I know I'm Alive

I know I am alive right now for a few reasons.

The throbbing pain in my hamstrings and calves when I try to do something as mundane as pull the chair I'm in closer to the computer is one of them.
The taste of my third Strongbow is another.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

On Friday night as I was getting home from work I threw my phone and my keys on the bed before settling into the well known and well practiced art of packing for a weekend away from home. The slight difference on this one was the running equipment and sheer amount of food I would be bringing. My big black bag was half running stuff and half "normal" stuff. My blue backpack, the one that single-handedly got me though Germany and Austria, was now full of everything I may need in a somewhat vegan unfriendly/ my-tummy-doesn't-enjoy-marathons world.

An after work visit/chat soothed my nerves and helped me really see the bigger picture here. I'm ready. I have trained. I have done this before. I get to see my friends and go to a beautiful place and have a cool new story to add to my life's list. And so about three hours later I awoke to the tinkling of my cell phone alarm at 430am.

Leave by shortly after 5, bridge by 530, 1030 ferry, register by 5 (registration closes at 6) and then off to the trailer of a friend with property near Tofino.

Check my email... no go on the trailer. If we want to camp, the trailer has been moved down to town, so we are welcome to the land. My body probably won't really appreciate that, so I make a mental note to text Sheena and Jordan once the sun rises on the rest of the world.
I hit the bridge by 5:38 (close, so close) and find myself in the happy place of car dancing to "if we ever meet again" as the Okanagan starts to roll by me. I think of Kyle, and what an epic car dance he has, and that leads me into thoughts about how lucky he was to find Mel and what a beautiful son they have. This makes me smile more.

I think of the last time I drove this road to go flying in Oliver, and how important my flying family is to me. We are hard on eachother, we expect a lot from eachother, and I love them unconditionally.

I decide that I can make it on this tank to Merritt, despite the "Check Your Fuel" warnings on the highway, and exit to Hope. Again I am filled with thoughts of the flying that happened out there and how lucky and blessed I was to be a part of the trip last summer that saw so many newly licensed glider pilots experience some of the greatest flying in the country.
I exit into Merritt for some fuel and instantly remember what a hassle it was to find a grocery store here last time I stopped. I still have about 40 plastic spoons in my glove box from that little trip, but that is another story altogether.

10 minutes into town, 10 minutes back out, and I am cruising again. It is at this point that my car decides it does not want to shift and that 80km per hour is about all it can muster. Cue the CHECK ENGINE light.

But after about 10 minutes the gears decide to work and I am back to normal capacity. Light is still on, but I can get it checked when I get home on Monday right?

I laugh (hard, out loud) as I pass Annis road, smile as I pass the Tswassen ferry exits, and can't help but wonder how things would have been different if I hadn't said YES when asked if I'd like to spend a summer in Pac region hose short few years ago.

I continue the regular location updates to those I have filed my flight itinerary with, and as I pull into the ferry parkade (at about 930/10... I don't think I drive that fast, I just had luck with traffic in the city?) I remember that I need to confirm that I have a place to sleep tonight.
The amazing Jordan has found Sheena and I pretty much the last place to sleep on the west side of the island. Most people book their rooms when they register for the marathon, which is in, well, last fall if they did it right. So I spend the 10 minutes in the waiting room in the ferry terminal chatting with Jordan and forking over my credit card number in the hopes that there is no one behind me writing it down. Not that they would get far with it, because after this weekend my life becomes "Brittany is a cheap hermit" until I am back in the black.

I board the ferry and instantly feel the need to send out the text that proclaims "I'M ON A BOAT." I pull my penguin pyjama bottoms over my shorts, settle in with my pillow, and attempt to nap. I am in and out of sleep mode for the twoish hour ferry, sending half brained texts and listening half heartedly to some music from my computer. At some point I think I did some free association writing (where you just keep you fingers moving and don't really analyse things) that may someday make it into a blog or a book or maybe will just be forgotten like most of my writing.

