Life Lessons from parkrun

(They're not just running and crying; they're ALSO building character.) (Photo credit: author)

The things we do for love

When we moved to London, I wondered what I was going to do with myself, having left my full-time career behind to follow my husband.

"Maybe you'll become an avid runner," he suggested.

And we laughed and laughed and laughed.

Chris is the runner, has been one since his twenties. When we met, he was training for his second Boston marathon (his fifth-ever marathon) and hoping for a(nother) sub-three finish. So yes, he's a serious runner with a six-day-a-week habit. When we were dating, I "happened" to take up jogging a few times a week, in hope of "accidentally" crossing him on the path at lunchtime, and getting a kiss as my reward. (Speaking of the things we do for love.)

For me, the best part of a run is the shower afterwards. I found, though, since I worked out and taught classes and I married that runner, I didn't see any real reason to continue running. I found excuses to shower at other times.*

However, since moving here two years ago, I've fallen in with a group of runners. Women Running the World have changed my life and possibly/probably saved my life as well. I've written about them before; we run three times a week for set distances, routes and paces, and work up to an annual girls' weekend half marathon somewhere in Europe.

Although I still won't run without the motivation and companionship of a friend, my dog, or Chris -- I do not run alone -- I now define myself as a runner. One might say that I'm a reformed non-runner.

So, when I heard about parkrun (and junior parkrun), I was so excited to share this experience with my children.

parkrun* puts on weekly 5km timed runs around the world, for free. These events take place in "pleasant parkland surroundings" and they are open to everyone: people of every ability take part, from those starting to run to actual Olympians; juniors (aged 4-14) run 2km.

I immediately registered my children. They are like me in a lot of ways, in that many things come easy. But they tend to complain, whine, and quit when things get hard. They are soft.

This is normal, and not just for kids, of course. But because their lives have been so...easy...I felt that they needed to face a challenge. To be uncomfortable.

Character building for free

I was the only one who was excited! We had downloaded their barcodes, set our alarms on Saturday night for 7:30 am, and rode our bikes the mile to the park. It was going to be awesome.

parkrun was a disaster for two out of the three. Crying, gasping, clutching at their throats, it was 2 km of sheer hell, tantamount to child abuse. I suggested once or twice that if they put half the effort into breathing that they put into screaming "I CAN'T!", they'd do better. They were not amused. We all recovered with brownies from Starbucks.

This was not the lesson I wanted them to learn.

A few weeks later, we tried it again. This time, it was raining, and Chris stayed home in his bathrobe, sick. Vaughn tripped right at the start line and was screamily refusing to keep going. I could see Tamsin jogging in fits and starts ahead of us, struggling and crying, because I had told her I'd run with her; but I couldn't leave Vaughn, who needed me more (and hated me more) with every step. At Starbucks afterwards, Tamsin was limp from crying. Vaughn was just angry. Ailsa was strutting around bragging about being the first girl to finish, and the third kid in her age group. She wasn't reading the room. It was a full-on parenting fail.

I told the story to some of the WRW runners the next day, of course hoping for support and commiseration. They all said, "Maybe running isn't their thing. You could find something else that they like."  The consensus was that, even though Chris and I are runners, it's ok that our children are not.

And I fully, totally, 100% agree.

My point of forcing them to participate in the 2-kilometre, no-more-than-15-minute exercise wasn't -- and isn't -- to turn them into runners. They're kids. Of course they'll find sports and activities that they enjoy more. They don't have to play football or baseball like Chris, or softball and swimming (with a hint of late-onset cheerleading) like me. But they have to understand the difference between discomfort and pain. They need to realize that discomfort means that there's a challenge to overcome and that it's worthwhile to put your head down and work through it. These are important lessons that (hopefully) all of us will understand if we live long enough.

Discomfort is just part of life.

So, yep, if you go to parkrun on Sunday, I'm that mom with between one and three sobbing kids, shouting over-cheerful words of encouragement to keep going, to not stop, because if we keep doing these every few weeks or so, I know I won't have to.



* Showers taken after not running are, admittedly, not as fantastic as post-running ones, but I got past that by feeling joy in not running. 

** As an editor, I despise proper nouns that are intentionally not capitalized. Why can't parkrun just admit that Parkrun is so much better at the start of a sentence? e.e. cummings, don't make me come after you next. 

