BB Tragedy

It looks sorta like this...but probably worse...I would take a picture, but my blackberry is my camera!

So, last Sunday I went for a loong run.  Got a marathon coming up, actually.  Had a training schedule.  That went out the window after about two weeks.  Anyhoo.... run was going great, felt good...then about k 26...legs leaden...stumble over a curb...drop my bb.  I know, I know, why are you carrying your bb?  I am just used to having it, I guess.  Dumb I know.  Plus its heavy and big, so I can put it in shorts pocket and have to carry it.  Usually I carry in case but this time I forgot case and figured, "ah, no big deal..."


So I drop it, right on its face and it's just lying there....And I know it's not good.  3 months old.  Pick it up....face....shattered.


You, Internet, may be saying, "oh, that's bad luck!".  But At this point I think one has to accept that maybe there is more going on here.  My first bb, the curve, back in Winnipeg.  I am distracted, because the firm "retreat"  (Gimli!) is the next day and I have to make sure I have brought everything I need as I am working on a file.  So...I am leaving and run across Main street      to catch my bus home.  I look back and I see something on the road.  "Is that a blackberry?" I says to myself.  "That's weird." I figure I better check my back pack for my blackberry "just in case".  Pocket I keep blackberry in unzipped...feel inside frantically...nothing.  It's ok, though, I will just run out and get it...cars coming, one drives right over it.  


I run out to get it, cradling it in my arms...it looks fine, in the case (there were actual tread marks on the case.  I can laugh about that now...sorta).   I pull it out of the case and it looks ok ("it's still good, it's still good...") The face is just a little cracked (It's still good, it's still good...") Try to turn it on...nothing ("It's gone, dad." "I know.")


So I bought a blackberry pearl as a replacement.  The pearl does not have a full key board but it is supposed to "learn" from what you are frequently typing so that the full key board is not necessary.  That is bull shit.  I was sending lots of emails to somebody named Lincoln at the time.  Linc for short.  Every single time..."Lunc".  "Hey Lunc,..." I had to get another one before I threw it out the window.  Ironically, I still have the pearl and it's in fine shape.


So...bottom line, don't lend me your smartphone.   Unless I ask really nicely. Plus this post was kinda aimless. Sorry.

Zoo Run Diary 2011!

Well, ran the 2011 zoo run today.  Worst 10k I have run. "But, Hossy, why was it so bad?", you are probably not* asking.  Well, Internet, it's nice of you to ask. Let me recap.


*who doesn't love the strikethrough by the way?


1st! - I didn't try to sign up until week before the race. It was sold out, so I bought the bib from someone on a Running Room forum.  Awesome.  Except the bib had already been made and identified the runner as "Gayle".  Although I am lucky in that the woman I did buy it from didn't ask for her email ID to be put on the bib, as I am not sure how the ladies on the course would have reacted to a guy with a bib identifying himself as the "Tantalizer".  


Luckily we have a sharpie at home, and, as you can see, I was able to seamlessly transfer the bib to my name.  The best part of having the bib was at one point during the race there was a spectator cheering everyone by name.  She was saying "go Daniel!, go Stephen!, go..uhhh...keep going, woooh!"  Actually, as I write this, maybe this part wasn't so bad after all.


2nd!  I am still getting used to Toronto.  One thing that absolutely takes getting used to is that if you are doing any event, so are a million other people.  No matter what the event may be.  So I left home an hour before the race, as it takes about 25 minutes to drive to the zoo.  Lots of time!  So I get off the highway exit and....

I finally get to park and, as I leap out of the car, I hear the gun for the first wave, my wave, go off.  But...not disaster, as this race has a staggered start so I will just run the next wave in five minutes!


3rd! So I hustle to the start hoping I have everything.  And I kinda need to pee.  Porto-potties....massive line, no go. Check that I have everything - Bib, watch, power gel....(uh oh)...

The forgotten power gel, after the race.  Look at it there, just mocking me..."look at me, so full of energy..."

Fuck.  Just fuck.  Ok.  Not the end of the world.  Gotta pee kinda and no gel.  Two minutes to start time.  Stretch!  Turn on super satellite watch.  Takes a while to get a satellite reading and gets one faster if you stand still, so good to turn on now.  


