All right, so I'm 35 years late to properly review this movie. Big deal.
Here's a short synopsis, in true RMCNM style:
Random psychologist guy is told he'll go to some space station. Friend of shrink's father shows up with a video and shows it to shrink. Shrink leaves for station and finds out his friend killed himself. Weird stuff is going on on the station. Shrink's dead ex-wife shows up. Shrink blasts her off into space. Ex-wife shows up again. Shrink tries to figure out what the hell is going on. Shrink kind of goes insane. Planet starts changing. Movie ends on a weird note. (It's a Soviet movie, after all)
Ok, so that was a bit long; give me a break, I haven't done a RMCNM synopsis in a while.
Anyway, the movie is a bit long and has lots of sequences with little to no dialogue. Still, it's interesting and makes a lot of questions pop up about, for example, what exactly it means to be human, and how to deal with loss. It's not really the kind of movie you can convince someone to see just by talking about it, but it's a good psychological/philosophical trip into humanness.
Rating: four and a half dead ex-wives out of five.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Blows my mind
Just a few things that I learned/heard of/saw this week that blew my mind.
1. Classic Video, in Kingston. It is officially my favoritest, best-ever video rental place EVER. They have tons of foreign films (GERMAN! RUSSIAN! JAPANESE!), lots and lots of anime (nothing special, but they have the good ones), pretty much any TV series you might want, lots of British stuff, and craploads of timeless movies. Add to that a vast selection of documentaries, very low prices (3 DVDs for 8 days for $5), and you have a recipe for me renting a lot of videos.
2. Diesel engines in US nuclear submarines. I have no idea what's going. Check out Bubbleheads' blog. I'm so confused.
3. The Institute of the USA and Canada. (ISKRAN) The Soviet Union founded it sometime in the Cold War and it's still running, offering PhDs for a few people every year. They even have a Department of Canada. RMC doesn't even have a Department of Canada! I think I know where I'll get my PhD if I ever go for one in history!
4. How liberating NOT studying can be.
5. My "to read" list is extremely long. Even if I try to average 3-5 books a week like my French teacher recommends, I'll still fall short and have to take a bit of reading with me to Esquimalt. Or wait until I come back from course.
1. Classic Video, in Kingston. It is officially my favoritest, best-ever video rental place EVER. They have tons of foreign films (GERMAN! RUSSIAN! JAPANESE!), lots and lots of anime (nothing special, but they have the good ones), pretty much any TV series you might want, lots of British stuff, and craploads of timeless movies. Add to that a vast selection of documentaries, very low prices (3 DVDs for 8 days for $5), and you have a recipe for me renting a lot of videos.
2. Diesel engines in US nuclear submarines. I have no idea what's going. Check out Bubbleheads' blog. I'm so confused.
3. The Institute of the USA and Canada. (ISKRAN) The Soviet Union founded it sometime in the Cold War and it's still running, offering PhDs for a few people every year. They even have a Department of Canada. RMC doesn't even have a Department of Canada! I think I know where I'll get my PhD if I ever go for one in history!
4. How liberating NOT studying can be.
5. My "to read" list is extremely long. Even if I try to average 3-5 books a week like my French teacher recommends, I'll still fall short and have to take a bit of reading with me to Esquimalt. Or wait until I come back from course.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Relieved and peeved.
First, the relief. I finally finished my last exam this morning, meaning I'm officially on vacation (from school, at least) until September. And I got a pimpin' good mark on my last French paper--86%. Almost all the points I lost were either style (a few sentences were awkward) or spelling. Most of the comments consist of "good," "very good," "excellent," and "bravo." I also got a few smileys (which means the teacher really liked what was written) and some other comments to the effect of my writing being really good.
