Run 566: Sun, fog and the miracle knee

Run 566
Average pace: 5:53/km

Location: Burnaby Lake (CCW)
Start: 12:51 pm
Distance: 10.02 km
Time: 59:04
Weather: Sun and fog
Temp: 7ºC
Humidity: 86%
Wind: light
BPM: 156
Weight: 162.4 pounds
Total distance to date: 4405 km
Devices: Apple Watch, iPhone 8

I got off to a late start today, waking with a headache and unsure whether I would run at all. I took some Advil, had a bath and by noon had changed into shorts and a dual layer up top. I thought I’d do a 5K at the river but on the way changed my mind and instead did a full 10K at the lake.

In hindsight I probably would have been okay with a single layer, possibly even just a regular t-shirt, but certainly a long-sleeved one. Having two layers did not leave me excessively warm, though. I did sweat more than I normally would given the cooler temperature.

Conditions were interesting. The temperature hovered around 6-7ºC, but with little breeze I was fine wearing shorts. The first three km it was quite foggy, with everything in the distance obscured by mist. Kind of cool. Also literally kind of cool. Beyond that the sun burned through and it remained sunny for the remainder of the run. Puddles were minimal. The occasional goose honked.

This was the first run with my new iPhone 8 and while I assumed the GPS would be pretty close to that on the 6, it seemed off, as I had to run well past my usual stopping point and didn’t hit 10 km until I was at the dam–nearly a full loop around the lake. A full loop is officially 10.3 km and I run three side trails that extend it even more, so it seems the phone was still calibrating or some such. We’ll see how it compares over the next few runs.

Because of the extra length my run extended to 59 minutes and my pace was 5:53/km. I don’t think it would have been blazing fast otherwise, as I was trying to keep to a more moderate pace, but it would have been a bit speedier.

The run went fine, with the left knee feeling mysteriously untroubled. Perhaps the Advil worked its dark magic on it. Regardless, it was nice. The left butt muscle got a little stiff well into the run, but proved only a mild issue at best.

Due to the later start the trail was fairly busy, with lots of walkers, joggers, dogs, kids and flitting birds, but there were no problems with navigation at all, even when on the boardwalks with multiple people.

One saucy young guy did run past me early on. I stuck my tongue out at him as he went by, my way of wishing him well in his jog.

The more moderate pace did have a notable effect on my BPM, which dropped to a downright calm 156. Other than wondering briefly if I’d have to complete more than a full loop to hit 10K, the run went well. I am pleased.

Complaint-free me, Day 6: Complaining

And so I start again.

On the sixth day of my 21 day complaint-free quest I complained. I started the day in a negative frame of mind and it just took over until the complaining started.

Tomorrow I reset to Day 1.

Briefly, what happened was this:

  • I had to stay home for a dryer ventilation inspection. It’s one of those things that only takes a minute but you never know when they’re going to arrive. I did laundry and ran a load of dishes, but was mildly annoyed at having to stay put.
  • Part of this annoyance was due to my watch not connecting to the phone. It apparently stopped doing so shortly after noon yesterday for reasons unknown. I spent a lot of time fruitlessly troubleshooting this.
  • After the ventilation guy left (testing vents involves a rubber hose and jet-loud suction) I decided to go out and maybe get a new phone as a way to brute-force a solution (I had concluded the watch was fine and the phone, now 3+ years old, was acting hinky)
  • I walked to Lougheed on my usual route and a couple with a pair of dogs entered the Brunette River trail just ahead of me. The dogs were off-leash and running around in a hyperactive “what was in their kibble?” kind of way. This was a huge red flag to me. I growled to myself and the guy corralled his dogs and hustled them off the trail to the river. I’m not sure if this was his plan or if he didn’t like the look on my face, but it did little to appease me.
  • Further up the trail a woman with another dog off-leash. The dog approaches me, getting up close and personal. The owner calls the dog back. I turn to her and say, “They’ll fine you for having your dog off-leash.” Technically it’s a statement, so I’m still good, but my mood is not. My doom is approaching.
  • I cross a foot bridge near Lougheed and on the other side is another woman with a yellow lab. Normally a cute dog, but this one, off-leash, ran up and proceeded to poke me with its snout. I growled again, loudly and in a somewhat sustained manner. I said in a curt tone, “Leash your dog.” The woman and dog crossed the bridge, the dog remaining off-leash. I called back again, “Leash your dog!” It occurred to me later that she may not have even had a leash. At the far end of the bridge I could see the woman beckoning to her dog. The dog was off exploring nearby bushes. The dog was doing what it wanted to do. It was a happy dog. I ended my interaction by shouting, “I hope your dog bites someone!”

