10K Human Race

I ran with the rest of the world, Maggie following on her bike and carrying a bottle to keep me hydrated. Even in our sleepy neighborhood there were runners all around, in small and bigger groups. The morning was gorgeous, clear and sunny, but not too hot. As I type this entry, I am sitting on the 6th spot in Canada, but that will (unfortunately) change when faster runners sync their Nike+ kits with the website.

Here is the video showing what it was like in cities around the globe where the race was held:

Human Race 10K

I know, two running-related blogs in a single day, it could be a bit much.

But I can't help mentioning that this Sunday, August 31, Nike organizes the Human Race. It is by far the world largest race. It's a 10 km race organized in 25 cities around the world, but also, anyone who has a Nike+ running kit can participate anywhere on Earth! All we need to do is run 10K on Sunday and sync the run to Nike.com. And--yes, I'll be a part of the race ran by an estimated 1 million participants around the globe!

Marathon plans

Kenny, a guy from work, is an avid marathon runner. A serious one, too.

He's done a number of marathons already, New York and Chicago included. And he is my newly found motivator. Already, he urged me to register for Toronto's half marathon in October, which I did yesterday. We were also plotting which races can get us qualified for the famous Boston marathon. My plan is to try to reach my qualifying time (which will be 3h 30min for Boston 2010) next spring at Mississauga marathon. Failing that, there's still another Toronto marathon in Autumn 2009. It would be really, really great to run Boston in 2010--especially because it falls on my birthday!

Going vegan in Toronto

Ever since I settled in Toronto almost 12 years ago, there was something to survive, some big crisis to overcome. There was 9/11 scare, then anthrax scare, both of which turned out to be just panic overflowing from the U.S. There was no real danger for us here. Then there was SARS (Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome) outbreak, which actually happened and was to blame for several deaths in the town and the country. Following next was the big blackout mentioned previously in this blog. Soon after, the tourists could buy a t-shirt reading: "Toronto 2003, I survived..." and listing all mentioned crises. Now we have another line to add to that shirt: I survived listeriosis in Toronto 2008! Every day the media bombards us with the count of deaths caused by little mean green bacteria.

Listeria (from Wikipedia)

The Maple Leaf meat factory apparently had listeria contamination in one of its meat processing plants near Toronto, which caused serious health concerns nation wide--Maple Leaf is Canada's biggest meat producer. However, the deaths being blamed on listeriosis are the total of all the deaths in which the bacteria was present in the body, even if something else was stated as the cause of death. Until now, it could not be confirmed that the bacteria actually caused the death of all the victims, but the media decided to spread the panic anyway. To be safe, avoid meat altogether! So, here I am--going vegan in Toronto 2008!

The week in retrospect

What a week it has been! It seemed filled with constant movement. Last weekend, a week ago, Maggie's brother who lives in NYC came to visit with his wife, daughter and mother in law. He is funny that way, travels with mother in law. Well, he says he does it for two reasons: first, he can't leave her all alone in NYC, second--she helps with his daughter. As cute and smart as the 2-yr-old is, she demands constant attention. In restaurants, that means the parents would go hungry if it wasn't for mother in law, who takes the little girl around for a walk, so the parents can finish their meals. Seeing that, I found logic in taking mother in law on a trip. Being around two wonderful kids in two weeks, being able to play with them, leaves both me and Maggie slightly nostalgic and baby-sick. I don't mean sick OF the babies, but rather sick FOR them.

The family left on Monday, and the same day we signed the contract with the fence company who will finally separate us from the next door neighbor. The fence posts should be "planted" this week and the fence finished before we leave for Spain on September 3rd.

Ahhhh, Spain! The week had been busy at work too, finishing all the hundred of little and not-so-little things, so we can go without worry. We bought a "learn Spanish" audiobook and are rushing through the lessons, getting our non-existing Spanish on some sort of communicating level. I'm afraid that, other than being able to say my name and ask how are they doing, we won't be up for much of a conversation. Mental note to self: pack a few note books to be able to draw what I can't explain. There'll be a lot of drawing going on!

Saturday was the shopping day. We went to Vistek, the only professional camera store in town, to get a new point-and-shoot camera for Maggie, who decided against lugging around 15 kg of photo equipment, like she did on our last vacation in Italy. Although it was good for muscles--and, yes, I did a fair share of carrying her camera too, along everything else: my camera, books, maps, sweaters, water bottles, etc.--we decided to enjoy the vacation this time. The new small Nikon Coolpix S600 we bought seems quite capable of capturing some precious memories. Maggie is walking around snapping pictures "to test the camera" for the past two days. I have a permanent yellow burning spot in my field of vision from all the flashes. Needless to say, I'm the guinea pig for Maggie's photographic experimantation. Can't wait to arrive to Barcelona so she has other things to point her camera at.

