Jess Ran to Canada

Wow. On Sunday, I managed my first half-marathon. I'm sure running purists would point out that at my pace, the term "run" might be an overstatement for what could best be described as a drunken-appearing lurch towards the finish line, but I traveled 13.1 miles on my own 2 feet, with nothing more than a handful of Cliff Shot blox and the knowledge that Sally had already travelled by the places I passed to keep me moving forward.

I ran the Detroit Free Press/ Flagstar bank half marathon, as did my bestest girlfriend, Sally. We both had great races, although hers was substantially faster than mine.

I did learn that those of us at the back of the pack are happy to laugh at ourselves. Somewhere between the 4th and 5th miles of the race, I stopped to use the washroom (it was on on the Canadian side of the river, totally correct term), and was waiting in the line for the ladies, making snarky little comments about how the men's line was shorter than the women's, when the husband of the woman in line behind me said that it was a single stall, no urinal, and we should go get in the men's line, so we did. In that line, some of the guys gave us a hard time, but it was faster. (And surprisingly tidy, all things considered.)

I did the work of training, and it paid off. I finished, although I was a bit crazy at the finish line: I might have accidentally proposed marriage to the volunteer who handed me a banana. But then Sally and I were reunited, had our picture taken, showered, and enjoyed some yummy pumpkin spice smoothies.

Jess Runs to Canada

So I have, like my pal Sally, registered for the Detroit Free Press Half Marathon. You start in Detroit, run across the bridge and back under the Detroit river in the tunnel, then finish. (I'm glossing over the agony that is actually 13.1 miles of running. I'm doing this on purpose.)

Training officially started for me this week. There may be a charity tie-in, watch this space.

The only problem thus far is that training (and ramping up to official training) has left me eating like a Hobbit. Seriously, second breakfast has become a way of life. I'll only be mad if I wind up either gaining weight or with hairy feet.

In Which I am Not Entirely Alone

After overcoming my loneliness through sheer force of will on Monday, I should never have fretted. Sally came to visit and saved me from boredom. We've been wildly roaming the streets of London. Canadians fear where ever we go.

Okay, so we're not that scary. But one girl did give Sally money as compensation for screaming in her ear. It was ostensibly to buy a shot, but we left the bar and got hot chocolate instead. As we got it a block away from the apartment, we did take them home and... er... amend them with ingredients from my larder, well stocked at the L.C.B.O. store.

Today we toured the Labatt's brewery, which was super fun, and we just did our crazy thing. Like we do everywhere. Sally always has the best ideas. Mostly. Well, maybe some of the time. Sally always has ideas. That sentence is 100% true. The idea to go to the brewery was outstanding. The tour ended with beer, and we had the tour guide who has gotten in trouble for giving out too much. Wow.

It has been outstanding having a real friend here. Someone who values me for more than my extensive knowledge of Charles Ives. She's not quite my dear husband, but she does snore a lot less. Or at least more quietly. Also, it is quite the change to be the interpreter of Canadian culture. Its not like I'm an expert, but I understand (at least a little) the goofy things these weirdos do.

Although, its homecoming at Western, and I have no idea why the drunk guys on the bus tonight were singing like German soccer hooligans. Seriously. Weird drunk freakin' Canucks.

Watch for the upcoming knitting report. Its getting to be perfect weather for handknits.