The Struggle

..is real.

I know I'm not the only one who is having a hard time keeping up training while being forced to adapt to an ever-changing, endlessly complicated world. The weather hasn't helped, either; this week's mix of powerful wind, persistent cold, chilly rain, and stupid snow - sometimes all at the same time - has definitely not helped. So, I don't know who all needs to hear this, but..

IF YOU RAN IN NASTY WEATHER TODAY - I'm proud of you for getting out there!

IF YOU DIDN'T RUN TODAY DUE TO NASTY WEATHER - I'm proud of you for letting discretion be the better part of valor!

We all bloom better with some sunshine and warmth.

IF YOU RAN IN LOVELY WEATHER TODAY - I'm still proud of you for getting out there!

IF YOU RAN INDOORS TODAY - I'm proud of you for getting it done!

We all have to follow our own path

IF YOU DIDN'T RUN TODAY DUE TO FATIGUE, ILLNESS OR INJURY - I'm proud of you for listening to your body's needs, and I hope you're feeling better soon!

IF YOU DIDN'T RUN TODAY JUST BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T FEEL LIKE IT - I'm proud of you for taking care of your mental health, and ask that you please don't beat yourself up about it.

A rolling stone gathers no moss, but mossy rocks are beautiful!

IF YOU DIDN'T GET OUT OF YOUR PAJAMAS TODAY - I'm proud of you for making it out of bed. Have a glass of water; hydration is important.

Also, have this photo of a sunset along a riverside trail.

IF YOU DIDN'T MAKE IT OUT OF BED TODAY - I'm proud of you for letting yourself get some rest. You can try again tomorrow, or not.

For now, just let your mind and body fill with peace.

No matter how much or how little you accomplished today, it is enough - YOU are enough. High fives to all those who are still crushing their goals; you're doing amazing! If you fell short of what you wanted to achieve, offer yourself grace; it doesn't make you less worthy, and you can try again another time.

I know you'll get it, because you're awesome!

Now, if I can just remember to apply all this to myself when the days get rough..

The shoe doesn't always fit the other foot so well.

 Stay strong out there - wishing you all good health and peace of mind.

Oh yeah, and don't forget I'M PROUD OF YOU!

Mastery

It was a somewhat significant week.

Cue dramatic photo

I started off worried, because my adorable little not-a-kitten-anymore Fionn (who turned 1 year old last week) managed to hurt his leg and has been on the limp since Sunday.

Though he did get to enjoy some sun and fresh air anyway,

I finally got to see a sports medicine doctor on Monday the 15th about that click in my foot at Sunburn Solstice. On the bright side, it doesn't seem to be a stress fracture - on the less bright side, I didn't really get any answers about what the click might have been. He had me rise up on my toes and walk around a bit, squeezed my foot in a couple of different ways, and was slightly dismayed at the difference between my two feet after the catastrophic injury last year. It seems the transverse/metatarsal arch on my left foot is collapsing, and it was suggested that I try an orthotic (which is not really a road I want to go down), or at least some metatarsal pads. I mentioned that I had seen a taping application for a midfoot injury, and the good doctor was very supportive of me trying it. Other than that, I was told to go see my favourite physiotherapist (for which I'm out of insurance coverage for the year) and not much else.

The taping application.

I ended up taking Monday off running, then was back at it with my taped-up foot on Tuesday.

When it rained sideways for the first 5mins, then the sun came back out to ensure it stayed unbearably hot and humid.

While the tape felt kind of nice - sort of like a hug for my foot - it didn't actually seem to do anything helpful. I stripped it off before I showered that evening, went to bed...and then woke up 40 years old.

I didn't really do anything to mark the day I became a Masters athlete, though to the surprise of probably no-one I did go for a run on my favourite Mississauga trails after work.

Water levels were a teensy bit high for creek yoga this week - you couldn't even see the rocks I usually stand on!

My birthday present from Mother Nature was the discovery of a massive bush absolutely dripping with perfect, ripe wild raspberries! Despite being right on a paved pathway behind a residential area just north of Burnhamthorpe, it seemed completely untouched - not even the squirrels or bunnies looked to have been nibbling.

