Shawnigan Lk Half
Monday, October 29, 2007Last week looked a bit like this:
Sunday: Did the Shawnigan Lake half marathon, somewhat spontaneously. As I have not really done much running of any real significance since the Victoria Half three weeks ago - no intervals and no long runs - running a half marathon this weekend did not seem like the best of ideas. I had already given the Provincial x-country champs on Saturday a miss, also because I hadn't done any hard runs in three weeks.
But after a short run of my own on Saturday that consisted of a couple of 800s on the Oak Bay track and realizing I felt quite good, I figured if I felt good in the morning that I could probably run the Shawnigan Lake half. I wouldn't have lost all my fitness in three weeks, I reasoned. After the 800's I also popped into the gym to do a circuit of weights, but made sure to keep all the weights at about 60 percent of what I normally do them at. The idea was to prime the muscles for the half-marathon, not fatigue them to the point where I would really hurt them during the race.
It seemed to work reasonably well. After awaking on Sunday morning, the legs felt a wee bit sore, but limber and so I figured I might as well do the Half. The course was a bit longer this year - about 150m longer it seemed to me - as it started in a different place from two years ago when I did it last. Conditions were fairly good - no rain, and about 9 degrees. That's a bit cool for me, but still warm enough for shorts.
I was tentative off the start and at first was content to watch Trevor Wurtele zip away. However, after the first 500 m I realized I had a bit more zip in me and closed the gap to Trevor. He and I stayed together to about 5km when he started to pull away and I thought it not prudent to follow. He gained about 20 seconds on me, until the gap held steady for the next 8 km or so, when Trevor began to flag just a bit and I caught back up to him. At that point we ran together until the bottom of the last long climb before the descent to the finish. We had eased up a bit before the hill, allowing us both to gather some steam for the last punch to the finish, but he had more strength than me on that climb and opened a gap on me. When we turned the last corner to the descent, Trevor kept ahead at full-gas and proceeded to a 9 second lead at the finish in 1:16.31, to my 1:16.40.
I hadn't realized how close behind Mark Knoop was, only 15 seconds. I imagine he closed a larger gap between us in the last 2km when Trev and I slowed up just a bit. In any event, a fun race, and I was happy that my legs felt pretty good through it, although my aerobic system didn't feel quite capable of handling a much harder pace.
I've been second in that race now four times - once to Bruce Deacon, once to David Jackson, once to Kelvin Broad and now to Trevor. I won it once.
Saturday - that was the warmup to Oak Bay with a couple of 800s and some light weights, 10 mins on the exercise bike, and the run home.
Friday - no training
Thursday - easy run with Ased from work to Cedar Hill where we did two loops around the top and then back to work, for me, and home
Wednesday - 1hr 15 ride - legs felt quite good - pushed the pace a bit
Tuesday - easy run to Oak Bay for weights with an extra 20 minutes of running to warm up thrown in
Monday ??
Sat/Sunday last week - Saturday I did a hard ride in the afternoon from Cobble Hill, out around the east side of Duncan through Cowichan Bay, then across the highway to Lake Cowichan and back - that was almost a three hour ride and owing to the descending darkness, I pushed quite hard, but felt good doing it. Sunday, I ran for about an hour back in town up the water front, with the legs having felt nicely recovered from the hard ride on Saturday.
That, I think takes me back to the last update, more or less...
29 10 07 22:52 | Hugh | 
The boy who knew too much
Thursday, October 25, 2007
"I once was a boy, just like you - just like every man," said the man, gesticulating his hands palms up, rather like he was handing an invisible plate to the gypsy cyclist. "And I was an ordinary boy except for one thing - and this was something I did not learn until I was older, but was told to me by my mother, and was something I studied myself. Perhaps you know of this. Perhaps this is not news to you at all. Forgive me if this is nothing new to you.
"There is a biological process - one that happens to every many-celled organism to some degree, and no less to humans than to any other creature on earth. That is the process of apoptosis, or cell-suicide. It happens all the time: the webs between your fingers disintegrate as your foetus develops into a baby, cells of the skin die and slough off. Indeed when a cell becomes infected with a virus, it dies to prevent the proliferation of viruses, a very handy mechanism indeed.
