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If you’d all indulge me a moment, I’d like to start off this entry with a small note to our dear friends at Canadian Running magazine, just a small one, it’ll take no time at all really, so here goes: Dear Canadian Running, Thank you for once again being a complete and utter disappointment with your inadequate product and lazy journalism. Sincerely, Princess of Pavement Okay, so maybe we’re not friends 😉 When Canadian Running launched a few years ago, it pegged itself as “Canada’s version of Runner’s World.” I kid you not, I was at an expo where the sales dude sold me on that pitch alone. But that, in a sentence, was simply a load of crock! The one-year subscription I had with the magazine brought me no insight into the sport, its features were poor, and the product itself looked bush league. I think the only thing […]

Unlike most of my Sunday runs, yesterday’s was a solo outing, which I guess could be considered a good thing if you look at it as preparation for race day where none of my favourite running chicks will be. But yesterday, still five weeks away from race day, my running chicks were sorely missed. Probably most noticeably in my pacing. Because one of my running chicks was in Disneyland racing in her 9th half of the year (did I mention she’s crazy?) and the other was just outside of Spokane, visiting one of my all-time favourite running chicks who moved back there a couple of weeks ago, I decided that yesterday’s run would be one of the rare occasions where I would hit up Vancouver (eliminating the 45-minute drive to Abbotsford in exchange for a 30-minute Skytrain ride to  downtown … sorry gals, but I much prefer that commute) and

Do you believe in fate? kismet? perfect timing? After yesterday, I’m thinking I do. A co-worker of mine decided that yesterday would be the day that he started dropping sections of the Globe on my desk again. For years he’s been doing it, but for the last few weeks, he’s kind of slacked off. I have no idea why he decided yesterday would be the day to start up again, but regardless it turned into an act of perfect timing. Every week the Life section of the Globe focuses on running, and yesterday’s feature – Mind over marathon – was all about overcoming the marathon jitters, or as I like to call it marathon mental madness. And given that I had pretty much been freaking out for almost a week about my marathon (some days more so than others) this article couldn’t have come at a better time. The article suggests

The hills tonight, they were exactly what my legs AND my brain needed. After an unnervingly rough day, I was in desperate need of something to pound out my frustration. And while I didn’t have a punching bag, I did have hills. It’s pretty amazing what something as simple as a run can do for your spirits. When I arrived at the lake to meet up with my peeps, I had no desire to be there, no desire to talk to anyone, no desire to put on a facade of friendly. I did, however, have a nasty scowl on my face and a burning fury in my belly. It’s actually quite shocking that everyone around me weren’t running away screaming like banshees in fear! But by the third hill, with my legs and arms furiously pumping, and my eyes stone-cold focused on the hill’s crest, my mood finally shifted. The

I may very well have learned a valuable lesson: moms know best … sometimes (Hey! I never said I wasn’t stubborn in my ways ;)) So my moms has been trying to push The Secret down my throat for years now, but, with all due respect, I’ve fought her tooth and nail on it. And rightfully so, it totally plays into that whole dirty hippie, peace, love and happiness blah, blah, blah that I’ve been trying to avoid for as long as I can remember. My mom bought me the book, it went into the drawer. She stuffed a daily calendar of it in my Christmas stocking, it got stuffed into another stocking the following year. But yesterday, my moms may finally have won the battle. She’s ruthless, I tell you. She knew, like moms do, that her daughter was in a vulnerable state, and she so took advantage of