I filled my hand bottle's pocket and still left loads of ripe berries behind!

Then, because my life is nothing if not full of annoying twists, I got myself trapped in a construction site.

Who could resist that gap in the fence?

Crap - ok, I guess I'll go back and cross the bridge to come out by the community centre..

CRAP

I ended up having to go back out the way I'd come, message Tanker to meet me in a different spot than we'd agreed on, climb a *bonus hill* up to Mississauga Valley Drive, and all told run an extra kilometer (and take almost an extra 45mins) on top of what I'd planned.

I did eventually make it to my mum's to visit and share my bounty of raspberries.

Not to mention the dairy-free Haagen-Dasz ice cream bars I picked up, as I ended up meeting Tank at a grocery store.

So apparently I haven't got any smarter with the conclusion of another trip 'round the sun - I may now be a Masters athlete, but I don't really feel like I've mastered anything. Nor do I feel any wiser, more settled, or in any way like I expected to as a 40 year old woman.

Hell - I even wore booty shorts for last night's still-hot-as-balls run.

On the bright side, I also don't feel as dull and stodgy as my middle aged status would suggest. I may be a bit more of a weenie about hurting myself than I was in my teens and twenties, but that's not to say I've lost my sense of adventure entirely.

I tried a new route through the singletrack trails on the way to the market on Saturday, which included some bushwhacking and doubling back.

..and I dangled my feet over a ledge high above the Grand River.

I may have a few more aches and pains than I did when I first began to run at age 29, but I've also seen and experienced so many more beautiful things along the way.

Like this bit of perfection in my own backyard.

I don't feel obliged to act my age - I'll keep on paddling my board and rocking a bikini if I damn well please.

My ink needs to breathe sometimes, y'know.

As hackneyed as it is to declare that "age is just a number", I figure the time to start acting like an adult will be when I actually feel like one. While I do have to take care of responsible things on occasion, I've not yet come to a point where the allure of calm predictability outweighs the temptations of chaotic, messy, and possibly risky diversions from the straight, narrow path of adult life.

I'm not over the hill, but I'm willing to hike up it.

So just like my little Fionn - who doesn't seem to realise he's not a kitten anymore - I'll keep chasing whatever seems like fun at the time, until it doesn't seem fun anymore.

And hopefully just like him, I'll bounce back from my latest injury.

Have a great weekend, folks!

Redemption

All of us have something in our past we're not proud of. Sometimes, though, a bit of effort can help you reclaim some dignity.

Warning: this post is only tangentially about running/endurance sport.

On Sunday, July the 29th, I found myself in rather rough condition by evening. I'd been awake since 8:30 Saturday morning with only a 2-hour nap ending at 4:30pm, run 70km through the night at Tally in the Valley, then gone to brunch with dearly loved friends in Guelph (with a quick stop for a shower in between - like I said, they're dearly loved friends) until late afternoon. There may have been some day-drinking at brunch. Ok, there was definitely some day-drinking at brunch. I wasn't drunk, but had been pleasantly giggly.

The only pink of which I am a fan.

As we headed back toward home, I realised I was hungry but far too destroyed to make food for myself. I could barely walk due to the pounding my damaged right ankle took while racing, and hobbled around with a cane. In this condition, I wandered into our local freshii looking for an easy, hot meal with some nutritional value.

I have a standard bowl that I know meets all of my food allergy needs, so I ticked all the appropriate boxes on the custom order form and handed it to the young lady at the cash register. A moment later, she informed me they were out of brown rice - the foundation of my meal.

Having pushed myself far beyond any reasonable point while on course at Tally in the Valley and being far too tired, hungry and sore to cope with any adversity at this point, I came freakin' unglued. Rather than understanding that they were approaching their closing time and might reasonably be expected to have run out of some items, or finding a subsitution (rice noodles should have been acceptable), I hurled some obscenities and threw my order form at the poor girl, snapping at her to dispose of it as I turned and hobbled out of the store.

Pictured: someone who clearly should not have been allowed out in public.

We went to another location and I was able to get my order, but the damage was done - I knew I'd behaved like the absolute worst sort of person, and while I did have excuses there is never a legitimate reason to treat someone the way I did.

