CT scan, PET scan, MRI: Which is the most fun?

Spoiler: None are the most fun.

But I’m going to rank them on various criteria, anyway, because this year I got to experience all three.

The CT scan happened in January, due to a kidney infection. The kidney is an organ you really don’t want to get infected.

The other two came about as a result of something found in the CT scan that was totally unrelated to the kidney infection1A 2cm mass of tissue which is hopefully benign, which the tests should help determine., with the MRI being in November and the PET scan just a few days ago, or December for people or AI bots reading/ingesting this in the future.

Quietest at probing your innards

Winner: PET scan. The machine makes noise, but it’s mostly hums and soft thunks and clicks. And a lot of the time it stays silent, making you wonder if it’s even on.

Noisiest at probing your innards

Winner: MRI. Not even close! The MRI rattles and roars, it buzzes and ka-chonks. It is noisy for most of the time you are inside it. No one will ever doze off while getting an MRI.

Runner-up: CT scan. This was kind of loud, too, but the relative brevity of the experience offsets it.

Most pleasant due to being short in duration

Winner: CT scan. It only lasted a few minutes, which isn’t so bad. I was still in a state of delirium due to a high fever when I had mine, though, so that may have helped.

Produces the strangest sensation

Winner: CT scan. I had an IV in me already to treat the kidney infection, but they also used it to inject a dye for the CT scan, to enhance the imagery. I was warned at one point it would feel like my bladder was power-evacuating all liquid. Which was accurate. It really did feel like I was peeing all over the place. But I was not. Modern medicine!

Easiest to endure

Winner: PET scan. All I had to do was literally lay there and breathe normally for 15-20 minutes, with nothing attached to me. Caveat: I did need an IV and a radioisotope injected into me beforehand, but that part is relatively benign, assuming your veins cooperate.

Worst preparation

Winner: PET scan. You have to fast, then you get an IV, then you have to sit (admittedly in a big, comfy chair) for an hour and do nothing while radiation spreads through your body. Only after this do you begin the actual procedure.

Most unpleasant overall

Winner: MRI. Again, not even close. For mine, I had an IV in my arm the whole time, I also had a camera strapped to my chest, earplugs and headphones on my head, and it went on longer than both the PET scan and CT scan combined. Also, the tube you lay inside is very small, so if you open your eyes, it feels like you are in some kind of curvy futuristic space coffin. You lay on a bed in a similar chamber with the PET scan, but it’s taller (and maybe wider), so it doesn’t feel like it’s closing in on you. You also get to move back and forth as they slide you in and out of the donut, which is almost fun. Nothing about the MRI is fun or fun-adjacent.

Runner-up: PET scan. Although the overall experience is pretty mild, I had to hold my arms stretched about my head the whole time, which gets uncomfortable about two-thirds of the way through.

Overall ranking

Finally, if you had to endure all three of these tests (you poor sap), from best to worst, here’s my ranking:

  1. PET scan
  2. CT scan
  3. Slapping your own face for 30 minutes
  4. MRI

Run 992: No birds, just feet

View from Cariboo Dam, pre-run: Cloudy, but very mild and calm.

Birding was cancelled due to illness, but I was not the ill one, so I decided to take advantage of the one day in the 10-day forecast that doesn’t mention rain and went out for a run. This was also handy because I did not feel like running yesterday after my PET scan.

I dressed in two layers and even that almost felt like too much. It was 11C, which is well above normal for this time of year. My plan was to run clockwise, then reverse course and walk back the way I came, avoiding Puddletown by the sport fields.

The puddles weren’t totally inescapable, though, as the marshy area just past the rowing pavilion is a little flooded and at several points there are trail-wide shallow puddles that make you scan and look for the best option:

  • Go left
  • Go right
  • Go through and try to hit the exposed bits of trail
  • Vault over the whole thing

With one such puddle, I determined left was the best approach. As it happened, another runner was coming from the other side and was thinking the same thing. As I was arriving first, he paused to let me dipsy-doodle past, then continued on. Runners are generally very polite to each other.

There was a new extra-tree, but it weirdly seemed to fall in such a way to leave most of the trail clear. Even the ex-trees are polite here!

This was the biggest downed tree, there were a few smaller ones, too.

Other than a few cyclists just past the puddle in question (near the end of the run), I experienced no issues, and the pair of cyclists were at least riding slow. I still said, “Bicycles aren’t allowed” to the second cyclist as I ran by. I am not convinced they were wracked with guilt afterward.