I stand in place stretching and hear "30 seconds!"....check my watch...it's off.  Sharp intake of breath..."Fuuuuuuck."  Turn it on, thinking "30 seconds might be long enough, maybe....never has before, but...".


Gun goes off.  "Well it will probably get a signal shortly after I start."


Not problematic: Beautiful run.  See zebras and giraffes.  Problematic: super satellite watch...no signal...no signal...asking me "are you indoors?"...no signal...

"Hey Buddy, you don't happen to have a power gel do you? No?  That's ok, don't worry about it, thanks anyways.  I'll ask the zebras." (note: this is not my photo. I didn't take my phone with me.  Although now I kinda wish I had, as it couldn't have hurt my time too much. But photo IS TO zoo.)

And the best are the arctic wolves.  I dunno why.  Just personal preference.  But they are out in force, and real purty.

                                   They looked like this, but...you know...awake. (Not my photo!)

4th! And by far the worst!   Right around kilometre 9, (Update on super satellite watch...no signal....) running hard, feeling good...blllooouuurrpp!....


Tangent!


Now to tell you this part of the story, Internet, I am gonna have to tell you another story.  Way back in Ottawa, Hoss used to run to work.  One night, on a night pre-children, He was out with wife and friends eating nachos and hot wings and drinking beer.  The next morning, as he was running to work (bounce...bounce...bounce) something odd started happening downstairs..(bounce...bounce...bounce).  Blooourp!....Blurp!...Blooooooourp!....Cramp!....My guts!  I figured it was ok, I could make it to work. Kept running.  It was not ok.  It was the diametric opposite of ok.  


The fact that there was a construction site with a porto-potty right after the bridge over the Rideau River saved me from being arrested for pooping on the street in downtown Ottawa.  Unfortunately, the shorts I was wearing under my running pants had to be sacrificed for the cause (R.I.P.) (I, flustered, without thinking, tossed them down the hole, then began reaching down for them before asking myself just what the hell I was doing).  Oh and by the way I think I am pretty brave for telling this story on behalf of all sensitively boweled runners out there!


Well, ever since "the incident" I have tried to be careful when I run, especially races.  Never wear a hydration belt (too bowel squishing!), never eat greasy spicy food the night before a morning run and always, always do a number 2 beforehand.  


Back to 2011!


I haven't been running too many races lately and am out of normal routine.  Thus, I broke one of the cardinal rules and did not think to sit on the potty this a.m.


Back to km 9!


Blooourp.....I have been here before....as the first "bloourp" hits, I am running past a bathroom.  To paraphrase Robert Munsch, the inner dialogue at that moment went something like "It's not that bad, I can run another kilometre can't I? Oh, yes, yes, yes, I can run another kilometre."  


....Bloop.....blooourp....(beginning to look around frantically for a bathroom) ...bllllllooourp...."gahhhh"....(sweat forming on brow (not running sweat, "I am gonna shit my pants" sweat))...."unghhh".


150 metres left...all that's in my head is that I am going to end up as a post in Deadspin as I poop myself in front of everyone at the finish line.  As I come around a bend I see, appearing in front of me, salvation!  In the form of a beautiful blue pillar with a white top.  It's a construction site!  The potty is behind a makeshift wooden fence with orange plastic mesh stapled to it.  I run directly to the fence and jump up on it to hop over as I say to the race volunteer "sorry, I gotta go".   Unstable temporary fencing, no go!  The run volunteer offers, helpfully, "there's a bathroom right after the finish line...(trailing off as I ignore him and continue to try and navigate the fence)... I don't think you're...supposed...to use...that one...  


Now, a couple of points on this...one: the bathroom he was referring to was, in actuality, quite far past the finish line and there was a fucking line up, so I am extremely glad I didn't wait because that would not have worked at all.  Two: hey man, what do you think is going on here?  100 metres left in a race and I am stopping in front of you and all these spectators to hop a rickety fence in order to obviously take a shit?  You really think I would do so if it wasn't a Defcon 4 situation? "Well, I don't really haaaaavvve to, but I just want to see if  I can squeeze something out."  Three...please don't take this to mean I am not a rule abiding-type guy.  I don't walk around thinking rules apply to everyone but me.  But believe me, this was a speeding to the hospital because the wife is in labour dealie.  I would have gladly accepted a police escort, if offered. 