Lost in the Fog

Rough trip to #starbucks this morning. Ordered a #LondonFog, & 2 different baristas looked at me like I had 2 heads. 1-Am in London. 2-Am in Starbucks. 3-Am supposed to know what's in a London Fog? Am not barista. 4-Had a London Fog last week from your store.  FIX THIS.

— Dammit Karen (@kapowfit) December 8, 2018

To extrapolate on that obnoxiously-entitled, first-world-problem of a tweet the other day, let me tell you the full Starbucks sob story. (What? you say, Another Starbucks post, so soon?)  (This one doesn't feature caffeine-fuelled insanity.) 

I'll set the mood:  It was a dark, rainy morning in London.

Our Friday run goes up, up, up to Hampstead Heath and back.  When we started out, it was the nice, pleasant, London mist that passes for rain here, and which I sort of love, and I had literally just mentioned how much I liked it, especially when I was running.  But then a car drove past and splashed me with a wall of dirty water.  And then a full-on cold, soul-sucking splatter of giant raindrops came down, soaking the rest of my running group down to the skin, through three layers (including a water-resistant jacket).  This is usually an eight-mile route, but there were only three of us in our pace group that morning, and nobody was really feeling it, especially when it really started coming down.

So, we had run 6.12 miles, half of it very coldly and wetly.  True, it wasn't that cold out, but we were dripping and cooling down rapidly.  We did a quick stretch, then headed in to our local S'bucks, steaming slightly.

I had dropped off my reusable cup earlier, so pointed to it and asked for a London Fog.

...A London Fog, should you not know, is a lovely and herbaceous tea-based beverage, made with Earl Grey tea, steamed milk, and vanilla syrup.  Oh...did you not know that?

No?  It's probably because you're not a barista.  I, also, am not a barista.  I knew the part about Earl Grey, and that it had milk in it, but that's it.  

I have Starbucks now three times a week, after each run (we are, to bastardize the Hash House Harriers' motto, a coffee group with a running problem).  I do not take these coffees (usually teas, in my case, because, you know, me + caffeine = even more annoying) for granted.  I know that they cost too much, and that it's a complete luxury.  I also know that if I just went home and made myself a cup of tea alone in my kitchen, I'd be missing out on half the point of the running group.  So, I sacrifice.  And I bring my reusable cup (which saves me 25p).

Um...and also for the environment.

But, to be clear, at the exorbitant price I am paying for a tea, or sometimes a tea latte, or sometimes a London Fog, which is possibly also sort of a latte?, I stand firm in my belief that I don't have to know what is in my fancy, far-too-expensive drink.  That falls clearly in the wheelhouse of the Starbucks barista.* 

After a 3-minute discussion that was mostly me saying, "London Fog.  London Fog" at different speeds and volumes, I was presented with a cup of Earl Grey tea with steamed milk in it.**  Because there was a line up behind me (still containing the other two wet runners), I took it.

It was bitter, I was bitter, the ladies and I chatted for a bit, then I shivered my way home, and immediately googled "London Fog ingredients".

I added vanilla extract and maple syrup (ed.  vanilla...syrup), and voila, I was happy.

It's the little things that make a day good.  Like a nice London rain, or a good London Fog.




*I am open to see this from a barista's point of view, of course.  Message me.

**Earl Grey:  without sugar, it just tastes too bergamotty, am I right?

I Ran SO Far Away

So, my amazing and inspirational running group is still trying to kill me or convince me to go with them to run a half marathon in Utrecht.  I am not convinced that there is a difference.

On Monday, we ran from St. John's Wood to Canary Wharf, a route that my phone tells me is just shy of the planned 9.3 miles.  Most of it was along the canal, which alternates between being pretty and super sketchy.  Houseboats (barges) line the edges, and we share the narrow pathway with cyclists.  Floating beside us are, at intervals:  swans, ducks, gardens, garbage.  So much garbage.  And at least one animal "taking a nap" in the water each time I've run along it.

I gauged my water intake properly this time, in that, for the first time ever, I didn't spend the whole run thinking about how much I had to pee (like a meditation).  I did this by being somewhat completely underhydrated, drinking only half a cup of water when I got out of bed and then feeling thirsty even before getting to the meeting point.  So, my running mantra was thinking how thirsty I was (like a meditation).  Of the two, the latter is definitely better, and doesn't necessitate my pulling off the (narrow, public) path to squat like one of our group did last week.*  She is my hero.

After what felt like a very, very long way, I asked the woman beside me how much further we were going. 

