tales of a traveling librarian

There are very few things that I value more than the opportunity to visit Court. Now, I know compared to some couples I know, Court and I are long distance rookies, but, what can I say? I miss him. And yes, I was certainly spoiled having him home over Christmas and then in January, but, of course, there were other things on our minds during those periods. What am I trying to get at here? I think mostly that I was happy to see him.

The flight was a little hectic. I was supposed to leave Toronto at 6:15am. Of course, the night before, I got an automatic message saying that my flight was delayed until 8:00am. Which isn’t so much of a problem except that I had a connecting flight. So, after an hour and a half on hold with American Airlines, I was booked on a new flight. And, I’m happy to say, I got to Panama City right on schedule. Unfortunately, my baggage did not. Yay! But, we picked it up the next day, and other than the slight annoyance, all was well. We headed to the gym before picking up Marina (I am in training after all!) but, despite promises that it would be open during the holidays, the place was literally locked up tightly. With a big chain. Seriously. That’s both Panama business practice AND Panama security. The best part: there were three English speaking guys doing some kind of circuit training on the steps outside the gym. Now, that is dedication.

Sunday was Valentine’s Day. Uh huh. You’ll note that I am actually one of those girls who says she doesn’t care about Valentine’s and then gets upset when her significant other does nothin.’ I know. The worst. But, seeing as how I’m marrying a man who knows me much better than I care to admit or think about too much, Court surprised with me an overnight trip to Contadora, the biggest of the Pearl Islands. It’s still not all that big, but, it was amazing. After a short domestic flight, we arrived, were picked up in a golf cart, and were driven to our Bed and Breakfast, complete with terrace and hammocks. The couple who manage the Inn were American (I’d guess) and were friendly without being too in your face. It was perfect.

Since it was only an overnighter, I did not bring my running stuff. I regretted that, although, I think Court was perfectly fine with it. This trip to Panama was so much nicer (in so many ways) and least not because of the cooler weather. We could walk around without wanting to die, which was a major step up.

During our beach day, we went snorkeling. This is something that I almost regret doing. First of all, that whole world you can see underwater? I think it’s better left to my imagination. We almost gave ourselves heart attacks, scaring ourselves silly with all the fish swimming below us. We found out after that there are no aggressive fish in the water but, having seen a man snorkeling with a knife attached to his calf, had already scared us off. What? We’re Canadian. You can’t even see the bottom of our lakes. They are FRESH WATER (which equals boring!). When I’m old and grey, this will be a Valentine’s Day that I talk about. Obviously, with the proviso, that I don’t really care about Valentine’s Day.

As for the wedding updates: We’ve set a date…November 06, 2010 AND a venue, Rosehill Event Lounge. Be there or be square.

When you look at most running training programs, from distances of 5K to, well, to whatever, the paces are enough to throw you off. You rarely (except for speed work and a few runs near the very end) train at your goal “race pace.” I had, actually, present tense, have, a lot of trouble with this. How on earth can you wake up on race morning and run farther AND faster than you’ve ever run before? I know. You’re more physically stressed during training, and, after your taper, your muscles are ready to roll. But mentally, I find it tough to swallow. I would much prefer knowing that I can do because I’ve actually done it before. And, since this is only my second marathon and because I was thrown off during training during the last one, I do not actually know if I can run my goal pace. And this is not the kind of mystery I enjoy. I would very much like to read the last page now, so that I know how it all turns out.

My Dad always says, “Trust the plan.” This applies for everything: from work to working out. But the idea, really, is that you obviously can’t know everything, so, you do some research, you think about it, and you throw some trust by way of the professionals. Then, you take a good thoughtful stab at it the first time. And you adapt the second time. And the third. And the fourth. BUT, you definitely don’t adapt halfway through (unless perhaps you sense something drastic going wrong, like injuries, sicknesses, etc.). After all, marathon training isn’t a science, it’s an art. Even if you follow a program to the letter, that doesn’t mean, come race day, the race will run itself for you. It could be a good day or a bad day. It could be too hot or too cold. It’s kind of like poker: you can have a lot of skill, and that will get you to the table, but when it comes right down to it, you better hope you’re lucky, too.

