'Twas the Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
was a maze of packing boxes, no room for a mouse.
No stockings were hung by the fire with care,
no tree, no lights; had the Grinch moved in here?

The movers would come in just a few weeks
so Christmas had taken a gloomy back seat.
As I lay in my bed, attempting to sleep
I suddenly sprang up and leapt to my feet.

I would go for a run and work this thing out,
I couldn’t let the Grinch fill me with doubt.
As my husband lay nestled all snug in our bed,
I pulled on my runners, grabbed a cap for my head.

Outside the moon shone lustrous and bright
and it lit up my way on this cold Christmas night.
I ran all the way down to the cove by the sea
and I couldn’t believe the view I did see.

Out on the bluff a strange sight did appear,
a jolly old elf with eight sturdy reindeer.
And nearby a sleigh, piled high with new toys
was ready to deliver to good girls and boys.

 

I shook my head slowly, wiped sleep from my eyes
but the vision remained, I’m telling no lies.
The jolly old elf was so lively and quick
and I thought to myself, could this be St. Nick?

He was chubby and plump, just like in the story
and I laughed when I saw him in all of his glory.
His eyes--how they twinkled! His nose like a cherry!
And he winked as he waved at me, gleeful and merry.

Then he chuckled and shouted, called his reindeer by name
and more fleeter than eagles on the wing they came.
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle
and I was left dumbstruck as they flew like a thistle.

I still was in wonder as I made my way back
to my house which now stood with the moon at its back.
And way up above me, I heard a merry “ho ho ho!”
and in a blink of an eye, it started to snow.

Renewed with the spirit of Christmas and hope
I skipped back to my home, there was no time to mope.
And as I tiptoed back in to my mess of a hall
I knew this would be the merriest Christmas of all!

Wishing you all a magical Christmas!

The Time Traveler

 "There is something magical about running;

after a certain distance, it transcends the body.

Then a bit further, it transcends the mind.

A bit further yet, and what you have before you,

laid bare, is the soul."

- Kristin Armstrong, Writer and Runner

I love the way each and every run takes you on a different journey. Like today, for example, I had been running for about 25 minutes and found myself in my old neighborhood of Eagle Harbour. By this time I was deep in “the zone” when I saw my mom. She was walking towards me, brown leaves falling all around her and she was smiling.  We didn’t speak, or embrace, but our breath mingled and hung in the air. Time stopped, somehow, and an unspoken conversation was had in that moment. The message I got from her was “yes” and now as I sit at my desk thinking back on that moment, I’m wondering what “yes” actually means.

You see my mom has been dead for 33 years. The anniversary of her death is approaching...December 11th...which might be one of the reasons she is on my mind. She died of pancreatic cancer when she was just 40-years young and I was 18. Her death was quite sudden on the grand scale of things...7 months from diagnosis to death...and left a huge, terrible abyss in our family life which I still struggle with 33 years later.

It’s not unusual for me to see her ghost from time to time, but today’s encounter was more like a trip back to a different time passage...back to 1978, before she died. Maybe it was because the moon was full last night, or maybe it was because I was so deep in the zone that the echoes of the past simply drew me back. But still I wonder, is it my thoughts that bring her back, or is there something back here she left behind? 

Now I’m not one to live in the past, life is too short for that, but wouldn’t it be something if we could “travel back” to a different time passage when ever we wanted or needed to. If you could somehow slow the beat of your mind and find yourself sitting across from auntie Madge, who passed on some time ago, sharing a pot of tea and swapping stories. Would life be any easier? Would we find inner peace?

There have been times when I’ve gone through sticky patches, alone, and I’ve searched for her to guide me through. You could say that I’ve continued to lean on her all these years even though she’s in another time passage. But my “moments” with her are always on her terms, not mine, and even though I know she is “there” somewhere, she is always the one that chooses the moment to show herself and surprisingly it’s not always when I am at the end of my rope or dealing with some dramatic event in my life. When I really think about the times that I’ve seen her or felt her presence, it’s usually after a storm has passed, not during it. Maybe the lesson here is that there are no shortcuts in life and though the road is well traveled by those before us, we need to experience each and every step on our own solo journey and to weather a few storms along the way in order to grow as human beings.

Afterward, I think of much I could have said, but didn’t. Words are not needed. It’s the energy of her presence that I am left with and the positive conveyance of her message. Somehow, the changes I am going through now in my life must be good. And it’s comforting to know that I am never really completely alone, she will always be there, just out of sight, in another time passage.

I miss you mom.

 Marjory Atkinson

August 24, 1938 - December 11, 1978

A Letter to my Brother.

