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.

I ran this weekend. A lot.
It’s a technique I heard about once from a non-medical person. A way to train for ultras is to run for X amount of time on Friday evening, then again on Saturday morning and again on Sunday morning. The first time you do this, X is equal to 10km or one hour. (I forget which, they’re almost synonymous with me.) Then you increase X to a 20km run the next weekend, and then a 30km run. Supposedly X should equal a 40km next, but I’ve never gone that far. This time around, scheduling was a problem, so I skipped the 20km X and went directly to 30km.
Friday wasn’t bad. It was nice and cool, and I was fresh. Also a little ticked off at work gave me anger to work with. I also had good stories to listen to on my iPod.
Saturday morning wasn’t quite as easy; It was a lot hotter that day, and my legs still felt a bit stiff. It didn’t help that I realized I didn’t have any clean running socks and just reused the last ones. Apparently that is a recipe for blisters. Also, I hadn’t eaten enough after the last run and my iPod ran out of stories. The rest of the day on Saturday was spent doing almost nothing.
Trying to sleep that night was weird. I felt a bit restless, but not terribly so. I may not have eaten enough again (which surprised me) as my stomach felt like it was eating itself.
On Sunday morning, I popped my blisters and went to the Running Room where I planned to run the final 30km. The group I was usually with was in a weird state with the group leader away camping. So we made our own route. But the group had planned to do 40km. It was nice and cool, and I actually felt better today than yesterday. So I went with them all the way.
I also tried a salt pill for the first time. I waited until my right leg was feeling tight, which seems to be my sign that I’m low on salt. The weird part was that a minute after I swallowed I started sweating a lot. More than I can ever remember doing. I still had plenty of water, and I used it. The human body is a strange machine.
Unfortunately, the guy with the GPS unit ran out of batteries, so we guessed at the distance. By my calculations we did 38km.
98km in one weekend. I’m probably going to have restless legs tonight.

I phoned MEC to ask about salt tablets, and while they still didn’t have any they recommended another place I had never been to before. I phoned and they did indeed have something quasi-salt tablet like. After work, I went and got a bottle for $28. I’ll try one out on my run tomorrow evening.
Then I immediately went to Fast Trax to pick up a missing part of my Blackfoot ultra race package. (I won’t get into the details of that. Just a new/weird piece of clothing.) While I was there, I discovered they had the same salt tablets as well. For $3 cheaper. Also available in a much smaller, more convenient bottle. (Thankfully I hadn’t missed them the last time I was there; They only got them in the past week.)
So now I have plenty of salt tablets. Contraband no more.
I hope they are actually useful to me.

I’ve figured out why I don’t like telephones. It is the worst of all possible worlds.
With face-to-face conversation, anything you say can, and will, be used immediately against you. It is very easy to say the wrong thing. Fortunately you also have visual clues and can convey more information and feeling.
With email, and instant messaging, there is no facial expressions to give an idea of the context of what is being communicated. But you have the chance to look at what you’ve written and can delete it if it looks inappropriate; Before it actually leaves the computer.
Telephones allow none of that. No facial expressions, and instant foot in mouth.

The recovery from the Blackfoot wasn’t bad. It helped that I had a therapeutic massage two days after. The biggest recovery problem were the blisters on my feet and they went away after a week. However, on Sunday I went for my first run after the ultra. I thought it would be between ten to twenty km, but it ended up being 24km. Unfortunately, I wore the same shoes that I wore for the first loop of the ultra. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but now they hurt a lot worse. I don’t know if it was my arch or not, but just standing up on my right foot was painful.
It has slowly been getting better. I can’t hold off on running for too long because I have the Death Race happening in two months. So tonight I went to the Running Room for the regular evening run. It did not feel bad. In fact I think my foot is feeling better. So I joined the orienteering club and went for another run.
I don’t know how I feel about orienteering. I like running. I like maps. It should be the perfect harmony. But I don’t care for the searching around for the control points. But I paid the extra money to join because I really like the maps that they make. I’m wondering if I can use them to help plan running routes.
On a completely different note, Catwoman is as bad as they say it is. I especially found Halle Berry unbelievable as a frumpy ditz. And I can’t support a film that glamorizes crazy cat ladies.

I read a book review in the Economist awhile ago about “The Lost Art of Walking”. The review seemed favorable enough, and since walking isn’t that far from running, I decided to pick up a copy.
I’ve started reading it, and I haven’t been that thrilled so far. I’m only two chapters in. The first chapter seemed to be a lot of dry facts that I found rather boring. The second was about walking in Los Angeles, which I found more interesting since I’ve been there. I could relate to his descriptions of places.
There was one passage though that caught my eye:

If there’s a journey’s end for the Hollywood Boulevard walk, it’s Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, where people congregate and pay a couple of dollars to have their picture taken with a lookalike: a Marilyn, an Elvis, a Charlie Chaplin, a man in a Spider-Man suit, a woman dressed as Wonder Woman. Since changing facilities are limited on Hollywood Boulevard, most of the characters arrive already in costume, and in order to avoid commuting, many of them live in the area within walking distance of work. One of the best sights I know in Hollywood is to see Wonder Woman emerging from her apartment block on Las Palmas and striding up to Hollywood Boulevard, getting into character as she goes.