Now, the peeve. While I was getting ready this morning, I was listening to Radio-Canada on the radio (for those not in the know: they're like the BBC, they do radio AND TV) and apparently this bunch of pot-smoking, communist, bad-smelling, unshaven, revolutionary, democracy-hating, anti-US, anti-everything* activists decided to try and get the Chief of Defense Staff for war crimes. Now, I'm not saying we're infallible, but the only evidence of wrongdoing is some Taliban saying some random bullcrap. Not quite what I'd call prime witnesses. Beyond that, there is not the shadow of a proof that what is alleged actually happened. Besides, where are the protests and the whining and bitching about the war crimes the Taliban commited, and the crimes against humanity they and their friends Al Qaeda commited? Shouldn't we arrest all Taliban and AQ leaders and see them hang in the Hague? Nooooo, they're so awesome, says Mr. Hippie Protester. We're just oppressing them with our democracy, equal rights for women, free elections, and the right to not get shot because you don't grow a Gandalf beard, after all. Kids were so much happier before they could run around and fly kites! Women so much prefered being beaten to death because they stepped foot outside of their kitchen! And the men just loved watching their wives and daughters being brutally raped and killed before being killed themselves if they disagreed with the local Taliban leader. C'mon!
Afghanistan has known decades of war, and now things are getting better, because some Western countries saddled up and are cleaning house and bringing over food, water, medical supplies, and the expertise to make things better. I guess the hippy whiners prefer having something to whine about, rather than the problem getting fixed.
*I don't know if they smell bad, but they fit the "random hippie whiner" profile
Now, the peeve. While I was getting ready this morning, I was listening to Radio-Canada on the radio (for those not in the know: they're like the BBC, they do radio AND TV) and apparently this bunch of pot-smoking, communist, bad-smelling, unshaven, revolutionary, democracy-hating, anti-US, anti-everything* activists decided to try and get the Chief of Defense Staff for war crimes. Now, I'm not saying we're infallible, but the only evidence of wrongdoing is some Taliban saying some random bullcrap. Not quite what I'd call prime witnesses. Beyond that, there is not the shadow of a proof that what is alleged actually happened. Besides, where are the protests and the whining and bitching about the war crimes the Taliban commited, and the crimes against humanity they and their friends Al Qaeda commited? Shouldn't we arrest all Taliban and AQ leaders and see them hang in the Hague? Nooooo, they're so awesome, says Mr. Hippie Protester. We're just oppressing them with our democracy, equal rights for women, free elections, and the right to not get shot because you don't grow a Gandalf beard, after all. Kids were so much happier before they could run around and fly kites! Women so much prefered being beaten to death because they stepped foot outside of their kitchen! And the men just loved watching their wives and daughters being brutally raped and killed before being killed themselves if they disagreed with the local Taliban leader. C'mon!
Afghanistan has known decades of war, and now things are getting better, because some Western countries saddled up and are cleaning house and bringing over food, water, medical supplies, and the expertise to make things better. I guess the hippy whiners prefer having something to whine about, rather than the problem getting fixed.
*I don't know if they smell bad, but they fit the "random hippie whiner" profile
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Scotiabank Montreal 21K: Your guide to pain
I decided last fall that I was going to run a marathon at some point "soon." However, I've never run long distances--5K is a good average, 10K is pretty much the top. A full-blown marathon was a little bit further than all that. So, I figured I'd run a half-marathon, and ease myself into the "sport." Being a big former football player, (on the offensive line, no less) going into endurance running was about the hardest transition I can think of. Still, one of my life goals is to finish an Ironman, so it made sense to start with long-distance running.
So I signed up, back in January, for the Scotiabank Montreal 21K, taking place on Sunday, April 22nd. I didn't really train for it; I did a few "longer" runs but most of it stayed in my "comfort zone" of 5-10K at a time. I didn't really watched what I ate in the week prior to the race, which probably hurt me a little bit.
The previous week: Preparation
I had exams that week so most of my free time was spent studying (procrastinating is more accurate) and my nutrition went down the drain. This week was also spent in a mad dash to secure a hotel (we ended up not having a reservation by the time we got to Montreal), a vehicle, and basically making sure everything was ready.
We got to Montreal in the afternoon on Saturday, because I had an exam in the morning.
Saturday: Relaxation
We didn't really do anything on Saturday; we ate out (battered fish and poutine) and then went for a little gambling at the Casino. We got back to our hotel somewhat early, watched some hockey, and hit the sack.
Raceday: Stress...ation
I was a bit antsy in the morning, especially after I realized the alarm clock hadn't gone off--it was set wrong--and we were a bit late on the schedule I had planned out. Still, we got dressed, grabbed our stuff, and headed off to the metro. Our timing was tight, but not too tight.
