Author: Christine Cogger

I am not a writer. I like my kids, coffee, running around and reading about you. I live in the most incredible part of the world and am lucky enough to live some pretty great adventures.
Race Report, Racing, Running, Travel

April Fools Run

Christine Cogger

We arrived at the start line with plenty of time to warm up and each of us had a good game plan in hand.  Unexpectedly, the pack took off quickly and almost immediately splintered.  Everyone was feeling strong but we all had different goals and clearly, there were some of us who were better trained than others for this kind of event.  After taking an early lead, 2 of the 5 us started to flag and had to take shelter. The finish line seemed further and further away and, personally, my stamina was failing me.

Eventually, our group reformed and we were all able to finish together and compare notes.

Oh wait… that’s not Sunday’s run report… That’s Saturday’s shopping report.  Damn it! I always get the 2 mixed up.

Anyway.

April Fools Run.  Right.  The “real” purpose of this Mom’s Gone Wild getaway!  And by wild I mean we went shopping without any kids, had dinner in a adult restaurant, sat in a hot tub without anyone hanging off my neck and I was asleep by 9:21pm.  The shopping destroyed me. 5:45am sure comes quickly when you are in a cozy hotel room… 

I’ve never run this race before but it’s quickly found itself at the top of my “will do again” race list.  It’s a pretty course, it’s hilly, it finishes on the ocean and there were almond croissants at the finish line.

The long and short of my race went something like this: warm up; start.  Go up.  Go down.  Turn right.  Go up.  Go down.  And down some more.  Then down really fast.  Then up again.  And so on and so on until I crossed the line, wheezing, in Sechelt.

I am pleased with my run. 3rd place in my AG secured me some funky mug to bring home for the kids to fight over!  (Let’s go ahead and clarify that my time was leagues behind the winner and runner-up in my age group.  And that’s ok!  Those are some very fast ladies).  It didn’t rain and I very nearly PR’d.  Guess I shouldn’t have wasted all those precious seconds high-fiving the volunteers.

Oh, who am I kidding.  I totally should have.  It’s more fun that way.

I have decided that the key to my success is stuffing my face continuously the day before (which also happens to be quite fun).  That and running without a watch.  And not overheating (no photo evidence available of my translucent legs).

And chasing down some guy dressed as the GingerBread Man.  I mean, I’ve been beaten by Minnie Mouse before but the GingerBread Men?  Oh hell no.

 

 

Kids, QOTD

QOTD

Christine Cogger

We’re driving home from the final day of ski school yesterday.  Anja’s in a booster, asking if she can sit on her knees.  I said no.

“Oh ya right mama cause on the highway no one sits on their knees because if I did, PFFT,  Anja dead.  And then the birds would come and get me and pick me up by my t-shirt and fly me up and PLOP, drop me in the heavens.”

She should write road safety campaigns, that one.

photo

Day-to-day life, Family

Neither an Event nor an Adventure. But damn funny.

Christine Cogger

Herewith, a guest post of sorts.

My youngest sibling moved to Vancouver somewhat recently after a few years abroad.  As he works from home and his siblings are old people with kids – who hang out with people with kids, he figured he’d join a social/singles club in an effort to branch out and meet people.

On particular club’s website (I won’t link – I’ll let you google it yourself lest I get my brother in trouble), they bill the experience as “When you are at an Events and Adventures event, it doesn’t seem like dating. When you’re having an adventure, all you want to do is share the experience. There’s no better way to meet someone new.”

Right-o.

Please do yourself a favour and read firsthand what this latest adventure delivered.  He emailed this to me and I asked his permission to post.  I may or may not have been cry-laughing at his expense/with him.  Enjoy.

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Outing: Seawall Cycling – Science World to Spanish Banks (approx. 13.5 KM)

Event /Adventure / Other (Specify): Other – waste of fucking time

Participation: 6 – 3 Dudes, 3 ladies

Median Age: 40

Average Looks: 4/10 (generous)

Descriptions:

1x recumbent bike cyclist

2x Canadian Tire Bikes (users did not know how to shift gears)

1 x Woman riding her daughter’s pink bike with flares on handle bars

1 x Spandex Guy, complete with heart rate monitor and clipless pedals

Success level (Select one):

Success

Meh (Check)

Failure

Unmitigated fucking disaster

Report: 

After last week’s unmitigated disaster (Trivia Night), I decided to give Single’s Club another shot, and signed up for a bike round along Vancouver’s Seawall. This is one of the gems of the city, and as tonight was a warm, sunny spring evening, and I was riding my own getaway vehicle, I figured, what the heck. I paid a hefty, non-refundable fee for the privilege.

Arrived at departure point approx. 15 minutes ahead of time for recon purposes. Immediately observed Spandex Guy and Flare Handle bars at designated meeting point. Chose to hang back and see if there was any hope. Any hope at all.