I felt terrible about it, and resolved to apologize to the girl the next time I saw her. Since they had closed while we procured food from the other location, I couldn't do so right away, but figured I'd catch her there soon; we stop in at least once a week, as it's just about the only take-out food that I'm able to eat.

We tried the following Sunday, around the same time. We've been there most Thursday evenings for months now, but never while that particular person was working. All the while, it gnawed on me that I'd treated someone so shabbily for something that wasn't their fault, though over the weeks it faded to an occasional thought at the back of my mind.

Last night, we stopped in for our usual Thursday evening I-cook-from-scratch-every-other-day-of-the-week, give-me-something-easy dinner. Lo and behold, someone who looked remarkably like the same young lady was at the till - she seemed to be the only one working that evening, and it was once again within an hour of closing. I filled out my custom order form and placed my order, not totally sure I was facing the same person.

Regardless, as she passed our order over the counter and turned to walk back to the cash register, I asked her for a moment. I told her that I thought it was her that had been working all the way back on July 29th when I behaved absolutely reprehensibly, and watched her eyes go wide. She said she had wondered if it was me, and I confirmed and told her I was very sorry. While I had been up for 30+ hours, run a very long way, and was in enough pain I could barely walk, there is no excuse for treating anyone as I had. She kindly said it was no problem, and not to worry about it...but at the same time, she remembered the incident, so clearly it had stuck in her mind as well.

When we got our orders home I noticed that my assortment of veggies on my bowl looked a little light-handed - not enough to complain, but certainly the bare minimum amounts that could pass. I wondered if it had been a jab - conscious or not - at the horrible person who'd snapped and cursed at her 4 months (to the very day) beforehand. If it was subconscious, I hope I was able to put that simmering resentment to rest, as that's a horrible thing to have bestowed on another person.

As we head into a hectic season that will bring most of us in contact with many people who make their living by serving the general public, I invite you to use me as a cautionary example. While you may be feeling the effects of pressure and strain in your life, it costs nothing to show respect and kindness to those around you. When you fail to do so, take ownership of the wrong you have done and put in some effort to make amends. It may be a small incident in the grand scheme of things, but there's no reason you can't try to be better - both for your own peace of mind and for the good of those around you.

It sure feels good to get that monkey off my back.
Now, if I can just work on this one..

Have a wonderful weekend, folks, and be good to each other out there!

When failure is not an option

We were on our way out to Frontenac to go backpacking and I was scrolling through facebook when I came across the post: a friend had fallen and bruised or cracked a rib at Seaton Soaker, and was now unable to guide a visually impaired athlete at Sulphur Springs for lap 1 of his first 50 mile race. She hoped that one of her friends might step up and offer to guide in her place.

Through stunning Dundas Valley Conservation Area

I'm still injured, and not running much. I had taped my quads up just to get through the backpacking trip. First lap would mean getting up at 2:45am, and I've never guided a visually impaired runner before. I had every reason to just keep scrolling, but (after wandering the whole idea past dear, sweet, ever-patient Tanker), I put the offer out there that I'd attempt guiding for the first time if the runner was ok with me being a bit slow and inexperienced.

What can I say? I love Dundas Valley, and I was still smarting from having to back out on pacing a friend for 2 laps of her first 100 mile attempt at Sulphur. I'd had to tell her back in late April (to give her as much time as possible to find a replacement) that I didn't think I'd be good to go after messing up my right leg running through the ice storm, and I felt horrible about it - helping another athlete felt like a bit of vindication. We'd be done early enough in the day to still make it to our farmers' market (as we'd already missed a couple of weeks due to Seaton and the Frontenac trip), and I was reasonably confident I could do a single 20k lap on much less technical trail after managing 34km at Seaton Soaker.

Tim - the visually impaired runner who would be making his 50 mile debut - accepted my offer, and we messaged a bit over the week before the race. I was so incredibly nervous about this; what had I done? I'm injured, have never guided before, and don't have much in the way of run fitness.

But, it wasn't my race. It was Tim's, which meant failure was not an option. I did the best I could to ensure I'd be good to go on race day: I ran easy on Wednesday to keep my legs decently fresh while still giving my injury a couple of days to recover, tried to get some sleep, and then slapped on most of a roll of kinesio tape Saturday morning to try to hold myself together.