"About two miles."

It wasn't that I was too tired to go on, because really, where was I going to go?  I had no idea where I was, and frankly, if another group of brightly-spandexed women ran by, and I got distracted for a second, I'd probably end up running with them wherever they were going, for as long as they were running. 

I enjoy the group, and their dynamic.  I enjoy the conversations, and being able to turn off my brain (except for the I-have-to-pee lobe) and just run through this amazing city.

The two runs I've done on my own (sans Ziggy) were longer and harder and farther than those I've done with the group.  I left the flat feeling strong and proud and like a real runner, and ran and ran, not checking my tracker until I was finished.  And each time, I discovered that although the runs felt longer and harder and farther, they were, in fact, only harder.  What I was sure was at least 6 miles was less than 4.  My hour-long run (in my mind) turned out to be only 39 minutes.  Both felt far faster than I usually run, but -- if you're following along, you'll know this one -- they were slower.  I need the group for direction, but also for distraction, which actually (and counter-intuitively) gives me focus.  Not, per se, on my form, pace, breathing and endurance, but on the people ahead of me.

Anyhoo, when we had arrived, we stretched and discussed where to celebrate with breakfast, and I made a bit of an announcement that I'd never run that far before.

"What?" they said.

"That's the longest I've ever run," I said.  "Why on earth would I run 9 miles if I didn't have to?"  (inside voice:  Why would anyone?)

Well, they all flattered me and told me that they thought I had already run hundreds of marathons, that I was making it look easy, but I meant it.  Without the group, I would not have done it.

 If I just follow them, I feel I can do anything.**

*  There's a joke here somewhere about making my pubic public, but I can't quite piece it together...

**  Have a cult?  Call me!

Six Months Later

Well, it's been half a year now since Vaughn showed up. I know I've been focusing on him for most of my posts (because, really, what else have I been doing with my time?), but here's an update on "everything else" - which, sadly, isn't much.




Fitness: I'm still volunteering at the Y on Wednesday mornings, teaching my step-and-sculpt class to a pretty large group most days. I'm managing to get in 2, 5k runs (and sometimes 3), as well as 2-3 days of weight training, too. I've decided that I'm able to be consistent enough that I can switch my whole-body routine into an upper/lower split, so I'm having fun adding in more variety, supersets, and of course, plyometrics! I'm definitely feeling like myself again, bodywise. It's about time!

Food: The Domestic Goddess shows up at our house quite frequently now. Since we finally got cable in September, I've been (over)exposed to the Food Network, and Husband Supremo gets subjected to my creativity pretty often! I make a nice dinner at least 5 nights a week, with one night of leftovers and one night off for good behaviour.

Chris had some issues with the health factor of my early attempts (mmm....butter), so I've switched it up to very healthy meals again - it's challenging to keep variety and flavour, but I sit down every Saturday night and plan the menu for the week.

Laurel (aka Test Pig #2) lent me a copy of her Clean Eating magazine, and we've tried a few of those recipes out. At right, you see a blend of agave nectar, chia seeds, mint and lime. The seeds form their own "gel", and sort of have the same consistency as papaya... all in all, not bad, but could use more rum.

At left, a delicious "cookies and cream" sammich, made with Very Healthy Cookies (flax meal, oats, whole wheat flour, that agave nectar again...) and strained frozen yogurt (low-fat yogurt, vanilla, agave nectar...sense a theme?). Not TOO labour-intensive, and hey, I can't believe you can lose weight eating all the sammiches you can swallow! So far, I haven't lost any. Maybe I need to eat more sammiches.

Or maybe I need to just drink the agave nectar plain... or in its distilled form... TEQUILA!

The house is trying not to look like Baby Central, and is maintaining a balance between toys and order. V and I try to spend as much time outside as possible, with daily checks on the "gardens" for watering, etc. I had planted two planters and 2 window boxes on the two-four weekend, and decided on Tuesday that they needed reworking, and not ONLY because some of the plants were dead (apparently, 10 days in Ottawa without watering the plants left in the desert climate will cause some casualties. Who knew?). I would see other peoples gardens and pots and notice that theirs all had style and texture - different heights of plants, etc. - and that mine were sadly lacking.

Below, the first garden.

This sad bunch of pansies (and assorted dead things behind the pansies) greeted us at our front door.

