Monthly Archives: March 2011

400! Sounds good…means nothing.

So although it seems I’ve gone AWOL in the blog world…I’ve been tres busy in the social butterflying world.  *Insert late ’90s “raise the roof” here*

Whaa, whaaat?

With two…count ’em…TWO dear couples getting hitched in the very near future, I’ve been lucky enough to get crack-a-lackin’ early with them in the celebration department.  A few PG highlights for your viewing pleasure…

The Boa's...yep, real people. Not models.

Maybe we do like giant feathers...and maybe we DO!!

Muffin and Madden lookin' all sorts of handsome

What do you mean this isn't CASH CAB?!?

"Something blue" shower for Dudes

Despite all of the fun, I have managed to maintain a somewhat regular running schedule (As expected, not as fun as hot pink feathers and martini bars) and have reached a (self-proclaimed) milestone…400km!!  Not quite 20%!!  Just under a quarter of the way to my goal!!  This seemed a lot more impressive before seeing it in writing…in hindsight, I probably should have held off on the announcement for a little longer.

Besides dancing, event planning, imbibing and running…I’ve been fundraising! Why you (and more often, my husband) ask?  Because I am a sucker.  My jumbo heart and stupid head are a dangerous combination.  And the people closest to me get to bear the brunt of it.  By giving me money.  You see I’ve signed myself and dear ol’ (sucker) Dudes up to take part in a 24 hour spinathon.  The good news is that we are part of a STELLAR team and only have to spin for our “shift”.  Which happens to be the 4am – 6:30am shift.  I’ll be lucky if Dudes is talking to me by next Sunday.  So stay tuned for that intriguing recap…I’m thinking it will involve coffee stories, fireman eye-candy highlights and how I avoided getting punched in the face at 4:00am by Dudes.  (PS – I’m graciously still accepting cold hard cash for the cause…drop me a line if you’d like to donate!)

Such a good sport

On another note, upon reaching my not-so special milestone, I’ve started to think about what’s on tap for the upcoming race season.  And it’s not Guiness. (Ba-dum-dum…I’m here all week!  Try the veal!)

I’ve had my eye on a few different races, but because there are so many to choose from during warmer months I need to actually commit to a few so that I don’t “wait for the next one” all summer.   So without further ado…my (not even close to concrete) summer race plan!!  **subject to many, many changes as deemed necessary by the author**

2011 Summer Race Plan...maybe.

$20 says that I don’t make it to that last one…even I know myself better than that…


May your feet never sweat…

May your feet never sweat,
your neighbor give you ne’re a treat.
When flowers bloom, I hope you’ll not sneeze,
and may you always have someone to squeeze!

(Apparently) An Irish blessing

Clearly I am not Irish (just like 98% of green beer guzzlers in pubs right now) but I’m married to Muffin.  Who thinks he is.  According to the grapevine (read: him) there used to be an “O” in front of his last name.  Bit of a stretch, but I’ll let O’Muffin have this one because it’s fun to pretend…just like I pretend that Gerard Butler is Irish.  And madly in love with me.

Fun, isn’t it?!

Before I launch into the first, and probably not the last, edition of “Random thinking and inklings Thursday!”, a little running recap.  I had a good week, despite the nasty side effects of daylight savings, which I’ve been milking for the past 4 days.  This morning I even eeked out 21km BEFORE WORK!!  Whaa, whaaat? In fact, the run felt good.  Suspiciously good for a half-marathon distance at 5:30am.  The conditions were great, except for the sporadic sneaky layer of glistening ice (think Edward Cullen…sparkly yet lethal) and the temperature downright balmy.  I actually felt strong as “Soul clap!” brought me in through the last kilometre.  So this leads me to believe one of two things.  1) I dreamt it or 2) I need to start pushing a little harder.  I’ve been taking my long runs pretty easy (this morning was a 5:28 pace) so I think I need to step up my game a bit.  I’m practically Kenyan, I know!  Actually that is a great segue into my random ramblings!  Except not really, but I can’t think of anything else.

Why I needed to run 21km at 5:30am =  Because I have a super-wicked weekend planned and don’t need the guilt and shame of skipping runs looming over my festivities.  PS – sneak peek into the weekend includes dancing shoes, drinking hat, SATURFUNDAY!, and whatever else the opposite of running is.

Why the guilt? Because I crunched some numbers.  (Athletic and brainy and an amazing singer?! Why yes, “Triple Threat” is on my resume.)  Turns out that week 26 (halfway through the year for you non-mathematicians) isn’t that far away.  I’d lova love to hit 1000km by that last week of June.  Soooo, that means I need to average about 43km a week.  Every week.  FOREVER.  By the way, that’s a marathon.  Every week.  FOREVER.  Crap.

Why I will be limiting my use of the word “crap”.  My ‘rentals finally got high speed!  Yes, high speed internet.  The kind of internet that the rest of us having been using since the late ’90s.  Mimded informed me that one day she counted how many times I used the cr*p word or any variation of it.  (includes cr*ppy, cr*ppola, cr*pped, cr*apper, etc.)  (Those don’t count in the tally – they are for demonstrative purposes only!)  So in an effort to miraculously prove my mother wrong, I decided to Wordle my blog.