Now, telling someone to leash their dog is not of itself a complaint. It’s a request. But as the author of A Complaint Free World notes, it’s often how you say something and the way I, er, barked out my words, it was clear I was complaining, not just offering some kindly advice. And so my blue rubber band made its first journey to my left wrist.

I’ll put it back on the right wrist tomorrow and try to do better. I wonder how the whole sequence of events would have ended if I’d had a 10 or 15-day streak going instead.

I’m disappointed, but at the same time a little relieved. I’ve gotten my warning and with a lot of potential complaint points coming up, I will have to be even more vigilant in what I say and how I feel.

Also, I got the new phone and my watch is happy again, so yay.

Complaint-free me, Day 5: Mostly sure I’m not complaining

I did a lot more talking today than earlier this week, particularly with co-workers and I have a nebulous feeling I may have complained, but it’s very vague–I can’t point to anything specific, even as I recall a conversation in which I expressed concerns about certain things. These weren’t complaints because I readily admitted to the benefits of said things, while also pointing out that certain aspects were left unaddressed. I thought aloud about possible solutions, trying to remain positive.

And that was as close to complaining as I got, so I think I got through Day 5 intact. I did hear others complaint, but in response I either grunted noncommittally (I should practice this in the mirror to get it just right) or I’d find some positive aspect to highlight instead.

Example:

Grumpy person: Oh look, it’s raining again. What a surprise!
Me: Umbrella vendors must be making record profits.
Grumpy person: …

I’m going to chalk this up as Day 5 with no complaints. If the weather is better next week, I’ll be cautiously optimistic that I’ll keep my streak going.

Writing exercise: A Walk in the Snow (Part 3)

Here’s Part 3 of this writing exercise. I have no idea how many parts there will be or how it will end. Or if it will end. Like real exercise, you never know until you get to the gym and start sweating. Okay, that was a terrible analogy.

Here’s Part 3 (375 words).

Part 1 is here, Part 2 is here.

A Walk in the Snow, Part 3

I am not surprised, but neither am I especially pleased, because I was certain there was someone behind me and the acoustics in the area are not likely to lead me to mistake my own footsteps for those of someone else.

But even as I think this the whole experience begins to muddy in my mind. I am cold and a little tired and in no mood to play games with my own brain. I give in, give up. Yes, I imagined the entire thing. No one was following me. No one was there.

Instead of trudging forward and that much closer to the delicious steaming mug of hot chocolate that would be mine, I pivot around and face the way I came from. I retrace my steps, peering down into the trodden snow, examining my shoe prints and looking for others. There’s not enough light and given that letting my imagination fill in the blanks is quite possibly the reason I am now walking opposite my destination, I stop, pull out my phone and turn on its flashlight function (I wonder if it’s called Torch mode in the UK). I crouch down, my knees creaking unhappily from the cold and the damp, and wave the phone across the path I’ve made. I can see my prints clearly. I don’t see any others.

My imagination, that’s all. Time for hot chocolate and some apparently well-needed rest.

I continue to backtrack just a little more, having not quite reached the point of total satisfaction. It’s kind of like art–I’ll know it when I see it. Or in this case, when I get there.

The not-terribly-impressive beam of light sweeps back and forth from the phone and suddenly it slips through my gloved hand, landing in the snow with a soft plop. It sinks a little. I mutter a choice epitaph, then reach down to scoop it out, but the glove endows my hand with the gift of clumsiness and I instead push it further into the snow.

More cursing ensues. I pull the glove off and stuff it into a coat pocket. I begin fishing with my bare fingers, already numbing from the cold.

It is then that I hear the footsteps coming from behind me.

Complaint-free me, Day 4: Close but no cigar complaints

Back at work it was more challenging but ultimately not that difficult to go without complaining and I’ve discovered that I can still make wisecracks that are legitimately not complaints in disguise. Yay.

I keep telling people that I’m doing this because I think there’s a reasonable chance that when I slip up I may not even notice it, so independent verification will be handy.