With a simple reshuffling of the lavendar from the window boxes out back, and a few tall purple thingies that were on sale, there's a lot more character and presence, I think. :)

The back gardens were rearranged, too - I don't have any before pictures, but trust me, the afters look better.

My herb garden. If you squint, you might be able to see the Last Basil Standing. I'm still sort of hopeful for its survival, but chances are, it won't make it. The parsley and oregano are still going strong, though. And another tall purple thingie really adds to it. I'm pretty sure it's non toxic...

So there you are - my life in a nutshell! Add in some strollercise and Baby Time here and there, a few tea dates with other moms, my awesome, sanity-saving SATC nights with Laurel, and very, very few minutes away from the little pooper (but I've got the babysitter coming over this afternoon so that I can run some stairs with Laura (I'm doing WHAT in my moment of freedom?) then get a haircut (first one in oh, six months), and voila!

Uh oh - duty (and probably doody) calls...

Flashback to March: Easter Feasters!

In which the whole fam damily (cK and the K-rents - which, Dave Barry, would be an excellent name for a rock band) has many adventures, once Dad recovers a bit from the worst-sounding chest cold ever. Photo highlights include Games Night, in which everybody else obviously cheated at Scrabble, Cranium, cribbage, etc. and lots of DG-ing (and D-God-ing, too).


Easter Sunday started well.


I went out for a run through the coulee (quite unlike coulis, for those of you unfamiliar with Hatular topography), to the tepee and back, in wind so strong that I was tempted to walk/throw up/lie down/launch myself into the coulee on several occasions. I believe that it's about a 6km route, but it took me 40 minutes of intense exertion in order to return home, red-faced and nauseous. The joys of fitness, I know.


After a stretch, a heavenly shower, and a quick nap, I was ready to start cooking again.


Let me back up. The 'rents had arrived on Thursday night, and it was a fiesta for gourmets and gourmands alike, every night. After a long day of travel, my parents were treated to a nice little spread of cranberry-hazelnut rainforest crackers, cream cheese, and a cabernet paste, with scotch for the boys and wine for the girls, followed by Mom's chicken casserole, tweaked and en-healthened by me (less rice, half fat cream of chicken and celery, light mayo, potato chips crumbled on top... ok, I didn't en-health the chip topping -- it's too good!).


Good Friday got us up and moving with a nice hour-long walk through Kin Coulee park, then we took Dad, who suddenly developed a bad cough, home. Chris and I started on our Domestic Goddess- and God-ing; he prepared an amazing meal of salmon with marinated red peppers, olives and sun-dried tomatoes (he stuffed a chicken breast with the same ingredients, plus feta cheese, for me), while I started the prep for the previously-mentioned pork and beans chili mole, which apparently tastes better after sitting in a fridge overnight. Easy preparation, once you cut the pork tenderloin up. Luckily, I have a sous-chef, Christophe Encraque, to do that for me.




Meanwhile, we got Mom and Dad totally hooked (but no worse than we are) on Heroes. Chris went out for his run, and I made a warm potato salad (mini potatoes, a few hard-boiled eggs, some green onion, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, grainy dijon, and a touch of mayo) and a green salad. Appies of brie and Madagascar peppercorn cheese, as well as a nice PC pate started us off. Yum!




Let us now briefly discuss Games Night. Frankly, some of the "adults" participating in these games are too smug for their own good - you can't be a sore loser AND a poor winner! You just can't. That's all I have to say about that.

Saturday was the dinosaur day (from previous post), so I had the day off of cooking, aside from the cornbread to go with the chili. Chris, meanwhile, put the strawberry rhubarb tiramisu together, and made a little one for a "tester" with dinner. The chili was reheated, the cilantro and chocolate (the secret ingredient! shhhhh...) were added, and it was ladled into bowls, sprinkled with grated cheese, some green onions, some chopped tomatoes, and a dab of sour cream. We opened up a bottle of Ravenswood Vintner's Blend Zinfandel, which was paired with the chili in the magazine -- we figured that they probably knew best -- and had another amazing meal.

Before bed, we prepared everything we needed for a delicious breakfast casserole (sausages, hashbrowns, eggs, and gravy, in a crescent-roll crust)... it just didn't end!

Easter Sunday was nice - we started with brunch, then I don't believe we needed to eat again till dinner. We followed Chatelaine's Easter dinner menu, and ended up with a delicious glazed ham, roasted carrots and asparagus, and a dill-icious orzo and belgian endive salad. Somehow the chefs didn't kill each other throughout (a bonus of finally having a bigger kitchen!) and everything made it to the table at the same time.

