A Canadian in Winter

The piles of snow at the end of our driveway are making it hard to see my car.

The state of the roads on my drive home every day dictate whether I will be running or cycling the following morning. My regular running days are no more. Now I run when I can and I cycle when I can't. 

Despite a near-obsession with hand cream, my hands are dry, my nails are brittle and my skin continues to beg for more more more moisture. 

I wake up every morning with a dry hoarse throat that cries out for a drink. 

Every Friday night I crawl into bed a few hours after our curling game, still half frozen from being out on the ice. 

Every pair of pants I own seems to have salt stains on it from once again leaning up against my filthy car. 

It's winter in Canada and everyone I talk to seems to be grumbling about it. 

I, on the other hand, think it's lovely. 

The bright white snow makes everything beautiful. 

The wind howling at night brings a strange sort of comfort. 

The cold makes me feel alive. 

The smell of smoke from wood stoves as I run by houses in the early morning hours reminds me of childhood camping trips. 

The extra daylight in the evenings brings with it the promise of spring even as it lights up the snow with a golden glow. 

It's a wonderful time of year to be a Canadian! 

That being said, this time next week I will be happily settled into our adventure in Florida. We will probably have played two games of golf, spotted more than a few gators in the water hazards and seen more orange groves than we can count. 

And I'm quite ok with that. 

There are Limits

Getting ready for bed last night I checked the weather for this morning's run.

-13C at 6am.

No problems there.

Will feel like -23C at 6am.

No worries. My super duper winter jacket will make that feel balmy. I probably won't even need gloves.

Wind will be 30km/hour.

And.....we're done.

-23C is no problem for running.

30km/hour winds are tough but not enough to keep me home either.

Smoosh both of them together into one morning and I'm pulling out my cycling clothes for a morning workout on the trainer.

I know my limits.

Live Tracking

I've been doing half-hearted research for the past year or so. I'm looking for my next running watch. I had no plans to buy one. I was just doing the research ahead of time so when my on its last leg current watch kicks the bucket I won't have to waste any time researching what to get next. 

It seems, my friends, that I'm getting a little cautious in my old age. 

Tuesday morning I headed out into the coldest day yet this winter for my 7k run. It was -7C (-18 with the windchill). Nowhere near the coldest day I will run in but not something I was quite ready for. I had two long-sleeved tops on under my coat. I had my running pants from last year. My toque. I should have been fine. 

I was frozen. Legs screaming from the cold, toes going numb, face aching frozen. When I finally turned out of the wind for the trip home I felt little relief. The biting cold had my backside for breakfast and it was crying in pain by the time I turned onto our street with an audible sigh of relief. 

I got home at exactly 6:30am. Doug was in the kitchen and asked if I was ok. "Five more minutes and I was heading out to pick you up" he announced. 

I was home right on schedule but I'm guessing the howling wind and freezing temps put a bit of fear in his heart as he waited for me. 

Back to my watch research. 

I was having trouble deciding whether to go with a running watch or a multisport watch. I have never worn a watch in the pool and don't particularly care to. I like having it on the bike but mostly use it for runs. It would be nice to have a watch that I can wear from one end of a triathlon to another but for the 4-5 times per summer I would need that, it's not the primary goal. 

I think Tuesday morning's run tipped the balance and I'm now looking at a running watch. 

One of these actually.

It's the Garmin 620

It has lots of great features, some of which I'll actually use. 

It has a touch screen. 

It weighs about half what my current watch does and actually looks watch-like.

It's orange! 

Most importantly, it has a live tracking feature which means that, when I'm out on my runs, Doug can check on me from the comfort of his laptop. He can see where I have been, how far I am away from home and whether or not I'm actually moving. 

Peace of mind for him on cold snowy mornings.

Peace of mind for me on every single run I ever do because the list of things that could go wrong is too long to actually let myself think about. And while I sure do like my independence, I also like knowing that I can be found should something happen. 

Here's hoping this orange beauty goes on sale on Black Friday. 

The Week Without Bullet Points

What happened this week?