"But the most interesting form of cell-suicide also happens before we are born. Did you know that it is estimated that there are as many as 1 trillion neurons formed in your brain before birth and that nearly ninety percent of them commit suicide before you are born? Did you know this remarkable fact?" The gypsy cyclist stared at the man and shook his head.
"That", continued the man, "leaves us with 100 billion to play with for our normal development as we grow to adults. But what would happen if those 900 billion neurons didn't die? You may be astonished to learn that for me the process did not occur as it does for most everyone else, but I am telling you this now, as much as you may not believe it to be true. Will you allow me to tell you?"
Although he was cold and tired and hungry, the gypsy cyclist responded in the affirmative. He did not have much energy to speak and was quite content merely to listen.
"I will tell you that when I was born I had lost far fewer than the average number of neurons due to cell-suicide. I don't know how many fewer - no one knows - it cannot be known, for it was never tested. So how do I know this? Because when I was born I could speak several dialects of Hindi and Punjabi and remembered clearly a life from which I had just come, a past life. But my motor ability to use my tongue was undeveloped, though I endeavored to strengthen the muscles of my larynx and tongue quickly. I wanted to shout out to my mother and father in Hindi that I was living proof of reincarnation. I wanted to describe in exacting detail the memories of my life and the images I held in my brain for which I said to myself when I was still in utero: "remember! remember! remember! When you pass through from the womb to light, you will remember the life from which you have just come. You will remember fine details and speak the language of the life you have just led, and you will proclaim to the world when you are born that you have not forgotten the life from which you have come. Listen to me my new mother and father, I would say, if we go to northeast India I will take you to my village and tell you who my friends and family were.
"But let me tell you: it was not just languages, or past lives. There were mathematical formulas that danced in my mind, but I could not speak of them or write them down - the muscles in my hand were weak and soft like butter and for every effort I made, they would not respond. For this I wanted to shout out, "my newest mother and father, listen to me! I know how space is curved around every object and the equations for it all and for every interaction and motion in the cosmos! Listen! There are things I know but which I cannot begin to tell you.
"Instead all I could do was to cry aloud and make infant sounds and flail my tiny arms around. Can you imagine the frustrations? Can you imagine being such a prisoner to your body? There are no bonds with which anyone could constrain me now to match the bondage of my own infant body! But then I became content, with a plan - simply to wait, to wait until my body strengthened. When the muscles of my hands and larynx and tongue matured, then would I reveal to the world these amazing facts.
"But do you know what happened? Will you believe that one day in my crib during a fit of pique I flipped out when the poorly fastened cage door fell down? I landed on my back and hit my head on the hard wooden floor. I could feel changes in my brain occurring even then, and I cried out in my mind, and all that came was the shrill sound of my infant strains: "mother, father - let me speak to you now before I lose it all! You must listen, for it is happening at last - I feel the memories all fading and while you comfort me I am learning this life anew. Please hold me! Hold me and let me speak Hindi and Punjab to you and recount the story of my life!
"But when they picked me up, I was just a baby. Just a baby like you were a baby, with no Punjab or Hindi remaining and no clear image left of my life before. Why have I not forgotten even that? Because I said this much to myself "remember this much: remember that you once knew these things - remember when your mother tells you that you once fell from your crib that you once did know many things. If you cannot remember what they were, then at least you will remember that you had these memories.
"To this day I try to remember what they were, but there are only fleeting images now and again. I do not know if it was Hindi and Punjab anymore, and I will forgive you if you believe that I am inventing this entire story. But one thing you must know: it happened to you too. It happened to every one of us. We knew so much more before we were born than we can possibly imagine, and then it vanished by apoptosis. Do not for a moment believe that those 900 billion neurons were inert and empty of knowledge. They were alive, just like yours are now, and deeply interconnected - by virtue of their existence and vitality, they contained vast amounts of knowledge. This much I know is true."
The gypsy cyclist, tired, thanked the man for his story and said he must eat or risk fainting. He turned away to seek his primary requirement: nourishment for his body.
Update
Friday, October 19, 2007
Short update since the Royal Vic Half two weekends ago, as well as my memory serves me.