We got to the Ile Notre-Dame about 45 minutes before the race, and got our race packet and our race t-shirt. I clipped my bib to my RMC t-shirt and made sure my camelback was full and the tube was nice and basically that everything was fine.
Kilometer 0: This is it
We got to the starting line (well, the back of the pack that was waiting at the starting lane) about 10 minutes before the race started; the announcer had called out all participants so we just walked over there. I stood there listening to some gangsta rap to psych me up, and prepared my iPod and the Nike+ adapter and tied my shoes and... yeah, you get the idea.
Then, finally, we started. We actually walked up to the starting line; the size of the crowd waiting to get on the circuit was quite a bit wider than the actual circuit, so we squeezed into it. I turned to my "race" playlist, which was a mix of techno, rock, a wee bit of hiphop, and generally anything with a fast beat.
I started off a bit quick, following my buddy who ended up running about a minute/kilometer faster than I did, and generally not following the right pace.
Kilometer 1: This is it
After realizing that the Nike+iPod kit turns to miles if you set it to "half-marathon" and trying to figure out how fast 10 minutes per mile was in minutes per kilometer (unsuccessfully), I gave up on it and decided to rely on gut feeling.
I was still going a bit fast, but I was starting to fall back as the better runners got into their pace, as I adjusted into mine and, eventually, found the right pace.
Kilometer 3: The Zone
After getting into my 11 min/mile pace, I just went into it. I basically kept my pace almost perfectly steady, except at water points; I simply cannot drink from a glass while running. Drinking from my camelback is fine, but not from a glass, especially when it's Gatorade and it just splashes all over my face.
I was in the zone and, honestly, I don't really remember much of it.
Kilometer 10: The Wall
No, Pink Floyd didn't come onto my iPod. I hit the wall. I didn't hit it too hard, but I hit it, and it sucked. After a lot of water and some Gatorade, and a lot of kicking myself in the behind, I managed to get back into my run-slow down-walk cycle, where I'd run until my pace slowed down too much, walk for about 30 seconds, and just take off running again for a while.
Kilometer 15: Another brick in the wall
I hit another "wall" at about 15K. It wasn't as hard as the first one, but there were more hills which made keeping my pace that much harder. Still, the energy gels they had given us a few kilometers back were starting to kick in, and I felt re-energized.
It was a problem for about a kilometer, and then the problem pretty much went away on its own.
Kilometer 19: Not quite there yet
I started to walk at K 19; I saw a lot more people walking, and most of them were people who had passed me earlier on. However, one of the volunteers around the circuit told me there was a water station just a bit further along, so I took off running again, walked along the water station and drank a lot, then took off again, telling myself I had only 2 more kilometers to go so I shouldn't stop again.
Kilometer 20: Are we there yet?
There were a lot more people who were walking along, and some of them had been FAR ahead of me early in the race. I remembered one couple who I was starting to overtake who had been at least a kilometer and a half ahead of me, at K 8 or 9, and who now were walking along. I passed another young guy, a lot leaner than myself but taller, who was still running on and off but who was slow.
It gave me a kick in the ass, as I had been pretty steady in my pace all along, and realized that although these people had been a lot faster, they had burned out a few kilometers before the end.
Kilometer 21: Seeing the light
A half-marathon is actually 21.1 kilometers. I was starting to burn out myself, after passing those other people who had burned out, but I could hear the cheering and the "party" going on further down the road, and I wasn't going to drop the ball.
I stopped once more before the slight uphill where the finish line was, and then took off running, a bit faster than my race pace. I saw the finish line and started entering the corridor to the actual finish, and saw Drew waiting for me.
My calves started seizing up and, for the last 20 meters or so, I actually didn't know how I'd finish it. I had gone so long, there was no way I was going to NOT finish.
Kilometer 21.1: Deliverence
Drew ran along the corridor while I crossed the line, getting my picture taken and, eventually, crossing that damn line I had been chasing for almost three hours. Some volunteer took off my ChampionChip ankle band thingie and I headed off to the water table, where water bottles and glasses of Gatorade were waiting for me.
The Aftermath
There was some food laid out for the runners, like apples, bananas, chocolate-chip cookies, and bagles. I had some cookies, but I wasn't very hungry so I stopped at that. Walking around was a bit difficult but not painful; I was just extremely tired.
