(11-10-2009, 10:41 AM)Sweder Wrote: Today the refrain conjured memories of another American girl, one I've written about before in tales of New Orleans and the exuberance of youth, or how a life-long friendship was born in the bars of Bourbon S
Now there's a coincidence. I was thinking of this story about you and the Nawlins barmaid just an hour or so ago, in the gym. I can't think why it came to me, but the line about the camera and the hotel went through my thoughts.
Well done on the recent activity. It looks like autumn is finally stirring the embers of the RC gang once again. Soon it will be flaming November, and the Brighton 10K. Looking forward to it.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
(11-10-2009, 01:33 PM)tomroper Wrote: Well done on the Rubicon: alea iacta est
Indeed. There are, as the popular tune has it, many rivers to cross. Know that the Senate (Er Indoors) has already expressed her displeasure at this particular casting of the die. She views the recent running 'escalation' as a prelude to some mighty undertaking, almost certain to end in tears if not injury. I've reassured her that my only goals remain Almeria and Connemara - and leisurely strolls at both - but she's far from convinced. I suppose 25 years of living with me has taught her a thing or two about my nefarious proclivities.
Happy anniversary sweetheart
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Tom, you make it sound like planting a Mulberry tree is one of your usual pre-run rituals...
Nice piece about the concert. I agree that the whole nu-metal movement was flogging a dead horse, even a decade ago. In fact, I think Flogging A Dead Horse were one of the leading exponents in the late 90s.
Congratulations to Mrs Sweder on completing a true ultra-marathon!
I have been lazy, doing only one run last week.... must get back in the 3-runs-a-week pace to be able to run the half marathon on the 19th of December (and make it to Connemara).
But running in hailstorms and thunder (just another Dutch Sundayafternoon ) is just nog my cup of tea! Today, sun's back again, my spirit's up and my running shoes seems to beg me to take them for a stroll.....Here I go again!
Good luck in Montreal Sweder!
Cloggie
********************
Running thoughts:
Thinking of Holland
I see wide rivers
slowly flowing through
an endless lowland
In keeping with recent efforts I shuffled off into the Montreal dawn in search of a few sneaky pre-breakfast kilometers. I got more than I bargained for, and getting out there at all was something of a struggle.
On the hair-raising plummet from my lofty perch on the 20th floor I was offered good reason to bail out. Still slightly jaded from a second consecutive night in the care of Hurleys' nurses (and more fine Diddley-Dee music dutifully and expensively published via Audioboo) I slithered into the vertical coffin next to its' lone occupant. Cue-ball bald, in his late fifties and sporting a cracking pair of Alan Wicker thick-rimmed glasses he looked every inch the European accountant. Surveying my leggings, bright red 'Sod Off' VLM loser's windcheater, tell-tale white fuse-wires leading from my arm-mounted iPhone up under my grey headband he must have surmised my intention to venture outside.
'S'raining' came the thick middle-eastern accent, replete with side-of-the-mouth smile-cum-sneer. 'S'wet'. I noted the droplets on his well-worn dark blue raincoat (wondering why he was traveling down having clearly already been out. Was he, after all, not a boring bean-counter but an incongruous, professional hit man having wrapped up his first 'clean of the day? Was some poor sap even now sliding down beneath a bath-full of blood-spattered suds? Perhaps I'd find mangled-pizza evidence of an assisted swan-dive on the sidewalk ... but I digress). 'Thanks' I returned, deadpan. Sure enough as I emerged from the womb-like lobby into the apocalyptic gloom of Sherbrooke Ouest the first icy shards of cruel rain stung into my still-warm face. Bollocks. There's a perfectly adequate (and cozy) indoor gym on the 26th floor. Nice views, might be some young filly knocking out a few ks on the tready, perhaps even a few squat-thrusts; always liked the idea of ... anyway ... but even as these thoughts formed on the end of my rapidly-numbing nose they snapped off, instantly chilled, to fall into and mingle with the fallen rain before swirling off down the filthy curbside drain.
The Garmin was not co operating. I remembered this from previous visits. Montreal is a city of avenues criss-crossed on a grid and stuffed with a variety of extremely tall buildings. Not ideal terrain for the location of the 2.3 million satellite signals required to fire up the archaic Forerunner 205. With a stiff shrug I set off up Peel street towards McGill University and the hulking mass beyond; Mont Royal. Take away the rolling hills, stunning views, fresh air and abundance of wildlife and this could be my weekly constitutional ... in as much as it starts uphill and continues on a generally upward trend for several kilometers. Almost four as it turned out. The Garmin, resigned to my indifference to its recalcitrance, bleeped into life as Peel reached Les Pines. I turned left, crossed the slick wet street and entered Mont Royal park where, shock horror! the trail continued to ascend.
I plugged away at a pitiful pace, battered, time-and -travel-ravaged body as reluctant to get going as my GPS. Trudge, trudge, trudge through a carpet of mashed wet leaves under a rainbow canopy of autumn-draped trees. At least this offered respite from the rain. My gait was one of a ski-walker sans skis; all I needed was a pair of those pretentious graphite walking poles - I mean, what are they all about? - a bobble-hat and some huge wrap-around shades and I'd complete the image I was clearly after; utter plonker.
