directionally challenged

Home is the Mountains

I didn’t want to call him. Big Ring was expecting it; I know he was. He didn’t say he was, but the implication was there. “This is the way you need to go,” he said, his eyes boring into mine. “These are the roads you want to be on,” he emphasized, sloooowly. “Do you know where you’re going? Do you know where you’re going to turn around? Do you know your landmarks,” he asked, the volume of his voice increasing with every new question. And finally, “I’ll be around for an hour or so if you need me,” he called out as I was shutting the door behind me. Big Ring isn’t usually this over-protective. I have a history of getting lost; no matter how detailed the directions, 98 per cent of the time, I somehow get completely twisted around on the road, and in the mind. I’ve done it …

Home is the Mountains Read More »

Direction by committee

(Note: I am seriously behind on blog posts; this one should have been posted Sunday or Monday. Please send all your complaints to the Douglas College chemistry department.) You say tomato, I say tomAto. This is the map of the route we were supposed to run Sunday. This is the map of the route we actually ran Sunday. Pretty much totally the same. Yes folks, the lost runner in me struck again. But hey, a few added hills never hurt anyone right… right? As one of my favourite running chicks noted, we weren’t lost, we were exploring. Two hours in the trails – just look at this beauty! And with a water station on route, we were totally set – lost or not! SUNDAY RUN DAY: 8:45 a.m. BG before: 6.7 Carbs: banana + dried apricots 30 min b/f and 15 min b/f (no bolus) Temp. basal: -50 per cent; …

Direction by committee Read More »

White rabbits

I was promised sun. I was told if I ran UP, there would be sun. Warm sun. Bright sun. Glowing sun. Big Ring had spent all Sunday morning up at the road hockey courts, and he assured me the entire game was under the watchful eye of Mr. Sun. You don’t need your running fleece, he said. You don’t need your running gloves, he chortled. Your winter socks? Your ear warmers? Nah, you don’t need those. It’s going to be sunny! But when I looked out the window, all I could see was nothing. A cold, thick, creepy grey haze of nothing. The fog was so incredibly thick and unmoving, it was hard to believe any sun rays could break through that. But Big Ring assured me there was sun to be found. So, the running fleece, gloves and winter socks all stayed home. (I wasn’t yet ready to leave …

White rabbits Read More »

Notes of a long run

When you run for more than 1.5 hours, things happen. Good things. Bad things. Wretched things. Wonderful things. These are a few of the things that happened to me on Friday’s long run. 1. DIABETES RUNNING EXPERIMENT: Instead of running with my insulin pump latched to my shorts’ waistband, which is annoying as heck feeling as though your shorts are gonna be pulled down at any moment, I decided to try and wear it on my fuel belt. I brought the pump and its tubing up through the top of my shirt and had Big Ring latch it onto the back of the belt between the water bottles. And you know what, I didn’t think about it, didn’t feel it, didn’t get annoyed by it once. Brilliant! 2. BURNED BY GEL:So remember how last week I was singing the praises of Vega’s sport gel? Well folks, it didn’t take long …

Notes of a long run Read More »

Never Eat Soggy Weiners my butt

I knew something wasn’t right, could feel it in my bones, my legs, my feet. But I kept going … and going … and going. I had directions, Big Ring directions, which for most people probably border on the obsessive with the amount of detail in them, but for me are a necessity. You see, I get lost. A lot. It doesn’t matter how often I have walked, ran, cycled or driven an area, I will inevitably get turned around re-seeking that area. I get lost in the town I grew up in,  the town I currently live in, heck, I even get lost trying to find my way home again. Directions have absolutely no meaning to me, I don’t trust GPS’, I can’t read maps, and seriously, what the heck is up with that Never Eat Soggy Weiners compass cross that you learned about in Grade 3 – it doesn’t …

Never Eat Soggy Weiners my butt Read More »