You haven't raced until you've raced alongside 59,000 other runners!

On Sunday, APril 20, I embarked on a 10k run held locally here in Vancouver: The Sun Run. The fantastic thing about the Sun Run is that it is the WORLD's (Yes, the world's) second largest race in terms of number of participants. As of 9:00 AM on race day, 59,179 runners registered for the race. By the end of the day, more than 56,000 of them had crossed the finish line.
It was a site to behold.

Expecting mayhem, I arrived at the start line (or the vicinity of the start line) early. We started on West Georgia, a 6-lane road on the north-end of downtown. The entire street, naturally, was blocked off. The "start line" was more than a block. When I arrived, there were 10 city blocks, 6 lanes wide, of runners. It was a literal sea of people. Young and old. Fat and thin. Pro athletes and couch potatoes with ambition. It was inspiring to say the least.

Especially because, for a race called the Sun Run, it was a particularly cold and blustery day in Vancouver. The temperature was hovering around zero. It had snowed the day before. And the sun was fighting with some on-coming clouds to make an appearance later.

Because of the massive onslaught of runners of every ability, the race is organized to start in waves. Over each city block was an arch of balloons. Each colour designated an ability level. I was white. Smack dab in the middle!

The Blues went first (the wheelchair racers), then a few minutes later, the yellows (the pros), then the greens, then the whites (me), and eventually the purples, reds, and pinks. I officially crossed the start line 30 minutes after the race had begun. So as the crowd thinned out (only slightly... just enough for elbow room), it was uplifting and down-right amazing to see a sea of runners as far as I could see in front of me. And an equal sea of runners as far as I could see behind.

I usually don't smile mid race unless I see someone I know, am high-fiving, or am crossing the finish line, but I was pretty darn happy.

The pace, of course, is pretty slow for the first few kilometres. The more I tried to find a pace, the more I found myself stuck behind slow runners, skipping over people who stopped to tie their shoes, etc. Eventually, I just resigned myself to enjoying the experience of the run and not worrying so much about the time.

As a result, the time flew by.
So much to look at, so many people to befriend, so many landmarks to pass, so many bands to listen to. It was a frenzy and a feast for my eyes and my mind. So much so that I forgot about the running.

At precisely 1 hr, 1 minute and 4 seconds since the start line, I crossed the finished line. Slightly off my usual pace, my time wasn't terrible. I placed 14,018 out of 59,000 runners (and walkers). Wow! A top 1/3 finish! I placed 1059 out of 3814 women in the 25-29 category , and 4762 out of ALL women racers.

And, aside from a chilly northwest wind, it was actually a beautiful day for a run with 59,000 athletic comrades.

Even as I headed home, 30 minutes post race, I looked back at Cambie Bridge, a 6 lane bridge that crosses English Bay from False Creek to downtown and the bridge was barrier-to-barrier filled with runners, walkers, and cheerleaders on the sidelines.
It seemed that the whole city woke up and went running that morning.
It warmed my soul.
(and tired my legs!)

The sun finally shines. Naturally, I go for a hike.

All week there had been rumblings ... with colleagues, from friends, through the waitress at the sushi restaurant I frequent. Even Yahoo Weather was teasing me. Rumour had it that Saturday was going to be 21 degrees, blue skies, and paradise. The rumous spread like wildfire. I was among a slew on Vancouverites who were preparing for the onslaught of great weather by wearing sandals three days prior, getting the "summer clothes" tub out of the closet, and venturing outside jacketless.

Saturday morning arrived.

I woke up at 6. I had to be a work for 7:30. I groggily threw on some jeans, a tee, and some sandals. Threw on my vest, leashed up the dog, and opened the door to head out on our morning walk.

I opened the door. Forgetting, in my a.m. grogginess, about the good weather hype all week. I breathed in the fresh air. I looked east at the purple-red sunrise. I stopped. Dead in my tracks. The dog started whining. "Man alive," I thought. "I haven't seen the sun rise in months!" Not because I can't get up early. But because even on nice days, winter in Vancouver is fraught with thick cloud coverage.

I smiled.

"What a day!" I said outloud.

The paperboy (man) passed by, heard me and smiled. "''Bout time we saw some sun" he said with a smirk.
I wanted to high five him to seal our collective love for this morning. But I opted to head to the beach instead.

Now here's the irony of waiting waiting waiting for a day like this to show up: I had to work. from 7:30 until 2 or 3. I knew I would have a few hours to play post-work, but I was dreadfully disappointed to have to miss the peak of it for a few measely dollars and the opportunity to smell like grilled sausage and pancakes all day long.

I called Paul on the way to work: "Baby, cross your fingers for me that no one comes into the restaurant and I can leave early"
He obliged.

Sure enough, our usually buzzing breakfast joint was a ghost town. And by noon, I high-tailed it out of there, suited up for a nice hike, coaxed Beamer into the car, and headed to Lighthouse Park in West Vancouver, on the Southwest shore of Burrard Inlet and English Bay.

I had never been. But knew that the elevation was low (which is key for Spring-time hiking here. The mountain tops are still neck-deep in snow) and that the plants were abloom.

Lighthouse Park features a far more frequented set of hiking trails. Some are well carved and laid with gravel for the Sunday strollers seeking a dose of nature without the possibility of twisted ankles or tree-stump tripping. These trails were busy today with families, tourists, older couples, dogs, and more out to enjoy the day. Beamer and I, however, went in search of some more rugged terrain so we could feel far away. We like to escape.

The trails, even the less groomed ones, throughout the park are easy to moderate for hiking. It's more like moderate walking, which was actually perfect for my aging dog and for our first exploration of this park. After a half hour or so of interior hiking we came upon our first lookout. 15 minutes later, another one, Then another. Then another. We were hiking cliffside and the views were striking! Like an impressionist painting, the sky, ocean, and mountains were all shades of pastel blues and pinks. I was expecting a Degas ballerina to enter Stage Left at any time.


It was extraordinary. The sky melted into the mountains which melted into the ocean. It was breath-taking, quite literally. By the third lookout, we sat down and stared for a while. Burrard Inlet was buzzing with sailboats, full sail. The million-dollar yachts were cruising close to shore. The seagulls were chirping over head and the water was still like glass.

There is something so therapeutic about the West Coast. About this perfect combination of earth, wind, fire, and water. It's like I live in a kaleidascope. All the pieces, day in and day out, are the same: Montains, Ocean, Sky, Trees. But everyday they are sewn together in a new light. And every day it's another thing of beauty. It's really quite incredible.


It makes me feel so alive!

Sunshine and lollipops!

After some schizophrenic weather episodes including 3-minute hail storms, slushy rain fall, and thunder and lightening over the past two weeks in Vancouver, the newspaper has brought some good news: Sunshine. All week.
And where there is sun, there is hiking and biking and frisbee and running and climbing and barbeques and beach volleyball.
Stay tuned. It looks like the adventure in my life is about to be kick-started – full throttle!!

Bring on the sun!