- Monday after the race - rode about an hour, easy
- Tuesday - off completely
- Wednesday - slightly harder ride for 1.5 hours
- Thursday - run to Oak Bay for weight room workout - kept all weights light as sartorious is still a bit tender - stretch/calisthenics - run home
- Friday off completely
- Saturday off completely
- Sunday - two hour ride
- Monday this week - 40 minute run, easy
- Tuesday - 1.5 hour ride mostly relaxed with some efforts - legs felt really good
- Wednesday - run to Oak Bay for weights - added two new adductor and abductor leg exercises to routine, again kept weights light, but increased over last week - ride exercise bike for 10 minutes - stretch/calisthenics - run home
- Thursday - 1hr 5min run, relaxed but quick (sub-tempo) - felt good, but could tell legs were a tiny bit tight from previous four days in a row
- Today will be off, with plans for longer rides/run this weekend
Not bad, all things considered
Sunday, October 8, 2007
So, in the end I made the decision to run the half-marathon this morning, knowing full well how risky the venture was given the tenuous state of my sartorius muscle. However, in the last few days it seemed increasingly like it would hold out for the race. I had taken Trevor O'B's advice about an easy run Tuesday after physio treatment Monday and a 45min run Wed (although I went easier than he suggested), then had taken Thursday off completely. On Friday I did 1/2 an hour on the treadmill with 3X2 min race pace pickups (35min 10k pace), and part of them at faster than race pace. My leg held up, so I thought that that was sufficient confirmation I was ready for a full half. The plan was then to take Saturday off completely and hopefully to be ready today.
So late in the afternoon yesterday I finally registered for the race, despite already developing some heaviness in my legs after standing in the cold for nearly four hours for the "New Balance roll-the-dice give-aways" yesterday morning. I had volunteered for that as part of my sponsorship obligation with Frontrunners to volunteer at a few odd events. The event was part of the marathon exposition, and the idea was for registered runners to roll a big foam die and win a prize behind a locker door that corresponded to the die number. This was actually quite a hoot as Kim Shortreeb-Webb, fellow volunteer and sponsored FR runner, and I managed to keep each other in stitches the whole time and had great fun faciliating the "roll the wet-foamy dice on the soggy pavement" expo event outside the NB store on Government St. After a while we were recycling the same lines to people about "here is the dice, freshly squeezed," or " or "good roll, no whammies", or "the dice is definitely weighted, with water, in favour of the two", or "wash your hands after touching the dice, we don't know what's been on the sidewalk" (which was very good advice). As much as an introvert as I usually am, there are some situations where I can actually ham it up relatively well, and we had a hoot. I would definitely do that again next year, although it isn't the best thing for the legs the day before a race, especially given how cold and windy and wet it was yesterday morning.
In any event, as for the race: firstly I nearly missed the start, since for some reason I had it in mind that we started at 8:30 (I think that's what I had seen on the website), and at 7:00 after awaking at 6:30 this morning, figured I'd better double check the race bible. To my horror I discovered I had to be on the start line in half an hour. Fortunately it only takes 10 minutes to jog down there, so I whipped on my running attire with a belly full of porridge and zero coffee and gently eased my body there. The morning was relatively warm (about 11 degrees) and not raining, which was a positive start to the day.
The jog down seemed ok - legs a bit heavy maybe from standing around yesterday and perhaps a bit heavy even from the treadmill run on Friday, since that was the first time I'd done anything at race pace since straining my sartorius 10 days prior. But there was no pain in the sartorius on the jog down, so I figured I was ready. As it turned out the sartorius did hold up, although admittedly I stopped twice to walk a bit when I felt it tightening on me, which I think saved it from deteriorating again to a cramp and resultant injury. I ran the first 13k with Lucy Smith, women's winner, until she did a short surge that forced me to drop off the pace a bit, and soon afterward began to feel the legs begin to tighten like a vice, which in turn forced me to stop. Both times I stopped I thought I would turn off the course and walk home, but each time I started to go again the leg held up and eventually I was close enough to the finish just to keep chugging it in for the finish. My time was 1:17 something, and somewhere in the top 20 still, though I'm not sure where - 17th?
So, in the end I was actually happy with it. Also, given that I've only just gotten over a battle with the mono virus, which I've heard from yet more people still about how devastating it can be, in the end, all things considered, I had reason to be thankful that the day was as good as it was.