Srsly.

Up well before the crack of dawn, I had a bowl of oatmeal with some Pick Your Poison honey for whatever running mojo it might provide (it had worked at Seaton!), grabbed coffee and breakfast for long-suffering Tanker (who agreed to a 3:45am wake-up call for this. What an amazing guy!) at T Ho's along the way, and arrived at Dundas Valley by 5am. The usual pre-race things happened, including chats and hugs with friends out racing, crewing and pacing, and a portajohn stop.

By 5:30am, I'd managed to find Tim and we went over a few last-minute things, like introducing ourselves, sorting out a bib for me (Achilles Canada hadn't managed to get him any Guide Runner bibs, so I had to go find myself a pacer bib...which turned out to be very much self-serve at that time of day, since other racers wouldn't be allowed pacers until after 8pm), and learning a bit more about his visual impairment. He suffers from severely reduced peripheral vision, so he can see...but only as much as you would looking down a toilet paper roll, or less. As he put it to me: "If I look at your nose, I can't see your left eye".

Very happy Sulphur is mostly a non-technical course.

Mostly.

I said I wanted a photo before the start, when he didn't yet have any reason to hate me.

I decided to wear my hydration pack, as I knew it would let me carry enough water and fuel that I wouldn't need to stop at any aid stations on my single 20k lap - that way Tim could stop whenever he needed, but I wouldn't slow him down by having to fill my usual hand bottle at each aid station along the way. After getting Tim's drop bag settled where it should be easy to find, one more quick dodge into the trees to adjust my hydration levels, and flailing my limbs around a bit to get them used to the idea of moving, it was time to head to the starting line.

Tim told me not to be nervous. I laughed a little at that, since the prospect of having someone else's safety in my hands had me more twitched about that race than I had been for an event in years...and technically I wasn't even racing!

We lined up at the back of the pack, and at 6:01am the horn sounded. We were off!

Photo from the Running Rarebits

Guiding turned out to be less difficult than I'd feared, but I wouldn't exactly call it easy. Anyone who has ever talked to me for 5mins will know that I have zero trouble prattling on endlessly, but I also tend to wander quite a bit conversationally and can hardly ever remember what the heck I was on about 10 seconds ago if I get distracted. So, chatting with Tim was quite easy - he's a nice, quite cheerful fellow who makes for good company on the trails - but I had to keep myself on target with calling out roots, rocks, uneven sections (like potholes in gravel, or a step up to cross a road), and the inevitable piles of horse apples that are a somewhat unique feature of the Dundas Valley trails.

On the main loop, heading for the Monarch Trail

Because I'd have to interrupt myself every minute or two along the way, I'm sure I left dozens of conversations hanging simply because I couldn't recall what we'd been talking about before I had to mention there was a root left, horse poop right, or a root well - 8 steps up - in 3, 2, 1..

I'm not terribly shit-together at the best of times, and turn into even more of an idiot when I'm running. Frankly, it's pretty amazing Tim didn't just tell me he'd take his chances going solo on the trails - I can hardly put up with myself.

..and my terrible habit of taking photos while I'm supposed to be running.

As advertised: horse poop right.

Arriving at the Sulphur Creek crossover to the runners' bridge, we had the trickiest part of the course in front of us. While Tim and the lady who was to be his guide for the second lap had done a training run on the course a few weeks prior, they'd been unable to locate the narrow little trail that dives down a small ravine via a series of rooty, muddy steps. In the interest of safety I suggested that Tim take my elbow - his preferred method of guiding through technical sections when you're forced to a walk - and that turned out to be a very good thing. I was so busy trying to describe the tangle of roots and slippery mud that I forgot the all-important call of "DEATH TO THE LEFT". Tim stepped a bit off the trail, his left foot sliding away down the muddy 40' drop, and my heart leapt into my throat - we weren't even at 6k yet and I was going to lose him down the ravine! Fortunately his hand on my elbow enabled him to pull himself back up and get both feet on the trail, and we had fairly smooth sailing from there on in.

