I see trees of green

and red roses too.

Not that I'm complaining. It's Halloween and it looks like the trees aren't giving in yet. We have a castor bean plant that's busily throwing out new branches even though it should be dead. I'll suspect this will be a bad year for ice wine.

My application to the Boston Marathon has been accepted. Hotel is booked. Fee's are paid. Now I just have to spend another entire winter training.

Did I get it? Did I get it?

Nope.

And all 28 runners who finished ahead of me DID get under 20. It was at least heartwarming for a couple of them to actually thank me for pushing them below the mark, by virtue of my consistent pacing and making them 'dig deep', as it were, down the stretch. Had I been paying the slightest of attention to either my watch or the giant finish line clock sitting front and center as I came down the chute, I probably could have done the same myself.

I consider myself the first loser.

Cherry Picking

In running terms, it means seeking out a race where you know nearly everyone is slower than you. The idea is to snag an award or at least a good age group position. Usually it's a nothing event with a couple of dozen people that nobody's even heard of, but it can be something bigger, usually a short race associated with a high-profile longer race. In this case, it's a 5k event that goes with a Marathon on Sunday. Last year's times show only 15 people (out of 600) beat 20 minutes, previous years fared a bit better. It comes down to who shows up. The 10k Zoo run is on Saturday, which draws most of the mainstream runners, and not many of them are going to run both races.

We'll see. I either show up at home empty handed or I break my 20 minute cherry.

Owls

I guess I have to resign myself to running in the dark for the next few weeks until we switch back to standard time. There were owls hooting in the trees as I crossed under the bridge this morning. From a distance, I thought they were mourning doves. When I got close enough it was easy to tell they weren't doves. Too bad they're too elusive to get a good look at. As a teen I tried chasing down a Screech Owl that decided to make our cottage area it's domain. He/she could be seen sitting on a treetop wailing away, but I couldn't get within a couple of hundred yards of it before it would take off and stay well out of range.

Last year I had the opportunity to get up nice and close, about 6 feet, from a red-tailed hawk that was prowling ET Seton park. I figure it had a few years on it and wasn't going to expend unnecessary energy unless I looked threatening. There's also a belted kingfisher that patrols the creek during the winter...not sure why though...it is the most polluted waterway in the GTA, the only living things in it are ducks, and even they avoid sticking their heads in the water.

flinging poo and blowing snots

Don't ever think running is an elegent sport. The necessity to hold a given pace for a period or time or wait around amongst a mass of people for the start of a race has a certain amount of influence on what one considers socially acceptible. Take Mississauga the year before last. Inaugural runs are subject to oversights and such, and it's not unusual for even established races to come up short on facilities. Just west of Square One lies sections of undeveloped land, some of it park, some of it just regen, which became a convenient and well used toilet for the 3000 odd runners taking part in the events of the day. The lineups at the potties precluded getting through before gun time so a parade of men and women alike took advantage of the thick untended brush to relieve themselves of their pre-race hydration strategies. It's funny how quick one abandons their modesty when a) your teeth are swimming b) those people over there don't seem overly worried about squating on a trillium plant.

I have had reason to make the wonderful park facilities in central Toronto my own personal lavatory on occasion, usually just for watering purposes only, but not always. Despite the prominence of washroom facilities, it doesn't help much that the park staff won't unlock the doors until well after the posted 'this washroom closed until 8:00 am nightly' expected opening time. Nonetheless, I try to stick to certain requirements...cover the offending material, stay beyond 200 meters of any water...etc. I make the grandest efforts to keep this event to maybe once a year, which this year was yesterday. I knew it was going to be an issue when I was a mile out when certain forces began their parade forthwith and I just decided to keep going forward instead of looping back. When you gotta go, you gotta go.

Snot rockets are another issue. There's only so many ways to clean those pipes when you're breathing like a locomotive. It's not a pretty sight and not something to execute in the presence of others. Other options, which I've exercised at times, are using one's shirt, using one's pocket, or just making sure you've got a supply of tissue on hand, although once they become bathed in sweat they're not particularly useful for anything other than plugging holes in drywall.

Yes, we look like we're doing something healthy, and yes some of us might be dressed to the nine's in our high-techy fabric shorts, jog bras and proliferation of equipment strapped to our chests and belts. It's just those human essentials we have difficulty with.