One of my Mom’s friends, an accomplished Marathoner, told me after the Ottawa Marathon 2009, that you need at least three marathons to be call yourself a marathoner: 1) To prove you can do it, 2) To prove it wasn’t a fluke, and 3) To train for and run a good race. I like to think that I’ve internalized this attitude, that each training run is a small step to a marathon and that each marathon is just a piece of a running career. The fails are a little less painful but the wins are still as sweet. I like the idea of a bigger picture. Court is running his first Half Marathon in May and I’ve really been enjoying watching him be so excited. It’s a huge commitment that doesn’t really pay off right away, and sometimes, you forget why you’re doing it. But, I was showing him some of my pace times on different races, and looking at how they’ve improved over the years. And, also, on a particularly tough Race Day, how sometimes they didn’t improve at all. Running is a very fickle master, that is for sure. But, I wouldn’t change it for anything. I would, however, change myself to get rid of the forgetfulness that led to running my long run this past weekend with only one layer of tights. That was a very very cold mistake!

I can already that the second time around is going to be a lot different from the first. For example, when Tracy and I went for our long run on Sunday (only 15K, let’s not get crazy…it was not even technically Day 1 of training!), we were both like, huh, this is EXHAUSTING and remember how bad it gets? Because yes, that is the benefit of having done this all before. The pain is not speculation. It’s remembered. I can’t decide if we are awesome or stupid. Probably the latter. On the upside, I truly am looking forward to getting back into the running swing of things. Christmas this year through us all for a routine loop (thanks eight pound weight gain!) and getting back into some kind of routine, for a planner, seems ideal. I’m not sure that my motivation this year is what it was last year (and my sponsorship sure ain’t), but, we will see what we can do.

And there’s more of us! Last year, Mom and I raised money for Cancer Prevention Now! and we’ll do that again this year…but with more troops! Court (who’s still my ex-boyfriend if you only read this blog but in real life is very much my real boyfriend again…OMG DRAMA), Meg and Scott, and Carolanne are all doing the half marathon while Craig, Tracy and Matt are, like me, doing the full. I am pretty excited to swap running stories. Yes, I said it. I cannot wait to talk about running. I also cannot wait for the Ottawa Race Weekend. Even with all the running, it should be a great time! I am so incredibly proud of all of them for running. Especially the new runner’s. I’m a bit worried, too. Court already keeps a decent pace and part of what makes me happy is knowing that I can run The Loop (7.5K with a hella uphill) faster than they can. What.if.they.get.faster?

I’m going to say it right now though. I’m worried about my hip/ass/leg thing. Is it piriformis pain? Is it an acetabular labrum tear? Is it just lateral hip pain? I have no idea but with all the reading I ‘ve done, I should know. But I don’t. I did one long run (26K) before Christmas and since then…nagging pain. To me, it feels more muscular than joint (my knee was very much sharp joint). Which both reassures me (muscles get better!) and annoys me (muscles nag!). I think CrossFit has been helping as the pain has certainly decreased with what is a total strength overall increase. Here’s to thinking positive! After all, today is only Day 1 of training…there’s four months to go!

A friend of mine (who is much more motivated than me, as you will note by his regular posting) has a running blog that regularly features local Toronto runner’s and why they run. Recently, he asked if it would be okay if he did a post about me and I said that it would be. Obviously. When do I turn down the opportunity to talk about running? Um, never. Plus, his blog is a regular read of mine and it’s in my own best interests for him to keep on posting.

He posted the article today, so, without further ado, here ya go. More than you’ve ever wanted to know about me and running. Click here.

Thank you, Matt, for the opportunity to express what running means to me.