I rediscovered my love for Margaret Atwood. I am rereading Oryx and Crake (which is just as good the second time) and have the next two books in the trilogy lined up and ready to go. I am endlessly fascinated with the way she writes - the language, the undertones of irony, the societal warnings, the humour. Such a Canadian treasure.

I showed up to work on Thursday wearing purple. It was World Diabetes Day which means I should have worn blue but I only have two blue tops and neither were really warm enough for the day. I figured no one I worked with would really care since I'm the only pancreatically-challenged one of the bunch. I arrived to discover that one of them had discovered the importance of blue on November 14th and sent an email out to the rest of them. Almost everyone showed up at the staff meeting in blue. So nice!

I renewed my Canadian passport. It expires in early 2014 and we are already planning a winter escape so I figured I'd better get on it. I got my photo taken and application submitted within 40 minutes. The new one arrives in 10 days. And won't expire until I'm, wait for it, 49 years old. Eeep!

I discovered that regular nail polish can survive two swims in the pool before it really starts chipping. Metallic ones, as pretty as they are, don't survive one chlorine dip. I put on a pretty copper colour on Sunday evening. I went swimming on Monday morning and every nail has chipped or worse by the end of the swim. Sad day. Guess I'll have to save that colour for weeks when the pool is closed.

I was reminded what happens when we close up the house and turn the heat on. I wake up every single morning convinced I am getting sick. My throat is dry, my lips feel cracked. Then I have a few sips of water and remember, again, that it's the dry heat that kills me. Instead of grumbling about the heat, I thank the gods I'm not getting sick fix the problem with a few extra gulps of water.

I run in the dark now, like a vampire, with my red light flashing on my toque and my reflective vest warning cars that, yes indeed, that is a human approaching. Tuesday morning there was a light dusting of snow on the rooftops, the sky was clear and the stars were twinkling. On Thursday morning the wind was howling and the sky was full of clouds. Both mornings I dragged myself out of bed and spent the next 30 minutes trying to convince myself not to crawl back in...until I walked out the door. The wild, unpredictable and beautiful weather this time of year is my favourite. Funny how I forget every time the alarm goes off and yet NEVER regret forcing myself out of bed once I get out into it.

I realized that Christmas is in something crazy like 42 days and I haven't even thought about Christmas gifts. For anyone. I'm just so excited for my family to be together, to meet my new nephew who I have yet to actually see in real life, to spend time giggling with my sisters - I don't care one whit about the presents. Bring on the hugs!!

I only got one swim in this week. I missed two due to early morning commitments that I could not escape from. I dislike missing one swim. I hate missing two. I'm already looking forward to Monday morning so I can slip back into the water again. I hope I remember how to do that body roll I'm working on...

I did, however, have two wonderful runs (see above) and am looking forward to squeezing in a quick 12k run before Doug and I head to Toronto for a day of family visits, friends and trips to fountain pen stores.

For those of you who care about such things, did you see what is coming out very soon?

Pretty! Soooooo pretty!!! 

And this week I made a date with three fabulous ladies to go see the second Hunger Games movie. Dinner first. Then wicked movie. We're all so excited that it's almost funny. 

Except it's not. 

Because we're just so excited. 

Talk to you all on Monday eh?

Embrace the Headwind

There are 59 days left until the Tel Aviv half marathon. Training has begun in earnest and I have already survived successfully completed my 12k and 14k long runs. I have also completed two hill training sessions which is two more than I did in 2012.

The Tel Aviv half is pretty flat, according to their website, but I forgot how much I used to love hill training so I'm adding it to my schedule whether I need it or not.

As for training for running by the Mediterranean Sea, running in temperatures that a Canadian doesn't normally experience in March, and running through layers of history, I'm hoping my trusty Pelham Road route will be enough.

On Saturday, it was unseasonably warm. I'm talking 9 degrees when I headed out at 8:30am and 15 degrees by lunch time. I wasn't quite ready for shorts but I did shed two thick layers as well as my gloves and my toque in favour of a thin top, bare hands and a running hat.