I choose an alternate part of the fence and hop up...I hear a bad "craaack!" sound..."uh oh"...but it holds, and I am over and in and yes!  Sweeet, sweeet relief.  My goodness. Everything I imagined it would be. 


And then done and ready to run the final100 metres!  Sprint to the same part of the fence I hopped in on and hop up..."Craaaack!"...and I am down, lying on the ground, amidst the ruins of the particular fence section. Helpful race volunteer: "Uhhhhh, are you ok, man?"  


Me!: "Yes, I am good! Sorry about the fence! If there's a problem, remember my bib ("Gayle!")!


So I finish the race.  Woohoo.  Crap time (no pun intended, haha!).  And then my time is not adjusted for starting in the second wave so it's 5 minutes slower!  


I am eating a cookie after the race and glance at my super satellite watch.  "Acquired Signal!" Sigh.


But the race shirt is North Face, so that's pretty sweet.  Plus the course director is my neighbour so I emailed him and asked that my time be adjusted to the second wave, (not for myself, but to ensure that my blog followers are not too disappointed!).  And it gave me something to write about!


Phew.... That was pretty long.  Sorry.  Lucky it wasn't a marathon I guess!


Hoss Out!


Update!


My neighbour told me, and I am paraphrasing here, to go jump in the lake.  And rightfully so!  I just hope, Internet, that ole' Hoss has learned his lesson.

Whuuuuutttt??????

Gah! Writer's block!


Oooohh, Parks & Rec is over, block gone.


So I am talking to my colleague yesterday, and she is telling me about winterizing the family cabin up in the Ottawa Valley (I know, with a start like that, you are hooked already!).


Background!  


So my mother grew up in a town called Pembroke, in the Ottawa Valley.  Her mom, my grandmother or "nonnie" (Gaelic? I dunno, maybe, we just went with it), came to Canada as a young lass.   I gather my great grandmother was a bit on the stern and "proper" side, and passed it down to her daughter.  In turn, while I would not describe my own mom (my son's nonnie!) as stern, she had what I would describe as a "healthy respect for proper manners".  As well, although I think her left-leaning adult self tried to leave it behind to some extent, she also had a certain deferral to the "prim and proper".


Example!  


My mom's cousin is an author and wrote a book about his father, the brother of my grandfather. The book goes on for a chapter or so talking about my own granddad.  My grandfather was a soldier in WWI (Black Watch!) and WWII and was the magistrate for Killaloe county back in the day.   As a magistrate, he even had a famous line.  In response to a fancy-pants Toronto lawyer (hate those guys!) that was arguing in front of him's assertion that my grandfather's interpretation of the law was incorrect, my grandpappy countered "that may be the law in Toronto, but it ain't the law in Killaloe!" Badass.  (If ole' Hossy ever gets appointed to the Tax Court, look out, it's in the blood!)


The book, amidst these facts, also discusses how (news to me!) my grandfather was, as I gather, a bit of a drinker.  By which I mean he was a huge drinker.  No skin off my nose.  Oh, he was of Scottish heritage and he liked to drink?  Stop the presses!  But my mom was quite upset about it, concerned that it was besmirching his memory in his grandkids eye's.


Back to the present!


So I says to my colleague, "whereabouts is your cabin? Because my mom grew up in Pembroke."  And she says, "oh?  What was your mom's name?"


And I says my mom's first name and married name was this, but my mom's maiden name was so and so.  And she says, "really, you aren't related to Mary so and so.......?


Okay, if it's all right with you, internet, for this part of the story, I am going to differentiate between inner and outer dialogue.


Me: Outer/Inner "That's my grandmother!"


Colleague "Oh, wow, my grandfather was your grandmother's boyfriend in the nursing home!"


Me: Outer: "oh, right" Inner: "whuuuuuuutttt?"


Colleague: "yes, for a long time, I used to visit them both at the home all the time!"


Me: Outer: "That's so cool!" Inner: "whuuuuuutttt?"


Colleague: "yeah, he used to drive and they used to go to this rough bar that has since burned down where people square-danced and stuff."


Me: Outer "of course!" Inner: "whuuuuuttttt?


Colleague: "And they sure did enjoy drinking that gin!"


Me: Outer: "yeah" Inner: "whuuu......well, that probably makes sense, she was Scottish, after all."