I’m not really sure what to write. First of all, I’m home. In Toronto. A mite early, you might say. Unfortunately, things did not go exactly as we planned for us in Panama City due to some extenuating circumstances and we decided that the best thing for me to do would be to return home and for us to take a break to regroup. Although Court and I have parted ways for now, we haven’t closed any doors (how’s that for cryptic?) and we still love each other very much. This is one of the most difficult things emotionally that I’ve ever had to do and while I might write more about it as time passes, for now, well, I’m having trouble just typing it out.

But I kinda had to. Because I plan on blogging from the cruise my Dad and I are taking as of tomorrow. And I thought maybe you’d read this and be like, um, dude, a cruise? Aren’t you in Central America? And so I didn’t want any confusion. So, yes, a cruise. We’re going to Key West, Jamaica, and the Cayman Islands. Is it last minute? Yes. Is it exactly what I need? Yes. I plan on bringing several mystery novels, my running shoes, and my elastic waist pants to allow for all of the buffet-y. I’m trying to put a positive spin on this. And if coming home means that I get to spend a week with my Dad, well, that’s worth something greater than many many other things. And I’m willing to trust, for now, that everything happens for a reason, and that, well, (God! The cliches!) if we are meant to be together, then we will work things out.

Just in case my calmness doesn’t last though, I’m asking Dad to bring some extra hydromorphcontin. I’ll either take it or turn it into some cold hard cash.

One of the things that is included with my Spanish Course tuition is a tour of Panama City. I know that I don’t like organized tours, but I figured it would not only be a good opportunity to meet some of the other students it would also be a good opportunity to orient myself in this new city. Because the other thing that I forget is that while there are so many great things about traveling to a new place, there are also a few hard things as well. Especially for a person like myself, who finds so much comfort in routine. Part of the reason I do this to myself is because I know that my dependence on planning is not necessarily a good thing (although it does make me organized). And to me, there is a huge difference between knowing that you have faults and knowingly not working on them. It doesn’t always make me easy to live with, or easy to love, but I think that in the end, it brings me closer to the person that I want to be. So, after almost a week here, it was time to get myself out of the house.

The tour had a packed schedule for four hours: the Panama Canal, Casco Viejo (The Old Quarter), The Causeway, Punta Paitilla (The New Panama), and Punta Pacifica. The tour guide described Panama City as being in four separate parts…I can’t exactly remember what they are at this minute but I would bet that they relate somehow to the above sections. i really do need to spend some time reading up on the history of this city.

There are so many things that are fascinating about the city. For instance, take our street. There are two condo buildings that are so similar that I ran up to the wrong one and tried to get in. And then on one side of us, there’s this incredible mansion. And then on the other, a dilapadated older apartment building. And it’s the same everywhere. Apparently, they are tearing down the whole city, bit by bit, to build these new condos. There’s 800 buildings under construction right now, and it’s estimated that about 3000 will go up in the next ten years. I don’t get it. And I’m not the only one. One of the girls on the tour asked the guide who exactly was going to be living in these buildings. The tour guide said that they are planning and preparing for an influx of retirees. Yes. They are planning to fill all of these buildings with pensioners from other countries, due to the lower cost of living, the high quality of healthcare, and the perfect climate (read: HOT). But what if the people don’t come? They have all of these buildings, half of them all are empty (you can’t see any lights at night, but, in their defense, we never turn our lights on either). They’ve torn down the traditional housing in these areas, shipping the poorer people to suburbs outside of the city…and who knows what those are going to turn into. They buy the people out, give them enough money to buy a house, a car, and bank some. But it is, of course, the condo developers that get rich, not the people who owned the land first. I can’t tell you have many times I heard, “You don’t believe what this city will look like in ten years.” Court seems to second that, saying that it has changed incredibly even since he was here. I don’t know, something just doesn’t sit well with me.  They are building a first world infrastructure on top of a third world economy and I don’t know enough about any of this to know whether this is a good idea or not. And it seems like there’s way too many welfares involved to risk this kind of experimentation.

