Today I ventured downtown to watch the annual Vancouver Pride Parade, arriving on Robson Street about an hour before the noon-time start. The sky was overcast but there was no threat of rain. A sizable crowd was already gathered in the 1200 block where I chose to watch from. It would be standing room only, something my feet would hate me for three hours later.
Let me start by saying the energy and enthusiasm in both the parade participants and the crowd is great. The parade going on for two hours is less great. The weirdly large gaps between floats in the last half hour that feels like an attempt to pad things out is less great still. Being wedged in like the proverbial sardine with barely a micron to move to your left or right is what one might call not great at all. Still, I was there to have fun and take pictures.
My camera battery died partway through. I was tempted to pack it in at that point but I felt I’d be cheating someone by cutting out early. Mr. and Mrs. Pride, maybe. Plus I wanted to see the VGVA float. As it turns out, it showed up at 2:04 p.m., one of the last entries in the parade, and long after the camera had gone kaput. The boys had fun with their balls all the same.
I must say, though, there’s nothing quite like seeing an old guy get handed a fistful of Trojan condoms and wonder what to do with them. He ended up giving them to an appreciative and virile young guy standing next to me.
Apropos of nothing, tonight I made a picture of Angry Carrot dipped in the colors of Pride. This, as with everything, makes him angry.
Others, however, may enjoy the Pride festivities around Vancouver, including the Pride Parade on Sunday, which attracted a staggering 600,000 people last year.
My camera is a trusty little Canon point and shoot digital and it takes fine photos for a goof like me who doesn’t pretend to know anything about photography besides “don’t put your thumb in front of the lens” but it’s rather mediocre in low light situations, leading to very noisy images. At night it’s good at capturing the dark and not much else. This preamble is to explain why I didn’t take pictures of the actual fireworks the two nights I went. However, Nic’s camera could beat up my camera and he did take some nice photos, which you can see on his Flickr page. Links below. Click on any image to go the individual galleries.
I like to think I am a pretty mellow guy and the feedback from others seems to support this. For example, I can’t recall the last time someone asked me to stop yelling.
But like anyone, there are random little things that bug me. Not in a frothing angry hate-the-world sort of way, just in that “oh yeah, this kind of bugs me” sort of way. Here’s an incomplete list:
the sidewalk drifter: this is someone who walks slowly in front of you on the sidewalk. As soon as you decide to pass by, the person will drift in the direction you are attempting to pass on. If you move left, they drift left. If you move right, they drift right. They also always walk straight down the middle of the sidewalk so as to maximize the space they occupy. I have seen several drifters whose actions lead me to believe they are calculated and therefore, evil.
people who think they are clever by referring to Canada as Canuckistan.
The Pet Shop Boys video for “Go West”. The song, originally performed by the Village People, is a blatant gay anthem. The video tries to repurpose it as an east vs. west thing (Russia vs. the U.S.) in order to make it suitable for mass consumption. It’s intellectually dishonest, especially considering Neil Tennant had officially come out around the same time.
the flaps on cargo shorts. They always curl up. I actually iron mine after washing them to keep them flat and I don’t iron anything.
full page ads on the front page of a newspaper. You typically only see this on the free dailies like 24 Hours or Metro but still, it’s as good as them admitting that the news therein is secondary to anything else, which doesn’t make a newspaper seem all that valuable a resource.
ATV strollers, especially on buses. There has been a trend in recent years toward strollers becoming the baby-toting equivalent of an SUV, with huge knobby tires and reinforced seats seemingly more suited to some 4×4 driving in the mountains than taking little Billy downtown to playschool. I have watched several people struggle to simply get these monstrosities onto a bus.
running a pedestrian-controlled red light. Hey jerk, the light is red because a person is crossing the intersection. Running the light to save you precious seconds on your oh-so-important tasks is not really a fair exchange for seriously injuring or killing someone.
employees who smoke at the entrance to the store they work in. Why do managers let them do this? Do they think walking through a cloud of smoke is the best way to welcome someone into their shop? Also, people who don’t butt out their cigarettes and instead just leave them burning on the sidewalk. Lazy would-be cancer victims!
And many, many more. Again, these are little things. I don’t gnash my teeth and write angry letters to editors over them, I just note them here because I like lists.