The pain came in that night, and intensified until Monday morning, when I could barely stand up and walk around without groaning in pain. It got a bit better today, and I'm expecting most of the pain to be gone by tomorrow.
Lessons learned
Nutrition counts, but not that much. I had a lot of carbs in the week previous, and although perfect nutrition would probably have been preferable, it wasn't that terrible.
Pre-race hydration is important. I had a bottle of Gatorade the morning of the race, and that was it. The night before, I had a bottle of Gatorade, but I also had pop, and a pint of beer in the afternoon, plus lots of salty foods. Basically, I wasn't as hydrated as I'd have liked to be. I don't think I could've shaved half an hour off my time, but I probably would've done at least a bit better if I had been properly hydrated.
A camelback is overkill on a half-marathon. I had about half of the water in it, (750ml or so) and most of that came from eating those damned energy gels; they made my mouth feel like I had marshmellows in it, and had to wash it down with lots of water. It came in handy, but a "fuel belt" like I saw other people wearing probably would've been enough.
I would, however, bring a camelback on a full-marathon. Despite all the water stations, it seems better to have some on that kind of distance to avoid getting stuck between water stations.
Training counts, but about as much as nutrition. As I said, I had never run the distance I ran. I'm sure that didn't help the wall I hit at 10K, but it didn't kill me, and my pace for most of the race was about 1:30 min slower than my best-ever 5K pace, so it wasn't that slow. If a random guy can just go and run a half-marathon and complete it without dying, at a pace that isn't that far off his regular pace, well... it can't be that demanding in terms of training. Still, I will train before I do another one, and probably include long-distance runs in any training plan I devise.
Conclusion
A half-marathon is fun. It's 21K alone with yourself, and it's all about beating yourself. Other people might pass you or you might pass them, but it doesn't matter. It's all about pushing your limits. When you hit the wall and push past it, it's a great feeling.
Sure, I've spent the last two and a half days in severe physical pain, but mentally I haven't felt this good in a long time. It's a great motivation to know you can push yourself that much, especially for someone like me. The longest I'd run before joining the Navy was three laps of the football field, and after I joined in, it was about 10K, if that. Knowing I could run twice that if I just put my head to it means I can do anything. (Within reason, of course.)
Sure, I'm stoked right now and my enthusiasm will cool eventually, but it's just what I needed to convince myself that I can do a full marathon if I only train a bit. Heck, maybe I'll even manage to get myself to do a triathlon (just a sprint distance triathlon at first, of course) sometime soon.
Anyway, all in all, this has been a really positive experience for me.
Thanks
I just wanted to thank all the volunteers. Without these guys, it wouldn't be possible to run, or at least it'd be a lot less fun. With all the encouragement they gave, and the laughs (the guy with the Mickey Mouse gloves...), it helped make the hard experience just a bit easier. Thanks a lot, everyone!
So I signed up, back in January, for the Scotiabank Montreal 21K, taking place on Sunday, April 22nd. I didn't really train for it; I did a few "longer" runs but most of it stayed in my "comfort zone" of 5-10K at a time. I didn't really watched what I ate in the week prior to the race, which probably hurt me a little bit.
The previous week: Preparation
I had exams that week so most of my free time was spent studying (procrastinating is more accurate) and my nutrition went down the drain. This week was also spent in a mad dash to secure a hotel (we ended up not having a reservation by the time we got to Montreal), a vehicle, and basically making sure everything was ready.
We got to Montreal in the afternoon on Saturday, because I had an exam in the morning.
Saturday: Relaxation
We didn't really do anything on Saturday; we ate out (battered fish and poutine) and then went for a little gambling at the Casino. We got back to our hotel somewhat early, watched some hockey, and hit the sack.
Raceday: Stress...ation
I was a bit antsy in the morning, especially after I realized the alarm clock hadn't gone off--it was set wrong--and we were a bit late on the schedule I had planned out. Still, we got dressed, grabbed our stuff, and headed off to the metro. Our timing was tight, but not too tight.
We got to the Ile Notre-Dame about 45 minutes before the race, and got our race packet and our race t-shirt. I clipped my bib to my RMC t-shirt and made sure my camelback was full and the tube was nice and basically that everything was fine.
