San Francisco

We run…

Two years ago today, I was doing this: With the bestest, most favourite running chicks EVER: Today, I’m doing a little of this … again: Remember these shoes: Well, it seems, these shoes, these beautiful looking New Balance 860 running sneakers, of which I won in a Canadian Running contest a few months back (along with a sports bra, shirt and shorts… love the shirt, like the bra and shorts) are the latest to cause me injury… or close to injury. Following last week’s autumnal run, the first since my half marathon, the heel of my left foot was super tender. I’d had something similar in the spring, not the sharp, searing, tearing pain of plantar fasciitis, but just tenderness, of which ice and rest did the trick. I’m hoping for the same with this one here, but nearly one week post run and I’m still feeling tenderness and random …

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A feast without poison

Brrrr! I’d forgotten what it was like to run in the snow! On Monday, Big Ring, Little Ring and I went for an evening run. It was Big Ring’s first run of the season; Little Ring’s first run ever; and my first run with a stroller… mind you, Big Ring took the reins on that front, so in this post we’ll focus on the snow. Excited to be cross training for the upcoming cycling season I knew it had snowed, I’d gotten a morning text from Big Ring stating just that, I’d heard on the radio there was snow, and Facebook, my gawd, it was like scroll for the snow. But because I hadn’t stepped out of the loft all day, that snow didn’t fully register when dressing for the run. I dressed just as I’d been dressing for all my other runs: One base layer, plus an extra wicking …

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The other side of San Francisco

I had a blog topic all planned out for tonight, and it was a good one too, but then I had to go and scrape the back of my car into the back of another chick’s car while leaving Pilates, and now, well, my mind’s not exactly in the right place. So, tonight my friends a San Francisco photo story you shall get and a bucket of ice cream I shall get. It wasn’t all about the blue box: SF skyline. It only took me 10 minutes to find my name WAY up there. Route map at Niketown. Triplets of Runnersville take on SF! Pre-race wine, oh yes please! Big, fat, lonely sea lion. Bay Bridge. Golden Gate Bridge. Favourite running chicks enjoying a post-race Bay cruise. Can’t go to San Francisco and NOT have California bad-boy wine. Twilight at the Ferry Market. And that was San Francisco. Thank you …

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San Francisco: stairway to heaven

The hills were unavoidable. It didn’t matter how much I tried to block my eyes, avert my eyes, shut my eyes, in San Francisco, I was surrounded by hills. And not mole hills. Oh no, these suckers were straight up, stomach in your gut, oh my god, what I have I gotten myself into hills. Lombard Street: One of the world’s crookedest streets featuring eight tight switchbacks, which were designed out of necessity as most vehicles in 1922 could not ascend the 27% grade! On most occasions, I am not a fan of knowing the route of my races or even my long runs before heading out. I don’t want to know if I’ll be having to run rolling hills, or descend down stairway to heaven hills, I don’t want to know if one of my running partners has picked a route that I hate or a route that bores …

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