5 minutes ahead of departure, with no other cyclist approaching, decided to step in. Immediately accosted by Flarebars, who needs help with her helmet. Poor thing had no idea which way is meant to face forward. Sigh. Spandex guy was of course, the group host.

Next on scene is Recumbent Cycle Guy who literally circled the group and honked his old-timey “bocket socket!” type horn. Awesome. Up next is Canadian Tire Bike Guy. Riding a sweet full suspension SuperCycle, he proceeded to extol the virtues of his “sweet ride” (his words), reminding us at least 4 time that it cost him $700 (Note: how does one get ripped off on a Canadian Tire bike?). Finally, Canadian Tire Girl arrives, basically dressed for a mid-winter ride (read: ski goggles & scarf). In her defense, she lost the goggles when we started).

Bringing the total to 6 people including myself, Spandex quickly assess that we are 3 short of the registered participation – a whopping 9 people!! Clearly, the membership of Events & Adventures are a lively bunch, up for anything – Fucking Trivia Night had 2.5x the turn-out!

We delay departure an additional 10 minutes in the faintest hope of more people joining us, meanwhile, the majority of the group chat like old friends – literally referencing how much fun this ride was last spring. My assessment is that if the group’s membership have A) known each other for a year B) are return customers year-on-year, the system is fundamentally flawed.

We finally depart heading West. Average speed is hovering around 7 km/h. I can literally ride and compose the first section of this report on my phone simultaneously.

Canadian Tire Crew weave erratically between the much better-looking general public who are riding bikes, jogging, and skateboarding on the path like normal people. Spandex is alternating between leading and tail-gunning in order, I can only assume, to maintain a modicum of group morality, as conversation has ceased entirely, replaced instead with heavy breathing and much complaining about the rest of the public on the path.

Canadian Tire Bike Girl (goggles safely stowed) opens a dialogue with me at Cambie Street. I mention that I lived in London, UK – yes, I specified UK – for a couple of years. She seizes upon this tidbit with the enthusiasm of a shipwreck victim, as she too lived in London for 18 years! Finally, someone to chat with, methinks, naively optimistic! She proceeds to pepper me with leading questions. Within minutes, she realizes yes, I said London UK, not London ON, and between that, her inability to both cycle and converse simultaneously, and her laboured breathing, the conversation dies a painful, awkward death.

I sprint (roughly 9km/h) to Spandex Guy, having contrived an excuse whereby I don’t have my wallet on me, I want to duck out early to see if it is at home or if it might have accidentally fallen out of my pocket. The group halts, thankfully, I am sure, given the intense perspiration and heaving, slumped bodies. I bid them a fine evening. See you next time.

Analysis: 

While not the Unmitigated Fucking Disaster of Trivia Night, I conclude that I will simply go ride my bike along the seawall sans the encumbrance of these this group of semi-functional sociopaths.

I also stop at the liquor store on the way home for a bottle of wine.

Next Steps:

Friday evening is pub night. With the mean of the 2 events hovering at failure, I have concluded I have nothing to lose, and will attend as a last-ditch effort. If all else fails, I may drink too much and read them this report.

Epilogue, February 2015

I am pleased to report that the author now has a lovely girlfriend, no thanks WHATSOEVER to this stupid group.

 

 

 

 

Triathlon

What does it all mean?

Christine Cogger

2 nights ago, I dreamt that I was frantically searching for a solution to my hands freezing during the cold swim at IM 70.3 St-George.  I decided to wear a pair of wool mitts under some rubber kitchen gloves and duck tape them to my wetsuit.

Last night, I dreamt that the organizers changed the swim to mandatory butterfly, which I tried to learn on land prior to getting in the water.  I didn’t work out so well.

I wonder what gems tonight will bring.

Biking, Kids, Racing, Running, Triathlon

March Break Musings

Christine Cogger

It’s March Break in this part of the world.  2 weeks.  16 days, actually.  I’m not entirely sure why the school board feels this is a good idea, but they do.  Apparently, there’s an annual survey that goes out to parents asking us if we want this extended break.  Interestingly, I’ve never 1) seen said survey and 2) met a parent who has ticked the “hell yeah I want my kids home for 2 weeks in the middle of winter while I scramble for childcare and overpriced camps!” box.

Conspiracy?  I think not.

—

Where’s the damn plane?!

—

I gave up wine and chocolate for Lent this year.  Clearly, I’d forgotten that Lent coincides with the aforementioned 16 day break.

#schedulefail

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44.

That’s the numbers of days left till I dip my toe/jump in head first to my first triathlon in a hell of a long time.

Sidebar: if it’s been that long, can I still call myself a triathlete? Discuss.

I am a combination of excited, apprehensive, confident and terrified.  It’s fun, really!

Training is going well, though not without its ups and downs.  My shoulder continues to annoy the crap out of me most days.  Somedays I feel like I am a little rocket ship, others I feel like a super sloth.  Motivation drives me some days, other days it totally evades me (like when it’s raining and grey and oh look!  squirrel!)  I get distracted easily.

