Of Indecision and Infiltration

So I'm currently in the process of deciding the rest of my life right now ...

No biggie.

But seriously, I have to pick a school and a city and it's all too much for someone who can't even pick a sandwich at a cafe (I had a mild panic attack, couldn't pick and had to subsist entirely on a yogurt until dinnertime).

Usually, I would look at statistics and objective facts, etc, etc. (Which I've already done). But this time around, I thought I would actually show my wild side ... and go sneak around the building where my classes would be. This is wild for me. I'm usually very awkward about being in places where I have no business being (darn it, there goes my career as a cat burglar!).

I hitched a ride with my friend Nat, who is doing a degree in Nursing at UBC. Unfortunately, Nursing classes apparently start bright and early, because when my alarm rang that morning, it was disgustingly early. It was also disgustingly dark and rainy.

Disgusting

I think I changed my mind three or four times and it took all of Nat's convincing powers, including picking me up herself, just to get me to campus. Whatever, it was dark and rainy and I hadn't woken up that early in a long, long time, and the coffee hadn't kicked in yet.

By the time we got to campus, it at least stopped raining. Hooray for small blessings. So imagine the following scene, if you will:

Location: rainy university grounds
Time: 9am - students hurrying off to class
Scene: Me, trying to blend in with the other law students.  

Hmm, maybe I should walk with a swagger. 
Or not. 
Wait, let me hunch over, pretend my book are SOOO heavy. 
Now head up Anna, walk fast enough that you look like you're going to class, but slow enough so you don't look like an idiot when you accidentally walk into a supply closet or something.

It was a hoot, let me tell you. From the way I set it all up in my head, you would think I was infiltrating the FBI or something. But I showed them.

Of Ugly Mugs and Rollercoasting Magazines

After my horrendous run yesterday morning (alright, slight exaggeration; more like ... icky), the sun decided to rear its ugly mug.

Thanks weather. Thanks a lot. It couldn't be nice and sunny when I was puffing along, could it? No.

To celebrate the momentous occasion of SUN in Vancouver, my mother and I decided to cash in our gift certificates (thanks Tatiana!) and get us some manicures. Plus it was a lovely occasion for mother-daughter bonding time. (Now we ended up bonding in the basement of some Chinese lady's townhouse because she set up her 'studio' in a tiny tiny room by the garage, but no matter).

Despite the ... less that orthodox surroundings, Lisa (the nail technician) did a fabulous job on my poor poor nails (I'm unable to keep them long because I get antsy at the clacking sound they make on hard surfaces ... freak alert). Look at that pretty purple colour!

And while my mother got her nails done (a demure pale pink/gold colour), I settled down with my fave mag.

And duh, of course it's the IKEA 2012 Catalogue. There's nothing like the breathless wait until it arrives in your mailbox, the tingling anticipation as you flip through the few pages, the deep seated contentment at looking at the picture of middle-class bliss - it's emotional rollercoaster ride with the IKEA Catalogue. Reading doesn't get better than this ;)

Of Wild Wind and Manic Photography

I have 2 more days left in mild-weather-land, so I figure, I've got to get in as many runs as possible before I go back to freezing my behind in Montreal. So I got all dressed and out the door without even checking the weather. Because how bad could it be?

Well, technically, it wasn't that bad. If you like running into gale-force winds that is. (Okay fine, they're not technically gale-force, but it sure FELT like it.) Now Richmond is as flat as a pancake (so no hills to hide behind) and I also took the *scenic* route (our version of scenic includes rundown shacks by the dyke, cabbage fields and almost being run off the road by giant trucks) - in any case, this all meant that I was almost running at a standstill for about half the run due to the wind. But then the last half, the wind was at my back and I jolly-ly sprinted home.

 

Okay, there were some pretty parts too.

 

I admit, I totally run faster and look more intense when there's people around. I see a car driving by and I'm all 'Nike-commercial-ready'. And then when it passes, I go back to plodding along. Whatever, haters gonna hate.

I am also crazy jealous of people with awesome running photos. And by that, I mean the quasi-professional photos of them running and looking all happy and fabulous. My race photos are horrendous because the race photographers somehow manage to catch me at the exact time I hit the wall/cough/collapse in a heap (not attractive poses, if you were wondering). And since I have yet to rope someone into being my personal running photographer (job's open if you are willing to be paid in bad jokes and sarcasm!), I have to make do on my own ... badly.

I'm obviously not going to take a clunky camera with me, but with my iPod, I'm never sure if I hit the button or not, so I end up manically punching the device with my fingers and making weird faces. Also, I can never capture more than my head anyway; now it's of course the best looking head ever, but I have WAY too many 'this-is-my-head-running' or 'this-is-my-head-after-a-run' photos. What I need are some epic, moving, 'this-is-me-hauling-my-ass-up-a-giant-hill' photos or 'this-is-me-looking-like-a-supermodel-running-photos' (although we might have to use Photoshop for the last one ...

... A lot.)

RE: WTF?!

A weekly rant about ridiculous crap in the world. Up this week - Fashion Faux Pas.

