26 posts tagged “shane”
After a threat of first 90%, then 30% chance of precipitation, race day morning dawned perfectly cool with a mix of clouds and sun. Not a drop of rain was in sight. (Thank you, Vancouver!)
Shane and I left the apartment just before 6 a.m. to head to the race start (on the other side of downtown). We drove over to park in Shane’s work lot, as it’s located right next to the Skytrain, which we planned to take the rest of the way (my monthly transit pass allows me to travel with an extra passenger on Sundays, woo!). We arrived at the starting line around 6:20, giving us plenty of time to use the Port-a-Potty and stretch.
The half-marathon group lined up as we got closer to 7 a.m. (the official go time for the race). We jumped in around the middle of the pack, both of us feeling a lot of nerves at that point. I was anxious about running my first half-marathon; Shane was feeling the pressure of meeting his ambitious time goal (1:45). But soon we were flowing with the massive, 6,000-strong crowd toward the start. We wished each other well and set off on our individual journeys to The Black-Eyed Peas “Pump It” blaring over a pair of gigantic speakers.
I felt good from the beginning. All the time spent tapering (not to mention the pure adrenaline of finally running this long-planned-for event) gave me an extra bounce in my step as we moved into the Gastown portion of the race. I thought maybe I was running a bit faster than my anticipated 2:15 pace time, but I didn’t know for sure. (Nor did it really matter; my primary goal was just to finish.)
Around the 10km (or 6-mile) mark, the route followed the seawall leading into Stanley Park and then hopped up on the road that circles the park (Park Drive). This was when I started to feel nervous again, as the infamous Park Drive hill to Prospect Point was coming up. Prospect Point is essentially the highest point in Stanley Park, and veterans of this half-marathon will tell you this long, steep climb to the top is intensely challenging (especially being located in the middle of the race).
Thankfully, since Shane and I had done a training run on this hill, I was able to reach the crest without any issues. It also helped that some amazing spectators were lining the road, yelling encouragement at the top of their lungs (supportive words can do wonders for tired legs). And the downhill on the other side? That was almost worth the pain of ascending (almost).
Soon I hit the 10-mile mark and began running along Beach Avenue. A large crowd had gathered by English Bay Beach to cheer us on, so that was a nice boost. I definitely struggled as we entered the last 3km (about 2 miles remaining). My calves were burning like they’ve never burned before, but I knew we were close, so I pushed through the discomfort. And sure enough, soon the end was in sight.
If you’ve never experienced the finish line of a race, it is simply incredible. The enthusiasm from the assembled crowd and the pick-up in pace by just about every runner out there is electrifying. I flew through the end, crossing the finish with my arms held high and cheering as loudly as my tired lungs could handle. I recently heard this moment described as empowering, and I couldn’t agree more. I felt like I could take on absolutely anything.
Shane and I met up within minutes of my finish, both with the AWESOME news that we had done better than we’d hoped. I managed my first 13.1-miler in 2:05:24, ten minutes faster than I expected to be (holy shit); Shane broke his half-marathon PR by nearly six minutes, completing in 1:43:12 (well under his goal). Hell yeah!
We then made our way back to Shane’s work to shower up - a logistical decision made because we had reservations in the restaurant just above Canada Place at 11:30. This particular place - Café Pacifica in the fancy Pan Pacific hotel - is known in Vancouver for its extravagant (and yes, expensive) brunch buffet, which we were eager to partake in.
After logging the longest distance I’ve ever run, that food tasted fucking delicious. There were freshly-squeezed juices, assorted pastries, salads, fruits, sushi, dim sum, stir fry, salmon and sole, bacon and sausage, (every kind of) meat and potatoes, omelettes and eggs Benedict, and the most beautiful dessert spread you can imagine. We lingered there for a couple of hours, taking our time through four (yes, four) separate buffet trips. It was a wonderful way to end what was truly a spectacular morning.