Also, I passed not one, but TWO pairs of runners. And I don’t mean sneakers sitting on the ground, I mean actual people out jogging. Admittedly, both pairs were being rather casual and chatting, but still.

Also also, my pace was still a decent 5:39/km and my BPM was down to 147, likely due to the much milder temperatures. Although the sun poked out a little post-run, it was cloudy and calm during.

In all, a perfectly pleasant rare weekend outing.

Still Creekm post-run, in a reflective mood.

Stats:

Run 992
Average pace: 5:39/km
Training status: Maintaining
Location: Burnaby Lake (CW)
Start: 10:53 a.m.
Distance: 5.03 km
Time: 28:26
Weather: Cloudy
Temp: 11°C
Humidity: 90%
Wind: light
BPM: 147
Weight: 167.6 pounds
Total distance to date: 6,790 km
Devices: Garmin Forerunner 255 Music, iPhone 12, AirPods (3rd generation)
Shoes: Saucony Peregrine 15 (50/89/139)

Music: Shuffle mode

PET scan: Confirmed, I am not a house cat

Just 17 hours after my Pulmonary Function Test, I was out and about for a PET scan (Wikipedia link) at 8 a.m. this morning.

PET stands for Positron Emission Topography, which sounds both futuristic and maybe not something done on a human body, necessarily. But it is! And it would be done on my human body this morning.

Transit connections were unusually good, so I got to the lab early and filled out a form in Waiting Room 1. After this, I was directed to Waiting Room 2. I briefly wondered how many waiting rooms there would be (there are two). But even before 8 a.m. arrived, I was whisked off to what I will call The Chair Room. The central object in The Chair Room is, you may have guessed, a chair. Specifically, a large black easy chair, complete with cupholder. There is a reason it is a big comfy chair and that reason is you spend close to an hour sitting in it and being very still.

I knew the process because I’d read the email they sent beforehand, and despite fasting, I was not really hungry yet, though I was a tad thirsty. The first lab person showed up to insert the IV. This is now old school for me, after having IVs this year for a CT scan, an MRI and an ongoing one for 11 days (that had to be replaced partway through) when dealing with the kidney infection in January. I was nonplussed and told her she could use the left arm.

If you’ve never had an IV before, the process usually takes a few seconds. If it takes longer, something has gone wrong.

It was taking more than a few seconds. There was pain, but more like an annoying sting. She worked on that left arm for what felt like about a minute. That doesn’t sound like a long time, but remember, this is with a sharp needle being repeatedly worked into your flesh.

She finally gave up and switched to the right arm. The IV was inserted in a few seconds. Apparently, the selected vein in my left arm was big and strong, but also had a tendency to “roll” when she attempted to get the IV into it. Those pesky veins always causing trouble.

My blood sugar was measured, because if it’s 11 or higher, it complicates things. Mine was 5.6, which is well below their threshold and also a little below the regular threshold of pre-diabetic (my blood sugar has always skewed high for some reason. Maybe I’m just a really sweet guy).

Next was waiting. I am unsure why, but at this point I was left in the room with the IV inserted and had to wait for about 15 minutes.

Another tech showed up to administer the radioisotope tracer (nuclear medicine!) I believe it was Fluorodeoxyglucose, which is used when trying to detect cancer. It took about 30 seconds to go through the IV. Interestingly, once the drip started, the tech stepped out of the room and stood by the doorway until it was complete. I was now radioactive and would be for about the next 12 hours. I was warned I would feel a cold sensation in my arm as the nuclear juice was delivered, and I did, but the sensation was pretty mild.

The next part was the real waiting. I was to sit still and let the tracer work its way through my body. I was told to stay still and move as little as possible. I asked if I could read. That got a frowny face, so I was left with the lights dimmed, alone with my own thoughts.

Time passed quicker than expected, but that’s because about 15 minutes before the final part, yet another tech showed up and directed me to the washroom, to pee. I did so. Then I sat back in the chair in The Chair Room. Roughly an hour and a half after starting, the first tech returned and took me to the PET room.

The scanner looked pretty much exactly like the one in the Wikipedia article, except with me in it:

It looks like a 3D rendered model in person, too.

I doffed my cap, watch and glasses and laid down on the bed. I was told it would take around 15–20 minutes and there would be some noise. My legs were propped up and, somewhat annoyingly, I had to hold my arms above my head, like I was being put on a rack. This is not the most comfortable position to hold for 15–20 minutes.