A reason to fight
Thursday, October 4, 2007Spreading its arms across the morning sky and kicking up a jig to celebrate the departure of so many overcast days, sunlight at last had banished the clouds. Aroused since crimson light flicked over the horizon, the gypsy cyclist pondered his vast and strange surroundings. He did not move quickly and each thing he accomplished, from rolling his sleeping bag to preparing a bowl of muesli, was done in time only with the changing colors of the morning sky as red shifted to purple, purple to blue, as all the stars faded, closing their eyes for a sleep of their own and were gathered up and calmed to stillness in the arms of the sun.
The gypsy cyclist's languor and calm was to be shortlived this morning, however. In the distance he became vaguely aware of the sound of shouting men. The voices grew louder as the group evidently approached his location amid the jungle trees just off the roadside. From the brusqueness of their tones, it was quickly apparent the group was military in nature. But their shouting was unclear and the gypsy cyclist could not understand what words were exchanged. He was uncertain if he should be afraid, but decided remaining in place was the most prudent course of action.
"Here, here!" he heard a man shout, as the group was running. "Turn into that clearing, there! Now!" Six soldiers thrashed through a trail from the road straight into the clearing where stood the gypsy cyclist with his bicycle held at his side.
"Well, what have we here?" said the first, the one who had shouted the directions to turn. The group stopped at the behest of their leader and examined the gypsy cyclist. Some chortled.
"What brings you here?" the leader asked.
"I have been travelling with my bicycle around the world," replied the gypsy cyclist. "I hope I am not intruding."
"Intruding?" replied the leader. "You are not intruding at all, but this is a military exercise, and we need this space. You are a civilian, and I have no authority to order you to leave as you are on public government property. But if you wish to stay, you will observe a lot of rapid movement among my troops, and if you get trampled on in the process then I would suggest that you have been warned. The choice is yours."
"Sir," piped up one of the men. "I've been radioed and C Company approaches easterly on the road we were just on. Radio control has asked for a response on our coordinates and plans."
"Private Ongodo," replied the leader, "inform radio control that we are distributing resources. One man stays here, and we spread out in a circle into the woods surrounding this clearing. The man remaining will draw C company into the clearing." The leader looked at the gypsy cyclist. "Would you like to be part of this?" he asked. "This is an exercise only, and you will not be hurt, but you can help us by drawing C company into this clearing. Private Oloono will stay with you. You are free to leave if you wish."
"Thank you," replied the gypsy cyclist, hesitant but somewhat excited by the prospect. He was reassured by the man's respectful demeanor, and he thought to trust him. "I'll, I'll stay," he said.
"Move out !" shouted the leader. "Spread in a semi-circle and take positions 200 metres into the bush. How long until they arrive?"
Ongodo replied, as he hustled toward the edge of the clearing. "If they find us quickly, I estimate it will take them less than ten minutes. If they pass by, and turn back, maybe thirty minutes."
As the others moved out, Oloono lay down on the ground beside the gypsy cyclist's bicycle. "You can stand," said Oloono. "They won't hurt you, but they will see you and come into the clearing. If you don't want to stand, you should lie down beside me. Leave your bicycle upright to attract them."
Still the gypsy cyclist sought to trust these men. For him the road to this clearing had been arduous and silent, and just for the opportunity to interact with people for a while, the risk of harm was strangely worthwhile.
Ten minutes passed, and there was no sign of the other group, and those who were hidden in the area surrounding the clearing were silent. Oloono became impatient. "I don't think they are coming," he said. "Seargent can be an idiot sometimes. But don't tell him I said that. The orders were that we were to leave traces of our presence, but not so obvious as to make it easy for C company to find us, so what does Seargent do? He puts me in here with you."
The gypsy cyclist laughed. "Well, maybe we have some time to waste then," he said. "Tell me something about yourself."
"Ok," said Oloono. "I will tell you that my mother just died."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," said the gypsy cyclist.
"I cannot get it out of my mind," said Oloono. "Four days ago, I held her slender hand. How limply she had laid her hand, given in resignation, to the hand I had offered. In her hand was no more strength or desire to clasp eagerly but tenderly, as she had just days before. There was only resignation and exhaustion. But so much love. She said to me 'I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute'. And she did while I held her beautiful slender hand."