It was warm and very windy. I could have come up with a 14 kilometre route that weaved its way through city streets and kept me relatively sheltered from the wind but I didn't. I put a pretty high price on quiet roads, few intersections and rural scenery. My Pelham Road route gets me out into the country within 3 kilometres and keeps me there as long as I want. For a 14km run, that means I have 3k of city running, 8k of countryside and then 3k of city running to get home again. Every week from now until March 15th, I get to add 2km of country running.

The only problem with my beloved route is that it is pretty much out and back. I can vary it up a little bit and go out one road and back another but it doesn't change the fact that I run into a headwind for 6 to 10 kilometres and then I'm pushed home for the same distance.

I used to dread the first part of the run. The first 5k of any long run is always the hardest for me and plodding into a headwind never makes it any easier. That is, until I did two weeks of hill training and remembered how much fun it is to push your body into a discomfort zone and feel yourself getting stronger.

So, on Saturday morning, when I woke up and saw the trees blowing outside the bedroom window, my brain immediately seized on the positive. "Yay - you get to do a wind resistance training run today!"

When I headed out I embraced the wind and my laboured heart rate and my slower than normal pace. I was doing resistance training! It is pretty interesting to see how a little positive thinking can turn a hard workout into something enjoyable. And, after seven kilometres, when I turned around to head back, I was actually a little disappointed. The wind was now pushing me down the road and my resistance run suddenly became an easy long run.

I used to push through a headwind so I could enjoy a tailwind on the way home. On Saturday, I pushed through the headwind and loved it. I used the tailwind to try to increase my pace a bit and had fun with that too.

AND my blood sugar started at 6.4 and ended at 4.8 thanks to a gel and a handful of raisins before my run. No mid-run BG checks, no lows, no highs.

Sweet!

The Wreck of La Julie Plante

Monday was a lovely day. So lovely in fact that I skipped out of work an hour early so I could go for a bike ride.

Ever since Saturday's triathlon I've been inspired to get better on the bike. More comfortable going down hills, more steady while drinking from my water bottle, stronger and faster on the flats and less wobbly on turns. We went out on Sunday morning and rode a fast 45k. I kept up a pretty good pace, I practiced bending down over my handle bars (rather than my usual position) and I didn't brake on the ride down the escarpment.

It went so well that I was eager to head out again. So, Monday afternoon at 3:30pm I found myself pulling my bike out from the basement for a solo ride. I figured I'd ride about 10k to warm up, then I'd climb the escarpment using the 9th street hill which is a nasty climb, ride around at the top of the escarpment and then got down the same hill (Effingham) we rode down on Sunday to see if I could go faster this time (are you reading this Erin??).

I headed out and was a little surprised at the wind. It didn't feel that windy when I left work...

Oh well, I'm a triathlete now. A little wind won't stop me!

I rode head on into the wind for a few kilometres, turned and found the wind at my back for the next few. So far so good...

I got to the bottom of the 9th Street hill and made my way up to the top. That hill is never going to be easy but I do think it's getting easier so I took some comfort in that as I stood at the top panting too hard to drink my water. Panting too hard to even pretend I wasn't panting when cars pulled up beside me.

After I recovered from the climb, I continued on and realized pretty quickly that I was now in a spot of trouble. The wind which was gusting pretty hard at the bottom of the escarpment was hurricane-like at the top. It was, I learned later when I received Doug's warning text, gusting South at over 40km/hour. The first half of my ride was North/South so I was either heading into the wind or I was being pushed along by the wind. Either option is fine with me.

The top of the escarpment found me cycling mostly East and West. Or North West. Or South East. There were no North or South roads.

