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This morning I woke up with every excuse as to why I couldn’t go running: my head hurt, my body ached, my lower back was kinked, I was tired. But when Mario broached the idea of having waffles for breakfast, and when I said no, that, right there, sealed the deal. I was eating oatmeal; I was going out for a run. It was my first real outdoor run (last week’s analysis doesn’t count) and for the most part I felt good, although my legs were a little heavy at first, and I kept worrying about my form, and kept checking in on the feeling around my knees, but as soon as my iPod clicked over to Jesus of Suburbia, – nine minutes of pure, hard, go-get-em rock music – I was in the zone. THE WORKOUT: New Westminster Quay Boardwalk (my Garmin got a little confused, (maybe because it […]

I went out for dinner tonight with a great girlfriend of mine, and I think I may have finally figured out the pasta scene in regards to the whole dinner out carb-counting guessing game. I had taggliatelli (sp?) funghi, filled with a whole lot of yummy mushrooms. I also had three glasses of a Tuscany chianti, and because I still haven’t figured out how to count wine, I decided to not count any carbs for it, and correct later if I needed to – but I didn’t! Baby steps 🙂 Lately I’ve been thinking about all the crazy things I’ve done since I started running, and there have been a plenty. But probably the most zaniest, wackiest, craziest thing I’ve ever done for the love of running – even crazier than the evil orange plastic ball – is the Vibram 5 Fingers. The 5 Fingers, also known as toe shoes, are

What would you save if your house were on fire? Your wedding photos? Family heirlooms? Laptop? Bike? For me, none of the above. At about 4:30 a.m. this morning, Mario and I were awoken to an ear-piercing roar of a noise blaring through our condo. We jumped out of bed; I had no idea what was going on, or where the heck this noise was coming from. We quickly learned that it was the smoke alarm, and so Mario shut it off (oh yeah, we’re safe like that) but the blaring continued outside in the hallway. Mario speculated that someone probably just yanked on the fire alarm, which was enough of a reason for me to climb back into bed and throw the pillow and covers over my head, trying my best to drown out the deafening noise. Mario, being the great journalist that he is, went to investigate. A

I’m back baby! My sneakers hit the pavement on Sunday and the treadmill today, and oh what a pleasant surprise it was to feel no pain! None. Nada. Zilch. My physio gave me the go-ahead to start running again last week, as my body was all in alignment again, my aches and pains had eased somewhat, and my limbs had pretty much been on bed rest for a good two months. I was planning on waiting until this coming Sunday to give myself a little more recovery padding, but, well, I just couldn’t do it … I was seriously like a kid on Christmas morning when he told me to give it a go; I could barely even wait the couple of days I actually did. But, as is the recurring theme of this blog, I want to do it right this time. So, on Sunday afternoon (before Turkey Time)

So I’m thinking it needs to be Easter/Thanksgiving Dinner about two, maybe even three, times a week – it was the motivation I needed to get my butt down into the gym! How, I ask you, do the gym rats do it? I just cannot seem to muster up the enthusiasm to slog away on the elliptical trainer or the stairmaster or – “yawn” – the stationary bike for hours, let alone 30 minutes. But I must do it. I must, I must, I must. See, I made a nasty little promise to myself, not too long ago, that I was going to to embark on a full-scale training program this time around, not just running. That means cross-training, core (not such a fan of ab work either) and, yes, facing those damn dreaded weights too! Mind you, I’m not really doing so hot on that promise; yesterday was like