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Dear Alex Burrows, As you should very well know (given the hundreds of love  fan letters I’ve written to your bud Ryan Kesler, and before him Jovo and Linden) I have long been a Vancouver Canucks fan. Not once have I jumped off the bandwagon like most Vancouverites are akin to do – not once. Not when Bure left town. Not during the West Coast Express letdown. Not during the many failed attempts against the likes of Jonathon Toews, Brent Seabrook and that oh-so-cocky Patrick Kane. I stood by you guys, thick and thin, I didn’t throw Luongo to the wolves when pucks were getting by him like water through a sieve, I stood up for him. I stood up for all you. But last night, Mr. Burrows, I almost gave up. For the first time in my Canucks loving history, I had almost had enough, was like a nose away […]

A 70 km ride one day followed up by a 23 km run the next equalled a brilliantly exhausting weekend that I’m still recovering from days later. Salted chocolate was just what the doctor ordered! Happy Easter my friends. This holiday weekend, as they usually tend to be, was a bit of a whirlwind which included cycling, running, eating birthday cake with friends, an early morning conversation – which never happens! – a chocolate egg hunt, a baker’s meltdown, the lip-smacking, piece de resistance stuffing and ham dinner with my most favourite people in the world, and a major Vancouver Canucks’ playoff letdown. How was your Easter weekend? SATURDAY’S RUN: 11:15 a.m. BG before: 7.1 (4 sharkies, no bolus) Temp. basal: -50 per cent (2 hours) Distance: 23 km (LSD) Average pace: 6:38 min/km Average heart rate: 165 bpm Time: 2:32.25 @45 min: GU gel. @90 minutes: GU gel. @1:45:

Try and snub me now roadies, I dare you, I double dog dare you! Helmet ? Ryders ? Jersey ? Arm warmers ? Gloves ? Padded cycling shorts ? Road bike ? Clip-in shoes ? Two weekends ago I bought my very first pair of clip-in shoes and today was the first opportunity I had of using them outside. The shoes were the last accessory I needed to conquer that oh-so-coveted, and yet so snobbishly reserved roadie wave. For three years now I’ve been doing everything in my power to get that wave, but for three years I’ve been snubbed. Sure I’d get the odd one here and there, but for the most part, them roadies made it as though I didn’t even exist. I waved, nothing. I smiled, nothing. I made eye contact, nothing. Snobs, I say, snobs! But I would not be deterred, oh no. It was a

I almost didn’t make it, was totally going to quit, my shins were screaming at me to stop, burning like they were a pig on a spit, and I’d only gone 1.5 km – this was not going to be a good run. It didn’t help that it was preceded by a major traffic jam on the highway that took me an hour and 15 minutes to get from the office to my brother’s house; a drive that should have only taken 20 minutes. Why are we paving the highway at rush hour? As mentioned yesterday I had planned on running 10 km, but my legs had other ideas. They wanted to lie on the couch, or soak in the tub, or even sit at the blogging desk – they did not want to run. And if the shins on fire weren’t bad enough, my form was majorly off. I was slapping

Ahh perfection, you really aren’t so perfect after all. I walked into my specialist’s office this morning and he was beaming, literally beaming, with the results of my 6.7 HGa1C three-month BG average. “These are great numbers,” he said, “can’t get much better than these numbers,” he said. And then, just like that, he flipped the switch. Being the super smart endocrinologist that he is, he knew that my blood sugars haven’t consistently been in the 6.0 range, nah, I’m not that perfect. “How many lows have you been experiencing?” he asked. Dammit! Yes, I am a low blood sugar kind of girl. With the amount of exercise I do, and the not-quite perfect calculations I make, my blood sugars like to hang around the bottom of the pool. My guess, and I don’t know this for sure, but given the line of questioning from my doc, is that average