Straight talk: this ain't easy even with fully functional eyesight.

Trail conditions - other than the mud on the rooty dive down to Sulphur Creek and a million small sticks and pinecones from the windstorm -were actually fabulous for race day. It was almost all hardpacked, and the rest of the course is mostly challenging due to the elevation change. It would, however, be made all the more difficult by the ever-increasing heat. I felt like a genius for snagging the first and likely coolest lap of the day to guide in spite of the ridiculously early wake-up. I made sure that Tim was taking in fuel and hydration, though I was pretty poor in that area myself - I only had 2 sips of diluted EFS Liquid Shot, a caffeinated sea salt chocolate Gu Roctane (near the end to keep me sharp), a couple of S!caps and a little more than a litre of water the whole time I was out there - call it 250cal total. Still, I only had the one lap, and would be done before the heat of the day really set in.

Probably why I could smile my way up the climbs while my runner was much more stoic

It was only in the last few kilometers, as we climbed to the top of the Headwaters Trail lollipop, that the heat started to become a factor. The morning's overcast had burned off, with bright sun shining down on the three sisters and the top of the loop.

The first sister

Here's where Tim's amazing outlook on life really crystallized for me. As the sun shone down through the trees he commented that he loves the dappled light in the forest, having grown up mountain biking, hiking and cross-country skiing the trails at Dundas Valley. I told him it was one of my favourite things as well, but that the only other visually impaired runner I know really hates it because it completely obliterates her view of the trail. Tim told me that it's very much the same for him - the shifting patches of light obscure any chance he has of seeing contours or obstacles - but that he loves it nonetheless. If that's not a beautiful statement about finding joy even while you struggle, I don't know what is.

Coming out into the open on top of the lollipop, our only reward was blazing sun as the last of the clouds ran away.

The last sister may be the smallest, but she still packs a punch.

Fortunately there was a self-serve water station with actual CUPS at the top; the rest of the aid stations had taken the admirable step of going cupless this year in an effort to be more environmentally friendly, but the cups allowed me to help Tim bring his rising internal temperature down a bit by pouring a cup of water down his back and over his head (after making sure he was on board with the idea first, of course!). Then we trotted along the rutted double track before the long cruise back down the hill we'd just climbed on the other side of the lollipop, and ran back out to Martin Road. 

Just one climb left to the end of the loop, but man - it's a doozy.

I still can't believe I did this 5 times in one day last year.

I was very happy to bring my runner in upright and un-damaged - I'd feared the worst before the start, and the slip-up on the Sulphur Creek crossover hadn't been very confidence inspiring, but other than a couple of stumbles everything seemed to go fairly smoothly. My ankle felt awful and had since about 30mins into the race, but I'd made it through ok by just ignoring it; failure was not an option. I knew that I was starting to lapse into silence more and more, mostly just because I'm generally a solo runner and tend to spend a lot of time in my own head while I run - I don't think I'd have been a safe guide for a second lap even if my ankle and run fitness would have allowed me to continue, as it was a bit mentally taxing to keep myself upright and moving (gawd knows I've gone down HARD both times I've raced Sulphur myself!) plus ensure I was calling all the obstacles. Tim was very kind, though, saying that if I hadn't told him it was my first time guiding he never would have known I wasn't experienced at it.

Whether or not that was true, it was sweet of him to say.

He'd originally said he wanted to come in around 3 hours per lap, so I was delighted to see 2h59m on the clock at the start/finish as we ran through the sea of pylons and across the timing mats.

Full lap data available here

Of course, I forget that the fluorescent orange cones marking the course may be obvious to me, but may not appear in someone else's reduced field of vision. Poor Tim nearly tripped over a pylon on the way to find the lady who would guide him through his next lap because I failed to warn him he was about to step on one! Fortunately he stayed upright; just like my dumb arse to nearly get him hurt right at the end of his time in my care.

We found Tim's second guide and directed him to his drop bag so he could refuel, then after a hug I let him get on with his race. Unfortunately some issues that sound horribly similar to my awful experience at Vulture Bait in 2015 robbed Tim of his first 50 mile finish - his knee got progressively more sore, preventing him from being able to run downhill and then finally locking up completely at aid station #3 on his third lap - but he's an amazing fellow and I know that he'll be successful in the future, because he clearly has strength and determination to overcome any obstacles.