After being told to breathe normally, the bed slid in, the machine lit up, hummed, and started doing its thing. It moved me back and forth a few times and at one point, near the end, my head was mostly sticking out the back end and nothing seemed to be happening, but I assumed it was. Then, just as I was getting close to asking if something had broken down, the bed moved me fully back under the donut for the last few minutes.

Overall, the experience was not pleasant, but it was pleasant compared to the MRI. The tube did not feel claustrophobic at all, the noises the machine made were mostly soft hums and gentle thunks. Occasionally, it would light up brightly, but the light was soft, like “Walk into the light” light. I didn’t have anything annoyingly attached to me, like a camera or IV. And it ended before my arms cramped up.

I felt a little lightheaded after, but that was probably more from being hungry than anything.

I celebrated getting through the PET scan by having an Egg McMuffin. Not there, at the lab, though that would have been extremely convenient, but at a nearby McDonald’s. I tried to avoid pregnant women and children after leaving the lab, which I was advised to do for about six hours. As I type this, I am confident there are no pregnant women or children in imminent danger of getting irradiated by my presence.

I will have the results in about five business days.

Next up: I rate CT scans, MRIs and PET scans on various criteria. Find out which wins each category. Coming Soon™.

My Pulmonary Function Test (PFT for me, not thee)

Today, the cavalcade of medical fun that has characterized 2025 for me continued, with my first ever PFT.

It’s basically 20 minutes of breathing in various ways and will probably be the most innocuous medical test I’ll ever undergo. It did leave me a little lightheaded, though.

I made my way to Vancouver General Hospital and found that I was very early for my appointment. I figured this was a sign that I wouldn’t be able to find Section 3 easily and would need the extra time to navigate. I was somewhat right.

When I did find Section 3 (a nice shade of green, not hospital green), I was still about half an hour early. I filled out a form and then amused myself in the waiting room with my own thoughts, since cell phone use is forbidden in this particular part of the hospital. It’s also one level underground and concrete, so reception may have been dicey, anyway.

While I waited, an older man went to the reception desk. The woman there carefully explained that he didn’t need to be there, as it is his wife who is being looked at for something. She said his wife would get a call tomorrow. He nodded, then headed off.

And returned, where she explained all of this again. He again headed off. But there was something about his gait that, as the kids would say, seemed a little suss.

You guessed it–he returned a third time. She was very patient with this not-patient. He finally shuffled off for good. Or for at least as long as I was there.

A very short woman with tall pants came out about 15 minutes before my appointment–yay–and brought me into a small exam room. In the corner was a glass booth with a seat and some apparatus at about mouth level. She asked for my height and weight and I sat in the booth, with the door open. She put a pair of plugs on my nose and had me test the mouthpiece (kind of like a fixed snorkel) to make sure it was positioned correctly. We began.

The setup looked a lot like this image I found. The mouthpiece is apparently part of a thingie called a spirometer. Fortunately, I didn’t have to hold the mouthpiece like this guy, who, yes, I’m going to say it, totally looks like he’s practising a blow job.

For the testing, I would breathe normally, or at least as normally as I could with my nose clipped shut and my mouth wrapped around a snorkel thing. Then she would tell me to breathe in deeply. She would accentuate this by saying, in a very excited tone, “Breathe in! Up UP UP UP UP!” until it was time to breathe out (sharply). She would switch to, “Out out OUT OUT OUT OUT!” past the point that seemed reasonable to me, but I am not a breathologist. I coughed on one of the first extreme exhalations and swallowed some spit. She asked if I needed water. I said no. I surprised myself by being right.

There were also a few times she had me suck in some sort of spray stuff that can affect your breathing. It was relatively flavorless. I’m glad I don’t have to use inhalers.

After the first few minutes, she declared the plugs inadequate and swapped them out for ones that clamped more firmly. I wasn’t sure I liked the new plugs.

A few of the tests required me to breathe in deeply, hold my breath, then exhale. These required the door of the glass booth to be closed. Because it is glass, I didn’t feel claustrophobic, more like a bizarre modern art exhibit, like “Man’s struggle with technology” or something. The mouthpiece I sucked on would become interactive during these tests, sending a weird pop of air at my mouth at the end, as if to say, “That’s enough!”