Today I run for you. I run fast because I know that if you were running with me it would be a race, a competition. We are such rivalrous siblings you and I! Of course you would win. You have always been a gifted athlete, you still are. But I also know you would wait for me at the end...and you wouldn’t think any less of me in my loss.

Where are you? Of course I know where you are physically. But emotionally? Mentally? I try to imagine. The images that come to me are of us as children: you about six years old, golden and freckle faced, me the older sister at nine years. We are at the beach building sand castles with Gill which as you know always ends up with us burying you in the sand.  Remember that? You were always such a good sport whenever we ganged up on you.

I know you are lost somewhere in a dark pit of hurt and despair. Sadly, a place you’ve been to many times before and I often wonder if mom were still here would you have taken a different path in life? Would you have outgrown the demons that have left you emotionally stunted and scarred? Would you be better equipped to handle the peaks and valleys of every day life?

As I run my eyes are blurred and my face is wet with tears. It’s hard to see the path ahead of me and I think this is what it must be like for you right now. The way is unclear. But I also feel a gamut of other emotions: fear for you, anger at you, and confusion about you. Why do you continue, time after time, to go down the same path of despair and destruction?

As I wind my way home, I hope and pray that you will be able to find your way back again. And as my feet move swiftly, I am conscious of unloading the negative: the fear, the anger, the disappointment, the confusion. I pray not only for you but also for me...to be released from the prison of my own feelings and thoughts, to replace them with love and light, and to share your load until it becomes weightless in the distribution.

Today I ran for you, brother, and I ran a personal best.

Weird Science and Wacky Fixes

No, really, this is a serious blog entry. Today I was running, and so was my nose. Why does my nose run faster than my feet when I run? This is a good question and so I went on a Google research expedition to find some answers about my most perplexing body issues. Here's what I found:


Why does my nose run as fast as my feet? 


A runny nose, a condition called exercise-induced rhinitis, is most likely due to the increased air flow; as your breathing rate increases, your nose kicks into hyperactivity. Cool and dry air—or both—have been shown to increase secretions similar to that of exercise-induced asthma. If you're as self-conscious about your drippy schnoz as I am, know you're not alone: A 2006 study, published in the Annals of Allergy, Asthma & Immunology, surveyed 164 exercisers and found that 40 percent had a runny nose while exercising inside, and 56 percent had one outside.


Running Rx: Don't worry about it, stuff your pockets with tissues and perfect your farmer's blow.


Why do my legs shake after a long hard run?


If your rubbery, burned-out gams had a fuel gauge, it would be firmly on "E." Sometimes the needle hits "empty" as a result of sheer effort. If your muscles aren't familiar with a new movement, they become inefficient at contracting and can't work in a coordinated manner, which results in shaking. Or, it could be that you started too quickly. If you go out too hard, the oxidative system doesn't kick in as smoothly as it does when you warm up and work up to a good pace. It's a bit like shifting gears too quickly in a car. You deplete your energy levels prematurely. The other cause is simply that your muscles are depleted of electrolytes and glycogen—easily accessible fuel on which they run—and the shaking is their way of telling you to "fill 'em up".


Running Rx: Pre-run, warming up is the key. Start slow, and ease into your ultimate pace. If you're running hard for more than 45 minutes, drink eight ounces of a sports drink about 20 minutes before you run; the carbs will keep your muscles humming. Post-run, if you're trying to shake the shakes, walk around, stretch gently, and grab quick fuel, like a sports drink.

Why do my legs twitch in bed at night after a long run?


If your legs are still moving when you're under the covers after a long run or a late soccer game, chances are you skimped on a post-run meal. Working hard and sweating causes the excretion of a lot of sodium and calcium, two electrolytes that are responsible for muscle relaxation. And being iron deficient, especially for women, can also contribute.


Running Rx: Get up and head to the kitchen for a glass of milk and some pretzels. To stave off future problems, make sure to include dairy, salt, and iron, found in lean red meat and spinach, in your meals after a run.




Why do my bending knees sound like Rice Krispies when I walk down the stairs?


Snap, crackle, pop? Crepitus, the medical term, happens when cartilage, the connective tissue between bones, starts to age. We all start life with quiet, smooth cartilage between our kneecaps and thigh bones, but over time, it becomes gray and old and doesn't regenerate; most people older than age 30 have some mild crepitus. Weak quads or a tight IT band can pull the kneecaps out of alignment and exacerbate the wear and tear. Your knees pipe up when they bend past 30 degrees because the kneecap tracks into a groove in your femur—that is, cartilage-weak bone grinds into cartilage-weak bone. The intensity of the pressure and the different contact points in the groove make the noise.