Sheena meets me at her car in the ferry terminal in Nanaimo and she, as always, makes me feel as though I am a little kid on an amazing adventure. We laugh and take pictures and sing along with Glee songs as we drive up to Ucluelet. There is something special about a person who can make you forget the sad things in your life. Not forget because you are too busy to notice, but really just overshadow them with so much love and joy that they really don't seem like that much of a big deal anymore.

Being in and out of service on those roads slightly hindered a text conversation or two. Rogers. Frick.

We arrived at Ucluelet and made the random drive through town on my half-assed directions to the community centre. We found it by looking for 'fit' people. It worked. I registered with tons of time to spare (could have slept in and taken the 1230 ferry? yes, yes I could have...) and we headed to Tofino to check into our hotel. A few Glee songs later we were unpacking and taking in the amazing sight that was our 'back yard.' One of the amazing things about modern technology is that I got to share that sight with the accompanying "wish you were here' via picture text message. I really do wish you were here.

We drove into Tofino in search of beer and some vegan dinner. Again, Jordan to the rescue, with the suggestion of the vegan place in Ucluelet. We were on the phone as we were picking up drinks, and imagine the laughter in my eyes when Jordan says "A LIQUOR STORE BEFORE YOUR MARATHON?! YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DRINK, ARE YOU!?" Why yes I am. I would like a beer. Coolers and Strongbow loaded, we head out to locate this food establishment that promises the be animal free.

It is closed. Seriously? Seriously.

We head to the restaurant that Mike and I went to last year when I did the same run. This has now, after two times, become a tradition. Over an amazing vegetable curry dish and Sheenas crab-cake burger we talk about boys and clothes and money and food and fitness and life and all those things you talk to your girlfriends with about if you have girlfriends. It makes me miss NatNat. We pay our bill, thank the chef for veganizing things for me, and head back to the hotel.

I am nervous at this point. I get quiet when I go inside my head, so Sheena knows it right away. "You are getting all... sketched out aren't you." YUP. So she chats with me and reassures me. This is where boys and girls are different. I didn't need someone to talk to me about the race. Or review my plans or my race strategy or what I was going to eat or my pacing or anything else. I didn't have a problem that needed solving, I had a feeling that needed taming. So we rolled into the hotel, I skyped my parents, and then I drank a beer and we watched two episodes of Glee. It was just what I needed. So after brushing my teeth, chatting with Jeff, laying out my clothes and ensuring my phone was going to wake me at 630, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

I was a bit long on the falling asleep thing, but once I was out, I was OUT. I awoke to the sound of waves at about 430 and drifted in and out for the last couple hours. Still nervous. Still thinking about how many more long runs I should have done and how much more training other people probably did. My phone has no service. So the calls and text of encouragement that I requested have no way of getting to me.

We pack (and by we pack I mean Sheena packs me while I buzz around) and I warn her that although I will do my best, race-day-bitch may come out to play at some point. She assures me that she can handle it. We drive into town and do some car dancing at the start line to keep me from thinking about the 42.2 kilometres that are infront of me. I eat a couple of random energy bar things and cram two packs of Sharkies into one package so I have less to carry. Although I love my underarmour pants, they have no pockets. Lamesauce. The announcer suggests we make our way to the line. I boot up the GPS watch and the iPod and keep dancing as we get ready.

And then we are off.

I am constantly thinking about Jonathan Livingstone Seagull. And how the perfect speed is being there. How every number is a limit. And how I am a perfect number written all over the universe at any point in time choosing which one to be seen as. Come on, four and a half hours is a long time. I also sing along to country music, plan my training next year, remind myself to feel like i am on wheels (WHEELS BRITTANY, WHEELS) and do a lot of asking for help. I see Sheena a few times, get to know the group around me who will be within a few minutes give or take of my time. And then I do some math. I know the last 5 k will be a bit slower because the geniuses who decided to make this race thought it would be fun to put the worst hills at the end, but I think I am going to beat my goal time. I was aiming for a 4:30, but I am thinking thirty minutes off last year, a 4:21, is possible. Maybe even probable. This GPS watch is just making my day!!