I. Had. No. Idea.  I don't think anyways.  Did my mom know about my grandma's "friend"?  Total puzzler.  Too late to ask her!  Hossy's going to have to talk to his cousins about this and see if they knew about it.


Because I, for one, am scandalized! 


Hoss out!

UPDATE!:

I spoke to my cousin.  She took a while to get back to me because she lives in South Africa now and was off touring Botswana and Namibia.  Luckily for me my run through the zoo lets me know exactly what that's like, so we could compare notes.

Well, she was all over the fact that my grandpa was a boozer.   Old news.  But the nursing home hijinx?  No idea.  So she asked her dad, my uncle.  Not just didn't know.  Refused. To. Believe. It.   

I considered the fact that maybe it was another Mary MacGregor.  But Pembroke is just not that big. 

Curiouser and curiouser......

Okay, okay, you're starting a blog, but what's it about?

Well, first off, I want give a massive shout out to those following me! So nice! My wife (loyalty!), an entomologist (bugs!) and a woman on parental leave (sorry if you are back to work TM! I didn't know!).  So anyways, this post was originally going to be about how my son was stung by a wasp but, you know, I didn't want to pander.  I keep it real here (peace!).

So, instead, I wanna talk (write?) about what this blog is going to be about.  Believe it or not, I have read a blog or two myself and when I thought about doing it, I pondered weightily the different things it could be about.

I guess the first point is that this is not intended to be some sort of "Dear Ndugu" type exercise.  The more readers the better!  One doesn't become the "Newest Star in Canadian Literature" writin' in no diary! ("God what an egotist! Insufferable!")

So what does one write about?

Entertainment Blog?

Guh - Either "this star is so fabulous" or "this star is a big turd...and is not wearing underwear in this paparazzi shot".  Next!

Sports!

To be frank, I feel like there are a lot of aspiring writer dudes out there that start a sports blog less out of love for the subject of the blog (rah! rah! rah!) and more for access to the ready made audience.  Well, I can totally understand it, but ole' Hossy just can't roll like that. 

Law!

Well, I reckon if I thought law was so dang interesting, I wouldn't be wrting this in the first place!  Plus, how can you outdo Bob Loblaw's law blog?

Cancer?

Yes, 3/5th's of my fam has been felled by this particular disease.  But I just can't help feeling like writing a blog about it may compromise the state of denial I live in with respect to this particular fact.  Next!

(Sorry.  This post is a bit on the long side.  Atypical!)

Linking to cute videos of baby animals?

Come on. You think these hands - they've been soaking in Ivory Liquid? 

So...I got no category.  A bit concerned.  Somebody could look at my blog and say "hey, it's not about the Raptors...or needlepoint.....or Britney...or Bedazzling stuff....Next!

But its just the risk I gotta take.  Dammit.

Sure, Hossy, you've started a blog......but why?

That's a good question!  Incisive! Easy Barbara (that's Barbara Walters for any young 'uns reading - I am extermely old), don't make me break just yet!

Well, I would say I started this blog (do the kids today even still call these that? Dang kids, with their changing terminology) for two reasons:

One, because I am a massive fan of typing something totally self indulgent and then saying "this person knows what I am talking about".  I cannot get enough of reading it and now its my turn to write it!

Two, I am just feeling stifled these days.  I know, I know, the question you are not asking is "But Hossy, are you saying that the world of lawyerin' in a Bay street high rise can feel stifling? How can that be?"

I know, I know, but there you go.  And, full disclosure, as any gig has ups and downs, I would describe present work situation as in the "nadirous" stage.  No that is not a real word.  

So I feel like I need something to soothe this itch.  And as I am not interested in learning how to salsa dance or some such, I turn to you, internet, as salve for my.....whatever it would be.  And I take heart that, if nothing else, yes, at least this girl knows what I am talking about.  


Was that cheesy?  That was prob cheesy.  Sorry.  New at this.  Was Hemingway's first blog post a work of art!?  Yes, exactly.  That's what I thought.

Hello Internets!

Well hello internets!  Can I get you anything? Thanks for stopping by.  I love what you have done with your hair.  And....forgive me, but have you lost weight? In a healthy way, I mean of course.  Not the "you look sickly" way.

So....no followers so far.  Looks like I gotta start shooting the shotgun outside of the blog house!

Yello?

O my gosh! First post!

So sweet! So many people to thank!