Kilometer 0: This is it
We got to the starting line (well, the back of the pack that was waiting at the starting lane) about 10 minutes before the race started; the announcer had called out all participants so we just walked over there. I stood there listening to some gangsta rap to psych me up, and prepared my iPod and the Nike+ adapter and tied my shoes and... yeah, you get the idea.
Then, finally, we started. We actually walked up to the starting line; the size of the crowd waiting to get on the circuit was quite a bit wider than the actual circuit, so we squeezed into it. I turned to my "race" playlist, which was a mix of techno, rock, a wee bit of hiphop, and generally anything with a fast beat.
I started off a bit quick, following my buddy who ended up running about a minute/kilometer faster than I did, and generally not following the right pace.
Kilometer 1: This is it
After realizing that the Nike+iPod kit turns to miles if you set it to "half-marathon" and trying to figure out how fast 10 minutes per mile was in minutes per kilometer (unsuccessfully), I gave up on it and decided to rely on gut feeling.
I was still going a bit fast, but I was starting to fall back as the better runners got into their pace, as I adjusted into mine and, eventually, found the right pace.
Kilometer 3: The Zone
After getting into my 11 min/mile pace, I just went into it. I basically kept my pace almost perfectly steady, except at water points; I simply cannot drink from a glass while running. Drinking from my camelback is fine, but not from a glass, especially when it's Gatorade and it just splashes all over my face.
I was in the zone and, honestly, I don't really remember much of it.
Kilometer 10: The Wall
No, Pink Floyd didn't come onto my iPod. I hit the wall. I didn't hit it too hard, but I hit it, and it sucked. After a lot of water and some Gatorade, and a lot of kicking myself in the behind, I managed to get back into my run-slow down-walk cycle, where I'd run until my pace slowed down too much, walk for about 30 seconds, and just take off running again for a while.
Kilometer 15: Another brick in the wall
I hit another "wall" at about 15K. It wasn't as hard as the first one, but there were more hills which made keeping my pace that much harder. Still, the energy gels they had given us a few kilometers back were starting to kick in, and I felt re-energized.
It was a problem for about a kilometer, and then the problem pretty much went away on its own.
Kilometer 19: Not quite there yet
I started to walk at K 19; I saw a lot more people walking, and most of them were people who had passed me earlier on. However, one of the volunteers around the circuit told me there was a water station just a bit further along, so I took off running again, walked along the water station and drank a lot, then took off again, telling myself I had only 2 more kilometers to go so I shouldn't stop again.
Kilometer 20: Are we there yet?
There were a lot more people who were walking along, and some of them had been FAR ahead of me early in the race. I remembered one couple who I was starting to overtake who had been at least a kilometer and a half ahead of me, at K 8 or 9, and who now were walking along. I passed another young guy, a lot leaner than myself but taller, who was still running on and off but who was slow.
It gave me a kick in the ass, as I had been pretty steady in my pace all along, and realized that although these people had been a lot faster, they had burned out a few kilometers before the end.
Kilometer 21: Seeing the light
A half-marathon is actually 21.1 kilometers. I was starting to burn out myself, after passing those other people who had burned out, but I could hear the cheering and the "party" going on further down the road, and I wasn't going to drop the ball.
I stopped once more before the slight uphill where the finish line was, and then took off running, a bit faster than my race pace. I saw the finish line and started entering the corridor to the actual finish, and saw Drew waiting for me.
My calves started seizing up and, for the last 20 meters or so, I actually didn't know how I'd finish it. I had gone so long, there was no way I was going to NOT finish.
Kilometer 21.1: Deliverence
Drew ran along the corridor while I crossed the line, getting my picture taken and, eventually, crossing that damn line I had been chasing for almost three hours. Some volunteer took off my ChampionChip ankle band thingie and I headed off to the water table, where water bottles and glasses of Gatorade were waiting for me.
The Aftermath
There was some food laid out for the runners, like apples, bananas, chocolate-chip cookies, and bagles. I had some cookies, but I wasn't very hungry so I stopped at that. Walking around was a bit difficult but not painful; I was just extremely tired.
The pain came in that night, and intensified until Monday morning, when I could barely stand up and walk around without groaning in pain. It got a bit better today, and I'm expecting most of the pain to be gone by tomorrow.