While I won’t say it’s been easy so far, I really do think that recognizing “complaint mode” has helped a lot. A couple of times I would think about saying something but silently ask myself first (as you tend to look a bit loco when you ask yourself questions out loud), “Is this actually a complaint?” and realize it was and then I’d just let it go. I wouldn’t think of another way to rephrase the statement, I’d just move on.

For example, the queue at work is very big right now, probably the largest it’s ever been. I could easily complain about it, but instead I don’t. I think about it, but when it comes to actually speaking, I’ll make suggestions on how to address it, propose solutions. You know, the opposite of complaining. It seems very Pollyanna-ish, but to heck with it. Who didn’t like Pollyanna? (Note: I’ve never seen the movie, so I have no idea if a major plot point turned on everyone secretly hating her or something.)

There’s 17 more days to go. It seems improbable that I will get there without interruption, but much like my quest to make 2018 donut-free, sometimes you just gotta believe (2018 has so far been donut-free).

Complaint-free me, Day 3: Easy peasy

Today was kind of a gimme for not complaining because I was at home sick and had pretty much zero interaction with any sort of sentient human. Or non-sentient, for that matter.

There was a golden opportunity to break my streak when I asked Jeff how his day was when he got home, but after an initial complaint he made a conscious effort to switch over to something positive instead. This was both thoughtful and practical, because up to that point I was largely just standing there like a statue, mute and unable to respond. I didn’t want to affirm his complaint, but neither did I want to just stand there like a lump staring at him (one of my favorite examples from the book A Complaint Free World is the family that went in on the challenge and found themselves sitting around the dinner table as if they all had Cones of Silence on them because they were unable to speak to each other. This changed, eventually, of course, but the early days were a vivid illustration of how dinner time was also venting time).

So far I haven’t missed complaining much. I already feel my brain trying to switch over more to problem-solving mode. Fortunately I have a lot of problems to solve to keep it occupied.

Writing exercise: A Walk in the Snow (Part 2)

Here’s Part 2 of the exercise, 413 words.

Part 1 can be found here or if you hate clicking and being whisked away by the internet, it’s also available in the spoiler tag below.

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A Walk in the Snow, Part 1

It is very quiet in the snow.

That’s how I hear the person walking behind me. I stop and a moment later the person stops. It is silent again.

I am walking down a service road that’s about two kilometers long. Its main function is to provide access to railway workers and park staff, but there’s little vehicle traffic on it most days. Tonight it’s covered in virgin snow and I’m up to my knees in the stuff after an early winter blast. My breath frosts in front of me, a steamy cloud that drifts up into a clear, dark sky and disappears.

I’m about halfway down the road, heading toward South Street, the main road that runs through my neighborhood. I live a few blocks east of South. I like telling people that, then watch their faces as they try to process it.

It’s bright enough to make my way without a flashlight. There is no artificial light here, just the stars dotting the black above and the snow shimmering around me.

I became aware of the footsteps–more the sound of someone pushing their way through the snow, really–a few minutes earlier. Twice I’ve tested by stopping and the person following has also stopped. It’s hard to escape the sensation that I am prey being stalked. The snow is just deep enough to make a quick escape impossible. The closest things to weapons I carry are my house keys and smartphone. I keep my breathing calm, knowing this person is probably close enough to see the puffs. Don’t show signs of panic. I gaze up at the sky, as if I’m looking for a constellation. Casual. Curious. Inconspicuous.

Maybe.

I resume walking and count one thousand one, one thousand two. The footsteps resume behind me, shushing through the snow. It will take at least fifteen minutes to reach South Street, where the road is plowed, the sidewalks shoveled and regular traffic passes by. It seems very far away. I strain to hear cars but it’s late and all I hear are my steps and the ones mirrored behind me.
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A Walk in the Snow, Part 2

It’s nothing, I tell myself. Well, obviously it’s something, but it’s just someone who happened to hit the service road shortly after I did, probably using it as a shortcut in the same way, and the only reason they stop every time I stop is they don’t want to close the gap between us and get awkwardly close, which would be even creepier than simply walking a respectable distance behind.