For myself, I was grateful my injury still allowed me to run, and to be part of something bigger than myself. I was furthermore grateful to have the opportunity to tour gorgeous Dundas Valley on a beautiful day, to help a friend, and to make a new one. While I do treasure my solo time out on the trails, I would absolutely volunteer to guide again if I was asked, or if a similar need arose.

To commemorate the occasion, I even bought one of the 2018 Sulphur Springs hats (from the extras left over after all of the participants had picked up their race kits, which included a hat instead of a tshirt for this year), which I duly wore on my next run and will continue to wear with pride.

The only thing better than running a lovely trail is being able to help someone else while doing it.

As in my other experiences, the Sulphur Springs races were incredibly well organized and executed. We will miss Tim and Andrea as race directors - you have set the bar so very high for your successors, and we hope to see you out in the woods again soon!

Shedding expectations

Seaton Soaker is tomorrow. I'm registered for the 50k - by the time I even tried to drop down to the 25k, I was told none of my registration fee would transfer and I'd have to pay full whack for entry into the 25k. Given that I'm on the hook for a couple of thousand dollars worth of storm damage, extra expenditures just aren't on the menu.

Because of this.

Just to add to the fun, I got a call from our neighbour up the street just before I left work on Friday to tell me about this:

Yikes.

Fortunately, since we're the house on the far left, there was no damage and we don't have to worry about getting rid of the enormous pine tree - it belongs to the neighbour two doors down, and the neighbour in the middle enlisted the younger generation of his family to clean it all up.

Less fortunately..

Oh, bloody hell..

Yep, the OTHER tree in our backyard failed to withstand the winds clocked at a maximum of 122kph - torn right up by its roots, landing on the roof of the neighbour behind us. The tree straddles our property line, so we don't have much choice but to contribute something to the cost of its removal. We were very lucky that we didn't sustain any damage, especially since our awesome canoe was sitting in its cradle along the fence to the right of the root ball. That fence was torn right off its moorings when the tree toppled - tilting precariously into our yard - and the canoe was resting on the roots when we got home.

You can actually see the hole that Bob had to include for the tree when he built the new fence a couple of years ago.

I did manage to get a nice ride in down to the market on Saturday morning - some kind people had been hard at work while I still slumbered, clearing a path for us late risers.

It was a beautiful morning.

We did our shopping and came home, had some brunch, then while we digested Tanker pulled out a ladder to check our roof for loose shingles - we'd seen a lot of bare patches on people's houses in our area when we went for a stroll on Friday evening. Ours was ok; apparently the new roof we had put on in 2012 was pretty solidly built.

I figured that while we were still digesting - before I headed out for a run on some technical trail to see if I was going to be able to handle Seaton at all - we should make a start on clearing out our crushed pop can of a shed. We got everything parceled out down the side of the house (being basically out of space in the backyard between a giant root ball, the new shed sitting in boxes on a pallet, and the canoe resting up against said boxes) and covered it all with a tarp anchored to the chain link fence. 

Then, well...I grabbed a screwdriver..

..and suddenly things started coming apart.
Yes, in a dress and Birkenstocks.

We worked all afternoon, dismantling the probably-at-least-20-year-old aluminum beast with a screwdriver, box wrench, pliers, and (on 2 or 3 occasions when things were too rusted to budge) a chop saw.

If you think building a shed is tough, try taking one apart not knowing how it went together.

By the time 7pm rolled around, we were both exhausted and never wanted to see another screw in our entire lives.

This is only about half of them - the rest went into an old mug we found in the shed whilst cleaning it out.

We had been victorious, though - all that remained was the rotten wooden floor and foundation, which we figured could wait for another day.

There was no run.

Since we wanted to get the path cleared to remove the rest of the tree behind the shed when the arborists were by to get the other tree off Bob's roof, Sunday morning brought brunch, sunshine, and crowbar time.

No dress and sandals this time, though I emerged from the shed destruction miraculously unharmed..

The rotting plywood sheets actually came up more easily than expected, and were stacked off to the side for disposal.

