2018 week thirty seven

Book Read:
44. Fear: Trump in the White House — Bob Woodward

Kilometres Ran:
week thirty seven — 69.8

To date: 2,019 KM

For some reason I decided to read this book because trainwreck / caraccident / apartmentfire and for some reason I thought that it being written by Bob Woodward would somehow make it different that the one I read earlier this year by that “hack” Michael Wolff but I think that if Sam Smith owes Tom Petty money then Wolff has a case against Woodward but of course it doesn’t work that way so I read about how Trump if utterly incompetent and insecure and corrupt and blah blah blah and that was a waste of my time. And nothing against Woodward. But I spent entirely too long reading this book while consciously, actively pondering my real time confirmation bias. So, moving on.

Not a bandit I swear. Thanks to Philip Finlayson for the photo. Check him out on Instagram and Strava

At the beginning of the week I faced the dilemma of whether or not to taper for a 10K race what with four weeks to go until the big race — the Victoria Marathon. So I solicited advice and received some really great perspectives and then was out for a 16 KM run on Wednesday and my left knee said just fucking nope around 13 and I hobbled home into a forced taper for a 10K. My goal for the Eastside 10K was to run my first sub-40 minute 10K. On Wednesday I postponed that goal, which means probably postponed until 2019. I’m okay with that. So I took Thursday and Friday off and then got up early Saturday and jogged the two and a half kilometres to the start line at SFU Woodwards. The weather was typical Eastside 10K wet. (Apparently last year it was a beauty day, but I wouldn’t know because I was in Denmark running the Copenhagen Half Marathon, which got all of the Eastside 10K’s share of rainstorm times ten, and I spent much of this week waxing nostalgic about it online and IRL.) After a ten minute delay, the race started. I got a good start and ran 3:57 / 4:04 / 3:54 over the first three kilometres. This was my first run on the new ES10K course, which traded a start/finish on the Dunsmuir Viaduct for a nightmare of a hill at 5KM up Templeton and around Pandora Park. I’d been warned that this was a tough course, so when I hit 5 KM in a new personal best time I didn’t expect much after that. The hill was hell but I survived without giving up too much pace and I still had a bit of kick left for the finish. I crossed in 41:23, which is not only a 1:02 improvement on my personal best, but my watch said 41:25 so my button pressing was on point too.

Stephanie met me at the finish with a change of shirt and shoes so I could take the long way home with a long slow jog around Stanley Park. I stayed up late to watch the Berlin Marathon and made it all the way until Eliud Kipchoge got to 30KM then fell asleep. So I missed him run a new World Record in under 2:02 and I also missed the Canadian women kick serious ass in Berlin with Rachel Cliff running 2:28:53 in her marathon debut, just 53 seconds off Lanni Marchant’s current Canadian marathon record. Lyndsay Tessier ran 2:30.47 for a new W40 marathon record, and Catherine Watkins ran 2:40:11 setting a new W45 record. After catching up on what I’d slept through I went out for an 18 KM loop around Crab Park and Stanley Park taking me past my 2018 goal of running 2,018 KM three and a half months early. Maybe I should go for 2,018 miles after all…. But for now, all focus on getting healthy. Three weeks until Victoria Marathon.

week forty six

Books Read:
55. You Are Not So Smart — David McRaney

Kilometres Ran:
this week — 51.36
to date — 1,810.47

I read You Are Not So Smart when it first came out in 2011 and I was reminded of it when I came across an article by David Ignatius in the Washington Post back in August called “Why facts don’t matter to Trump supporters” so I thought that McRaney deserved a revisit. My mother cancelled Christmas. It came via email the other day. Seems that she got into a bit of a squabble with my sisters when she announced that she was/is a Trump supporter. Is “squabble” racist? I don’t think my sisters have read Ignatius or McRaney. I don’t think it would have mattered. A couple Christmases ago my mother gifted me a copy of Steven Galloway’s first novel Finnie Walsh, while lamenting that she wished that she could have gotten him to sign it for me, alas. I asked her if she read it and what she thought and she said it was fine but she really found the foul language off putting, as if she imagined Steven and I were still seven years old playing K9 cops with his two pure-bred german shepherds back in Kamloops in his yard that neighboured my grandparents’ pink house on Parkcrest Avenue. There’s nothing better than a conversation without room for any nuance. Like everything is black and white. Zero shades of grey. You’re either with us or the terrorists. Or the racists. Or the child pornographers. Or the apologists. That copy of Finnie Walsh is my signed copy that I lent my mother to read. Too bad Christmas is cancelled. I guess that war’s over.

I ran, and I’m tired.