Everything was absolutely delicious (Ok, the carrots were a bit crunchy, but that means they have more vitamins, right?), and we ate so well, had tons of leftovers, and still have half a ham in our freezer! Chris left early on Tuesday, and I didn't have to cook for the rest of the week!

More photos:

Dinner is served: Ooooooooh....Aaaaaaaaah...

Vegetarians, avert your eyes. I give you Ham!

We had a little adventure on the way to the Medalta Historic Pottery Site:

And what do I do with myself when Chris is away?

Hey, it still fits!

D(elinquent) (blo)G(ger): part 2

Two posts in one day - the DG is obviously overcompensating!!!

Last night, being unsupervised and all, I was feeling nostalgic for my university days.

My third-year roommate and I used to cook up all sorts of fantastic concoctions, and name them, well, fantastically.

Maloonie was a greek salad sort of meal, with peppers and feta. Deeelicious. Ecstasy was a dessert, made of graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate chips, pecans, and a caramel sauce. It was ecstasy.

But last night, I was in the mood for Pango.


Pango is a mediterranean pizza, usually made on a pita, but I made do with tortillas. I lightly misted them with olive oil first, and put them under the broiler to brown slightly. In the meantime, I sauteed wee pieces of chicken breast in a bit of olive oil, lemon juice, garlic, and pepper, then removed them to a bowl. To the same pan, I added some more oil, chopped onion and garlic, zucchini, tomato, basil, salt and pepper, and let them sizzle together until they were softened and the liquid was absorbed.

This mixture was then spread evenly on the tortillas. The chicken was arranged on top, then feta was sprinkled liberally, and the pans were put back into the oven. Once the edges started to brown, it was done.

It was healthy and heavenly, nicely complimented by a Strongbow, and there is a second Pango for dinner today!

Oh, of course I also made a (small) pan of Ecstasy, too, but either I ate it before I could take a photo, or I'm too ashamed to post how much of it there was (though possibly, I only ate half of it last night, and had the rest for breakfast this morning...) - we may never know the true answer.



And, here I am sitting on my back deck this afternoon, just before heading out for a run in this beautiful weather.

There were only a few puddles to jump over as I ran along the trails beside the coulee, then doubled back to run to the tepee, then back through the coulee again. It was my first time trying out the trails, and the changes in elevation gave me a spectacular view and quite the cardiovascular workout!

I ran for 50 minutes total, a record (this year), and look forward to more nice weather, so that I can do it more often!





I'm sure that I more than burned off any Ecstasy left in my system...

My photos have moved...

Due to Yahoo Photos shutting down, I've picked up and moved over to Flickr...


http://flickr.com/photos/kapowfit


The "sets" (albums) are displayed on the right-hand side. Just click on one, choose the "view as slideshow" option (top right), then mouseover the photo - you should get a large "i" which will open up the comments section. (After all, you wouldn't want to look at the photos without my witty descriptions, would you?) (Of course you wouldn't!)


So far, 20 minutes into it, I'm impressed with the usability. I think the black background makes for a more vivid, dramatic setting, anyway.


Please let me know if you have problems accessing these! And YES, I'll work on getting the wedding photos posted sometime in the next 3 years... and the shots from our road trip, too.


Running update: I did my "favourite route" (see entry of June 19) on Tuesday night. Still hobbling today... nothing like easing back into it with a 6k run...

Run, baby, run

I found a SuperCool site today, while I was reading the Star Tribune, from Minneapolis. For some reason I read this online paper as often as I can -- it's a window into another society, but one more similar to Ottawa than the other papers I read (Chicago Tribune and Miami Herald). Lots of gun crime, but of course, guns don't kill people; I keep forgetting.

And no, I don't read local newspapers very often. I suppose I should. In fact, I'll bookmark one now.

But, back to the SuperCool site.

http://www.goruneasy.com/ is a Reebok-sponsored site that allows you to enter your own running routes on an interactive map, plots the distance, and shares it with other runners in your area! Very neat! The bugs still need to be worked out: it's rather slow to load, and sometimes forgets what it's doing, mid-load, and also doesn't seem to have "distance in kilometres" as a setting, but I really like the idea.

My "favourite" run. (Quotes used because I haven't actually run since the last day in Sydney.)
(Oh, the shame.)