But there are good times and bad. Times when an average of 5:40 seems like cake, and times when barely holding a 6:20 feels like I am being dragged to the bottom of a ravine headfirst. The times when I am feeling pulled forward by some unknown force are balanced with times when my lungs are underwater, my knees are crunching against each other like boulders in a rockslide, and my mind wants to just stop and run away. Walk away. Crawl away. Makes you wanna run a marathon doesn't it.

And then, like a flash of light, it is over. I am getting a hug from Sheena and getting in line for bagels and looking for the massage table. I am done. All of this, for that.

As we drive back to the ferry terminal I try to get in touch with an old friend to to meet up for dinner. There are 5, 7, and 9 o'clock ferries. Which one I get onto will be determined by the dinner plans. And then after a short phone call I realize there are none. 5 it is. So we burn down to the ferry, I hobble into the terminal and buy my ticket (those ferry people are cranky, so I jumped on the automatic ticket thing) and then head back to Sheena to collect my gear. The differences from the trip out to the trip back? Additions of: 5 Strongbows clinking away in the food bag, a runners number and a medal, lots of pics, some self confidence, a sunburn and two mini packs of coffee from the hotel. Losses? My pillow, (in Sheenas defence, it looked very much like the hotel ones and I did leave her with the hotel cleaning out duty) and some respect. Not a bad trip.

I boarded the ferry without the boat text, and traded it for a "I'll be in Van about 7" text to a couple of people in the area. And then I rethought that. This was the point where I decided that I wanted to drive all the way home to Kelowna. Tonight. No sleep till Brooklyn. Home. I have things there that I miss.

The ferry ride back had a lot of me on the floor stretching and getting eyed questioningly by a few people, one group of which was a high school boys baseball team. They thought I was a bit odd. I am. Get over it.

I dragged my sorry sunburned self to my car, paid my parking, and started the trek home. North Van. Surrey. Chiliwack for gas.

This is where it gets messy.

I answer the phone to Nathan wondering how my run went. Wonderful. Painful. Everything a marathon should be. and then BOOM. Not even kidding, it went BOOM, and my car died. I let off the gas, told Nathan I'd have to call him back, and pulled off to the side. Being one of those girls who likes engines and doesn't mind getting dirty, I popped the hood and started rooting around. Physics is my friend, and the alignment of the explosion-like oil stain on the inside of the hood led me to the problem. Spark plug. Blew right out. Hence the dramatic sounds. So after finishing my water bottle and eating a few more BBQ chips I started texting. Funny how we wouldn't know how to get by without these amazing little cell phones nowadays. Jeff, HELP. Jordan, what kind of a fix we looking at. DiPak, do you know anyone in Chiliwack. Clark, is there a cult of tow truck drivers I can get in on. Mike, any ideas idea guy?
So I call Jeff and he boots up the interweb. He uses his google machine to find me a few towing places and I give 'em a call. Driver is on his way.

At this point I am too exhausted to get worked up. My body is physically at it's limit of stress, so my brain has no room to freak out. I just keep eating my chips and let things roll by me like the vehicles that are rolling by me on the highway. Some big trucks send the little sunfire rocking, but mostly I am a little world of my own. Four way flashers on, hands covered in oil, content in the knowledge that everything happens for a reason, there are people out there who love me, and someday I am going to tell this story and it will be funny. Maybe even hilarious.

I get towed back to the Kal-Tire in the Cottonwood mall in Chilliwack, where Nathan's dad picks me up. Amazing how the cadet world works. We head back to their place, I try and wash some of the day off of myself, but mostly just want to close my eyes on the whole thing.

Up at 7, shower, bagel and dried fruit, walk to the shop. about $300 for new spark plugs, wires and labour. Nope. Aluminum is finiky, the new plugs won't stay in. Needs to be remachined. Where am I going to get $1700 from.

So here I am, back at John and Nancy's, onto my next Strongbow, waiting for about noon tomorrow when I will head down to the shop and hope that I will be back on the road soon. Work today cancelled, what would have been a great night tonight postponed, first clients tomorrow cancelled, spin class at 7 tomorrow night in serious jeopardy.

Everything happens for a reason.

And wow do I feel alive.