But with all the differences, the people here are incredibly friendly. I mean, not that I understand a word that they are saying, but they are polite and they smile and they are helpful. For the most part. Like, for instance, at the canal yesterday, after I bailed on the movie (look, I told you that I can’t do organized activities), I was sitting outside reading, waiting for the tour to continue on. The two other girls on the tour met me, and we were chatting, figuring out where everyone was from, why we were in Panama, etc. A guy, visiting with a few of his buddies, asked the French Girl (you would think I would have gotten their names!) if she would take their picture, and she stood up to oblige. But it turned out: he wanted a picture with us! He sat down in between us and his friends sat on either side of me and the girl from Montreal. We tried to move out of the way, not really knowing what was going on, but it was clear they wanted all three of us in the photo. And I’m sure that’s gracing someone’s Facebook page as I type. I mean, I know you’ll all disagree, but it’s probably because of my Ray Bans. You know how awesome they are. The attention you get here is undeniable, but at no point have I found it invasive or predatory. More just…flattering. In a really really bizarre way.

I find this city endlessly intriguing. Difficult, yes, sometimes, but just because I’m new. It’s been less than a week, after all. There’s a whole new routine to learn, a whole new way of life to discover. Right now, the challenge is still very exciting. I start Spanish on Monday, but it’s only for a few hours in the mornings. I’m having trouble running, but I arranged to go to CrossFit on Monday. And our building’s gym should be set up sooner rather than later. It’s a new way of existing for me: learning to compromise, to be happy with different things. To be patient, rather than getting everything at once. To invest, rather than to withdraw. Of course, it’s all in moderation: tomorrow we’re going to the Beach and I plan on enjoying and relaxing for every second of it. And hey, if I can’t run, perhaps I can surf?

To celebrate her first day at a new school, Marina asked for Court and I to take her out for dinner. Now, not being one to turn down a dinner out, I (we) happily obliged. I’m still working on being smooth and efficient in restaurants, since that is one place that basic Spanish really does suffice. As long as you can point and say numbers, you’re pretty much good. It was nice to go out, and relax, and see Marina again in a social setting. I had missed it very much. We dropped Marina off at her mother’s, and came home, thinking maybe we’d drop some stuff off (and let me change into more comfortable shoes) and go for a walk along the waterfront. Of course, there’s most certainly a “but.”

When we went to open the door, the key wouldn’t turn. Now, this ain’t no ordinary lock. This is a super-industrial-cannot-be-bashed-in lock. The keys are near to impossible to copy (you have to provide proof of ownership or something). It’s make for a very safe home, when it’s working. When it’s not working, it makes it pretty difficult to get back in. We kind of looked at each other, wondering what to do.

“So, how do you say ‘Locksmith’ in Spanish?” I asked.

“How do you say, ‘My cell phone is inside the apartment?’ in Spanish,” he replied.

Basically, we were pretty screwed.

We went down to the security guard to try to explain what was going on, both of us more than a little worried that a locksmith wouldn’t even try to open the door even if we could get one out here. It was seven pm, so it wasn’t terribly late but it wasn’t terribly early either. We plotted what Spanish we could use to get the point across…I remembered that “trabajar” was “work” and I figured “no lo trabaje” would at least get us on our way. Yeah, not so much. He did make a few phone calls and sent us into the lobby to wait. I don’t wait very well and I certainly don’t wait well when I’m not even sure that help is coming.

“Didn’t you meet another English speaker in the building a while back?” I asked.

Court headed up the elevator to find him, thinking he could act as translator at the very least and call a locksmith at best.