Lessons learned
Nutrition counts, but not that much. I had a lot of carbs in the week previous, and although perfect nutrition would probably have been preferable, it wasn't that terrible.
Pre-race hydration is important. I had a bottle of Gatorade the morning of the race, and that was it. The night before, I had a bottle of Gatorade, but I also had pop, and a pint of beer in the afternoon, plus lots of salty foods. Basically, I wasn't as hydrated as I'd have liked to be. I don't think I could've shaved half an hour off my time, but I probably would've done at least a bit better if I had been properly hydrated.
A camelback is overkill on a half-marathon. I had about half of the water in it, (750ml or so) and most of that came from eating those damned energy gels; they made my mouth feel like I had marshmellows in it, and had to wash it down with lots of water. It came in handy, but a "fuel belt" like I saw other people wearing probably would've been enough.
I would, however, bring a camelback on a full-marathon. Despite all the water stations, it seems better to have some on that kind of distance to avoid getting stuck between water stations.
Training counts, but about as much as nutrition. As I said, I had never run the distance I ran. I'm sure that didn't help the wall I hit at 10K, but it didn't kill me, and my pace for most of the race was about 1:30 min slower than my best-ever 5K pace, so it wasn't that slow. If a random guy can just go and run a half-marathon and complete it without dying, at a pace that isn't that far off his regular pace, well... it can't be that demanding in terms of training. Still, I will train before I do another one, and probably include long-distance runs in any training plan I devise.
Conclusion
A half-marathon is fun. It's 21K alone with yourself, and it's all about beating yourself. Other people might pass you or you might pass them, but it doesn't matter. It's all about pushing your limits. When you hit the wall and push past it, it's a great feeling.
Sure, I've spent the last two and a half days in severe physical pain, but mentally I haven't felt this good in a long time. It's a great motivation to know you can push yourself that much, especially for someone like me. The longest I'd run before joining the Navy was three laps of the football field, and after I joined in, it was about 10K, if that. Knowing I could run twice that if I just put my head to it means I can do anything. (Within reason, of course.)
Sure, I'm stoked right now and my enthusiasm will cool eventually, but it's just what I needed to convince myself that I can do a full marathon if I only train a bit. Heck, maybe I'll even manage to get myself to do a triathlon (just a sprint distance triathlon at first, of course) sometime soon.
Anyway, all in all, this has been a really positive experience for me.
Thanks
I just wanted to thank all the volunteers. Without these guys, it wouldn't be possible to run, or at least it'd be a lot less fun. With all the encouragement they gave, and the laughs (the guy with the Mickey Mouse gloves...), it helped make the hard experience just a bit easier. Thanks a lot, everyone!
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Pain
Wow. This is painful.
I finished the 21km in 2:42:35.7. That's really slow, but considering my weight and the fact I'm about as far from a long-distance runner as one can get and still be in reasonable shape, I'm happy. Heck, I'm just happy I finished. For those who want to know, I finished 218th out of 222 in my category (Men 20-29), 1201st out of 1213 for Men, and 1759th out of 1785 total. Considering I didn't particularly train for that event and my pre-race nutrition was atrocious (yesterday I had Wendy's and then battered fish and poutine... yeah), I'd say I can probably do a lot better. Also, one of my friends who generally runs a lot faster than I do only had 20 minutes on me--a minute per kilometer--so I did pretty good.
It was hard and... it wasn't fun or not fun, really, it was just... something you do. Now I just need to start training for a full marathon. And then I can just retire. Well, retire from plain running, at least. Maybe I'll more to ultramarathons... and I need to do a triathlon at some point... or maybe an Ironman. Actually, I know I want to do an Ironman someday. Not anytime soon, but still.
Anyway, I'm gonna go take a nap, now. 21km is pretty taxing.
Edit: I forgot to mention... for some reason, my 10K time was only marginally slower than my best-ever 5K. I'm wondering what hypothesis is the right one: I didn't push as hard as I thought when I set my personal 5K best, or I can sustain a "good" speed for long periods of time, and I just need to train so my speed increases. I could stand to run faster and more efficiently anyway, but... it's one of those things that make me go "hmmm."