This is logical enough that my mind clicks over from “stalker with knife will paint the snow with my blood” to “thinking about inane activities to engage in once home and the kettle of water is boiling for a big mug of hot chocolate.” I feel tension is my shoulders and neck ease up, the knots loosening. There’s a long lazy S in the road up ahead and once I’m into the second curve of it I’ll be able to see South Street. If it turns out I’m wrong I can start screaming like a little girl and plunge ahead in the snow, waving my arms frantically to catch the attention of drivers. I can hope the brushed aluminum casing of my phone is more solid than the drop test videos on YouTube suggest if I must brandish it as a weapon.

I enter the midway point of the S and realize my heart is racing and the shoulder and neck muscles have turned taut, but not from fear–from excitement, the excitement of having made it through whatever it was that has been happening on this snow-covered service road. I am likely excited because of an overactive imagination and that produces an actual giggle, one I stifle almost immediately. He might hear it. Or she. Or it.

I pick the pace up a bit, fancying myself an inefficient but determined snow plow. I’m in the bottom of the S now and there it is ahead, the light standard at the entrance of the service road, casting its alien yellow light over the gate that is locked and piled on with snow, looking like a Christmas diorama. Beyond it is South Street. The angle means I can’t quite see it yet, as the service road climbs a short hill where it connects to the main road, but I hear a vehicle go by.

Feeling brave, if not totally victorious, I lurch ahead a little more than stop and dare to turn around and see who has been following me.

There is no one there.

(to be continued)

Run 565: Creaky and speedy

Run 565
Average pace: 5:14/km

Location: Brunette River trail
Start: 1:18 pm
Distance: 5.03 km
Time: 26:23
Weather: Cloudy, some sun
Temp: 7ºC
Humidity: 92%
Wind: light to moderate
BPM: 170
Weight: 163.9 pounds
Total distance to date: 4395 km
Devices: Apple Watch, iPhone 6

I wore close to my summer gear today: shorts, but a long-sleeve rather than short-sleeve t-shirt. Even with a bit of a breeze it was fine at 7ºC. The longer sleeves helped to keep my hands and arms warm.

I managed to beat the rain, with the sun actually poking out a few times. A couple of hours later the sky turned gray and scary and The Rains returned. It’s always nice to dodge the rain bullet.

The first few minutes the left knee was creaky again and even the right ankle briefly joined in providing a sort of stereo effect of pain. The ankle cleared up quickly, though, and the left knee was fine after a few minutes of warming up. I think stretching may be beneficial as it occurs to me that the relative inflexibility of my legs may be contributing to the issue or at the very least slowing potential recovery. And maybe I’ll toss in a compression sleeve, as I mentioned previously.

Looking at my splits, I started out at my finishing pace of 5:14/km–much faster than I was planning or expecting–but really took off for the second km where the pace dipped to 5:03/km. Looking back, I can’t think of what inspired me to turn on the afterburners here. I eased up for the next few km before finishing with a zippy 5:07/km for the last stretch. The higher speed also meant a higher BPM, though I managed to hold it right at 170.

The run even inspired me on the walk home, resulting in my first walk under 9:00/km in awhile.

Overall, a good run, though I should probably be a little less zealous and focus more on stamina, a lower BPM and all that. It’s always so weird to run so much faster than I plan to, like my legs have little minds of their own and these minds are all, “RUN FASTER LOL!”

Complaint-free me, Day 2: Still complaint-free

I didn’t directly speak to a lot of people today, so that helped with the temptation to complain.

Also I’m pretty sure I’m coming down with something so I may be bedridden soon, which will help even more, unless I get hold of my iPad while in bed and find my way to Facebook to share news of my condition in a less-than-positive manner.

But that probably won’t happen.

Because I rarely post to Facebook.

Complaint-free me, Day 1: So far, no complaints (lol?)

Following the challenge from the book A Complaint Free World, I have begun a quest to go 21 consecutive days in a row without complaining to another person. As these are modern days, I’m also including complaining on social media.

Today I have managed the trick, largely due to two things:

  1. I have always been sensitive to what I say, how it might be perceived and how it could (potentially) be used against me. I am a long-time advocate of less is more and only giving as much information as you need to (for example, in an interview)
  2. I worked on the service desk today, so I spent little time interacting with co-workers, which is a prime vector for complaining. Airing complaints to people you’re trying to help generally doesn’t go over well. The most I did today was observe that it was busy and that we did not have enough people and the latter is a statement of reality, not a complaint. We are officially short-staffed by one and also had someone out sick today. I believe, based on volume of requests, that we would need additional people brought in to provide what I would consider an adequate level of support. Again, it’s not a complaint, just my sizing up of the current situation.