The broken, decrepit skids on which the shed had been built by the previous owners of our house came up next, along with all the bricks and assorted other items (like weight plates, pop cans and other junk) they'd thoughtfully included in the foundation.

Just spanky.

Then things got a little serious. The roots of the Manitoba maple that dropped its trunk on the shed during the ice storm had surfaced over the years, shoving the patio stone that sat in front of the doors of the old shed several inches into the air and posing a serious impediment to leveling out the foundation for a new shed.

They had to go.

So I made them disappear.

By 4pm I'd chopped no less than five sections of root, most approximately two feet long by six inches thick, and had been swinging an axe for almost 2 hours straight. I was thoroughly knackered and we needed to run some errands before the shops closed, but our mission was accomplished.

No more shed, but also no run.

With the shed completely removed, we contacted the tree service who had brought down and limbed the original fallen chunk and asked them to come by to remove the rest of the tree. We were told we'd have to wait 2-3 weeks, but actually came home to a pleasant surprise last night:

That's a lot of wood.

Sad to see the trees go, but happy they can't do any more damage.

Not having run since Wednesday, I duly packed up kit and brought it to work with me for a lunch run on Monday, with aching shoulders and hamstrings from my exertions over the weekend. I got changed just before leaving the office, and did my usual pre-run warmup.

It didn't go well.

Whatever is wrong with my right leg hadn't really improved over the weekend, and something in my ankle got very, very angry with me when I tried to do knee-wall touches.

Everything from the knee down was basically on fire.

So once again - there was no run. I went for a walk in my running kit.

..and you can see exactly how happy I was about that.

I haven't run since, either. I saw my osteopath (for the last time this year, since my benefits have run out) on Monday evening and he had at my damaged leg with no holds barred - I yelped a few times under his bear-trap hands and nearly levitated off the table a few times. But, between the manipulations and some shockwave therapy on my lower leg and ankle, things got a bit looser. There was measurable improvement by Tuesday morning, though I still have a great deal of pain trying to lift my right heel from the ground. Not super optimal.

I've done nothing but walk and swim (once, on Tuesday evening) this week, with a little easy-going bike ride on Thursday evening just to spin my legs a bit. Acknowledging that part of the problem seems to be some weakness in my hips and glutes (despite having done dedicated hip and glute work 4 times a week for the last few years), I've been trying some new exercises to wake them up and get them firing as they should...which has left my butt really sore since Tuesday morning.

Oh yeah, and they made it longer for this year, too.

I only did some mobility yoga on Thursday morning and I'm taking today fully off (well, maybe a short walk..) in hopes that things will heal up before the starting gun tomorrow, but not having run in a week and a half I have no idea what to expect once I'm out on the trail.

It may be a short run, it may be a long power hike, and it will almost certainly end up in a DNF. My only real hope is that I don't do any catastrophic damage, as we've got a backpacking trip next weekend to which we've been looking forward for months now.

And adventures with this guy are far too much fun to miss!

I realised last night that I was approaching this in totally the wrong way, though. I had somewhat been dreading this race, because it's assuredly going to hurt, and be a bit of a slog...but then I figured out just how lucky I am to even be able to line up at the start and go for a traipse along through the trilliums.

Photo by Ken Niemimaa from the Seaton Soaker facebook page

So, I'm going to try to just enjoy myself out there. Yes, it's supposed to rain. Yes, I'm going in injured. No, I don't have much hope of finishing the race...but I always have plenty of time for a lovely walk in the woods, and I'm grateful to have the chance to do so. I'll take some tasty food along, plus my poles (if they'll let me; I haven't got an answer to my inquiry yet) to help me if I get too gimpy, and a warm jacket in a waterproof stuff sack in case I end up having to spend some time with the lovely folks at an aid station while waiting for a ride back to the start. Tanker will be out at the Bridge aid station, being his amazing self and checking up on me as the day goes on. If I start with a poor attitude, I miss out on the simple joy of a journey through mud and water (especially as we now do the river crossing each way on the out-and-back course), over hill and dale, with friendly faces out on the trail and spring bursting forth all around.

I mean, really...how bad could it be?