He came back to get me (I had been waiting in the lobby in case someone magically showed up) and rather giddily said that we could wait upstairs and that they would call a locksmith. Looking back, I should have known. He led me up to an apartment completely and wonderfully decorated with unusual art–on the walls, the floors, the shelves…even the furniture. It turns out, our neighbour is a rather successful furniture designer. And he had company! So, what could have been a rather awful evening sitting outside of our door turned into one drinking wine. Not too shabby, really.

We definitely owe Harry a bottle of wine.

In the end, thanks to no part the building’s administration, a locksmith did come and did let us back into the apartment. We still don’t really know what happened, but I’m pretty much terrified every time I leave. And I carry a lot of phone numbers in a notebook now. Just in case.

One of the reasons that I wanted to get here on Saturday night was so that Court and I could have a full day together before he went to work. Oh, no, not so that we could spend it cuddling and making kissy faces but so that he could show me the ropes. See, I have a bit of a hard time doing things for the first time. I am so annoyed by people who “don’t know the rules” of the situation, that I hate being that person. (Although, it helps when I acknowledge that there is a huge gaping gulf between someone who is innocently ignorant and someone who is so self absorbed that they just do not care.)

But, I did not get here on Saturday night. I got here on Sunday afternoon. And Court has to be at work for eight am…so, that leaves me pretty much on my own for the day. I hauled my ass out of bed around the same time he left, thinking it was as good a time as any to run. I was wrong. Although there were a lot of people out and about at seven thirty, they were all casual exercisers. I didn’t really think about this until I was realized that I was going to die if I took a single step more. It is fucking hot in this country at seven thirty am. It is so hot that I could only run five K. A very beautiful 5K, along the water, leading towards the old quarter, but, a very hot, sweaty, disgusting, awful run. Oddly enough though, it feels pretty great now. That I’m back inside and showered.

Now, in my delirium, which is the only state I can proclaim in which the following does not just make me seem like a total idiot, I went to the wrong building. In my defense, we went in through the parking garage last time AND I only left the front doors ONCE and they all look the same! And did you read the above paragraph about the heat? So, I had my key out, and was trying to figure out how to get back into the building. Of course, there was a security guard, but he didn’t seem to want to let me in. Until I realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was that even if he did, I would not find where I lived inside. So, I apologized (one of the only words I know right now) and sheepishly walked up to my actual building. I tried to explain to the guard that it was my first day in Panama, but the best I could come up with was “una dias Panama.” Hopefully he got the point. He seemed much more with it than I did, by that point. Tomorrow, I’ll go much much earlier. And I’ll wear a hat. What am I, some kind of running rookie? So lame.
Now though, I’m back home, mostly unpacked, clean, fed, and remotely connected to my work computer. It’s not being home and being home in the best of combinations.

I like I’m going to like Panama.

So, I’m still in Toronto. You would be right if you were thinking that about this time, I was supposed to be landing in Panama City, Panama. (Not Panama City, Florida. You would not believe how many people asked me this today. Like, THREE.)

So, the plan was to take a 2:05pm flight that connected via Newark, New Jersey with a 4:49pm flight to Panama City. Easy breezy, but 10pm I would be hugging Court in the airport. In my head, I dropped my suitcases and he picked me up and there were tears. Well, I was right about the tears. And I was right about the fact that they were mine. But I had the location and timing way off.

I was waiting by the gate, expecting to board, when a little yellow icon popped up on the board. Turns out, my flight was delayed an hour. Um, that would mean I’d miss my connection. I mentionned this to the nice agents at the counter. Now, mind you, it was some effort even to get to this counter, seeing as how on all of the boards they had posted a different gate and I only found my way here because I was eavesdropping on another conversation. What can I say? I like to listen.

