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Whooah, we’re halfway there, Whoa-oh livin’ on a prayer, Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear, Whoa-oh, livin’ on a prayer … ~ Livin’ on a Prayer, Jon Bon Jovi I grew up listening to my big sister blast this song from our bedroom every morning as she squeezed into her skin tight jeans and teased her hair to lengths that no hair should ever go. And somewhere along the line, long after my sis had grown out of the jeans and had let her hair fall naturally and had switched her musical tastes from the New Jersey boys to the Lenon-esque English classics, I kept listening. Livin’ on a Prayer has long been the anthem playing around in my head. I’ve sung it while climbing the Grouse Grind, running up hills in hill training, halfway through a race, and even during rough times while working a contract at […]

After four days of late nights and early mornings, and a plane ride home first thing this morning, the last thing I wanted to do was run. From the moment I woke up (at 5:30 a.m.!!!) I was thinking up every excuse in the book as to why I shouldn’t run: I’m tired. I’ve got a headache. It’s hot. I didn’t have a good fuel dinner last night. I don’t like running after lunch. Etc. Etc. But no matter how much I yawned, and no matter how much my eyes fought to stay open, that niggling, (possibly evil) little alter ego of mine would not let me crawl into bed. Sunday runs are not like the recovery run I missed on Thursday, the little devil told me, or the get-loose-and-limber run I missed on Saturday, they’re long distance runs, they build up my endurance. Mess with these runs, she said,

If they didn’t know it before, they damn well better know it now. I am a cyclist, start waving! In case you didn’t catch it, that last sentence had a note of bitterness tinging it, and rightfully so. Ever since I started cycling three years ago (after being off the bike for like 15 years) I have been working towards cycling respect, but have yet to fully gain it by way of the wave. According to Mario cyclists have a code (check out his blog on it here) and I have been trying to crack that code from day one. My first bike was a Dahon fold-up bike that, while it didn’t look like a road bike, it had all the necessary accoutrements that road bikes had – 24 gears and all. That bike took me all over the country roads, city roads and even 80 km out to Horseshoe

I’m not so sure this morning’s run was all that good for my legs, and feet too for that matter, but it was great for my mind. I was in a bit of a mood, to say the least, when I went out this morning at like 4:45 a.m. – I know!!! But I was having major issues sleeping, and since Mario had gotten up at 4 a.m. for the Tour (I did mention he’s psychotic, right?) I figured I might as well roll out of bed myself. I had a lot going on in my head, a lot of nastiness, and the second I started running, it was like I was trying to pound it all out through my feet, I’m surprised they’re not bruised. And my pace, good golly I was clipping away at like a 5:30 – a minute faster than I should have been. Thank goodness for

I don’t want to brag here (okay maybe I do) but my body, it’s a machine – and not a broken-down machine 😀 Yesterday morning Mario and I, and a buddy of ours, went for a bike ride out to Pitt Lake. I was a little nervous about the ride, given that I’ve really only ever ridden with Mario or by myself. What if I couldn’t keep up? Yes, despite cycling for three years now, I am still super self conscious, and maybe even a little overly competitive, about my riding, not wanting to be the “autobus” of the ride. My worries were not unfounded, I was, in fact, trailing the pack for the majority of the ride. Mind you, when Mario and Rich surged forward straight into a headwind with man-iron legs, as much as it was irking the hell out of me that I couldn’t do the same, I