap time, go get a drink, make dinner, eat dinner, go watch TV. Once he figured out the routine, he enforced it. When we went for walks, he always checked to make sure no one was straying from the pack. I took him for a run with the Running Room run club, and when I off-leashed him in Hawerlak park, he quietly circled the group.
His great love was tummy rubs. I preferred to scratch ears, but he would always show his belly and look expectedly at you.
He loved the cow bones I brought him, but in his later years he wasn’t as interested in chewing them as showing them off. He would only chew if someone would admire it while he did so. Otherwise, he just spent quality time with them. And would grown if you came to close.
He was my dog, and even though I didn’t see him all the time, he was mine. The family home will be empty without him. Who will tell us what to do now?

Tonight I decided to put my salsa lessons to work. I went out to “On the Rocks” to try their Salsa Thursdays. The entire point of salsa lessons has been to gain confidence when I do go out, so this should have been a good field test.
But like a quality university education, the real world is quite different from class.
Now I have to dance with people who don’t know what to expect. I have to actually Lead. I can’t just do the moves that I know my follow is expecting. And it doesn’t help that I don’t always remember exactly what the moves are.
I saved myself from feeling too discouraged by leaving early. At the next class I’ll have a better idea as to what to work on. Hopefully it will stick for my next field test.

I did the Blackfoot 100km run on Saturday. Here are my thoughts.
It is a 25km loop that I have to do four times. I was not expecting it to be pleasant, due to the weather. I bundled up and was prepared for the worst. But 5km in I abandoned my rain jacket; it was making me too hot and there was no rain; just wet ground. I deposited it at an aid station, and they returned it to the starting area.
While the weather was pleasant enough, conditions were not good on the ground due to the previous rain. Wapiti trail is used by horses, and apparently an ambitious beaver, so it was a mass of mud. I liked it better than the 2.5km mud road through the hilly field immediately after though. I am very glad I had Goretex socks; they saved my feet from all the mud and wet grass. My shoes currently look like a complete disaster.
Half an hour into the third loop, it started to rain. In other words, when I was about three hours away from my rain jacket. But, I’m not made of sugar, and as I like to say “Suck it up, princess!” Luckily, I had a change of clothes waiting for me at the trail head as well.
It was about this time that blisters forming on the bottom of my feet. They weren’t bad enough to slow me down, and only caused pain if I stepped on an errant tree root. The next day though, they are nothing but pain.
Half of the people I know did not make it. One had kidney troubles. Another blew a hip flexor. I was lucky enough to catch up with a fast friend, and we stuck together throughout the race. She did keep trying to lose me at the trailhead, but then, I do take a lot of time at aid stations. I need to work on that.
At the end of the third loop, a girl gave me a meatball shaped snack. She said it had protein. I don’t know what it was, but it gave me a huge burst of energy. I was suddenly feeling good again. I really need to find out what was in that. Or at least, get more protein in my system. Which was good, because when I had made a request from some other volunteers for some of their chicken noodle soup, their first response was to fill the pot up with cold water. I think they thought I was done, and not in a rush.
After it was all over, I got a medal. That was a first for this race; previous years there were none.

When I first heard about the bombings in Boston, I was stunned, but I didn’t think of it as shocking as I should have. At the time, there were no fatalities. In my head, I think of anything else as an inconvenience. But injuries can be lifelong affairs. And I’ve now heard of limbs lost, which for a runner is a major tragedy.
I guess it really didn’t sink in as to how tragic this is.
If a bombing happens in the Middle East, I really don’t feel much of anything. I know I should feel sorry for the people killed, but it is so far removed from me, it is hard to feel much. This is where Hamilton’s Rule comes in to play. “The degree of altruistic self-sacrifice that might be expected as being proportional to the degree of relatedness.”
Now, we are dealing with a marathon. These are my people! I should be feeling more. And as time has gone on, I am becoming more involved. I check the news regularly. I want to know the details.
I’m also wondering how many runners were hurt? The bombs couldn’t have been in the streets as they would have been cleared for the race.
I take a certain pride that every real marathon I have run, I have done in a time of around 3:45:00. For me to qualify to run in Boston, I would have to be faster than 3:15:00. And these days, I am concentrating on slower over a much longer distance. The last time I came close to doing a marathon, was when I did the DisneyWorld marathon the day after I did the DisneyWorld half-marathon. I don’t count that as a true marathon though, more of a half-ultra. In any case, my time for that was four hours. Which is ten minutes before the bombs went off in Boston. If I had been there, there is a very good chance I would have been in the area.
Will we need to worry about other marathons in the future?

Because I apparently have too much time on my hands (I don’t), I signed up for the next level of salsa dancing class. So I am continuing to dance on Monday evenings.
It was looking like a good idea at the time. For the last few classes at level one, the instructor was complimenting me. She was also using me as the demo model; she assumed I knew the steps well enough so everyone was supposed to copy me.
I was sure this was going to end with me getting beat up after class.
I do have a problem with level two though. Mostly that it is actually level three. Everyone else in the class has taken it several times before, so I am behind. Did I mention that there are also twice as many men as women? So, even if I have a chance to figure out what I need to do, there is only a 50% chance that I can actually try and learn it at any one time.
I could go to some of the Friday evening sessions she has at a restaurant/bar. But they never so salsa there. They teach some other latin dance and then play music appropriate for that dance for the rest of the night. I am not smart enough to know two types of dancing; if I learn a new dance, I forget how to dance salsa. This is not helping matters.
Did you know the reason I took salsa classes? It was so that I could stop feeling stupid. I’ve gone salsa dancing before after an introductory session, and I never seem to grasp the fundamentals. I figured that if I took an actual class, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. I could dance with confidence.
Now I am back to feeling dumb. It is making me feel angry after the class is over. But there really isn’t anyone to blame. I suppose I could go back down to level one.

I haven’t written here in awhile, which is against my New Year’s resolution. I am keeping up with others though, and I seem to be adding more responsibilities.
I have been doing my physical therapy exercises. I did them every day in February, and I’m still keeping an unbroken daily line going. I’m going to health sessions less and less as a result (if I am trusted to make a causality argument) and I’m hoping that next week will be the first week in a long time where I don’t see any medical people. This may be why I felt comfortable running 40km on Sunday.
Last week, my sister started a large assignment towards her Phd. She has been given three questions and has to write three papers on them within three weeks. To keep herself motivated, she gave me a challenge as well. Apparently we are supposed to compete.
I have to do a task each day while she is doing these papers. I was able to negotiate three separate projects as she has three papers. So each day, I have to do one of three things.

1. Go for a run. This was a requirement for me to agree to this. It isn’t a challenge for me to go for a run, but there is a price to pay for running. If I run, I have less time, and afterwards I may not feel like doing anything. I do not want to have to choose between doing a run and this challenge.
2. Contact a woman. I need to send out a message to a woman on a dating site. I generally hate doing this, but I need to. I want to have a relationship, so I need to work at it. This will be good for me.
3. Program for half an hour. I have programming projects of my own that I want to do. With this task, I’ll actually get around to doing them.

The sad thing is that this has been my first evening where I have time to relax in quite some time. I still did a run; hill training; six sets of hills. But I enjoyed spending the rest of the evening vegging out on television.
My weekdays are way too busy. I always have something I am doing. Weekends are when I have time to clean up and maintain my life. It makes visiting my parents very traumatic to my schedule. I love going and seeing them, but missing a weekend puts me behind schedule. It always takes me a long time to get my life back in order.