I’m back home after a few days at UnCamp with Lizzie (and Henry).  We failed miserably in our attempts at Tweeting and Selfie-ing our progress.  We have a lot to learn in that department of professional triathlete-dom.  If you want to know what training camps should really be like, do yourself a favour and read her latest post on the topic.

Our own camp went well.

  • I didn’t cry into my goggles.
  • The coach on the pool deck said “Wow, that’s fast!” to me (let’s just gloss over the fact that she was referencing my speed compared the grandma in my lane.  I’ll take it).
  • I made silly nutrition choices (who needs calories when you have sunshine and air!)
  • We rode into wind and up and down hills.  It was fun to tour all the homes in West Vancouver that I could never afford.
  • I remembered how much I like to ride outside.
  • I chased Lizzie’s bum at running intervals.
  • We earned that damn beer and burger.

I got that giddy feeling you get when you finish a hard workout and you can’t quite believe you did it.  I missed that feeling.  Welcome back, fitness.  Been a while.

—

Anyone have any must-sees/dos/stops between Vancouver and St-George, Utah?

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In kid news, Will turned 8.  Rory lost teeth.  Anja skied the Blackcomb Glacier.  Average month, really.

 

Kids, QOTD

QOTD

Christine Cogger

Scene:

It’s after school.  We’re getting dressed to head out to collect Talky Talkerson from daycare.  I’ve had a fairly long day of training, skiing (woe is me) and chores.  I look, to say the least, disheleved.  I’m wearing post-workout clothes, a puffy, my hair is… mussed (fancy way of saying swim/helmet head).

Will: “I look weird.”

Me: “No, you don’t.  You look just fine.  I, however, look ridiculous.”

Will: “No Mum, you just look like an average senior.”

(…)

I’m here to tell you there’s no comeback for that.

Kids, QOTD

QOTD

Christine Cogger

The latest gems from the offspring include:

“Hey! Lasagna rhymes with Anja!”

Referring to a bendy straw from a juice box: “That could be a telescope for ants!”

“Coffee is like candy for grown ups”.

“Mama, wedgies are not fun”.

(5 points if you can guess who came up with that last one).

Racing, Running

Kaboom!

Christine Cogger

2 years ago, when I ran the Vancouver First Half, I’d made a prediction to anyone who’d listen: I was either going to run a PR or I was going to explode trying.

That time, I succeeded.  I ran an 8 minute PR and was super happy with how the day had gone.

This year, I made a similar prediction – though this time, it was mostly to myself.  I wasn’t as confident in my fitness, but I figured it was worth a shot.

photo 4

See?  I had big plans.

However, did you hear that loud BOOM right around 9:50 AM PST?

Well, that was me, blowing sky high just past the 15k mark.  One minute I was valiantly tethered to Liz’s butt and the next, Liz’s butt left me in the dust and my butt sat itself on the pavement.

Ok, so maybe it wasn't this dramatic.
Ok, so maybe it wasn’t this dramatic.

Ah well.  You win some, you lose some.  Others you make it partway like you wanted to then stumble home for the rest.  Then you go for coffee.

Nevertheless, here’s some fun tidbits from the race.

The Good:

– I didn’t quit.  Never before have I wanted to DNF from the word GO! like that before.  So I can say I won that mental battle.  You know when you know that it’s just not going to happen?  Yeah.

– It was sunny.  The weatherman had predicted this:

photo 1
Maybe you can’t tell that there’s a windy monsoon happening on my head?

– My stomach remained intact.

– My brothers and I were able to hang out for coffee at the finish line.  With wee Finn!

– Liz is running very, very well.

The Bad:

– I sat down on the road in the middle of a half-marathon.  Who does that?!  Me, apparently.

– I regret not wearing at least one earphone of music to distract me from my internal monologue which went something like this:

:30s in

“Uh Oh.”

1m45s in

“Oh Canada, our home and native land…” (on repeat)

“Hey, it’s warmer in Sochi than it is here”.

“How in God’s name is that person in a puffy coat not dying?”

“Boat.”

“Hill.”

“Bridge.”

“Liz is skinny.”

“What time is it?”

1h00 in

“Stop.”

“Don’t stop.”

“Stop.”

“Don’t stop”

(repeat loop endlessly)

1h30 in

      *weeps internally*

And so on.

In the end, I finished, my time was ok and a few hours later, nothing hurt except for a blister.  All’s well that ends well, I suppose.  There’s some work to be done and rookie mistakes not to repeat.

photo
I don’t think this is what my physio had in mind when she says I need to work on my butt.

I was granted a massive reality check that afternoon when I spent the afternoon in the hospital with a friend who’d undergone her 3rd knee replacement surgery in 6 years.  I’ll quit my whining henceforth.

Onwards!

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Edited:

Thanks to a snowstorm that shut the highway home till past my bedtime, I was able to spend Monday morning like this.

Mondays never look like this and it's awesome.
Mondays never look like this and it’s awesome.