Running Rx: Cracking knees may lead to problems down the line, like arthritis. Minimize that chance by strengthening the muscles that control the hips and knees with exercises such as the clamshell for the hips and squats for the knees. Remember to keep your lower half in alignment while performing these exercises.



I use the bathroom right before I start, so why do I have to pee mid-run?


The urge to detour into the bushes can happen for a couple of reasons. As your heart pumps blood more rapidly around your body, your kidneys may produce more urine, especially if you were well-hydrated prior to your run and you drink during it; or, you could be dehydrated, and the concentrated urine in your bladder may give you that gotta-go feeling; or, due to a slightly weak sphincter combined with the jostling of running, a bit of urine may leak through the bladder and stimulate the urethra, making you wish you could just cross your legs while running.


Running Rx: Take a pee break. If it happens a lot, schedule a pit stop at a urologist's office.

 

Why is it easier for me to run in the morning and so hard to rally at the end of the day?



Are you an "early bird" or a "night owl"?  Our body is regulated by over 100 built-in clocks known as the circadian rhythm. Everybody has their own circadian rhythm. Each unique 24-hour cycle influences an aspect of our body's function, including sleep, body temperature, hormone levels, heart rate, blood pressure and even pain threshold. Our body is normally synchronized to a light-dark 24-hour cycle we call a day. Depending on your natural bird persona--lark or owl--your energy and mood will vary depending on the time of day.


Running Rx: If you want to hit the road or trail at 6 a.m.—and not hit anybody there over the head with a coffee cup—expose yourself to light as soon as the alarm goes off. This is the easiest way to wake up your body. Also, realize that as you age, you naturally become more of a lark (I haven't always been one). Want to extend your staying power? Exercise either outside, if the sun is still out, or in a bright room two to four hours before bed. It's tough to fight biological tendency, the important thing is to exercise, any time of day.



Why do I feel like a genius after a run?


Perhaps the biggest benefit of a great 10-K is that, post-run, you're sure you could score 1,600 on a Scholastic Aptitude Test (SAT), 2,400 if you're under 25—or at least improve. Running increases levels of positive neurotransmitters, like endorphins; norepinephrine, which is responsible for alertness; and serotonin, which helps regulate mood. Plus, running puts the brain in an 'alpha-wave' state, which is associated with feelings of calmness and well-being. A handful of studies have documented that moving your feet correlates with improving your brain; two studies conducted at the University of Illinois found that 30 minutes of exercise resulted in up to a 10 percent improvement in cognition, or being more effective in processing a problem or situation. Maybe that stellar score isn't out of reach.


Running Rx: Um, if you really have to ask, maybe you should go for a run.

Wacky fix or weird science?


Okay, sometimes you may sneak a sip of juice from the pickle jar. But could that seemingly worthless liquid, which often gets tossed into the trash when the pickles are gone, be the key to athletic endurance and avoiding debilitating leg cramps? Some anecdotal evidence says “Yes”! But what does science say? Before you get yourself in a pickle, let’s find out!


A favorite folk remedy has won scientific approval after years of study and speculation. In a double-blind study, researchers compared the effects of drinking the dregs from jars of Vlasic pickles to that of deionized water. The results were clear: the induced cramps went away in 85 seconds in the people who drank pickle juice, compared with 150 seconds for those who drank deionized water. People who drank pickle juice stopped cramping faster than those who drank water...faster than Gatorade...faster than Powerade, or any other supplement.


In fact it works so fast, researchers believe that the water and electrolytes found in pickle juice have little to do with its muscle cramp busting ability. They believe that “the rapid inhibition of the electrically induced cramps reflects a neurally mediated reflex that originates in the oropharyngeal region and acts to inhibit the firing of alpha motor neurons of the cramping muscle”. Or, in plain English...it triggers a nerve reaction in your throat that stops your nervous system from telling your muscles to cramp up. How cool is that?

Changing Colors

The color orange is everywhere today. It’s completely invaded my usually green running world. Maple trees are cloaked in a spectacular blaze of fluorescent red-orange. The still-lit street lamps lining the roads have an eerie orange glow about them, and leftover rotting pumpkin corpses sag here and there as far as the eye can see. Even the sky has a scattering of orange across it. I love the color orange in nature, but it’s not a color you will find in my closet. It just doesn’t look good on me.


As a child I was the color purple. The color purple filled me with magic and fantasy. It was the color of fairy princesses and magical castles; of mythical creatures and enchanted lands. 

In the 80’s I was a “winter” according to the popular color draping analysis fad which was hot back then. Wearing the colors of winter apparently made my eyes sparkle and shine and gave my skin a healthy, flawless glow. I was promised I would look years younger and would feel healthier and slimmer which would then give me oodles of self confidence.