In case I ever become a famous author, here is my grocery list from today for someone to put in hardcover to see if it really would sell. It also highlights how unexciting my diet is and why I managed to lose 40 pounds.
fat-free cottage cheese
3 hothouse tomatoes
1 head of green leaf lettuce
Grape Nuts cereal (a friend refers to it as ‘dirt and sawdust’)
Tomato and balsamic rice crackers (this is my ‘fun’ food)
Vitasoy unsweetened soy milk (for the dirt and sawdust above)
1 can 6-bean mix
2 tomato & basil boneless & skinless chicken breasts (I usually make my own marinade but got lazy today)
1 dozen large white eggs
I should note this is not an all-inclusive list since I walk to the store and have so far been unsuccessful in growing additional arms for carrying extra bags, but it’s a good overview of some of the staples I regularly pick up.
I am probably one of three people in North America to eat breakfast cereal with no processed sugar in it (zero in both the cereal and milk). I cheat a little by sprinkling a dozen fresh blueberries on top, though. Yum.
There are times when I use dried beans and others when I go for the can. The only thing I don’t like about dried beans is the long prep time (an hour or so), especially when it’s already quite warm inside. If I can (ho ho) I try to buy beans that are low sodium. Most stores offer this now.
The cottage cheese is my usual go-to snack for later in the evening. The veggies are for my turkey sandwiches, which are quite yummy, if I do say so. Eggs are for breakfast, obviously.
What’s missing from this list vs. one I would have made slightly more than two years ago: any processed food, sugary drinks and/or cookies.
Wednesday night I returned downtown to watch the fireworks put on by the team from Mexico. Unlike Saturday, we arrived after it was already dark and observed from a higher vantage point above Sunset Beach. Crowds that had been pegged at 300,000 for Saturday were notably smaller but still big for the crowdaphobic.
The Mexican display started in fine fashion but then went into a long interlude with minimal fireworks that were keyed very specifically to the music. Someone to the right of us had a radio broadcasting the music and it was very evident the designers of the show had chosen to have large sections of the display timed to the music they had selected. While a neat effect, it meant the display — especially to those without access to the music — was a bit limp compared to Spain’s balls-out approach. Overall I have to give the nod to Spain’s more crowd-pleasing display. The approach Mexico took would work better for a fireworks show that wasn’t situated in the middle of a large bay.
Remarkably I was able to catch a bus mere moments after arriving at the bus stop post-fireworks and was home a full half hour earlier than on Saturday. Although crowded, the ride was uneventful. If I just got lucky this year with transit, it’s the kind of luck I like.
This isn’t a Starcraft 2 review since I don’t have the game and have no plans to pick it up, but a Quarter to Three thread in which the original poster wonders where all the reviews are (reviewers did not get access to the game until yesterday, when it went live via Blizzard’s battle.net player portal/matchmaking service) has some nice riffing from various posters on the most trite soundbites from potential reviews. The banter dies out after the first 50 posts or thereabouts in favor of the usual Internet arguments, so I’ll just highlight some of my favorites:
Of all the games to come out this year, this is definitely one of them!
It’s Blizzard’s best game ever as Wing Commander meets Warcraft in the white-knuckle thrill ride of the summer. It’s a visceral, seminal tour de force that’s part comic, part tragic, but all magic.
It’s more good than fun.
If I get my novel published, I can only hope someone describes it as “more good than fun”.
What’s the deal with plaid shorts? At some point in the recent past they were declared ‘it’. When I went to The Bay to look for a plain pair of shorts I felt like I had entered Plaid World. There were racks upon racks of plaid shorts in every possible color and configuration, a veritable sea of plaid to drown in. Oh sure, I found a few token pairs of non-plaid shorts for people who just have to be different and buck the current trend being dictated to us by…uh…whoever is responsible for starting the whole thing. I’d love to have a specific name so I could write a letter. I’d never send the letter but it would feel good writing it.
The non-plaid pairs of shorts came only in two sizes: giant and elephantine, because apparently the average male now has a waist similar to a water buffalo and those who eat reasonably and exercise and thus have a regular-sized waist are a minority that will take what they can get and like it, dammit. I left the store sans shorts (except for the ones I was wearing when I came in. I am not an indecent man, after all).
