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It has been 51 days, or if you prefer 7 weeks and 4 days since my marathon, and in those days and weeks I have run a total of 7 km give or take, not really a whole heck of a lot if you ask me. And yet, for some strange reason, I felt compelled to sign myself up for the Resolution Run on New Years Day, which in itself could be considered crazy, but the fact that I haven’t been on the road much should be somewhat concerning don’t you think? Mind you, it is only a 5 km race and I can run 5 km in my sleep. But in the same token, it’s 5 km, I should be able to run 5 km at a nice speedy clip. But if I continue down this road of non running, I’m not going to be running very soundly New […]

Pilates rule number 1: Leave the foot phobias at home. I had my first  pilates session last night and I walked away with one thing very clear in my head: I am so going to have to get over my foot fears. That girl loved grabbing hold of my feet! When I walked into the studio, she warned me that if I had any comfort zone issues to let her know because otherwise she’d be grabbing hold of me and correcting me any which way was needed. I shrugged and told her I was good. But then she grabbed my feet. Oh. My. Gawd. I nearly screamed. I don’t like people looking at my feet for one, but touching them is a whole other story. Gross! Gross! Gross! And on top of that, I’m, uhm, a lot little on the ticklish side too! She told me to get over it.

I made a hearth! AND a festive Christmas arrangement! But hold up, let’s back up a second here, rewind. I am the most un-visually creative person on the face of this planet. While my fingers can glide me to creative brilliance in the writing realm, they do absolutely nothing for me in the crafty realm – my sister and big brothers got those skills. So un-crafty and so un-artsy I am, I nearly failed Grade 11 art, a class that for most people was a breeze, but for me, it was like being stuck in a whole other, most un-welcoming planet. That being said, though, I decided (on a whim) that this Christmas would be my crafty Christmas. You may recall how last week I went to a ladies night fundraiser with my girlfriend Shona and walked away with two kinds of sparkly Christmas flower type things. See Shona, she’s a

Second time was the charm. About a month ago, I signed up for a gait analysis workshop at a pilates studio in Kitsilano, which was being held this weekend. Because I want to do everything I possibly can to stay injury free when I start regularly running again, I figured this would be a good workshop for me as it was all about the biomechanics of the lower body, and seeing as how it’s my lower body enabling me to run, it seemed like a no brainer. But when I woke up Saturday morning, I was freaking out. And rightfully so. I woke up at 5:37 a.m. to a half-hour long coughing jag interspersed with me choking up massive amounts of grodies. I seriously thought my intestines were going to start shooting up through my lungs I was coughing so hard and I’m surprised I don’t have a six-pack given

A bookstore, a library, a table of once-loved, soon-to-be-loved-again, 25 cent books at the flea market is like the most decadent, melt in your mouth chocolate in the world for me. As far back as I can remember, I’ve had a book in my hands, whether it be the Velveteen Rabbit, or one of the tales from the Kids at the Polk Street School, or anything Nick Hornby. I’ve fallen in love with the Mr. Darcys,  cried with the Ponyboys, reveled in revenge with the Cannies. I found pop culture with Nick Hornby, and found a confidante in the third book of the Babysitters Club with Stacy, one of the babysitters who was diagnosed with diabetes in that particular book, a book I still so clearly remember today more than 20 years after reading it. I happily get lost in libraries, bookstores, the book section in Costco, and can spend