According to most color quizzes, I’m a “blue” which is the color of peace and tranquility. Blue is apparently a good color to wear to a job interview because it also symbolizes loyalty. I look good in the color blue.

But of all the colors, I feel most like the color green these days. Forest green to be exact. Green is life. It is abundant in nature and signifies growth, renewal, health and environment. To me it is a restful color. It is also the color for “go” on a traffic light and is strongly associated with the Irish, which is fitting as I have a lot of Irish in me. I also have a green thumb and my birthstone for the month of May is emerald. On the flip or negative side, green is jealousy or envy (green-eyed monster) and if you are a “greenhorn” you are inexperienced. I’ve definitely been a green-eyed monster and a greenhorn at one time or another. Yes I am definitely green. Green rules my world.

But today is different. It is the day after Halloween and maybe there is still some of that Halloween magic in the air. Orange magic. I try to drink in the orangeness around me. Orange is a power color and one of the healing colors. It is associated with the benign warmth of the sun. It stimulates enthusiasm and creativity. A dynamic color to be sure. And apparently if a change of any kind is needed in life, burning an orange candle for 7 nights will bring that change. Just as fall marks the transition from summer into winter, orange in nature also signifies change. From warmer to cooler weather. From longer to shorter days. From the color green in the forest to brown, or even white when winter arrives. The color orange does not look good on me, but still I am enjoying it’s energy and vibes as soon I will hear winter’s song and running will take on a whole new look and feel.


It is a perfect run on a sublime morning made this way by all the elements of nature which have come together perfectly to make a dazzling spectacle in full autumn dress. As the seasons change and take on different colors, so do we as we journey through the different seasons of our lives. And as I continue on my run I get a glimpse of myself sometime in the distant future and what I see makes me smile. I see the color purple once again.

 

"Sweet and smiling are thy ways. Beauteous gold Autumn days.”

- Will Carleton

Things That Go 'Boo' In The Night!

 
I was kissed by rain during a recent run this week. It wasn’t the dark, sniveling, perpetual rain which will soon fall from a gloomy sky come November. It was a spooky rain, wild and gusty accompanied by swirling dervishes of rustling leaves. And in true Halloween fashion, there was a playfully frightful vibe hanging over the neighborhood which was dressed to the nines in Halloween trappings. Halloween brings out the fright mongers in all of us. Gaggles of ghosts, ghouls and Lady Gaga look-alikes set to the streets to startle us. But the smattering of good-natured manufactured fear was an interesting added element during this run as I was simultaneously being stifled by another kind of fear: the stupefying fear of pain.


This was my first run after 4 weeks of enduring a wretched torn Achilles tendon. I was excited at getting the green light to run again, even if it was only intervals (1 minute of running, 2 minutes of walking). But those first few steps were accompanied by an enormous lump of fear that somehow crawled out of the shadows and formed a dark cloud which sat heavily on my head, threatening to rain all over my parade. This run was turning out to be more of a trick than a treat. Instead of calming any anxiety I might have, it was bringing it on. Not a good thing.


Fear almost always relates to future events, such as worsening of a situation, or continuation of a situation that is unacceptable. Fear can also be an instant reaction to something presently happening, or things that go “boo” in the night. I’ve certainly had my share of “boos” in the night. As a young child I encountered scary recurring nightmares on a regular basis, the result of which would send me racing breathlessly to my parents room to climb into bed with them. My parents dismissed my fear as “an over-active imagination” that they hoped I would eventually grow out of. However, as an adult I was still haunted by frightening recurring dreams, four or five times a week, which lasted well into my thirties.


Fear is an emotion we all deal with, and how we handle it determines what kind of life we'll lead -- whether shackled by anxiety and dread, or empowered to conquer new challenges. Yet we spend most of our time trying to avoid fear, so we muddle along, rarely getting much better at the art of mastering it. That's a shame, because with a little effort we can find the courage to push beyond our comfort zone and tackle new worlds or situations.

 
My scary dreams did eventually go away. It took a lot of courage on my part to stand up against the fear that habitually haunted me, to look it in the eye and to tell it to get lost. But by courageously standing up to it, the demon was exorcised and the torment finally ceased.


What is courage? Courage is a kind of strength, power or resolve to meet a scary circumstance head on. Courage is called upon whenever we confront a difficult, frightening, painful or disturbing situation. When our resources are challenged or pushed to the absolute limit. When we feel threatened, weak, vulnerable, intimidated or terrified. When our first instinctive reaction is to flee. Courage, learns the Cowardly Lion in the classic film The Wizard of Oz, is something without which we can have no real self-esteem, pride or power, and must ultimately come from within rather than without.