On a similar note, can someone please declare 3D in movies ‘not it’. This has to be the most unwelcome trend in theaters since they started showing commercials. It’s such a crass move to squeeze even more money from the shrinking theater-going audience. I think I preferred the rumble seats some theaters had when they played Earthquake back in 1974.
With a number of activities on tap for the evening and not wanting to fall behind on my running schedule I decided to do a rare morning run today, starting out just before 11 a.m. The temperature was around 20ºC when I started and creeping past 24ºC by the time I finished less than an hour later. There was a moderate wind and not a cloud in the sky.
Since it was late morning I figured the sun might become an issue and as pointed out above, the temperature climbed fairly quickly and it was quite noticeable. The shade from the trees and the breeze provided a welcome respite from the direct sun but there aren’t a lot of trees lining the path and the wind wasn’t exactly cool. My first 2 km were still brisk but after that the heat began to get to me and my pace slowed by a whopping 11 seconds over the next two km. As usual I found some equilibrium in the second half of the run and things evened out a bit, but I ended with a pace of 5:37/km (5:38 according to the Nike site and its ‘new math’). While this isn’t a great result, considering how warm it was, the fact that I had to go to the bathroom for the better part of the run, the pungent smell of manure wafting across the park and finally a desire to get some food as noon approached, I’m not going to complain too much.
I will, however, stick to the evenings when I can in the future. The difference in comfort is striking.
Chart (red denotes running in especially warm conditions, green denotes cramps during run):
Last night I went to the Celebration of Light fireworks at English Bay, the second of four evenings of fireworks this summer. Nic, who conveniently lives only a few blocks away, suggested we head out early. I, not living conveniently a few blocks away, caught the #22 and came downtown, noting the conspicuous steady stream of people heading beachward. As I stood at the intersection of Davie and Thurlow a couple of young guys approached me. One of them asked if I knew where they could get beer. I advised them that there was a cold beer and wine store just a block or so down the street. The guys nodded and thanked me, walking away. The one guy then came back and asked, “What about bud?” I decided not to play cute by acting as if he was looking for someone named Bud and simply shrugged, saying “Around”, which is fairly accurate as far as that thing goes.
Shortly after 7 we headed down to set up near the Inukshuk, which, like all other public art/statuary in the area, had been surrounded by temporary fencing. There was also a row of nearby port-a-potties and what seemed to be a miniature strip mall hastily assembled along the walk on English Bay beach, selling ice cream and glow-in-the-dark lightsabers, among other things. Initially we sat on some of the rocks just off the path, watching the outgoing tide lap up just out of reach but after experiencing profound numb butt I suggested we move slightly back and sit on the edge of the pavement. Much better.
This was the view looking straight ahead from our position, where False Creek meets English Bay. Everything from dinghies to cabin cruisers were bobbing in the choppy water. A few people were even seen briefly swimming, which isn’t the first thing I’d do when surrounded by a million boats.
(click to enlarge)
We witnessed at least three groups of people getting picked up by small boats. The people in the shot below were actually sitting and standing near us for a good while, their conversation bearing witness that the price for a beautiful body is made up for in the brain department. I am of the belief that the guys are genetically designed to always have their underwear sticking out. They simply can’t help themselves.
Speaking of young men with their underwear sticking out, another group had planted itself on the rocks ahead of us. As the day turned to dusk, a couple of police officers came along behind us and asked one of the young men to step forward. As we watched the rock-top interrogation, a small plastic pouch was removed from the p0cket of the young man and he was escorted away for his own private fireworks show. I shall call him Bud.
Looking to our right you can see the rather sizable crowd gathered two hours in advance on English Bay Beach.
Everyone was remarkably well-behaved. A guy sitting in front of us and whose cigarette smoke consistently blew directly into my face left after a few minutes when it became apparent that his friends were not prepared to sit on rocks. A girl to my left watched the fireworks and kept muttering a simple, quiet “Wow” throughout. At one point she expanded on this to her friends: “I really love fireworks.” It was cute — really! The crowd was there to kick back and enjoy the show.
And it was a good show. The Spanish entrant chose to use iconic (and bombastic) classical music — Ride of the Valkyries and Thus Spoke Zarathustra (better known as the music from 2001: A Space Odyssey) but their pyrotechnics were up to the task of matching the grandeur of the music. Last year I saw China’s show and it fizzled out to a limp finale. Maybe rockets don’t fly as high when they’re lined with lead. Spain, however, delivered a rousing series of overlapping explosions that let you know this was the big finish. Most people went home satisfied, I suspect.