I was told that they could re-book me. For tomorrow. I was like, Are you serious? There’s no other flights? And was then told that everyone else had been re-booked on an Air Canada flight. I’m not sure exactly why I was left out of this little re-scheduling. Was I too tall? Not friendly enough? I have no idea. I was like, Look, I need to get to Panama today. And by the time that little sentence cleared my mouth, I was sobbing. You know, the whole ugly cry. I was just so terribly, incredibly frustrated and disappointed. His fingers started clicking, the speed motivated clearly by injustice, but, there was nothing that could be done. The storm in Newark was a real bummer. They couldn’t route me anywhere else. The best they could do was book me for a 6:00am flight tomorrow.

“But I don’t have anywhere to stay tonight…I don’t even live in Toronto.”

See, I didn’t really know that I was planning on lying until it was out of my mouth. I think I thought perhaps they’d magically whip up another solution that would involve a private plane and an arrival date on Saturday. She asked me where I lived and I blurted out Windsor, knowing that they must have my home address on the screen in front of them. I mean, I bought the ticket myself. There could be no hiding. I looked at her, trying to look too scary to contradict.

“I’m going to see my fiance and I haven’t seen him for six months.”

Okay, once I get going it’s really hard for me to stop. And I mean, I was really sad. And it FEELS like it’s been six months.

It didn’t get me onto an earlier filghts, but, it did get me three meal vouchers and a hotel. So, here I am, at the Sheraton at the airport, using the free Internet while I tire myself out before I get on a plane (fingers crossed) tomorrow. I’m not really sure what to do about the morning. Continental still has my bags and I’m flying American…the main thing being figuring out how to get myself a free breakfast before I go. Because damned straight, I made the Sheraton give me all my vouchers in one AND a free toothbrush.

In the end though, it didn’t work out badly at all. I managed to get my hair cut, after all, and my Mom made a delicious dinner for my Aunt and Uncle and my cousin and her friend came over for a private concert. It was actuall quite lovely. Court will be thrilled to know I’ve picked out our wedding song.

You would not believe how many times I’ve written a post summarizing the Marathon only to lose it to Windows Updates or my own stupidity. I even put photos in it. For realz. It was very comprehensive. And I still would like to get it written, and posted. Eventually. But, in the spirit of keeping things current, perhaps, instead, I will write about the race yesterday. Now, don’t go getting all freaked out: it was only a HALF marathon. I had a few simple goals for this race: 1) Finish without pain and 2) Post a better half time than the Ottawa Half in 2008. Technically, those goals were both achieved.

Un-technically, I have never run a tougher race. From the start line, unfortunately, I felt exhausted. Now, it was extremely humid in Toronto yesterday. And I had had a bit of gastrointestinal issues the night before, but, none of these really explain (or excuse) my lack of ability to pull it together on race day. It was like I woke up after a year and just decided that today would be a good day to run 21.1Km. With no training. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. Even during the Ottawa Marathon, where I had an injury, my mind and body did not feel like this. In fact, my time for the half (in Ottawa, while running the full) was only a minute slower than what I posted yesterday (which was 1:57). To say I’m disappointed is an understatement. And if I was going to be in Toronto for the Toronto Marathon on Oct. 17, I would have already submitted my registration. In the marathon, I felt like I gave it my all. With this race…ugh. Just not the same.

Now, I know, this sounds pretty wallow-y. And I promise to get over it. I mean, this is actually part of why I love running. It is so completely unpredictable on race day. I was comparing it to poker yesterday: you can know the rules, you can know the strategy, you can hone up on all the tips and tricks of the game, but when it comes right down to it, if you aren’t lucky enough to get the cards, you are going to lose. And on race day, even if you’ve put in the training, even if you’ve eaten properly and slept well, if you aren’t lucky enough to have it all come together, you are going to lose.

Fortunately, there are always more races. And, despite everything, I’m really liking the half marathon distance. It’s not the distance that gets any of the running glory, but, I like it. I’m not saying that I’ll never run a full marathon again (Panama 2010?) but, for now, I think I’m going to put a few more at this distance under my belt.

**Photos courtesy of Julia, who, once again, sacrificed her own sleep and relaxation to come out and cheer!