No matter what I did, I was being buffeted on my side by wind gusts that threatened to knock me off my bike. It was crazy. I know I have some irrational fears when I ride but this was the first time I had real, valid concerns for my safety. I headed for Effingham road because I figured it was the safest way down the escarpment. Pelham Road would have had me rushing down a busy hill with the wind gusting from the side. At least Effingham would have me riding down the hill directly into the wind. It would be slower but there was less chance of my being blown into the path of a car. As I rode east towards my escape route, I found myself clenching the handlebars and locking my frame in an attempt to keep the bike steady. I rode down the middle of the quiet roads for fear of being blown over a few inches and tumbling into the ditch. And I repeated 'you're ok, you're ok' over and over in my head to keep me focused and calm(ish).

I forced myself to keep going until I reached Effingham. Once there, I stopped to catch my breath and compose myself for the descent. Sunday I clocked about 40 km/hour on the downhill. This time, I had to pedal down the hill and couldn't get above 20km/hour even on the steepest section. I felt like I was being pushed back up the hill.

Halfway down the hill, to add to the excitement, I could tell my blood sugar was low. I weighed the risks and decided going down a hill with low blood sugar was safer than trying to stop on a downhill in a hurricane. I got to the bottom, ate a gel and a pack a fruit chews and checked my phone while I waited for my number to climb back up. That's when I found Doug's text warning me about the wind...

The ride home alternated between cycling head on into the wind and cycling with it blowing me several inches sideways with every gust.

Instead of an hour of cycling to practice my speed and my downhills, I spent an hour and a half giving my legs, my lungs and my nerve a fabulous workout. In hindsight I'm glad I did it. It pushed me a little farther out of my comfort zone and taught me that I do indeed have control over the damn bike - even when Mother Nature is trying to wrestle it out from under me.

But the next time the wind blows like that - I'm going running.

_____________________

To explain the title of this blog - it comes from a poem that we read in grade nine english class. It's a fabulous little poem that's written with a french accent and it tells a sad tale of a windy night on Lac St. Pierre. Join me if you will on a walk down high school memory lane:

The Wreck of La Julie Plante

On wan dark night on Lac St. Pierre,
     De win' she blow, blow, blow,
An' de crew of de wood scow "Julie Plante"
     Got scar't an' run below--
For de win' she blow lak hurricane;
     Bimeby she blow some more,
An' de scow bus' up on Lac St. Pierre
     Wan arpent from de shore.

De captinne walk on de fronte deck,
     An' walk de hin' deck too--
He call de crew from up de hole,
     He call de cook also.
De cook she's name was Rosie,
     She come from Montreal,
Was chambre maid on lumber barge,
     On de Grande Lachine Canal.

De win' she blow from nor'-eas'-wes',--
     De sout' win' she blow too,
Wen Rosie cry, "Mon cher captinne,
     Mon cher, w'at I shall do?"
Den de captinne t'row de big ankerre,
     But still de scow she dreef,
De crew he can't pass on de shore,
     Becos he los' hees skeef.

De night was dark lak wan black cat,
     De wave run high an' fas',
Wen de captinne tak' de Rosie girl
     An' tie her to de mas'.
Den he also tak' de life preserve,
     An' jomp off on de lak',
An' say, "Good-by, ma Rosie dear,
     I go down for your sak'."

Nex' morning very early
     'Bout ha'f-pas' two--t'ree--four--
De captinne--scow--an' de poor Rosie
     Was corpses on de shore.
For de win' she blow lak' hurricane,
     Bimeby she blow some more,
An' de scow, bus' up on Lac St. Pierre,
     Wan arpent from de shore.

MORAL

Now all good wood scow sailor man
     Tak' warning by dat storm
An' go an' marry some nice French girl
     An' live on wan beeg farm.
De win' can blow lak' hurricane
     An' s'pose she blow some more,
You can't get drown on Lac St. Pierre
     So long you stay on shore.

William H. Drummond

Come From Away

When I think (or write) about something too much, it starts to feel like that's the only thing going on in my life. Last week was D-Blog week and, while it was a wonderful way to explore all things diabetes and discover some pretty neat bloggers out there, it's a lot of dia-writing. After 6 days of writing solely about the diabetes part of my life - I was pretty much done. I didn't even write anything for Day 7 - I just needed a bit of a break.