The gist of a Wordle is that the bigger the word, the more often it is used.  Or something like that.  See? Crap is waaaay smaller than “run” or “race” or “Piper” (am I that girl? Ew).  Although Mimsy might not be thrilled with the orange arrow target either…

Speaking of la famille…my old(er) sister started bootcamp!  You see this is big news because unlike her dumpy younger sister who has been dragging her doughy trunk-junk to the gym since she was 18, Linny hasn’t had to exercise…ever.  She’s naturally petite and has big boobs.  And she’s lucky that I even talk to her.   So imagine my delight when she disclosed to me (and now I am disclosing to all of you) that she literally barfed on her first day of bootcamp!

Looks like Linny needs less of this…

C is crazy

And more of this…

G is for "really happy"

Of course, I am rooting for her to stick with it.  It’s good for the heart and mind.  And, obs, I’m crossing my fingers that some of the slimming effects will be directed at her rack.  Heh.  (Editor’s note: Linny has also quit smoking and despite the author’s distasteful sense of humour, she is wildly happy for her sis’ new commitment to the gym and pink lungs!)

Woot, woot Linny!

And with that I bid ya “Top o’ tha Mornin!” because that is the only Irish thing I can come up with.  I better ask O’Muffin for some tips on being fake Irish.  Also, I leave you with this pic that was snapped of me during my run this morning…

It's my bad side.

(Thanks to PB Fingers for the link)

Wait, how about my attempt at Irish cooking…Lucky Charms bars.  Sláinte!


Happy Due Date!

As you know, my original partner-in-running-crime is the lovely Hooles.  We’ve shared hours and hours of heavy breathing, sweating, and pure exhaustion together.  (That should get my “google search” stats up. Ha ha pervs, you are so predictable)  And not to mention, almost as many hours camping, laughing, wedding planning, eating, drinking, kicking boys aces in board games, and more drinking.  And eating.  And talking about both.

After I discovered that my IT band is made of Doritos and other crap, Hooles went on to qualify for Boston and obs, run Boston!  My hero!

But even bigger news is that she is having a bebe with her hot, man-stud of a husband, B-rock.  TODAY!!!  Well, potentially TODAY!!  Happy Due Date M&M’s!

The M&M's...before they were M&M

To honor you both before the bundle arrives, a photo montage (with a lot of me in it too – surprise!) because in the very near future it won’t be all about you guys anymore…or more importantly, me.  Babies…hogging the spotlight as usual.

Congrats and can’t wait to see you sleep deprived, disheveled, cranky…and deliriously happy.  xo

Love is in the air (hence babies...)

New York!

The girl has got moves

Miami hotties

Enjoy the spotlight now...

Drunk meets annoyed = love!

Piper love

That's Hooles...and me, of course.

Fast girls have good times

...the aforementioned 'good times'

Twenty-something thighs

Just because

Happily ever after!

Alrighty, get crackalackin’…let’s meet this kid so we can have a glass of wine already!  (Reason number #1058 why I am not a mother)

Weekend running = EPIC FAIL

I had big plans for the weekend.  BIG plans.  I had penciled myself in for a 16km and a 10km in an effort to make up some serious distance for my craptastic 2011km endeavor.  I may or may not have (yes, I did) take more than a few days off as “recovery” from the half-marathon.  I was in PAIN!  (the first 2 days…then I was just lazy)

But truth be told, I did not “check off” either of those runs this weekend.  Instead I spent a lovely weekend relaxin’, turkey dinner eatin’ and board gamin’ with la famille.  The weather was reeeedonkulous in eastern Ontario…Saturday was torrential downpours and Sunday morning greeted us with a foot of snow.  Whaaa??  And then locusts came and floods and the lakes turned into BLOOD!!!!  Seriously – I was not setting foot out there.

So to appease my own guilty conscious I made my way into my parents “gym”.  The apple does not fall far from the tree.  They have quite the set-up…getting past the laundry drying racks and my sister’s craft supplies… they’ve got a full set of weights, benches, a punching bag, treadmill, a special “gym” floor…etc., etc.  Now if they could just hire a hot, young, muscley, sweaty but smells like Old Spice, back-rubbing, male personal trainer, I might be able to tear myself away from Coronation Street for an hour to work out.  No guarantees though.

No guarantees (partly) because I detest running on treadmills.  Loathe it.  I honestly can’t remember the last time that I tortured myself on one of those death traps.  Think about it…you have to a) run, which is hard enough; b) think, so as not to face plant every 2 minutes if your mind starts to wander; and c) deal with the fact that time seems to stand still while using it.  It’s like three times the work of an outdoor run.

Try running AND thinking!


Anyhoo, I hauled my hiney onto the treadmill with excellent intentions of running A LOT.  Like at least 45 minutes.

[Two minutes into the run] Well, 30 minutes should be plenty…I’ll just ‘up’ the speed to make it really count.

[30 seconds later] I’ll just cover up the timer with this towel…that should make this fly by!

[1 minute later] There, I must be at like 20 minutes by now!  *remove towel* Whaathaefffff?!?