Oloono looked deeply into the gypsy cyclist's eyes. He continued, "Three or four times, she opened them, my mother, and looked at me, until eventually she looked up one last time and said that she was going. In that moment, I knew she was ready to die, and it saddened me immensely, for it seemed that with all the love that was in her hand only a moment before, she could offer no more to me and was relieved to be leaving."
"You, strange man," Oloono continued, "are the first I have told this to. Yes, they all know my mother died, and that I was there. They are not unsympathetic, but I have not shared this with them. I have asked for bereavement leave, and was told I will have to wait until this exercise is finished tomorrow because I will have to fly to Uganda for the funeral. But you see, strange man, it isn't just her death that is haunting me, but the relief in her eyes; there seemed no remorse in finally leaving me."
"Oh, I am sure she was not relieved at leaving you," replied the gypsy cyclist. "The relief was from whatever suffering she endured in her last days."
"No, no," said Oloono. "Thank you, but you do not understand. I held her hand because I loved her, but in my twenty six years of life, even as a boy, I forever distanced myself, and yet she always welcomed me. Strange man, her fight was for me - how much love can a mother give her son and have it rejected over and over again? It was from that - from that was the relief I saw in her last glance to the sky, and that is the image that will haunt me until at last I too find relief."
Oloono looked at the gypsy cyclist sternly. "You and I have just met. You cannot know how immensely this haunts me, " he said. "For these exercises here today and for my mother's relief, I have volunteered to fight in Congo after the funeral. This is my reason for fighting. I do not hope to return."
Planning Costa Rica
Wednesday, October 3, 2007With a run today of 45 minutes to test out the sartorius, as Trevor had suggested, there is some room for optimism about running on Sunday. While I was still pretty gentle with it, I did 3X800 meter pickups during three loops around Beacon Hill, along with an overall slightly quicker pace than what I had done yesterday or on the weekend. These pick-ups were not at race pace, mind you, as I was being pretty cautious, and were done at maybe 90 percent 1/2 marathon race pace. I'm still not ruling it out. I've now heard from others, such as Rob B, who notes a similar sartorius strain healed in about 10 days, and the injury I have is not a serious one. Nevertheless, there's no need to make it worse - but I am certainly still not ruling out the race.
Costa Rica planning is, for now, mostly complete. I've booked myself four different places to stay over the 23 days I'll be there, primarily in the northern/western regions of the country. I was originally planning only three different places to stay, but I realized one of the places was at fairly high altitude (nearly 5000 ft) and that it can get pretty chilly up there along with a lot of mist - not really what I want. If I wanted cold and wet, I'd stay in Victoria. Maybe that is why I can get a cabin for $25 there (!), although apparently the hotel in the cloud forest is very popular.
Regardless, the location is a tropical jungle, and the whole experience will be very different from anything here - so, three days up there will be ok. Besides, I can ride down to sea level on my bike, and then ride back up for some brutish nasty climbing, then go sit in the hot tub and crash, pleasantly exhausted, and maybe mumble a few Spanish words I'll have learned before departing to whomever happens to be nearby. Speaking a foreign language while bonking after a hard bike ride will certainly be a whole new experience in looking completely idiotic. Perhaps I can be a source of some entertainment to the locals.
In preparation for leaving, I want to finish two more courses. After my A in Math215 (stats), the latest course I'm now taking, Statistics in Evidence (Communications 308), seems relatively straightforward. Still a lot of work, but I'm cruising through it like a hot knife through butter. The next course, Econ401, The Changing Global Economy should, with some diligence, be complete before I leave as well. I'll decide if I want to take another course with me to work on there, or if I'd prefer simply to relax and perhaps take a book of fiction with me. I had thought I might like to work on a painting, perhaps, while there, but it might be cumbersome to travel around with.
On that note, the Legal Services Branch is, at the end of November, holding its second branch employee art exhibit at the Community Arts gallery in the Sussex Building (where most of our branch is located). I've committed to displaying three pieces, including one that I've only just begun, but hopefully will finish in time.
I have a lot on the go right now, but knowing I have all of December off to spend in sunny climes is sufficient reward to put in some hard work over the next couple of months. The Tour of Costa Rica is seeming to be a bit less possible, and frankly I think I'd rather just enjoy my time there rather than worry about training for the race in the rain here in Victoria and then busting my butt for 12 race stages at the end of December. So I won't be very disappointed when it's certain that I can't do that race. There is another local two-day race on December 9/10 which I can probably enter just be showing up with my Canadian Category 2 UCI licence, which might be just enough to give me the experience of racing there without taking a huge chunk out of my holiday.