N

N became apparent to me as footsteps rumbling the timber stretchers on the bridges as I headed down the pathway out of Edwards Gardens returning back to Taylor Creek. I first heard them several seconds behind me on the first bridge at the entrance to the park, and as each subsequent bridge passed underneath me the gap got shorter until they were clearly at my heels. It's instinctive to pick up the pace, the first thought being if they are truely faster, then they'll pass me anyway. I wasn't quite used to runs of this length yet, but I was willing to hit a 7 minute pace for the 8 minutes it would take to reach the split at Sunnybrook.

Once the main park appeared, I split south and she split north, I spun my head with the question in my mind Who IS that?!?. Impressive, lengthy, smooth, and apparently quicker than me.

Her name appeared in results in races we were in together, although I didn't usually know it. I'd spot her easing her way through the park, I'd toss a nod or wave her way and she'd wave back...she might have known me from the chase, or maybe it was just me.

On warmish summer day, a local road race in walking distance prepped in the park below me. Sign up...warm up...wait at the start. And there she stands...a little tete a tete in shoes to happen. I guess I was in pretty reasonable shape at this time. As usual, out too hard, but it wasn't until the turn to come back I realized she was most of a minute behind me. Not the challenge I was thinking it would be.

Fast forward to September. A little local cross-country this time. This is the race she preps for, I could tell by the way she had been running the last few weeks. At the gun, I slip ahead a few steps and carry it down the hill. The course switches from open field to single track and damned if she didn't cut a corner and dart in front of me. Fine. The course is long, I can tell by my pace and my watch. I'm determined to stay right there, and as we reel in fading runners it seems as though she's trying to trap me in back. At one point I have to run off path and dance through the shrubs to get around someone just to keep contact. The hill is make or break, as she darts up smartly and I choose to conserve. Since it's back to field I won't get trapped. Once crested I can get back on pace. The hill is her nemesis, I slip ahead, her breathing is laboured and she struggles to get form. I can sprint, even when exhausted. Once over the line, I turn, she lightly slaps my hand and says "good race".

This year I didn't enter the race as I didn't realize it was on, but I did watch. I specifically timed N just to see if she was any faster. Sub-20 she went. My first thought "short course", and a check on finishing times tells me that's the case. A week later I jogged it just to see if it was short. 21:50 for me, so yes it's a short course. The thought comes to mind...can I beat her time if I run it on my own? Once around the park to get my breath back, then I tear off at race pace...without race officials at the corners I'll need to dodge dogs, leashes and people. People are jumping to the sides as I blast around corners and through tree stands. Take the hill and hammer it across the field, I'm not even looking at my watch to see where I'm at.

Once I hit where the finish line was, I hit stop, and go into a cooldown jog. Check the watch.

2 seconds faster.

I guess I'm not old yet.

Oh, wait...I might have something.

With CNN keeping the American viewing audience up-to-date on a viral outbreak at a Toronto nursing home, it almost makes me wish for another hurricane to start swirling in the Gulf just to draw Ted Turner's attention away (well, not really...a good tropical depression should suffice).

I suppose this should be of concern for any Yankees planning on visiting our fair city and popping into the local old-folks home to lick the banisters and toilet seats. They might be interested in knowing there are in the order of 40 or so outbreaks of various types in nursing homes throughout the GTA each year and this is not uncommon (not just here, but anywhere), given the tight clustering of the residents, staff and visitors combined with the relatively frail state of the primary occupants. Go to Google and type 'nursing home' and 'outbreak' (and filter out the word 'Toronto' if you want to avoid bombardment of the current hot news item) and you'll find a cornucoppia of news and information items about similar events right in everyone's own back yard.

Part of the argument is "what if I get sick and have to go to a hospital? I'm not going somewhere that will make me worse or kill me.". I'm not sure how often people think of this when visiting some equatorial tropical destination while drinking margs and getting in a base tan. I'm thinking one look in the waiting room at the local clinic might convince you to rely on the healing powers that many millenia of evolution has equipped us with instead.

According to Wunderground, the National Hurricane Center says the only threat is a non-tropical depression 550 miles northeast of the Leeward Islands that's not doing much except producing better rain. And the outbreak turned out to be Legionnaire's Disease so I suppose the glamour has gone from that one anyway. I guess it's back to homeland security updates and watching Larry King grow more wrinkles.

umm..

Nope...still nuthin'

nuthin