Instead of giving in to the rising panic during that first run back, I knew I needed to somehow suppress and deal with it. To flee from it would have meant not running at all which really is not an option for me. So I thought about all the fears I've harbored over the years and the stuff that frightens me still.


It's embarrassing to admit, but I am still afraid of the dark, and the sound of the Wicked Witch's cackle from The Wizard of Oz still chills me to the bone. The Exorcist and Paranormal Activity are two movies that scare the bejeezus out of me. I guess you could say that the supernatural and paranormal well and truly scare me...all stuff of a still over-active imagination. But global environmental issues, climate change, and the devastating plight of the pollinator bee are also things that instill a good dose of fear in me and while Halloween is playfully frightful, global environmental issues are truly scary.


I still occasionally get the same scary dream, maybe only two or three times a year. But now I dismiss it as just my sub-conscious checking the air-tightness of my courage. Courage: it's not just for heroes!


After a good 15 minutes of running I finally began to relax and to even enjoy the spooky vibes of the streets. My ankle felt fine, heck it felt better than fine, it felt top-notch, so I kept on running. I summoned my courage, pushed the fear away and focused on the rain and the spiritual, uplifting energy of the wind in my face. There were ghosts and goblins everywhere, but once again I was running with delight.


Happy Halloween, my pretties!

From goulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night
Good Lord, deliver us!

The A to Zee of Running and Me

I’m sitting here counting the hours and days until I get the green light to run again. The pain of waiting is much more agonizing than the actual pain of the injury itself. And as I sit here feeling utterly sorry for myself, I think of all the things, good and bad, that I miss about running.

A is for apparel. Technical apparel may seem extravagant, but once you go technical, you don’t go back. Technical apparel is quite simply clothing made from fabrics that offer performance features and benefits that your old cotton T-shirt doesn’t.


B is for blisters. Blisters are nasty and are caused by rubbing and irritation of the skin. For me, prevention is the key and wearing proper socks and good fitting shoes are essential. There’s nothing worse than trying to run with a big fat fluid-filled blister on your foot.


C is for Clean. This is how my mind and body feels after a good run.
 
D is for dexterity. I gained this badge with the ability to change from nightwear into full running gear in the dark, without disturbing or waking my significant other. Also, by being able to remove a long-sleeved jacket or top, while running, without stumbling or running into a tree.


E is for exercise equivalents to running:

• 60 minutes of mowing grass (non self-propelled power mower) -1 mile of running.          
• 30 minutes shoveling dry, fluffy snow - 3 miles of running.
• 20 minutes raking leaves - 1 mile of running.
• 10 minutes scrubbing bath tub and/or shower stall - 1/2 mile of running.
• 10 minutes of vacuuming - 400 meters of running.

F is for fartlek. This is a Swedish word for “speed play", a form of interval training which puts stress on the whole aerobic energy system due to the continuous nature of the exercise. I love speed play.


G is for Gps. If you found yourself alone in the woods with a useless GPS, would you know how to get your bearings?

• The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. At noon the sun will be in the south (in the Northern Hemisphere) or in the north (in the Southern Hemisphere).
• If the moon rises before sunset, the lighted side will face west. If it rises after midnight, the lighted side will be facing east.
• Power lines and railroad tracks lead to civilization. Or something close to it.
• People who are lost really do tend to walk in circles. Keep this in mind if you’re trying to maintain a straight course home. Use a series of landmarks in the distance to stay straight.
• Don’t rely on moss. The old adage that moss always grows on the north side of a tree isn’t really accurate.
• A good tip: don’t head out into the wilderness by yourself.

 H is for hills, there are 5 types:

• The Grind. It’s not that steep, but it just goes on, and on, and on...
• The Short and Sweet (my favorite). Even if it’s steep, this one is over before you know it. 
• The Mock Summit. Whew! That was a rough climb. At least it’s almost over. Oh, wait...no it’s not. Crap!
• The Zigzagger. The cool way it zigzags upward makes up for the pain it inflicts.
• The Wall. If you find yourself wondering whether walking this one might be faster than running it, you’re dealing with a Wall.

I is for ice pack to treat a sore tendon or muscle. I use frozen peas. In a pinch, you can even eat them.


J is for Jooniper Jool, my adventurous alter ego.


K is for kinky. It’s what happens to my body if I don’t run regularly to work all those kinks out.

L is for listening to my body. My body is very good at telling me things relating to physical activity, nutrition, hunger, etc. My problem is actually listening to it and understanding and heeding the messages and signs it is conveying.


M is for mileage. How many miles or kilometers I run in any given day, week, or month.


N is for neurotic. It seems the more you run, the more mentally maladjusted you become about the subject.


