Note to Self: Running Stinks.

I don’t know why I insist on pretending that I’m athletic. For some reason I bought a volleyball last weekend. What am I going to do with a volleyball by myself? Nothing, that’s what. I also kind of ran a 10k last weekend. And by ran, I mean jog/walked. 10ks are really hard. They’re like, 6 miles of pure pain and wishing that things would end. I even prayed that there would be a Rapture just so I wouldn’t have to continue running.

Paul and his sister like to run. His sister recently participated in a 10k before I left for home. When I came back to Victoria, the weather was super nice and they wanted to jog around a lake that measured out to a 10k. I agreed to go with them, thinking I would just putz around and hopefully get tan. Paul told me that I should run until I felt like I was half way done with whatever amount that I wanted to run, and then turn around. He warned me that there was no way of getting back to where we parked unless I ran the whole thing or turned around. There wasn’t any shortcut. Unless I wanted to swim through the lake. No thanks.

I turned on my music and started to jog, as one does. Paul and his sister got farther and farther away until they were out of my sight. That’s when I held onto my key tightly, ya know, just in case anyone tried to rape me or anything. Keys are surprisingly great weapons. If someone attacks you, just jam it into their eyeball, or throat. That’s what I would do. Not that I’m a pro on getting raped or anything. When I was running, I played out a whole scenario in my head–someone knocking me down, me cutting up their face with my key, and then me kicking them in the head while they’re down. My parents think I should invest in some boxing classes because it seems like I need to get some aggression out. I have no idea what they’re talking about.

The good thing about using a key, is that you also have your rapist’s DNA. I’ve thought about this way too much.

A little bit into my run I saw a marker that said “6k”. I was so happy! Wow, I’m like, REALLY good at running 10ks! Maybe this is my thing. Paul and his sister will be so impressed with me! So I kept jogging. I slowed down a lot, but I kept it up. I saw the sign for “8k” and looked to my left. I could see the point where I started exactly across the lake. Hmm The lake must be longer on one side. I only have 2k left to run, it’ll be fine, I thought. At this point I was running in bursts. I would set little goals like, run to that tree, or run until this song finishes. And then I would allow myself little breaks.

I was getting super tired. Maybe 10ks weren’t for me. This course also offered a lot of obstacles. There were bikers, dogs, horses (!), horse poop, tree roots jutting out from the ground, etc. Oh and rapists, obviously. Eventually I reached a sign that said “10k”. Yes! After this last kilometer, I will be back to where I started. I decided to run without stopping. I wanted to have a strong finish! So I kept running and running and then I saw a sign that said “2k”. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Was I trapped running around this lake for the rest of my life?! Did I take a wrong turn and end up at some other lake? My ipod was almost out of juice. This was not a good situation. My legs hurt every time I tried to make an effort to jog.

I eventually got back to where we parked. No one told me that we started at the 4k mark though. WOULD’VE BEEN SLIGHTLY HELPFUL. I figured that Paul and company would have sent out a rescue squad since I’d been gone for an hour and twenty minutes. Not a bad 10k time considering I walked a lot of it! I saw Paul and his sister walking to the car. Did I finish at the same time as them? Am I a better runner than I thought? Nope. Paul sprained his ankle trying to avoid a drain that was jutting out of the ground. When he stepped around it, his foot landed in a ditch. He hobbled the last 2k of the loop and he still beat me.

Side note: There was a race going on while we were running. Not just a normal race though, an “Ultra Race”. Competitors would run around the lake 8 times. That’s an 80k. Which converts to 49.7 miles. There’s no one that I hate more than the people that would pass me, sprinting around the lake for their 8th time.

Royal Canadian Mounted Police (Mounties)

So majestic and noble.

Since I’ve been in Victoria, I haven’t seen any mounties. Mounties are one of those things that epitomizes Canada. Much like fatties to the United States. In England people made it a point to tell me about obesity in the US.  If I made a complaint about something British, people would often say, “Well at least we aren’t overweight like everyone in the states”. I couldn’t really argue it either. WE LIKE FOOD, OKAY?

Maybe I haven’t seen any mounties because I don’t actually live in the mountains. Paul just assured me that mounties do not strictly patrol mountainous regions. Apparently (this might be boring…but educational!) they are in charge of rural areas instead of more populated city areas. I live quite close to the city center so I guess it makes sense that I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing any. So in Victoria, we have city police and in the towns further out, they have national, mounted police.

So my next question to Paul was–how do the mounties actually do any good when they are on horseback? Like, could you imagine them galloping to pull someone over? Waving a flashlight above their head to simulate a police car? Well I guess they aren’t mounted anymore. Which totally ruins everything. WHY are the even called mounties if they aren’t even mounted? Seeing a mountie in a car would just be weird

Lets be real. Mountie uniforms are super creepy, but they are original. I think they should go back to their roots, ditch the cars, find some horses, and patrol everywhere in Canada. I feel like people wouldn’t have to deal with as many tickets, AND you would get a free pony ride back to the station. Its a win/win situation if you ask me.