A while later I'd hauled myself to the summit. I shambled wearily over to the parapet to look down on a city so gloomy it could easily have been named Eeyoreville. A huge furrowed eyebrow hung low over the St Lawrence river, vaporous curls wrapping around the building-tops as if about to rip the concrete and glass out of the earth in a climax to come Lord-of-the-Rings-in-the-city epic. Below me the delightful hues of red and gold smeared soggily as if seen through a misted lens, offering a dash of colour to this interminable greyscape.
Fed up with the constant drip, drip of cold (wet!) rain down the back of my neck I dragged myself away from this vision of misery and started the long, winding descent off what I've always referred to as a 'big hill'. As I reached the perilous drop back down Peel I was thoroughly soaked, deeply cold and ready for some indecently hot shower action. 'My nose is froze, my toes is froze' I thought, not sure from whence that came (turns out it's from 101 Dalmations - thank you Dr. Google) but strangely warmed by the obscure reference to what I now know to be an early cinematic memory.
By the time the hotel hove into view I was too bedraggled and sorry for myself to care. I'd covered a shade under 9.5 kilometres in what felt like half a day and it wasn't even half eight yet. Still, a run is a run and it's my fourth in six days so I'm happy enough with that. And for not giving in to the climate-controlled lure of the top floor gym. More of this outdoor stuff on Thursday I fancy; I do hope the sun’s up for an early outing.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(13-10-2009, 11:44 PM)Sweder Wrote: Fed up with the constant drip, drip of cold (wet!) rain down the back of my neck I dragged myself away from this vision of misery... By the time I'd reached the perilous drop down back down Peel I was thoroughly soaked, deeply cold and ready for some indecently hot shower action. 'My nose is froze, my toes is froze' I thought ...
By the time the hotel hove into view I was too bedraggled and sorry for myself to care. I'd covered a shade under 9.5 kilometres in what felt like half a day and it wasn't even half eight yet. Still, a run is a run and it's my fourth in six days so I'm happy enough with that. And for not giving in to the climate-controlled lure of the top floor gym.
Erm, remind me. What exactly is wrong with giving in to a climate-controlled gym?
Horribly busy; trailers arriving by the dozen, freight all over the shop.
Starting at 05:30 tomorrow - prospects for running this weekend somewhere between slim and none. With that in mind I set off for a pre-dawn raid on the Big Hill, manging to knock off 15 lumbersome kilometres in something like an hour and forty minutes. I had intended (and indeed was inspired) to squeeze out a few more superlatives about running beneath a canopy of defoliaging Canadian deciduous trees in the very heart of autumn but I simply don't have the time. I will tell you that the first 7.5 kilometres, with the exception of kilometer 2, from the top of Rue Peel to the corner of Avenue Les Pines and the ascent into the park, were uphill, which is quite something at 05:45 I can tell you.
In view of my lack of time may I shamefully direct you to the last time I did this run at this time of year and leave you with some hastily gathered snapshots which I hope paint a reasonable picture of my pre-breakfast morning. The three Guinnesses I did managed to neck late last night in the almost-as-wonderful-as Hurleys pub the View Dublin had a restorative effect, as did wearing my leggings; they really do seem to keep the aches and pains away, not to mention the nasty nip that 2 degrees and a harsh wind can give you. I have no idea what sort of Pink Grapefruit concoction the Chav in my first picture was slurping on. Whatever it was it clearly didn't impress the girls of dubious drinking age along side him.
I really do love it here.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Really Sweder, I'm surprised you haven't been arrested by now ... not only taking photos of girls in pubs, but posting them on the internet! Or is this why you're always on the run? So to speak...
Novo Nordisk IDF 2009 5K this morning. Up at 5.30, ran 3K through city to start, completed race in 24:46 then 3K (uphill) back to hotel. Shower, breakfast & in work by 9.
Phew!
City swallowed by low cloud - dramatic scenes in the murky half-light. Rain & chill wind add to the Bladerunner SanAngeles feel. Glad to be warm enough to tap out report on iPhone. More coffee needed ...
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
5K was Novo Nordisk 'Run To Change Diabetes' as part of the World Diabetes Congress.
Would have been rude to say no - besides, added 6K (3 either side) to bring it up to a decent distance
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Dragged myself out for a weary, lack-lustre lumber across fabulous sun-drenched hills. Winter's not far away - the stiff, in-your-face breeze bore chilly testament to that - yet Summer seems reluctant to leave. It's a good ten degrees warmer here than in Montreal. It felt good to be back in shorts and vest, though that's as close to 'feeling good' as I managed to get. Jet-lag and rust-shackled legs teamed up with a thick(er than usual) middle and a light, sleep-addled head to leave me reeling across the downs like a badly-beaten fugative.
Even Planet Rock failed to lift me, a mixed bag of MOR dross waffling through my headphones. By the time Led Zep kicked in with The Song Remains The Same I'd abandoned the idea of running hard, staggering home with that insistant wind shoving me rudely in the back.
It's a run of sorts, albeit unbearably ugly and instantly forgettable.
There'll be more outings this week, and they'll get better.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
) is just nog my cup of tea! Today, sun's back again, my spirit's up and my running shoes seems to beg me to take them for a stroll.....Here I go again!
for the effort!!