The Olympcs are over. It was fantastic, colorful, spectacular with all the broken records and amazing results. They'll be remembered by flashy (and somewhat kitschy) venues and events and by two names which already entered history books: Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt. As always, the Olympics left me craving for more non-hockey sports events I could follow in Canada. But, that's wishful thinking. Right now the Canadian Olympians are lobbying to get more funds so they can do better at the next summer Olympics. This year they're taking home 18 medals, of which only 3 are gold. Judging how it went after the previous Olympics, it'll all be forgotten in a few days, and then remembered in 4 years, when our struggling athletes get ready for London 2012. How does the proverb go: "Smart learns from other's mistakes, idiot learns from his own"? What to call those who don't learn at all? When it comes to "small" sports, Canada doesn't learn.

On the last day of the Olympics, Samuel Wanjiru of Kenya won men's marathon in time 2h 06min 32sec! Yesterday I did 19 km in 1hr 29min. That means I'd need about an hour and 30 min longer than the Kenyan to finish. And I even thought I was running fast! Luckily, there's no danger of me having to participate at the Olympics, so I can take my time.

The up-close view of a road rage

Picture source

Don Mills Road, which takes me home every day, splits around a small plaza called "Peanut Plaza". Three northbound lanes circumscribe the plaza at east, while southbound lanes bind it at the west side. The road is fairly wide there and traffic usually moves fast. Occasionally, there'd be a slowdown in the left lane, when cars turn into the plaza. I usually stay in the middle lane until the north lanes meet the south ones at the north end.

Approaching the traffic light at Peanut Plaza today, I saw a driver getting out of a red SUV stopped at the light in the middle lane. Presuming that his car broke down, I moved to the left lane. It gave me the front row view to a real-life episode of the road rage. The driver of the SUV, a tall and muscular black man, walked to a small black Pontiac stopped ahead of his car, leaned through the open window and delivered a series of quick punches to the Pontiac's driver. Then, before the lights changed, he returned to his SUV. The light turned green, but no one moved, letting the combatants get on with what was inevitably going to be a street race. The Pontiac crossed the intersection and stopped in the right lane, waiting for the SUV to follow. The SUV started with a screech and disappeared in the street to the right. Slowly, the rest of us moved on. The Pontiac's driver, a dark-skinned, young man with a baseball hat turned backward, was cursing after the SUV, but he already passed the street and could not pull back in the one way traffic, to give a chase. I caught myself laughing.

The whole episode was so surreal, it's hard to believe it really happened. Those are things you usually read about in the newspaper. To witness it first-hand feels like participating as an extra in a cheap sitcom. I admit, there are times when bad drivers provoke the lowest feelings in me and I imagine myself doing exactly what the SUV driver did: walking to the culprit and punching his face. But, imagining is one thing, doing it is completely something else. I don't think I could ever bring myself so low to actually do it. After today's event, I am certain I never will! Although, I can't promise I'll stop imagining it...

Confusing Olympic cheer

I was wrong. On Saturday, the 8th day of the Olympics, Canada started winning medals. First day there were three: a gold, a silver and a bronze. Then the medal flood-gate opened for Canada and it's still pouring in, a few medals every day. We are a little shy on gold, but there's silver in abundance. Today alone there were three silvers and a bronze (silver: diving men 3m board, trampoline men, triathlon; bronze: athletics 100m hurdles women).

I already confessed to being crazy about sports. The Olympics, however, are emotionally confusing for me. I feel that I should be cheering for Croatia; after all, I spent more than half of my life there. My first memories, first love, first of everything I am today belongs there. Canada is my adopted homeland, and there are times when I feel that I don't quite belong here. When does a man start calling a foreign land his home? When does a foreign land stop being foreign? When he finds love, starts a family, finds friends? When he gets a job, buys a house? When he knows the names of the bars and restaurants in town? When he knows the names of the athletes competing for his country at the Olympics?

I read about the feats of the Croatian team at the Olympics: I don't recognize the names. The flag is familiar, but the faces are not. Even joy I should feel when they are victorious is just the excitement of an impartial observer: they are all strangers to me. When Canadians, on the other hand, hit the sports field, I straighten in the chair and grind my teeth as they struggle. I'm elated when they win and dejected when they lose. I recognize their faces even without the name tags, I know their stories, their injuries, their victories and losses. And, I admit, I know the lyrics of the anthem Oh Canada. Have I become a Canadian? Or am I just a well behaved guest here? I am not certain what the right answer is, but I know the Olympics are much more fun to watch when you have someone to cheer for. Go Canada!