O is for organization of running stuff. Running is a pretty simple sport, but when you do it long enough, you tend to accumulate a lot of crap. And the more crap you have, the harder it becomes to find the particular piece of crap you’re looking for. I keep all my running and soccer stuff together, apart from my everyday, non-running things and for the most part, this keeps those frustrating searching frenzies to a minimum.


P is for Gmaps Pedometer. A google mapping application to help record distances traveled and calories burned during a running workout. I find this application invaluable when mapping out new running routes.


Q is for quads. The quadriceps femoris is the strongest and leanest muscle group in the human body. The quads are powerful extensors of the knee joint and are crucial in running.


R is for runner. A runner is anyone who runs or moves the legs more rapidly than at a walk and in such a manner that for an instant in each step both feet are off the ground. Simple as that. Don’t let anyone tell you anything different.


S is for sleep. Sleep is important though Scientists still aren’t sure why, exactly. All I know is that I feel better, run better and get sick less when I’m sleeping well.


T is for toenails, black ones.  Run long enough and you’ll wind up ruining a toenail or two. Whether it’s because your shoes are too big or too small, or the toenail gods happen to be in a foul mood, one day you will peel off your socks and see black where once there was pink. Congratulations! These bruised nails are a badge of honor bestowed upon you for toughing it out. Just don’t flash them in public. Or, like me, you could resort to an acrylic big toenail during flip-flop season.

U is for Underwear. This is a personal subject and I know many runners scoff at the very notion since running shorts have built-in liners. However, I prefer to wear underwear under my shorts and it has to be the “right” pair. There is nothing worse than dealing with the “wrong” pair of underwear while out for a run.

V is for visibility index. When running in the dark or when visibility is poor, I want to be conspicuous. Wearing colors associated with highlighters is smart and keeps me safe.


W is for wet. Whether it's raining or not, I'm always wet after a run. I’ve learned a few things about running in the rain. That my waterproof jacket is not waterproof. That a hat is priceless. That I should always take off every bit of mascara before bed. And that miserable conditions, weathered with the right attitude, can be divine.


X is for X-rated. You really would be amazed at some of the thoughts that can enter your mind during a run.


Y is for Yin and Yang. In a nutshell, Chinese Yin Yang symbols represent perfect balance. Through running, I try to achieve perfect balance of body and mind. This symbol takes on an even greater meaning for me now as I continue to deal with the constricting effects of an injury which has literally ground my running to a full stop.

Z is for zipper as thermostat. Tops, jackets, and vests with zippers are my best friends in inclement weather. It’s amazing how much you can adjust your body temperature on a run simply by finessing a zipper, or zippers, up and down as needed, depending on changes in ambient temperature, direction of the wind, uphill versus downhill running, and so on.

Show Me a Sign

Most road signs are straightforward. They tell you what to do, which direction to go in, where you are etc. But occasionally (and usually unintentionally) road signs can be very funny.


“Litter and it will Hurt”
- Washington State road sign.

“Over the Limit Under Arrest”
- Oregon State road sign.


“Breakaheart Road”
- Nevada State street name.


“That Bull Moose Might Be A Cow’s Beau So Drive Carefully”
- Jackson Hole, Wyoming road sign.


“Attention Dog Guardians - Pick up after your dogs. Thank you.
Attention Dogs - Grrrrr, bark, woof, good dog.” 
- District of North Vancouver Road Sign.


Body signs are not so straightforward, neither are they funny. Acute sport injuries are often obvious and occur in a dramatic fashion but other injuries can creep up slowly and get progressively worse. These often turn into nagging chronic aches and pains which if ignored, can cause serious damage or a long-term problem which is exactly what happened to me. After 11 months of running, I’m now depressingly sidelined with a serious injury. I didn’t even make it to the one-year mark!

It all began back in mid-July while running with what I self-diagnosed as mild Achilles-tendonitis, a result of my latest summer fling with a new pair of runners. It started as a niggling pain in my left Achilles which never completely went away. Some days my Achilles was so fat and red-raw during a run that I could barely walk the next day. So why did I continue to run? I wasn’t crippled or anything after each run. I could walk with a limp and ride my bike, but clearly my sore ankle was telling me: No, don’t run on me--that would be a very bad idea. Still I did not heed the signs and now instead of running and kicking a ball around a soccer field, I am kicking myself after tearing my obviously irritated and weakened Achilles in the first soccer game of the season last Sunday.


Pain is the body's way of identifying an injury and wrenching you away from the stressor to protect you from further harm. To run through it is overriding your body's natural instincts to protect itself, which isn't smart. Pain is injury, plain and simple.

Things change dramatically when you can't run. Stuff comes into sharper focus. And you quickly realize that being able to run healthy is way more important than anything else.