This answered a question I’ve had since last February. If I look at the location it took place (just south of the theatre,) I can say I had my Wonder Woman moment.

Back in May, among other things, I commented about a pain in my neck, both figurative and literal. But for now, I’m referring to the literal.
I had changed how I did pushups, but I eventually stopped when I noticed, while reaching for a carton of milk, that my arm felt weak. This is the same arm that has a recurring torn rotator cuff issue. I wasn’t in any pain, just weak.
Totally out of character for myself, I decided to be proactive and made an appointment to see my physical therapist. (Who I really need to put on speed dial.) I felt embarrassed about it because I wasn’t hurting, and I was feeling even better after a visit for a therapeutic massage on Monday. I felt I was going to be wasting her time.
The entire session I was apologizing for being a big baby. But she was actually quite happy I came in. I did have the signs of it getting to be an actual problem, and it is better to catch it early. Although I think it is harder to diagnose the problem when the patient doesn’t scream in agony when you poke in a sensitive spot. (As opposed to only being able to say that that spot might be tender.) That said, healing will be much swifter since I’m not starting from zero.
I have new exercises to do.

Well, I did it. I ran 100km.
The day started at 5:00 AM, so I got to see the sun rise as I was careering through the woods of Blackfoot park. My two friends who had peer-pressured me into this were there as well. We had 14 hours to finish the four laps of 25km each, but there was an additional cut off; If you didn’t finish three laps in 10 hours, you were pulled off. So the plan I had was to do the first two laps in three hours each, and accept three and a half hours for the third. That would give the last lap enough time that I could walk it if I needed to.
On the first lap, Robert was off like a rocket. He is the fastest among us, and I realized that I should not try to keep up with him; I would just crash and burn. Instead I spent the first few minutes pacing and talking to a cute girl, who eventually made a point of pointing out her boyfriend. (I don’t think I was being obnoxious.) I eventually dropped behind her, and didn’t see her again. At least until I saw the final results and saw she never made the third lap cutoff. I then kept pace with Mike for the most part. He is very good at maintaining a steady pace and keeping people in line. My biggest problem seemed to be that my shoes started hurting my feet. Maybe I hadn’t broken them in enough? I loosened them, but it didn’t seem to be enough. Fortunately I had an extra pair back at the starting point.
At the 21km refueling station I tried some flat Coke. Oh my god, it was good! I had heard caffeine was good for runners, and this was an intensive sugar drink filled with empty calories. I’ve found a new energy source.
The first lap took 2:50:08, and I only took 1:40 to change my shoes and gather more supplies for the next leg.
On the second leg, I started leaving Mike behind. My new shoes felt a lot better. I also started paying more attention to the timing. I found out how long it took to reach certain landmarks so I could gauge how much slower I was going. The chief landmark was the highest point in the park, about 20 kilometers in. I found I had reached it four minutes slower than in the last lap. So, it isn’t a surprise that I finished this loop in 2:55:17. I had a 1:23 turnover.
The third lap was getting tougher mentally. I knew I could be slower, but I didn’t want to be too slow. I was still very surprised I passed Robert at 16km in. He had lost energy and couldn’t maintain speed. By this time, the 21km refueling station had run out of Coke and was trying to pass off Pepsi. It was not nearly as satisfying.
My eventual time was 3:06:26 with a turnover of 2:09. I was under nine hours! The winner of the race finished in nine and a half hours, so at least I was never lapped.
I left before the others had gotten in, passing them coming in.
The fourth lap was the worst. It became a total mental battle to keep going. The one thing that helped was the fear that my two friends were right behind me. If Robert had still been ahead of me I could have relaxed more, content that I was not in the lead. But I wasn’t, and I wanted to keep my friends behind me. (I’m very competitive, and Mike had never let me live it down that he was technically faster than me on the Death Race.)
The first few legs had had fairly good weather, with the partly cloudy conditions making it tolerable. But on this leg, the sun was out completely, and it was blazing hot. We passed the expected daytime high. To top it off, at the start of the leg I could feel blisters forming on my right foot. I should have changed socks, but I was paranoid that if I took off my shoes, I wouldn’t be able to get them on again without them being too tight. The highest point in the park became a nemesis. Not because of height, but because I couldn’t tell where it was. I kept climbing up hills I thought must be it, only to have to go down the other side. I think this happened five times.
By now the 21km refueling station had only 7-Up, and it wasn’t even flat. Surprisingly I caught up to someone else I knew who was faster than me and my friends. However, when he saw me, he sped up and I never got close to seeing him again.
I finished the last leg in 3:21:26. My friends never passed me. In fact, it was 25 minutes before Robert came in. Mike was five minutes later.
My official total time was 12:18:32, I placed 13th out of 38 people who started. Only 30 crossed the finish line.
I wasn’t feeling that bad afterwards. I didn’t collapse, and had energy to stretch. I tried to eat, but my stomach wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. My feet hurt the worst, and they were covered in dirt and blisters.