And - as you might expect when everything goes so perfectly according to plan - it wasn’t long before we were discussing when we might want to train for another half to do it all over again.
Shane’s birthday was on Tuesday, and he was lucky enough to have that day and Monday off (thanks to the 11/11 holiday – called Remembrance Day here – and his ETO hours). So we had four lovely days to celebrate.
On Saturday, we went to Granville Island to check out a small art show called ReVision at the Granville Island Hotel. The show featured recycled art: original pieces made almost entirely of second-hand materials by local artists. There were some really neat creations on display, my favourites being a rainbow painting covered in broken glass bottles, an enormous spiral made of aluminium bottle caps and a water fountain designed with used instruments (saxophones) and old pipes.
We were also treated to the sounds of Swarm, a Vancouver-based percussion ensemble. The group’s founder built all the instruments himself, using mostly recycled materials. So for instance, the drum set was constructed around an old suitcase, and the players used rubber pipes (cut into varying lengths) for part of one song and different sizes of pots and pans for part of another. They were very entertaining and quite talented; I highly suggest checking out their videos to see for yourself.
We took it easy on Sunday. Shane watched football and played video games, while I got absorbed reading a fascinating, behind-the-scenes election piece put out recently by Newsweek. The article, entitled “Secrets of the 2008 Campaign”, tells the stories of the Clinton, McCain and Obama campaigns as recorded “by a special team of reporters who were granted year-long access on the condition that none of their findings appear until after Election Day.” It’s a terrific, unbiased read for anyone who followed this election cycle.
On Monday morning, we drove to the Vancouver airport to complete the process of enrolling in the Nexus program. Joining Nexus means we are “pre-screened” to cross between Canada and the U.S. Put into practical terms: we get special cards that permit us to use express lanes at the border. We received our actual cards at the end of our airport interviews (held with Canadian and U.S. customs officials), so we got to use them when we went down to see Ian (for a delicious Thai dinner) that evening!
On Tuesday, we wandered around the Vancouver Museum
for a few hours, mostly in the Stanley Park
exhibit. We learned a lot about the “unnatural”
aspects of our next-door neighbour, like how many of the animals found in the
park were imported (including the squirrels!), that Beaver Lake is actually
lined with concrete and how most of the existing trails were originally built
as logging paths. Then it was off to Central for drinks and appetizers and Cupcakes for birthday cake(s). Whew - what a weekend.
Happy 31st, sweetie! And next year, let's shoot for five days!
Shane and I technically have two anniversaries – July 22nd (on which day we marked EIGHT YEARS since our first date together, wow) and today, October 8th (the day we got officially hitched in 2006). Being the restaurant whores that we are, we love using both milestones as an excuse to eat out.
Since our anniversary fell on a weekday this year, we
opted to mark it early instead of waiting until tonight. So on
Sunday evening, we drove over to Queen Elizabeth Park for dinner at Seasons in
the Park, a classy, casual restaurant with awesome views of the city. The weather was overcast, chilly and a bit
drizzly, but we decided to brave the outdoor patio anyway. It was a great choice; we kept dry under the
patio roof, had blankets and overhead heaters to keep us warm and were one of
only two groups sitting outside (so the noise level was nice and quiet).
We
took our time working through the meal, ordering salads first, then entrees, dessert
and drinks. The food was delicious (particularly
the sunburnt lemon pie) and the service impeccable. As night fell and the city began twinkling
with its infamous lights, we remarked on how grateful we are, not just to live
here, but to live here together. Sharing the joy of this journey with each other is by far the best thing about our experience abroad.
Shane’s work has a mascot - a very, very puntable mascot.
“There’s
a city called Hope?”
“Hope, BC?”
“I
guess. Hey, you think that’s where Obama
is really from?”
“Yes
he Can...ada.”
“I can’t believe you just said that.”