Traditionally, injury prevention focuses on the physical steps you can take to prevent injuries such as stretching, cross-training, massage, rest days, that sort of thing. These are all fine as far as they go, but in a sense they're like the crew of the Titanic focusing on the tip of the iceberg, when the real problem is down deep. Many injuries--perhaps most of them--begin "down deep" in our psyches. Often we get injured because we disregard the warning signs. We try to run through pain. We throw caution to the wind.


In my case, my injury could have been prevented long before it happened. I think all it would have taken was a little willpower. But that willpower is tricky because it flies in the face of many things that I’ve learned from running--to keep at it, to ignore pain, to push through adversity.


Denial is one of the toughest things for runners to recognize because the very nature of the sport rewards us for disregarding pain, sometimes real pain. A smart runner will back off, rest for several days and maybe cross-train. But the runner in denial (ME!) keeps pushing until he or she gets injured.


Related to denial is the ability to differentiate between benign pain and the pain that signals imminent injury. We've all had to deal with a side stitch or sore legs at the end of a long run, but being able to distinguish that kind of pain from the more serious kind of pain is a little trickier. How do you do that? By training your mind to listen to your body. By weighing the options. Considering the consequences. Thinking ahead. This I will do from now on because I’m finally serious about staying injury-free. It won't always be an easy task, but the reward--enjoyable, pain-free running--will definitely be worth the effort.


Is there an injury upside? I think so. I’ve definitely learned an important lesson which is listening to my body and heeding the signs of when to call it a day. The body has a threshold for how much exertion it can handle and I overestimated that threshold and ran through the pain. Foot and ankle care can easily be compared to the foundation of a house: a house without a strong foundation is likely to crumble. I am now more conscious of my limits, of which there are many, and hopefully I will become more in tune with my body, particularly my trouble spots. In the meantime, I am anxiously waiting on a green light.

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Summer Fling

Summer is the season of love. There’s something about summer that makes you feel like you’re in love, even if you’re not. Its short-lived presence, fleeting nature, and yet the warmth it radiates, are all characteristics similar to those of love. The temporary nature of summer lends itself perfectly to an experience of love that lasts just as long as summer...the summer fling.  In every girls life there’s a boy she’ll never forget and a summer where it all began.


For me that was the summer of 1978--my first summer of real freedom. This was the summer I broke all the rules, did my best to stand apart, completely and totally ignored my head, and chased my heart. Back then, my friends and I had interesting ideas about summer -- drink triple, see double, and act single. It was the summer that Grease howled its way into the world of movies and spawned a generation lusting after the perfect romance. It was the perfect summer, much like the ultimate one-night stand: hot as hell, totally thrilling, and gone before you know it.


Since then I have had many summer flings, the objects of my desire running the gamut from ordinary to gleefully inane. I’ve had love affairs with radio tunes, flowers, drink concoctions and various articles of clothing. Who doesn't remember that strappy little number bearing just the right amount of cleavage and leg?

1979 Triumph Spitfire

Many years have been defined by the fling of the summer. Take the summer of 1979 for example. I was the brand new owner of a Triumph Spitfire sports car--a chocolate brown convertible. It was the ultimate summer car and I felt like Donna Summer’s “Hot Stuff” when I was at the wheel. I zipped around the streets of Vancouver and cruised through Ambleside Park so many times I became an established fixture there. It didn't matter that buying it blew my dad's mind, or that I didn’t really know how to drive a standard, or that I got three speeding tickets in Stanley Park alone within the first two weeks of owning it, or that it broke down twice in rush-hour traffic on the Knight Street Bridge, I was in love and being in love is a powerful thing.

                                                      
 I remember the first summer we holidayed in our Airstream down in the States and we discovered a new beer we could conveniently buy at just about any local Safeway. Tequiza was my summer fling that year, a fruit-flavored pale lager combining the taste of agave, lime and tequila. It was brewed by Anheuser-Busch and I was hooked after the first refreshing sip on a hot and humid day in July. The affair was brief, lasting just a few short weeks, as was the product life of Tequiza; Anheuser-Busch pulled the plug on it in 2009.

Mark and the Airstream, circa 2008.

And what about the year I fell in love with the all new“Barefoot Pace Glove” natural adventure shoes made by Merrell. They were described by Shape Magazine "as the best trail running shoe" and according to the Merrell ad: “Designed specifically for women. All the protection your feet need from rocks and roots, an ultra-lightweight upper with a synthetic leather foot sling for stability, fits like a glove”. Merrell reeled me in. Those little gems were discovered quite by chance just two days before setting off on our Airstream summer road trip. After a little Google research, I purchased a pair.