A fleeting meeting returned
October 2, 2007A Fleeting Meeting Returned
by guest, Hayley Sinai
The gypsy cyclist pedaled towards Brussels and each stroke was harder than the next as the vision of the beautiful woman kept crossing his mind. He thought to himself, I must stop, rest and then maybe she will come to me in a dream.
He pulled over roughly two kilometres from where he had met her. He saw a little pathway going into the woods. He pushed his bike until he came across a clearing. He thought this is just as good a place to rest as any. Taking his panniers off his bike, he looked around. His eyes found a place by a log. He emptied out his favourite blanket made by his mother when his was 11 years of age and proceeded to rest it over him and close his eyes... drifting off into sleep.
He awoke to the sound of fire crackling. He took his hand out from underneath the blanket and touched the ground. He felt the dew and the cold. He heard fire crackling and the whinney of a horse. He sat up abruptly and saw the silhouette of the woman feeding the fire and, to her left, the horse eating some grass with a cart close by her.
"Ah, you are up", she said. "I heard you calling to me, as did my horse 'Painting', would you like some warm tea and banana loaf?"
The gypsy cyclist nodded his head and began to walk towards the fire with his blanket wrapped around him... He muttered under his breath. "How did she hear me?"
Her eyes greeted his as they both sat on a log a foot a part. She handed him the tea and loaf and looked into the fire. "I hear almost everything that wants to be heard." Then she turned and gazed right into his eyes, then turned once again to look into the fire.
"But, I asked you to come in a dream and here you are alive in the flesh in my life," he said as he put the loaf and tea down by for a moment.
She giggled softly and looked at him in the eyes and took his hands into hers. He felt energy run through his body, a warm energy, an intoxicating energy that made him want to melt into her arms, an energy he had never felt in his life. He felt scared and elated at the same time. "I heard that too," she said. "Come let me hold you in my arms."
The gypsy cyclist was reluctant, but drawn at the same time. He moved towards her and she embraced him as he rested his head on her shoulder. The energy was now stronger than before, he knew she could feel everything in him. He felt incredibly vulnerable and at the same time very safe. He didn't want to ever let go of this woman as in this moment he felt one with her.
He heard her voice as he bathed in this energy. "You must know life is a dream... There is so much more here than you can imagine... if you open your heart this is what you are capable of feeling in this dream... you must know this thing you call life is a dream and sometimes people get comfortable in one scene of this dream and because other scenes of their life/dream have been scary or bad they stay in the comfortable scene rather than moving ahead with the dream... But, you see, the more conscious you are of the dream, the more you can become the creator and bring your dream together with others... what people call of the night dreams 'lucid dreaming'".
The gypsy cyclist trembled with delight and fear in her arms. What he felt was so pleasant and calming yet so new it scared him, but he could not move because he did not want to let go of this moment of being as one. The words she spoke were ancient and yet not of this world, at times she did not feel of this world as she knew things of him that others could never know without him saying the words. And this feeling he had with her -- so beautiful and unknown to his worldly experience. He closed his eyes and she continued.
"You see before I decided to have this dream, my husband and I held each other close in the river. Our bodies made love in our caress, the water was up to our waists as we held each other. We have been married forever and our love so strong. We both knew we would have to go and sleep and join this dream with others, that we had to help others with this dream and become wiser in the process by learning through the dream. We actually knew that we would sometimes forget we were dreaming. Maybe forget each other, yet we both knew we could not forget the feeling of love. You see, I have remembered him for a while and I see his image. I also remember our children who I promised to bring into this dream. And my heart is open and big. Because of this I see and know many things, and I feel people wanting me or needing my energy. Sometimes, when I feel men's energy, I wonder, is he my husband? And sometimes, when I have missed him so much, I have taken other men, and prayed they were him. I know in this time he has done this with women too tried to find our love with them. But I know when I wake up from this dream I will wake up in his arms on the bear rug beside the river that we lay on after making love before entering this dream. The rug we fell asleep on together."