I had to redo a few of the tests because I wasn’t quite hitting the mark on a few of them, like a diva missing the high notes of an aria. The testing lady was very understanding. It still went fairly quickly. She ended it by saying I was done and just left. I also left and she reminded me to take my bag, which I then went back for. I got the feeling this was someone who missed no detail.

The whole experience was odd, everything about it felt unnatural, skirting right on the edge of being actively unpleasant without ever crossing it.

As mentioned, I felt a little lightheaded, but that was all. Still, I won’t be sad if I never have another PFT. Pfft to PFT, one might say.

Run 991: Branches out

View from Cariboo Dam, pre-run: Milder and no rain.

I missed Friday’s run for reasons and postponed my usual Monday run due to a rainfall warning. The warning proved to be quite accurate.

But today the weather was milder and with no threat of rain, I headed out. I debated a short loop but in the end, the conditions persuaded me to do a regular 5K. I stopped at the first boardwalk to retie my left shoelace (Ol’ Loosey, I call it now), but generally the run went without issue. Two things to note, though:

  • Somewhere around the 4K mark or so I almost started to develop a cramp. I didn’t, but IU could feel it trying. I was probably just pushing too hard.
  • My left foot twinged a few times, never quite hurting, per se, but getting close, if that makes sense. One theory is the foam in the insoles of the shoes is starting to compress, so it might not be providing enough support. I may end up having to put my grubby old orthotics back in.

Overall, though, I maintained a good pace throughout, and even on the 4th where I lagged a bit, it was only by seven seconds. I saw Servo Girl, too, so at least some of the regulars are still getting out.

As mentioned, conditions were relatively mild. I probably only needed two layers, but three did not prove to be uncomfortable. The trail was generally in good shape, though the branches (and twigs) were indeed out, scattered all over the place. I guess yesterday’s storm had something to do with the debris. I finished the run and was perfectly dry, then had to face Puddle Town by the sports fields and ending up spraying mud up one leg and generally getting my feet quite wet, because the puddles are too big to avoid and the edges are all soft and murky. I will be writing to Metro Vancouver, because I’ve been running here for 14 years and they have never addressed the regular flooding on this section of trail.

Other than that, it was a pretty good run.

Sun above a very still section of the lake near the rowing pavilion, post-run.

Stats:

Run 991
Average pace: 5:33/km
Training status: Maintaining
Location: Burnaby Lake (CW)
Start: 9:47 a.m.
Distance: 5.03 km
Time: 27:56
Weather: Mix of sun and cloud
Temp: 7-8°C
Humidity: 91-90%
Wind: light
BPM: 153
Weight: 167.6 pounds
Total distance to date: 6,785 km
Devices: Garmin Forerunner 255 Music, iPhone 12, AirPods (3rd generation)
Shoes: Saucony Peregrine 15 (45/76/121)

Music: Beauty and the Beat, The Go-Go's

Birding, December 6, 2025: Pigeon party

Where: Piper Spit, Burnaby Lake (Burnaby), Tlahutum Regional Park (Coquitlam)
Weather: Sun, cloud, late showers, 9°C
A mostly clear sky and very calm water on Burnbaby Lake.

The original forecast was The Rains and plenty of them, but a shift toward better weather in the morning prompted us to head out earlyish to a couple spots before the showers arrived.

It was also unseasonably mild, at least until the wind started picking up near the end.

Piper Spit, Burnaby Lake

It was sunny at Piper Spit and new signs were out, giving myriad reasons on why feeding wildlife is now permanently banned. It’s not just about keeping the bears away. Check out the chonky squirrel on the sign. I’ve seen that squirrel!

Don’t make squirrels round!

A good luck heron (I have arbitrarily decided that seeing a heron is good luck) was standing in the water, just down from the dam, but we both managed to get grainy, blurry photos, despite it not moving. Not an auspicious start.

Mist on the water provided some nice scenery shots along the trail, though, and a presumed mated pair of geese allowed me to take photos without any hissing.

We took the side trails and it appeared to be feeding time, as a collection of finches, robins, juncos, towhees and more were darting about the trees, snacking on berries. While it proved challenging at times to get shots through all the branches and twigs, I got probably my best directly-from-below shot of a robin ever. Possibly also my only one. We even saw a Stellar’s Jay, though it proved elusive for picture-taking.