I finished the 21km in 2:42:35.7. That's really slow, but considering my weight and the fact I'm about as far from a long-distance runner as one can get and still be in reasonable shape, I'm happy. Heck, I'm just happy I finished. For those who want to know, I finished 218th out of 222 in my category (Men 20-29), 1201st out of 1213 for Men, and 1759th out of 1785 total. Considering I didn't particularly train for that event and my pre-race nutrition was atrocious (yesterday I had Wendy's and then battered fish and poutine... yeah), I'd say I can probably do a lot better. Also, one of my friends who generally runs a lot faster than I do only had 20 minutes on me--a minute per kilometer--so I did pretty good.
It was hard and... it wasn't fun or not fun, really, it was just... something you do. Now I just need to start training for a full marathon. And then I can just retire. Well, retire from plain running, at least. Maybe I'll more to ultramarathons... and I need to do a triathlon at some point... or maybe an Ironman. Actually, I know I want to do an Ironman someday. Not anytime soon, but still.
Anyway, I'm gonna go take a nap, now. 21km is pretty taxing.
Edit: I forgot to mention... for some reason, my 10K time was only marginally slower than my best-ever 5K. I'm wondering what hypothesis is the right one: I didn't push as hard as I thought when I set my personal 5K best, or I can sustain a "good" speed for long periods of time, and I just need to train so my speed increases. I could stand to run faster and more efficiently anyway, but... it's one of those things that make me go "hmmm."
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Last-minute resistance
I announced a while back that I'd be running a half-marathon. Well, it's this weekend. Sunday morning to be precise.
Sadly, I feel about as far from ready as one can feel and still go through with something. It's not that I expected to be 100% ready and to go over there and run it competitively. At my size, that's impossible. Let's face it, at 5"10 and 220lbs I'm more like a rhino than a gazelle. However, I expected to feel... I don't know to describe it, but, you know, "I'm not fully ready but it'll be fine."
Thing is, I've done things that were at least as difficult. On IAP and BOTP (mostly on IAP though) we did ruck marches that, honestly, were more like ruck runs--I'm pretty tall and I had to jog on some parts just to keep up. Point being, I know I can finish the half-marathon, and I can finish it before they close down the circuit. (Hopefully.) I just don't feel up to it.
Still, me and one of my friends have talked about going to Arlington, Virginia in October to run the Marine Corps Marathon, and I'm not about to run a full marathon without having run a half-marathon first. Besides, who knows, maybe I'll actually enjoy running?
Okay, so maybe I can't push it quite that far. Still, I have some faith in myself; I'm just a bit nervous. (Don't you love my euphemisms?)
Stay nice and warm and sunny, RMC.
Sadly, I feel about as far from ready as one can feel and still go through with something. It's not that I expected to be 100% ready and to go over there and run it competitively. At my size, that's impossible. Let's face it, at 5"10 and 220lbs I'm more like a rhino than a gazelle. However, I expected to feel... I don't know to describe it, but, you know, "I'm not fully ready but it'll be fine."
Thing is, I've done things that were at least as difficult. On IAP and BOTP (mostly on IAP though) we did ruck marches that, honestly, were more like ruck runs--I'm pretty tall and I had to jog on some parts just to keep up. Point being, I know I can finish the half-marathon, and I can finish it before they close down the circuit. (Hopefully.) I just don't feel up to it.
Still, me and one of my friends have talked about going to Arlington, Virginia in October to run the Marine Corps Marathon, and I'm not about to run a full marathon without having run a half-marathon first. Besides, who knows, maybe I'll actually enjoy running?
Okay, so maybe I can't push it quite that far. Still, I have some faith in myself; I'm just a bit nervous. (Don't you love my euphemisms?)
Stay nice and warm and sunny, RMC.
You know what really grinds my gears?
Okay, so I wrote a long drawn-out post about writing skills because, well, I'm a language major and it was relevent at the time.
Anyway, here are a few other things that really annoy me, and a short explanation as to why they do.
Chewing with your mouth open
I think it's a cultural problem of English Canada. In Quebec, most people chew with their mouths closed. Even kids get told to do that, because it's polite and it's right. English Canadians, however--at least those my age--seem to not care. They chew with their mouths open. And it's not that they fully close their lips, either; they open their mouths wide, and chew, like cows. It's utterly disgusting.