After spending three wonderful days on the back deck, enjoying the warm breezes and the sounds of nature, I'm ready to get back at it.

Which is a good thing because there are plenty of things I need to get back to.

This is going to a whirlwind of a week. Monday was a Canadian holiday (one of the best holidays of the year in my books) so the first day of the work week is today (Tuesday). For me, the end of this work week is tomorrow (Wednesday). On Thursday morning - we're heading to the airport and then we're off to Nova Scotia for the Cabot Trail Relay Race. I've mentioned this race a few times already and, after months of planning and training - it's finally upon us.

Seventy teams of 17 runners (plus support crews) will be descending on Baddeck, Nova Scotia. For a village of 2,152 - their population is about to double. Hotels, motels, cabins and campgrounds will be overrun with come from aways. Hopefully the grocery store(s?) and gas stations have topped up or we will be eating them out of house and home. I kinda feel like we're a swarm of locusts about to land and clear them out of bottled water, toilet paper, ibuprofen and beer.

So far, I've managed to avoid being recruited as a last-minute runner for our team despite having one injured participant. Barring any last-minute emergencies, I should escape with only my driving responsibilities (which are pretty intense already thank you very much - one 12-hour stint followed by a 7-hour one with only 5 hours of downtime in between) but I'm bringing my running gear just in case.

Last minute instructions have been emailed to the team members. Lime green nail polish and kermit green eye shadow has been purchased (we are the Mojitos after all) and our fabulous team shirts and hoodies are being delivered today. Route maps, elevation maps, race rules, detailed timing charts and packing lists have been printed. Camera bags packed, diabetes supplies organized and clothing for all weather has been laid out. This is the East Coast of Canada after all - the weather is rugged and wild and we can easily experience fog, rain, wind, sunshine and blue skies all within an hour.

The East Coast of Canada, more than any other place in the world (except perhaps Ireland and Scotland) is where I am happiest. I was made for that kinda weather. That kinda harsh marine lifestyle where the living is rough and the scenery is spectacular. Where the people are friendly and their accents trigger long-lost images of my Irish ancestors. Their music feels hauntingly familiar and their food (other than the horror that is cod-tongue) has had me dreaming of oysters for weeks.

A wee taste of  Nova Scotia slang for you - Dijjaeetyet?? No, djew? No, yawnta? Yupp. 

Did I mention that our post-relay celebratory lunch is lobster?

Country Roads...

...take me home.

To the place

I belong.

Nope, not West Virginia.

Effingham Road actually.

Last Friday night I sat at my laptop to map out Saturday's 18k route. I wanted a circular route and I wanted to go out into the country. The problem that quickly became apparent was that there aren't that many country roads out there and, therefore, there wasn't a obvious 18k circular route from our house.

There was a 16k route. A 17k route. A 19.5k and a 21k route.

Here's how I work. I do NOT like doing a route that gets me close but not close enough to my required distance. I hate looping around my neighbourhood trying to get another kilometre or two in. When I see the house, I'm done. I also don't like adding too many kilometres in a week so going from last week's 16k to 19.5k wasn't going to happen. And I HATE out and back routes so I wasn't having any of that either.

So I decided to drive to work...on a Saturday. I work 2.4k from home (I know this because I run by my workplace every time I head out into the country). So I drove to work and parked there. That cut just enough off the start of the run that I could head out into the country for my beloved circular route.

I mean really out there. I ran up up up the escarpment for the first time since last August. I had forgotten how much of a climb that was. But I hadn't forgotten my horses that are always hanging out at the top. I waved and I think they winked back. Six k done. I turned right and discovered a really strong headwind (did I mention it was cold and raining?). I had 6k to run straight into the wind and run it I did. A heron flew overhead partway there and I gave a wave to him too. Pretty sure he tipped his wing in salute. Turn right out of the wind for the last 6k home. I had also forgotten how hilly St. Paul Street is at that part (apparently my brain is extremely efficient at forgetting about hills). I ran down down down knowing I was immediately going to be running back up. Thankfully, just as I headed down the hill, the shuffle gods handed me the absolute best song on my playlist and I actually clocked a faster uphill pace than I did on the flat section I had just run.