Blackout, the fifth anniversary

Blackout in Toronto (Wikipedia photo)

Today is the fifth anniversary of the big blackout. It's one of those things that makes you remember where you were and what were you doing when it happened.
I was in the air! No kidding!

That day I was working on a story about home-built replicas of the WW1 biplanes. The retired plane enthusiasts who built those planes offered me a ride, fitted me with a leather cap and those round 19-century goggles; before I could change my mind, I was in the air, off the runway of a small airport in Brampton. When we landed, the airport was without power. Only when I left the airport some time later it became obvious that the power outage was wider than I thought. All the traffic lights were out in Brampton, in Toronto, in most of Ontario and eastern United States. The trip home, which usually takes less than an hour, took me almost 5 hours! Every intersection in town was a bottleneck, people were walking everywhere, civilians were directing traffic. There was a lot of frustration, but also a strange camaraderie, neighbors got to know each other, people were huddling around the transistor radios, actually taking time to talk to each other. We should have a few blackouts a year, to re-learn how to socialize with other humans, without texting, emailing or messaging.

Orwell's blog

George Orwell (from Wikipedia)

George Orwell started blogging!
That is quite an achievement considering he died in 1950!
Actually, the Orwell Prize is publishing his diaries in the blog form, matching the dates of the diary and the blog with the delay of 70 years.

We are in day 5 of the Olympics and still no medal for Canada. After all the pre-olympic boasting, it's becoming very likely that my grim prognosis will come true.

In all the previous Olympics the cheating was done by some doped athletes. Beijing's are the first Olympics in which the cheaters are the organizers. Today's media is full of the damnation of the glorious opening ceremony, after it was revealed that some scenes of the breathtaking fireworks were pre-taped and added to the broadcast as "live". Another faux pas was the lip-synched song of a gorgeous 9-year-old girl during the ceremony. Apparently, the voice was of a 7-year-old audition winner whose face was "too chubby" and teeth "not straight", so the organizers picked a tune-deaf but pretty girl instead to lip-sync.

Back home, all is as usual--I closed the office door at work to keep the annoyance out of it. After work I went for a 13 km run and was congratulated by Nike+ iPod for running over 1,500 km (1,505 to be precise) since November last year. Not bad for an old codger! And now, as soon as I post this entry, a glass of milk and a slice of German marble cake topped with nutella spread wait for me.

Thoughts about doping

Erythropoietin (EPO)

I ran away for my run as soon as I came home, to sweat out the pent-up frustration. It was an extremely frustrating day at work. Blessed running helps me forget it all, at least for a short while.

While running, I usually listen to podcasts or an audio book. It occupies my thoughts much more than music. Today it was BBC's documentary about doping in sports, as a lead-in to the Olympics. The reason the authorities can't catch the cheaters using EPO (drug which enables blood to carry bigger amount of oxygen and helps the body regenerate and recover much faster) is because the drug is detectable in urine only 24 hours after it's taken. Its effects, however, last up to 3 months. The athletes simply need to take it few days prior to the competition, and they can't be traced. It seems that good old science is losing the battle in catching the druggies.

It brought a memory of my army days. I trained with a team of runners for an all-army 3 km race. The ten of us were going to represent our whole garrison. Our drill sergeant, who was our trainer and a participant, wanted to win by all means. Before the race, during the pep talk, he gave each of us a white pill. It had something written on in Russian. "Take it an hour before the race," he said, refusing to elaborate what will it do. I make no excuse for myself--I was curious to see what the pill does. Besides, I never perceived army competitions as something of importance, so if the pill has counter effect I won't be sorry. Knowing what I know now, it was a really idiotic reasoning--for all I know he could have given me something to make my heart explode. Luckily, all the magic pill did is propel me with fantastic energy and stamina through the most of the race. Unfortunately, its effects disappeared after 2 km. With another 1000 m to go, I felt drained, breathless and wanted to quit. Somehow, I dragged myself for the remainder of the race and still managed to finish 11th out of 3000 soldiers.

That pill was the only instance I cheated in sports, and still stings my conscience to these days. Listening to BBC today, however, I could see no end in doping cheating in sports. That's when a thought came: why don't they simply forget about the doping control? Let the thieves inject whatever they want and see how far they go. They are doing it anyway. But, legalizing doping could level the game--if the athletes who are not doing it yet start with the doping, they'll catch up with the cheating "elite". And maybe--just maybe--someone will realize that it's the same if everyone takes drugs as if no one takes it. But, that would be too much, expecting the world to turn better instead of worse.