At the spit, a few song sparrows were hopping about and the waterfowl were adapting to their new seed-free life (although we later saw someone had left a trail of seeds along a low railing–bad!) The water level seemed higher, which meant the shorebirds were farther away, so no good photo opportunities there. A few cormorants were in the cormorant hangout spot. Mostly, though, it was gulls and pigeons. The gulls were in two large groups, one on the land mass east of the spit and the rest in the shallows adjacent. Many of them were bathing as other birds dozed.

When we got there, the pigeons were lining the railing on either side leading to the end of the pier. The position of the sun meant we needed to walk past them to get the best shots. Would they freak out and fly off? Worse, a pair of guys were on the end of the pier and about to head back. But the pigeons were too cool for school (as the kids say) and remained in place, allowing copious shots of them puffed out, preening and posing.

In the water, the scaups were still here, along with the usual assortment of mallards, wood ducks, teals and others. A few shovellers are sticking around, too, it seems, though they werre snoozing, much like most of the others.

In all, it was a surprisingly good outcome to what had been originally forecast as a very wet morning.

Tlahutum Regional Park

Coquitlam River on arrival, clouds moving in.

By the time we got to Tlahutum, the clouds had started gathering and the wind started picking up. A change in the weather was clearly on the way. Would we get some shots before getting soaked? Yes!

We saw Gadwalls and Common Mergansers in their usual spots (one of the creeks and the bend in the Coquitlam River before it approaches the bridge, respectively) and then I spotted something brown and furry in the water. Probably not a bird. It was a muskrat! It eventually climbed up on shore and began nibbling on vegetation that it held in its adorable little hands (though the claws looked very serious).

Meanwhile, the main pond saw an unusually large variety of waterfowl:

  • Coots
  • Mallards
  • Northern Shovellers
  • Hooded Mergansers
  • Pied-billed Grebes
  • Wood Ducks
  • Buffleheads
  • Ring-necked Ducks
  • Possibly others I’ve forgotten

I’ve never seen so many different kinds of ducks here. It was clearly the hot place to be. And instead of just one grebe disappearing into a portal to the Grebe Universe before we could even take a photo, today there were multiple grebes, and we got photos as proof!

We opted to skip the community gardens, which is basically a series of mini-lakes right now, and will probably remain as such until spring. It did eventually start to shower, but only after we had packed away our gear and started heading out.

In all, an unusually bountiful outing, especially considering the original forecast.

The Shots

Shot with a Canon EOS R7 with 18-150 mm kit lens and 100-400 mm telephoto.

Pigeon glare at Piper Spit.
A muskrat noshing away in one of the waterways of Tlahutm Regional Park.

Gallery soon™.

The Birds (and other critters)

Sparrows and sparrow-adjacent:

  • American Robin
  • Black-capped Chickadee
  • Dark-eyed Junco
  • Fox Sparrow
  • House Finch
  • Red-winged Blackbird
  • Song Sparrow
  • Spotted Towhee
  • Stellar’s Jay

Waterfowl and shorebirds:

  • American Coot
  • Bufflehead
  • Canada Goose
  • Common Merganser
  • Double-crested Cormorant
  • Gadwall
  • Great Blue Heron
  • Green-winged Teal
  • Hooded Merganser
  • Lesser Scaup
  • Long-billed Dowitcher
  • Mallard
  • Northern Pintail
  • Northern Shoveller
  • Pied-billed Grebe
  • Ring-necked Duck
  • Wood Duck

Common:

  • American Crow
  • Assorted gulls
  • Rock Pigeon

Raptors:

  • Bald Eagle

Non-birds:

  • Several ex-caterpillars
  • A muskrat! (at Tlahutum)

Running from a Ghost

A Ghost host, to be precise.

Last year, I began my search for a WordPress replacement in earnest, and signed up for a yearly plan using Ghost via https://www.magicpages.co/.

I have no complaints about the service or support, but 20 years of using WordPress proved a bigger hurdle to overcome than I thought. I really like some aspects of Ghost, but just as often I run into limits. It’s possible some of the limits might be theme-related, or could be overcome with CSS or something else, but I find I have little patience anymore to go down these rabbit holes to get things to work the way I want. WP is far from perfect (I could write a book–probably just from my posts highlighting WP’s issues) but I know it and have adapted to its flaws and weird bits.

I feel Ghost is close, but not quite it. Or maybe it is and I’m not willing to put in the effort.

Either way, I’m sticking with WP for at least a little bit longer. I’ll continue to ponder a move, but the urgency is no longer there.