I’m getting really nervous about tomorrow.
One of the things is that, for the entire time I’ve been awake today, so far, I will be running tomorrow. When I put it in those terms, I can wrap my brain around it and it doesn’t sound encouraging.
In my head I’ve just been picturing it as a regular marathon. An easily manageable four hours. But this is 100km in 14 hours. I HAVE to be done by 7:00 PM or I fail! And my entire year plan is based off of making it.
So, some pressure is happening.
I hope I can sleep tonight.

I’ve found out about a new contraband substance: Salt tablets. Which surprises me, because I didn’t think they were illegal. I’ll admit they probably aren’t good for you, but I can’t buy them anywhere. (I’m probably just going to grab some salt packets from a diner and try using those on a run.)
While out searching though I discovered Atkins bars. I assume these are bars made by the Atkins people for people who just want protein. These would probably be perfect for the next time I need to do the no carbohydrates thing.
No.
That would be an understandable mistake. I looked at the ingredients. Each bar had 19-21g of carbohydrates. Surprised me. Way more than I want.

I met some friends at O’Byrne’s yesterday evening. I still have to do this stupid Atkins thing, so it limited my menu selection. I thought the pub wings would be a good, all meat selection. When asked for the flavor, I should have taken salt and pepper. Instead I took lemon and pepper; It sounded harmless enough.
I should have been suspicious when I tasted the best chicken wings ever.
There must have been carbs in them, because I was feeling fairly good that evening. Today has also been pretty good. I should be feeling horribly cranky.
But it is hard to believe there were that many carbs in those wings. Maybe the vitamin pills I’ve been taking have been keeping me normal?
Still, I felt the need to burn some more carbs. When no one showed up for movie night tonight I went and did a 7.5km run. I still feel good.
Tomorrow is freedom to eat though.

Next Saturday I have my 100km race. I don’t think there is any running I can do anymore to improve myself. So I’m reduced to focusing on nutrition.
Carb-loading.
The key here is to eat a lot of carbohydrates before the race. They provide the energy you burn when running. So for three days I will eat as much of those as possible. However, you need to prime your body to be very accepting of carbs. And the way to do that is to not eat any for three days.
Carbs are in a lot of things.
Today was the first day. I’ve been eating eggs, meat and cheese. It has been hell. The biggest problem is that meat without any carbohydrates is somewhat hard to make. So I’m not sure if I’m always hungry because I haven’t been eating enough, or if my body is just craving carbs.
I have been dreaming about vegetables.
At eye level in my fridge is a cupcake leftover from yesterday’s party.

I had my annual barbecue today. I think it went well. One of the biggest problems seems to be too much food. We never even got near the chicken. I also had the problem of too much beer as well. I brought some yesterday, but so did other people. I think i have more beer in my fridge now than when the party started.
And I don’t drink beer.
Actually the most popular drink seems to have been the big 4L bottle of chocolate milk.
When I was asking people what they wanted to drink, someone mockingly asked for schnapps. The joke was on them though, as I brought out the pair of bottles I had purchased in Austria. The evening ended with them finally being opened. I even tried.
The pear one in the headless, limbless, naked woman bottle was the most popular. It got referred to as the “boobage” one. Although at one point Beth remarked that it didn’t smell like her boobies. Which brought the question, “How would you know?” So people tried to see if they could do some yogic poses that would let them sniff their breasts. Alcohol was going to our heads.
The blue schnapps was the more dangerous. The bottle indicated that it should be lit on fire and included matches to help with the process. Robert started and lit his for a few seconds, then covered the glass with his hand; The vacuum sucked his palm in. He then tried it and decreed that it tasted like mouthwash. When I tried it, I followed the directions on the bottle and let it stay lit for a few minutes; I figured it would burn off some of the bad taste. It glowed nicely, especially when the lights were turned off.
Unfortunately, I tried to do the hand covering trick. The glass was a lot hotter and even broke after I pulled my hand away. I now have a nice, circular burn on the palm of my hand.
Chicks did scars, right?
Smeared it with aloe vera.

IMG_7377
Originally uploaded by ad_havoc

At least, if an accident was going to happen, it happened then and not when we were cutting the watermelon with a large machete.