Tomorrow I will be working alongside others and the urge and opportunity to complain will be much greater. I may have to channel my inner monk to get through successfully.

But for now, it feels kind of nice to not be seething after a very busy day. I am not happy, but I am also not stressed out. I am focused on making things work for me while doing the best I can with the resources I have.

Swimming poo(l)

Today I found out what happens when poo (officially “fecal matter”) is found in a public swimming pool.

They close the pool.

This makes sense, of course. Who wants to swim with poo? After the poo is fished out, the staff must conduct a sweep of the pool using their poo-meters or whatnot to make sure the water is fit for swimming. Thid can take awhile as public pools tend to be large.

This happened at the Canada Games Pool, and while it didn’t inconvenience me–I was there to use an elliptical trainer–the closure of both the main pool and the large kids pool meant that anyone who wanted to get wet had to:

  • use the swirl pool, which is not really the same thing
  • sit in the sauna and sweat profusely, which is definitely not the same thing
  • make do in the very small kiddie pool, which is really just a shallow wading pool

The swirl pool and kiddie pool were both more crowded than I’ve ever seen them. I felt bad for everyone. And sweaty. Because of the elliptical.

I started thinking about why or how someone would poo in a public pool and then stopped. I think I made the right choice.

Run 564: Creaky and a little stinky

Run 564
Average pace: 5:39/km

Location: Burnaby Lake (CCW)
Start: 11:27 am
Distance: 10.03 km
Time: 56:47
Weather: Cloudy, light mist
Temp: 6ºC
Humidity: 92%
Wind: light
BPM: 164
Weight: 163.6 pounds
Total distance to date: 4390 km
Devices: Apple Watch, iPhone 6

Today’s run was overall a positive experience, with better-than-expected results.

The stinky part refers to what must have been a leaky sewer line in the area as a couple of stretches along the trail were rather stinky, with the piquant order rather distracting, albeit short-lived. Either that or a bunch of skunk cabbage spontaneously erupted.

On the plus side, the combination of milder temperatures and rain meant the last traces of snow are gone and the trail was mostly dry, so I was no longer actively fighting the conditions.

It was hovering around 5-6ºC and I wore running pants and two layers up top. Given that there was little wind, I would have been fine with a single layer up top (long-sleeved) and shorts would probably have been okay, too, though I didn’t feel too warm with the pants.

A very light misty rain fell during the second half of the run but it wasn’t enough to cause any chafing issues with my delicate chest. The dual layers may have helped there.

The threat of rain meant the trail was lightly populated, though pairs of people proved a bit vexing at times, with joggers and walkers both providing the bare minimum amount of room to get by. On the second boardwalk I encountered two couples, the men in back and the women up front. I clomped loudly on my approach from behind to signal my imminent arrival and the guy on the left moved slightly to accommodate me. For the women I actually said, “On your left” which got no response. As I nearly bowled the women on the left, I added, “Coming through!” which got their attention but minimal movement all the same. At least the boardwalk wasn’t still decked out like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude. I guess some people just get really wrapped up in their conversations or something.

My left knee was sore to start and while it isn’t slowing me down (that I can tell) it’s got me thinking more seriously about at least trying a compression sleeve to see if it helps. The second half of the run the knee did feel better, though. It was at the midway point that ailment number 2 arose, though: my right ankle started to hurt. I’ve actually felt this while walking or just ambling about in the last few days. It is random and as was the case on the run, intermittent. It persisted on and off from about the 5K to 7K mark, then cleared up after that. I’m unsure what caused this–bad posture while sitting, weird foot shenanigans while sleeping. I’m not expecting it to be a continuing issue like the left knee, but it may persist for another week or so.

As for the actual running itself, I purposely slowed down three or four times to calm my breathing and bring my heart rate down. My goal was not to improve my pace, but to get the BPM below 170. In the end I did both–my BPM was 164 and my pace improved to 5:39/km, better than expected.

I am going to try to run around the golf course this week and hope that the rain doesn’t turn the trail into a big stretch on nonsense.

Overall, I’m happy with today’s run, especially considering this time last year I wasn’t running outdoors at all due to the piles and piles of snow.