The gypsy cyclist looked up and the woman turned her eyes from the fire and looked into his eyes. He knew she saw his soul and he shivered all over in this oneness together. She continued as she looked into his eyes.
"You see, before we left our children that day, we promised we would try our best to remember and find each other and bring them into the dream. Me?" she laughed, "I don't like to break promises so I remembered them too. Now, I know I must bring these beings into the dream. I can feel them over our bodies looking on thinking when, when? So, I continue in this dream knowing that even if my husband does not find me, or, if he forgot about how the dream works and walks by me that I must bring the children in. I feel them coming to rest and sleep by us by the river as they are ready to journey here. I also feel my husband's arms around me while I dream and feel his love travel everywhere I go with me."
The gypsy cyclist felt panic strike his body as she spoke her words, then he felt the love come through her and he relaxed once again into her body and felt the oneness.
She continued. "Cyclist man, you called to me. Are you just another man who needs the love that my heart is so capable of giving. The love that has nourished so many others during this dream? Or are you my husband who has heard me calling him and come to be with me? And love me just as strong? I heard you say you would ride with me forever... Is this true? Are you my husband? Or maybe you are a friend who has remembered me and come to help me bring the children into the dream? This is one thing I cannot tell about you because this part you must tell me. If you are my husband, come put your bike and packs in my cart. I will take you to my home and we can bask in our love and bring our children into the dream. But now you must tell me this, I cannot tell you."
The gypsy cyclist's body shook; he began to panic and the woman let him go. He looked her in the eyes and he could see her soul. His lips trembled and a squeaky voice came from his mouth, "Thank-you." He stood and started to walk towards the path to the road.
He looked back, the woman was sipping tea, a doe within two feet of her and a fawn beside her, resting it's head in her lap. Her free hand was on the fawn and she sang a beautiful ancient song to it.
The gypsy cyclist could not believe what he was seeing, yet he knew he was not dreaming - or was he? He began to run on the path towards the road. He heard her voice being carried by the breeze to his ears. "Don't forget your bike and things." And when he reached the road there his bike was... panniers packed and in place.
Cat feet
Monday, October 1, 2007Carl Sandburg thought the fog rolled in on little cat feet. So much in contrast to the silence of a San Francisco fog, here in Victoria, October rolls in on massive cat feet, perhaps even thunder feet, or feet as big as lakes. So much like winter already, and September has only just rolled out on feet as big as moons, following on a summer that stomped around like elephants.
So, as an update on the lighter things in life at the moment, I ran gently on Saturday on a treadmill for half an hour, mixed with a bit of stationary bike riding. The strained sartorius held up, but no chance of really striding it out. I then ran slowly on Sunday for an hour in and around UVic, hoping to catch Cliff at the finish of the Run for the Cure, but missed him. Still it held up, but even the very thought of really striding out could have caused the muscle to seize.
So today I went in to see Trevor O'Brien for some physio, who gave me the full treatment, from yanking my legs around to pull out my hips a bit -- a slight misalignment and tightness in my back are largely the source of the problem, he thinks -- to electro-stimulation and ultra sound. If we're lucky we'll have me running on Sunday, but Trevor suggested testing it on Wednesday, and if it's tight and stiff even by Thursday morning, then I should give the 1/2 marathon a miss. Better to miss the race than to be out for a month afterward.
On that note, there is still an outside chance I could race the Tour of Costa Rica. More about that later.
In any event, regardless, I have now booked my ticket to Costa Rica, December 3 to 26th. If I end up racing, I'll need to return a bit later, but I'll cross that bridge if it comes. If I get in to the race, I'll need to begin training immediately. If I don't race, I have so far reserved three different places at which to stay, and prices are amazingly cheap - $38/night US for a single room; $35/night US for a cabin in one place! A third was $50/night, I think. My return flight from Seattle cost me $650, versus $900 from Vancouver. The US/Can dollar parity comes in handy, and the holiday itself will not be egregiously expensive.
In the meantime the plan is to take some Spanish lessons before I leave, and have signed up for some with someone name Anna (ad on Craigslist). I figure 2 hours/week for about 6 weeks should give me enough to be able to get around down there a bit better than I did the last two times I was in Mexico.
Now to bed, where at least perhaps my sleep will be carried on little cat feet...