I trotted home, cold, wet and feeling pretty damn proud of myself. No pain. No major struggle. Fairly well-behaved blood sugar.

Two more long runs and then the pre-race taper begins.

Wind Chill

When the temperature outside is 5 degrees, with a light rain, and it's a running day - I wear tights, a very thin long sleeve top and a vest. No gloves, no toque, no jacket. Within minutes, I've unzipped my vest and I'm comfortable for...hours.

When the temperature outside is 5 degrees and it's a cycling day - I panic a little bit.

There's something to be said for windchill. It rips through everything and, unlike running, you just don't ever warm up.

Our spring/summer/fall cycling group scheduled its first ride yesterday. An easy 25k to get our legs back into it. The weather, at 6:30am, was calling for 5 degrees with sun and clouds. So I brought out the big guns. I pulled on my running tights and then yanked my cycling shorts over top. I put on my thin running shirt, a t-shirt, a thicker running shirt and my -30 degree windproof running jacket that I haven't worn running once during the past two winters because it hasn't been cold enough. I put my toque on under my helmet and put my cycling gloves on over my running ones.

We pulled the bikes out from the basement, filled our water bottles and Doug asked "is it raining?". "Nope" I replied with naive confidence "it's not supposed to rain."

Apparently the weather gods don't always ask the weather network folks before they edit the script.

It WAS raining. And windy.

We cycled the 2k to Runners' Edge. Vince was sitting in his vehicle, his bike still attached to the back. "What the hell?" was his greeting. Klari pulled up on her bike, having cycled the few kilometres from her house. "What the hell?!?" was hers too. Erin pulled up in her vehicle "Are we riding?".

"No" was the unanimous decision.

We cycled the 2k back home again. I was so cold I could hardly pedal and the pain in my finger tips was excruciating. The faster I tried to go, the colder it got. That, my friends, is a painful catch 22.

We made it home, tossed the bikes back into the basement without a word.

I checked my sugar - it was 18.9.  Guess that's what happens when you adjust your basal rate for cycling, eat breakfast but only bolus for half and then cycle 4k in 26 minutes. Switched my basal rate from 60% to 140%, took a correction bolus and called it a day.

A hot shower and a cup of coffee later, we were warm and feeling sane again.

Guess we'll try again next week.

The Next Generation of Nutters

The wind is blowing from the west at 28km/h with gusts of 37km/hour.  It's already down to 4 degrees and dropping fast. 

And I have to run in an hour. 

Actually no, that's not true.  I don't have to run.  I want to run. 

Verrrry different.

There are no training schedules telling me what to do.  No pressure to fit the runs in. I'm just feeling the urge to go for a run.  Wizard of Oz winds be damned: I'm heading out after work for a wee trot down the local streets.

Which begs a few questions... 

What do you call a runner who heads out in nasty weather because they are training and need to get their run in? 

Dedicated?

What do you call a runner who heads out in nasty weather with absolutely no excuse other than they feel like going for a run?

A nutter?

It's pretty easy to look at anyone who has a lifestyle different from our own and make some snap judgements.  But the choices we make make sense to us.  So, I won't make fun of you for going home and staying inside tonight if you don't make fun of me for going for a run in a windstorm.

Deal?

By the way, I'm not the only nutter out there. The new Beginner Running Clinic starts tonight at Runners' Edge.  People all over Niagara are eyeing the trees blowing in the wind and wondering if they really want to go out in the cold, windy night to learn how to run.  When 6:45pm rolls around there will be a huge group of them out there ready to take their first running steps.  They will be cold, windblown and very nervous.  They won't think that they have what it takes to be a runner.

When they look back on tonight, 12 weeks from now, they won't believe what they were able to accomplish.  They will have gone from struggling through five minutes of running to polishing off 5k. And they will laugh at the wind, and the rain and whatever else the Running Gods throw their way.  Because they will be runners!

How cool is that?