Why did I say it's cultural in English Canada? Most English Canadians I know do it, but very few French Canadians do, and a minute minority of all Americans I know do it. Sadly I haven't really travelled much, so I can't be certain about other countries.
Point is, chew with your mouth closed you inbred redneck anglo retards.*
Barging in without knocking
Now, this is two-pronged and represents the same idea. There are the people who just don't believe in knocking (Door flings open. "What's up?"), and those who don't believe in waiting (Knock knock. "I'M NAKED!" Door flings open. "What's up?"). Both are equally as disrespectful. In fact, I prefer that the person just not bother knocking; at least it doesn't scream "I'm too lazy and stupid to fully respect social conventions so I'll do a half-assed job of it."
Thing is, those people who I'm cool with having them just barge in, (close friends) know it pisses me off so they don't do it. The people who I really don't want to have barge in, don't know, and when they do, they choose to ignore it because they're wankers. Which brings me to my other point.
Having to get mad at people before they stop
I'm the first to admit I have a short fuse. Really, I do. However, I try to be patient and accomodating when I'm stuck with people to not make the situation worse. Usually, if something bugs me, I'll let it go, especially if it's infrequent. However, if something really annoys me, I'll politely ask that the other person stop doing whatever it is that annoys me.
But many annoying people are wankers.
So, I ask again. I drop not-so-subtle hints. I ask less politely. (Going from "I'd really appreciate if you'd stop that," to "could you please stop that," to "stop that.") The problem is, some idiots, when you tell them politely, just do it more.
Half the time, when confronted with someone like that, I'm left with being forced to raise my voice, curse, threaten violence, or a combination of the three. ("Stop f**king singing or I'll bash your douchetard face in.")
That's just a few things that bug me, but I had to vent because I'm really bored and annoyed.
I'll probably write something more pompous and self-important later.
* Not all anglos are inbred, rednecks, or retards. Even less are all three. I just needed to add character to my point.
Anyway, here are a few other things that really annoy me, and a short explanation as to why they do.
Chewing with your mouth open
I think it's a cultural problem of English Canada. In Quebec, most people chew with their mouths closed. Even kids get told to do that, because it's polite and it's right. English Canadians, however--at least those my age--seem to not care. They chew with their mouths open. And it's not that they fully close their lips, either; they open their mouths wide, and chew, like cows. It's utterly disgusting.
Why did I say it's cultural in English Canada? Most English Canadians I know do it, but very few French Canadians do, and a minute minority of all Americans I know do it. Sadly I haven't really travelled much, so I can't be certain about other countries.
Point is, chew with your mouth closed you inbred redneck anglo retards.*
Barging in without knocking
Now, this is two-pronged and represents the same idea. There are the people who just don't believe in knocking (Door flings open. "What's up?"), and those who don't believe in waiting (Knock knock. "I'M NAKED!" Door flings open. "What's up?"). Both are equally as disrespectful. In fact, I prefer that the person just not bother knocking; at least it doesn't scream "I'm too lazy and stupid to fully respect social conventions so I'll do a half-assed job of it."
Thing is, those people who I'm cool with having them just barge in, (close friends) know it pisses me off so they don't do it. The people who I really don't want to have barge in, don't know, and when they do, they choose to ignore it because they're wankers. Which brings me to my other point.
Having to get mad at people before they stop
I'm the first to admit I have a short fuse. Really, I do. However, I try to be patient and accomodating when I'm stuck with people to not make the situation worse. Usually, if something bugs me, I'll let it go, especially if it's infrequent. However, if something really annoys me, I'll politely ask that the other person stop doing whatever it is that annoys me.
But many annoying people are wankers.
So, I ask again. I drop not-so-subtle hints. I ask less politely. (Going from "I'd really appreciate if you'd stop that," to "could you please stop that," to "stop that.") The problem is, some idiots, when you tell them politely, just do it more.
Half the time, when confronted with someone like that, I'm left with being forced to raise my voice, curse, threaten violence, or a combination of the three. ("Stop f**king singing or I'll bash your douchetard face in.")
That's just a few things that bug me, but I had to vent because I'm really bored and annoyed.
I'll probably write something more pompous and self-important later.
* Not all anglos are inbred, rednecks, or retards. Even less are all three. I just needed to add character to my point.
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