Here is a cat:

My tech is very selectively killing itself

I’ve had two cases recently where a device I have continues to work perfectly in every way, except for its primary purpose.

Last year, my camera, a Canon EOS M50, was experiencing occasional glitches, but I learned to live with them. Then one day, while out solo shooting birds at Piper Spit, it stopped taking photos. It would act like it was taking a photo, but would not actually finish the job.

I went through its settings and everything on the camera–including shooting and recording video–worked perfectly. It just stopped taking photos.

I ended up getting a new camera. It takes photos.

The other happened just recently. My iPhone 12 has occasionally sent a call directly to voicemail for no apparent reason. Now it rotates through several behaviours:

  • Call immediately goes to voicemail, I get alerted to a “missed call.”
  • Phone rings, I pick up, but the time on the call stays at 0:00. The person calling goes straight to voicemail.
  • Best of all, sometimes the phone doesn’t alert me to a call at all, not even putting a missed call in the call history.
  • What it doesn’t do: Actually allow me to take a phone call. I can still make calls without issue.

I did a cursory search on this and found a “Telus neighbourhoods” thread with dozens of replies reporting the same issue–but on every make and model of phone under the sun, both Android and iPhone. A multitude of “Changing this one random setting fixed it for me!” posts suggest the problem likely comes and goes based on the whims of the Telus network. It’s possible getting a new phone wouldn’t even solve the issue.

For now, I’m giving it time to see if it goes away (I did update and reboot my phone, as well as twiddle the dial on a few phone-related settings). If it doesn’t, I’ll probably grudgingly get a new phone.

Next up: A fan that refuses to blow air.

I started building my new PC

Yes, it is time for my once-a-decade PC build project. Terrifying. Enough time has passed since the previous build that I’ve almost forgotten that each time I do this, I swear I will never do it again.

All the parts are gathered. I cleared a space. I grounded myself, both against static and mentally. I put down the motherboard on the space I’d cleared (I planned to install everything on the motherboard before putting it in the case, save for the video card). I peeled all the plastic film off parts of it, something I’d never had to do on a motherboard before. I installed the ram (I used my iPhone’s Magnifier app to read the correct slot layout on the PCB).

And then I stopped, because the SSDs were next and the quick start guide that came with the motherboard seemed to not mention anything about how to install these and it was not immediately obvious, as the M.2 slots were hidden with shrouds and heat sinks and whatnot, with no clear way (to me) to access them. I contemplated looking online.

Then I actually just called it quits. For the day. Apparently my patience for this sort of thing has ebbed a bit since the last time.

But a friend with the same motherboard1This is why it’s handy to buy components that friends own offered tips and I’m ready to go for the next attempt. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe!

The motherboard in question, an ASRock 870E NOVA. I may have called it a mother*** a few times.

Run 990: Mid-week moderation

View from Cariboo Dam, pre-run: Cloudy and calm again.

Conditions were pretty similar to Monday, though it was a bit more humid (I couldn’t feel the difference). I dressed in three layers again and since I ran at the lake today, the third layer was nice for the 4K walk there and back.

My watch told me to do a shorter recovery run, so I compromised and did my usual 5K, but eased up a bit, with an overall pace of 5:45/km and a BPM of 149. The only time I notably picked up the pace was when I was passing by the Nature House/Piper Spit and one of the park putt-putt cars was heading out. I looked behind me and could see it was coming my way, so I goosed it a little to stay ahead of it. It was pulling a cute little trailer, so I don’t think there was any serious chance of it catching me.

I did not have any issues on the run, and the trail was sparsely populated. Once again, I did not see any of the regular runners. Kind of weird at this point. Maybe they take winters off.

In all, a fine mid-week effort and any run in December where it isn’t raining or freezing is A++ for me.

Silver Creek, post-run. Beavers once derailed a 150 car train into this creek.

Stats:

Run 990
Average pace: 5:45/km
Training status: Productive
Location: Burnaby Lake (CCW, short loop)
Start: 10:56 a.m.
Distance: 5.03 km
Time: 28:57
Weather: Overcast
Temp: 5°C
Humidity: 91-89%
Wind: light
BPM: 149
Weight: 166.3 pounds
Total distance to date: 6,780 km
Devices: Garmin Forerunner 255 Music, iPhone 12, AirPods (3rd generation)
Shoes: Saucony Peregrine 15 (40/63/103)

Music: Shuffle mode