I don’t know about other households, but ours seems to go through phases with vocabulary. Shane and I are constantly latching on to words or phrases and (ab)using them intensely for a short period of time, just for fun. Not too long ago, we were all about the Japanese terms, but lately we’ve shifted to a less family-friendly variety.
These days, it’s all about the fucking bullshit.
I can’t tell you how it started, but many of our conversations now end with this (prompted) phrase. Here are some fictional examples.
Example 1:
“Did you hear Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow?”
“Six more weeks of winter?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we know what that is.”
“Fucking bullshit is what.”
Example 2:
“I think Whole Foods moved the rice chips again.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. And we know what that is.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, right there.”
I know; the immaturity of this is kind of appalling. But I still giggle about it, particularly in instances where the swearing is completely uncalled for (e.g. “I can’t find my slippers...”). Like all our phrase fixations, this one will eventually pass, and hopefully, the next will be less frat-boy humor and more sorority-chick-with-decent-GPA. Until then, however, we can only promise not to engage in this exchange in front of children.
Because we all know what that would be.
Top five post-party signs your significant other had a little too much wine on New Year's Eve:
He...
1) Tries to help you clean up, but only manages to move empty beer bottles from one table to another.
2) Repeatedly asks, "Did I seem okay?" Regardless of answer, responds, "No, tell me really."
3) Stares wide-eyed around apartment and remarks, "This is weird." Then laughs at self.
4) Goes to bed at your insistence, but gets up within five minutes to put the chairs away because, "They are kitchen chairs. They go at the kitchen table."
5) Finally remains in bed and starts to doze off, but awakens momentarily to yell, "You're my best friend!" from the bedroom. At 3 a.m.
You're a champ, sweetie.
Like any pair of roommates, Shane and I have made many adjustments in our years of living together. But nowhere is this more apparent than the bedroom. (And, no, this is not a post about what you’re thinking this post may be about. You dirty scoundrel, you.)
We both have many sleeping habits that are – how shall I say? – somewhat peculiar. I am unable to sleep with my feet enclosed in anything. Shane’s breathing sometimes imitates perfectly the sound of a deflating balloon. I tend to gravitate toward the middle of the bed, with elbows and legs hitting any obstacle in the way. Shane magically knows how to turn off the alarm a half-second BEFORE IT GOES OFF. Etc.
We have made the necessary adjustments to deal with most of our issues. We use a “free-standing” blanket instead of the covers. Shane changes sleeping positions. I start farther on my side of the bed (and closer to the clock). But one thing I simply cannot get used to, no matter how hard I try, is Shane talking in his sleep.
You would not believe the crazy shit that comes out of this boy’s mouth (which he still manages to sleep through!). Perhaps you remember the giant pager incident? Or the time I asked him a question? Those examples are just the tip of the iceberg. I have woken up because Shane is laughing so hard, he is SHAKING THE ENTIRE BED. I have been jarred awake because he wants to tell me (with undiluted excitement) he has “figured everything out.” (Of course, when I asked what, he snapped out of it and forgot the all-important message. So close to the meaning of life...and yet so far.)
The late-night entertainment went to a whole new level last night, though. Around 4 a.m., Shane started singing.
Not just your regular, everyday, favorite-song-in-the-shower singing. He was clearly trying to either a) compose lyrics or b) read words off the fuzzy karaoke screen of his dreams. He would belt out a line, stop to ponder it, and then answer his own internal questioning with a “yes” or “no.” I’m pretty sure I heard the phrases “shining love” and “new battle”, although I don’t recall if they received the affirmative or not. (Let's hope not.)
There’s really no way to respond to these middle-of-the-night moments other than to shake my head and smile. And imagine how much more fun this sleeptalking will be when our senility kicks in. Thanks for all the laughs, sweetie! You always keep things interesting.
NBC Announcer: “Stay tuned for more Green Universe tips, brought to you by the cast of Scrubs...and Wal-Mart.”
<explosive laughter from The Couch™>
“Now that’s funny.”
“And next up, green tips from your Republican National Committee.”