The Olympics

It was impressive: colorful, artsy and well synchronized. I'm talking about the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympic Games. With all the talks and politics leading into it, I half expected some incident, but thankfully nothing happened. Now, if only the politicians could just take the back seats for a couple of weeks and let the sport rule. But, that's like asking the thief to be honest and a psychopathic murderer not to kill. I'm sorry, no other analogy seems appropriate for the politicians... But, back to the opening ceremony. It took us through the history of China and its discoveries of the gunpowder, paper scrolls, printing and compass. Through the flurry of colorful costumes and scenery, smiling faces, flying acrobats, to the gracefulness of dancers in traditional garbs, all spiced up with the fireworks, it was an event to remember. Of course, the culmination of the show was the lighting of the Olympic flame. Although, in my opinion, nothing can come close to the Barcelona games opening, when the flame was lit by a burning arrow shot over the crowd, this one was impressive in its own way. Partly because the last torch bearer was Li Ning, a gymnastic legend, and partly because of the way he lit the Flame.

Li Ning and me go way back, precisely 26 years back, when he was winning his Olympic and World Championships medals. The World Cup 1982 was held in Zagreb. He was an easy character to spot even before he started "cleaning" the gold. He wore the greenest green shirt for the warm-up, so uncommon in the sea of white, red and blue, which were the colors of the gymnastic elite. We even tried to buy that shirt from him, but he just smiled and went on winning his golds, six gold medals in total at that World Cup. So, he was a familiar name when he held that last torch, hoisted at the top of the Bird's Nest stadium. I wouldn't recognize him without the name tag--he's older, grey-haired gentleman with a potbelly. Besides, he didn't wear the trademark green shirt! He ran a perfect slow-mo round around the roof of the stadium, dangling off the ropes in the air and set ablaze the end of a giant scroll which enveloped the Olympic flame's bowl. As a former athlete and a current running fanatic, now I can lay back and enjoy the two weeks of sports on TV. Let the games begin!

Monday run

It was a gorgeous morning for run, so nice that I set my iPod + Nike pedometer on 7 km, but ended up running over 12 km. I went through the farmland. Along the way I passed a couple of runners and scared them witless. Somehow, they didn't hear me coming from behind although my steps were pretty loud on the gravel. When I was passing them and they finally saw me, both jumped like seeing an angry moose galloping by.
Few kilometers farther a hawk swooped on a small animal which was crossing the road. I didn't have time to discern what kind of animal it was before it was carried in unforgiving talons to the tree near by. It might have been a field mouse.

For the rest of the morning we took the sister in law and the baby nephew for a walk around Toogood Pond in Unionville, dined at the Country Inn Viennese Restaurant (good) and enjoyed the beautiful day.

Running guest

Three times a week Maggie joins me for a run. We usually go her 3.5 km and finish back at home where we started. Then I turn around and do additional 5 km or more.
Today we had a guest runner. Our brother-in-law decided to join us in spite of his flat feet and a bad knee. He ran Maggie's part, braving a naughty blister his running shoes caused on the sole of the foot. I was so thrilled with the expansion of my running flock that for a moment I considered starting a running group. At least I'm trying to keep the family in shape, although brother in law has a wonderful blistery excuse for not running for some time.

We spent the afternoon in the Distillery District (again), where we had some good blues and bad food. The Pure Spirits Oyster House & Grill was overcrowded with slow and non-responsive service. Food arrived after more than an hour-long wait. The burger was OK, but really if they'd managed to screw up the burger, they'd deserve to have the license revoked. However, the seafood Maggie ordered was less than mediocre, the portion was small and mussels and shrimps were tasteless. The same goes for the salmon my sister in law had. I made a mental note never to go to the Pure Spirits again. Luckily, there are many other restaurants in the area.

After lunch, brother in law flew to Chicago on his way to Des Moines where he has a conference to attend.

Visitors

Maggie's sister arrived yesterday with her hubby and chubby. Chubby being a perfectly adorable baby boy who doesn't mind being hauled across the continents at 9 months of age. He crawls, smiles, puts everything he can lay his tiny fingers on in the mouth, and is perfectly content even with me tossing him around. I have to say for the record that I have a dismal experience with toddlers; they usually start crying as soon as I get close. If I stretch my arms to hold them, they scream like they are being skinned alive. That's why I wisely keep myself out of sight and out of reach of the babies. And that's why I'm absolutely thrilled with my baby-nephew's indifference toward my horrifying presence.
While the whole visiting family is getting over the jet-lag by sleeping the afternoon away on the living room's floor (Chubby) and the guest room's bed (Maggie's sis and her hubby), I tiptoe every now and than to the living room to steal another glance on his sleeping-slobbering chubbiness.