[2 minutes later] Ok, just go for 25 minutes or 5 km – whichever comes first.

[30 seconds later]  Or not.

So needless to say, I’m not counting my treadmill distance as part of my 2011 challenge.  They weren’t the most “quality” km’s I’ve ever put in…and I don’t plan on hitting the deathtrap anytime again soon, so no worries.

Treadmills, not for the uncoordinated.

Peterborough Half-Marathon…the panic before the calm.

Ahhh, Sunday morning came early.  But that doesn’t really matter because the Peterborough half is the only race I’ve ever seen with a start of 12:30pm.  Which for me  isn’t ideal because it gave me an extra 5 1/2 hrs to panic, stress, and wander aimlessly around the house asking the dog if she thought I had packed everything?

Before I dive into the big race recap (oh anticipation!!) lemme fill you in a bit.

Here’s what I woke up to:


Things that make you say "ralph"

A giant crack in the bottom of my foot.  Runners, you get me.  Everyone else, gather round and let ol’ FR tell you something.  Runners have abhorrent feet. Repugnant, vile…repulsive even.  That’s just how we roll.

But I digress.

I was worried about the Grand Canyon that had developed SINCE SATURDAY AFTERNOON on my foot.   It hurt to step on, let alone run on for a couple of hours.  I poly’d it up (popped a few Valium) and hoped for the best.


Mother Nature rears her psychotic, and untimely, head.

That’s the view from my front door at about 8am.  A few flurries?!?   Weatherman, you officially suck at your job.  And you owe me $60 because I would not have signed up for this DISASTER if I knew that this was your version of “a few”.

My "punch a weather guy in the face" face

(That’s actually my fake “photo mad” face.  I actually look more like this when I’m mad…)

Seriously angry

But because I’m cheaper than I am smart, I packed my pb & banana on whole wheat and iPod, and guilted Muffin into driving me to the race start.

Of course being a local race, I left much later than I normally would and didn’t do any of my typical race day rituals.  Normally I would have packed everything the night before, attached my chip and bib, had my usual long run breakfast, bought my Gu or whatev ahead of time, etc., etc.  I did none of these things.  I ate something different, wore something different and I bought new socks and headphones knowing that the cardinal rule of racing is “Don’t change or test anything on race day”.  Total rookie moves.

So about 30 minutes before race time, there I am bolting through Shoppers to find bandaids (San Andreas fault in my foot, ‘member?) and a Fruitsource bar….dramatically rolling my eyes and sighing like a wheezy toddler at the old farts with their 38 lotto tickets in line before me.  Finally after paying and announcing to Muffin how “it must be nice to be SUPER OLD and not give a rat’s ace about ANYONE ELSE!!”, we were off.

I made my way through the trillion people gathered in the foyer of the Y, so that I could pee, change my foot padding, attach my bib & chip, check my bag and eat a sandwich…all within 20 minutes of starting the run.  Again, not something I normally do.  I like to be early.  Like “middle of the night arrival” early.  But somehow, despite having an extra 5 1/2 hours, I was rushing.

Luckily for me (and the people surrounding me because I would have started kicking shins if I missed the start) I lined up behind the 1:50 pace bunny with 4 minutes to spare.

I’d love to have a dramatic kilometer by kilometer narrative to share with you, but to be honest, I really zone out when I run.

So some of the vague highlights I remember:

  • “Sunday morning” by No Doubt came on my iPod and I started thinking about how it really is Sunday morning (ish).
  • I embarrassed myself by flirtatiously waving at a local superstar runner/store owner (who I love) who was pacing other (faster) people.  I thought he was talking to me.  He wasn’t.
  • I yelled out to a cop buddy who was directing traffic and then realized that might not have been cool.  Perhaps a bit distracting for the guy standing amongst 8 lanes of traffic.
  • After making the half-way turn around, I lost sight of the 1:50 pace bunny and never saw him again.  Probably because he was running a 1:50 pace.
  • The Firefighter water station was staffed by hotties.  For reals.  I tried to straighten my toque and wipe the snot from my nose. Why not?
  • At 16km I dropped my baggie of Tylenol and didn’t go back for it.  I’d have to face the rest of the race with my knee not doped up.
  • The wind and snow really picked up on the way back and I got a fat snowflake in my eye.  And lived to tell.
  • On the Armour Rd/Hunter St hill I schooled an old gal.  She passed me about 5 minutes later.
  • At 18km “If you want blood” came on…I listened to it twice.
  • A barefoot guy passed me and I was in awe.  Then I was just annoyed.  Show off.
  • At 19km I told myself that the next 10 minutes were gonna hurt so just suck it up and pour it on.  It worked.

When all was said and done, I finished at 1:52, which is just fine for me.  That’s right on par with other races I’ve done (1:49 and 1:53 for example).  As far as I’m concerned, anyone that trains, runs, or races in the winter deserves a big ol’ medal.  And pancakes for dinner.  I got both.

Special thanks to Muffin and Piper for cheering me on at the finish!

Such a well-behaved dog.

Swanky medal...check!

Next up…Kms for Care in April.    Who’s in??