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.

Lake Houses

I’m not talking about the bad movie with Keanu Reeves. I actually never saw the movie Lake House, but I just know it’s bad because Keanu Reeves is in it. The one thing that I’ve always wanted in life was a lake house. I don’t even like swimming in lakes that much. I just like the idea of them I guess.

My grandpa had a lake house when I was younger. Actually, he had a few different ones. Most of them were on Candlewood Lake in Connecticut. For maybe 4  summers of my youth we drove to these lake houses and just chilled with my family. Being right on the lake is the best. One of his houses had a docked slide in the middle of the water that my brother, my uncle, and I liked to go on. I think my cousin did too, but she was younger so I’m not sure about that one. Anyway, I remembering having to fill up this milk jug with lake water and pouring it down the slide in order to make it slippery. Even back then I knew this system was archaic.

I also liked going tubing. I can’t water ski. Well, maybe I can. I’ve never tried. Paul and his bro were like pro water skiers when they were younger. Well, pro Canadian water skiers. So I guess they were just regular? (JK GUYS) I can’t help but to be afraid that a shark is going to eat me whilst I’m tubing. Especially when I’m stopped in the middle of the lake. I know sharks don’t reside in lakes. I’ve seen every shark movie wayyy to many times to think that I’m ever safe in a body of water. Even in pools you have to keep a look out. I’m just sayin’.

Paul has had a lake house for most of his life. I can’t help being jealous of this. It must have been so much fun to have an alternate house to go to for the entire summer. I guess what I like most about lake houses is the simplicity of everything. You don’t need a lot of stuff to have fun at a lake house. You just need a lake and a barbeque.

I think going to my grandpa’s lake house gave me a sense of having a big family. There was always someone to hang out with or talk to. My family isn’t particularly big. I have one sibling. And 3 cousins. I’ve met two of those cousins only once in my life. But they live in Minnesota. So it’s really their fault for living in such an undesirable place.

A lot of things have changed since those lake house days. Some of my family members don’t talk to each other, that uncle isn’t my uncle any more, and there’s no longer a lake house to go to. But now that we live about 45 minutes from my husband’s lake house, I feel like I can make new lake house memories. Plus, that might be the only place I can get a decent tan here, so I really don’t have a choice.