Getting out of downtown was surprisingly painless. I walked with the orderly masses down to Burrard and Pender and only waited a few minutes for a #19 to show up. I was home within the hour. Kudos to transit (who imagined such a thing being said by me?) for keeping on top of the giant crowds for these events.
Tonight’s run was a bit warmer than the last few — 23ºC, with a light breeze and the sun low in the sky. When I got to the park I decided it wasn’t quite low enough so I walked a lap, looking for any holes on the path that I could fill in (holes made by energetic dogs or perhaps the coyotes the sign on the fence warns about but are never seen). Finding the path hole-free, I set out, keenly aware of the cramptastic time I had on my last run. My start was a bit more cautious than usual as a result but I suffered no cramps or other body discomforts and turned in a solid run, matching my pre-cramp pace of 5:27* and coming in under 55 minutes.
The park was pretty quiet, with no games being played and less than half a dozen people out with their dogs. The guy with the cute puppy that refused to play fetch was back and this time the puppy seemed willing to go along with his owner’s plan, aggressively hunting down the thrown balls. For awhile, anyway.
Chart:
Distance
July 25st
July 21st
July 17th
July 13th
July 11th
July 5th
1 km
5:10
5:05
5:06
5:10
5:15
5:10
2 km
5:13
5:08
5:09
5:14
5:20
5:13
3 km
5:15
5:14
5:12
5:18
5:24
5:14
4 km
5:18
5:19
5:14
5:21
5:27
5:18
5 km
5:20
5:24
5:17
5:23
5:29
5:21
6 km
5:22
5:28
5:20
5:25
5:31
5:24
7 km
5:24
5:32
5:22
5:26
5:33
5:27
8 km
5:26
5:36
5:24
5:29
5:35
5:30
9 km
5:28
5:39
5:26
5:30
5:36
5:33
10 km
5:28
5:40
5:27
5:30
5:37
5:34
* The Nike site reported my pace at 5:28 and I’m recording that here but the actual Nike+ sensor says it was 5:27. I believe the Nike site rounds up, so I’m sticking with 5:27 as the ‘official’ pace, darn it.
21ºC and high cloud for tonight’s run. For a change of pace, there was virtually no wind.
A baseball game was in progress at the eastern diamond and I was reminded yet again at what a great motivator baseball is for running. This particular set of teams were applying what you call serious wood to the ball, cracking them out regularly at high velocity and with an alarming tendency to head straight toward the northern stretch of the path I run on. I tried to pick up the pace each time I neared so I’d clear the line of fire before the next pitch was released. One ball went into a tree, which is as you might guess is not part of the playing field. Another ball got knocked into the street. I consider myself lucky to have escaped without a goose egg on the noggin.
I had a good start but tragedy struck between the 2 and 3 km mark. Okay, not really tragedy, more like a cramp in my abdomen. I ate a little more than an hour before running and it’s the only thing I can think of to explain it. Whatever the cause, the cramp was enough to put a serious dent in my pace. I almost packed it in but usually a cramp eases up after a few km, so I continued on. This particular cramp made itself comfy, though, and persisted through the remainder of the run. Stupid cramp.
As a result, my pace was a very sluggish 5:39, a whopping 12 seconds off my last run, but I at least got the full 10 km in. And Tiger Woods didn’t congratulate me for the 100th time for completing another 5,000 miles, so there’s that, too.
The final insult came at the end when two bees stubbornly kept flying around the fountain. I was parched but they would not leave. I ran the fountain spigot and splashed water. They buzzed about a bit then settled back, one of them perching on top of the actual spigot itself. A nearby pail was half-full of water for thirsty dogs. I proceeded to take the bucket and dump it directly on top of the fountain. This persuaded the bees to leave long enough for me to get a few sting-free gulps of water.
The chart nicely illustrates where the cramp struck. Note how the pace in the 3rd and 4th km shoots up by a ridiculous 6 and 5 seconds. That pretty much sealed the run right there. By the end my pace had moved closer to what it would normally be, meaning the cramp had either lessened or enough endorphins kicked in for me to mostly ignore it.