Dear stores,
Apparently, all you carry right now are fringed Native-American tribal wear (which is a real statement-maker at work), sequined shirts (why yes, I do want to look like a fish) and crop tops. That is not okay. Besides my lack of desire to look like a disco ball or like I just walked out of Little House on the Prairie, there are some practical considerations as well.

Let's focus on the crop tops.

Let's just make it clear. A crop top is not a shirt. If it doesn't cover the top of your jeans, it's not a shirt. It's winter. I don't want to be freezing my midsection. In fact, the chub needs some extra protection and warmth. And let's be honest, I don't know a single person who's more fit in the winter than the summer. So the let's give the tummies some love.

So yes, dear stores, it would make more sense to stock more sweaters. Not crop tops. Especially not fringed and sequined crop tops.

Love,
Fashionable and Disgruntled

This is Actually a Fitness Blog

Back to your regular fitness coverage.

Inspired by the slew of pink workout tops I bought yesterday, I finally dragged my sorry ass to the gym. It was still pouring outside, and I'm a pansy, so to the treadmill I went.

It was ... fine. I wouldn't say that I've lost very much running fitness, but we all know the treadmill isn't the jolliest of places. The only one available (at 9pm, no less) was not facing a TV, so I could only stare at my reflection in the window for the time I was chugging along. And as gorgeous and fascinating as my reflection is, it's not quite as entertaining after the first 10 minutes. So I zoned out for a bit (hmm, I need new sports bra ... and my shirt is riding up ... and that guy behind me looks like Ben Stiller in the Zoolander, complete with the headband ... that was a very funny movie ... he wore a  red leather suits ... men in suits ... I should go clubbing with men in suits ... but I like to sleep ... I want to go to bed right now ... but no, I have to run ... hmm, I need a new sports bra ...). Imagine about 30 minutes worth of that.

• 4.5 miles, 37:58, 8:26 pace

Miles in the bank my friends, miles in the bank. Official training (with a fancy Excel schedule and clean meals in tupperware containers and piles of workout-related laundry) starts next week.

Of Mall-Trains and Potato Fields

Vancouver must be the rain capital of the world, I'm convinced. (Actually, Wikipedia says it's Cherrapunji). In any case, it's great to be here if all you want to do is watch TV (like me); but if you actually want to enjoy some of those famous outdoors-y activities, well, a lot of the times, it's a no-go.

Um, no, because it's pouring cat, dogs, and all sorts of other farmyard animals out there.

Like the cool kids that we are, Nat and I headed to our largest mall, Metrotown. It has a Winners AND a Zellers AND a Superstore AND a movie theater AND a Bay AND a Sears, and basically everything. Ah, shopping heaven.

You may have noticed that despite my proclaimed obsession with fitness, there has been precious little of anything in the way of running and/or exercising for the past few days. One of the reasons is the disgusting flood-like weather going outside. The other ... my general inner laziness. No worries, workouts will resume when I head back to Montreal. But today, I was fully prepared to do some cardio-shopping. Apparently, other people had a different idea.

Yes, there was indeed a train to take people around inside the mall. An amusement park and shopping center, all in one! And you don't even have to get up! I was prepared to wax eloquently on the decline of exercise in North America to Nat, but she was saved from that fate as my scorn/slight interest/amusement was all but forgotten as soon as I found a shoe store.

Source

As soon as I see/smell/sense shoes, I'm like a kid in a candy store. Or ... a girl in a shoe store? (that must be a metaphor all on its own now ...). But alas, my quest for the elusive perfect black boots shall continue another day. I did however cap off my day of cardio-shopping by buying some more workout clothing. Because you can never have too much neon spandex in your closet.

Of course no day would be complete without a mild disaster. Despite living in this city for oh, 11 years, we somehow managed to get lost. Apparently, one wrong turn on the freeway and you're driving through a post-apocalyptic landscape of potato fields and trash-compactor sites.

But thanks to Nat's trusty iPhone, we were iSaved and I wasn't even kicked out of the car.

Yet.

Of Cool Kids and Yowling Cats

My best friend came back from a cruise the day before (can you say, jealous?!), so we finally met up yesterday to hang out. Being that we are cool kids, we opted to swim in the neighbour's pool hit up ALL the clubs stay home to watch a movie. And because I am so behind on all the new movies (since somewhere between middle school and university, going to movies became so passe), we downloaded 'The Help'.

It made me laugh, it made me cry; all in all, it was great. Because any movie that turns me into a hormonal cry-fest deserves a gold star. The only thing of note is that the depiction of the bitchy Southern ladies was so spot-on that I spent half the movie in an irritated ball, wanting to shank some all of them.

Source

I just can't stand passive-aggressiveness in any form. Of course that meant my friend was sitting besides a hissing and yowling cat-version of me as I spit my animosity at the screen. Because talking to an inanimate object isn't the first sign of insanity. I admit that I am one of those people who talks during movies. I'm sorry, but my comments are just so brilliant, they cannot be bottled up.

Source

We'll see if we are still friends tomorrow. We're supposedly driving to our Mega-Mall (like I said, movies and malls, we are cool kids through and through), but she might just drop me off on the outskirts of town, in the hope that I never come back to chatter through her movies again.