I bought a pair in “Lavender Lustre” and wore them home. They made me a promise to help build strength, increase stimulation, and improve alignment. I wore them around the house for the rest of the day while packing up the Airstream; I wore them when we set off on our trip the next morning; I wore them while hiking and walking; and of course I wore them while running. Sadly Mark drew the line when I tried to wear them to bed, but after just a few days I was head-over-heels with my pace-gloves.

Occasionally summer romances bloom into what feels like the greatest love of your life, but more often than not they are what they are, short and sweet. And so it was with the pace-gloves. A few days before the labor-day long weekend, and at the risk of sounding like an old cliche, I came to the sad realization that my summer love affair with the pace-gloves would be just that--a one-season-stand.

Of course I was the one that suffered from that break-up. Left with the pain of a tight calf and Achilles-tendinitis, I realized I may have rushed things a little bit. Or maybe the pace-gloves simply did not feel the same about me as I did them. No matter, fall arrived and I went back to my old faithful New Balance runners and forgot all about the pain of that summer romance.


"My heart is frozen in this place.
Waiting for another summer’s day;
To bring you back my way".  - India Arie, Summer

A Modern Day Version of Love

It was the middle of August and I was at the end of my run. It had been particularly hot and steamy, a double-sweat run, and I was looking forward to a cooling shower. But as I rounded the bend before my house, I saw my neighbor Jack and I knew there was nothing I could say, nothing I could do, I was going to get a “Jack hug”. I’ve known Jack for 6 years, since we first moved in across the street from him and his common-law partner. The four of us have become very good friends over the years, spending many an afternoon sipping wine and swapping stories in their beautiful garden. Jack is a man who is amorously and gallantly attentive to women...a bona fide casanova...so no matter that I was grotesquely red in the face and dripping great pools of sweat, the hug was coming, whether I liked it or not, along with the flirty talk and the impertinent glances down the full length of me. Jack is a funny man with a sharp sense of humor who loves to talk more than he cares to listen.


Jack lives with Frances, a tall, slim, willowy woman who is always perfectly turned out no matter the time of day. Frances would never appear outside of her house, or inside of it, for that matter, dripping sweat and red in the face. She is a woman with an intensely inquisitive mind, but not in a snoopy way, she just needs to know on a constant basis why and how things are happening. She also has considerable artistic, literary and political interests and is forever entertaining her plentiful friends in her castle-like house, flooded with plants and books. Jack still keeps his bachelor pad, no doubt his asylum when Frances can no longer bare him not listening to her, or is unable to handle his butting in on her conversations with others, and will occasionally beat a hasty retreat back to the pad for a weekend of solitude and respite.


Jack and Frances are as different as apples and onions, precipitating a somewhat stormy relationship. But despite the regular tempest-in-a teacup outbursts, they have remained steadfast together for well over 30 years. You see, both Jack and Frances are 84-years old, born on the same day, and a match made right here on earth when both of them found themselves alone many years ago after losing their spouses. They never legally married, which seems almost bohemian for a couple of their generation, but somehow they have survived the perils of married life, supporting and nurturing each other through the ups and downs of many years. These days the amorous and gallant Jack-talk is all but lost on Frances and she is left with, quite simply, just Jack: short and stocky, with a sunny disposition, sometimes sharp and sometimes funny, and never one to complain.




A couple of years ago Frances was diagnosed with myeloma, a cancer which affects blood plasma cells. Plasma cells are types of white blood cells which are normally responsible for the production of antibodies. At first the myeloma made Frances quite ill and frail and she was not able to be around people for the fear of picking up an infection she wouldn’t be able to fight off. During this time, whenever we saw Jack and inquired about Frances’ condition, his face would be indelibly etched with the fear and worry over the possibility of losing her. But he never once complained. It was a difficult time and as neighbors and friends we too were worried about the fate of Frances, and to a lesser degree, Jack. But Jack being exactly who he is stepped up to the plate and nursed her through some difficult and bumpy times. With Jack attentively by her side (and with nary a bachelor pad visit to be had), Frances has survived through the worst of it and has come through the other side looking top-notch. She has even recovered her strength and inner glow.


It’s been a wonderful thing this summer to sit in my garden and hear the voice of an exasperated Frances across the street scolding Jack once again. And as I stand here, dripping with sweat and red in the face, facing this man who could easily be my father,  I wonder about the longevity of their relationship. And as Jack leans in for a hug, I get a flash of insight. Could the secret to this modern day version of love be that they were able to find "partnership" without losing their real selves? Certainly food for thought as I head off for a much needed cooling shower.

Holiday on the Run!

Summer holidays! The most wonderful time of the year. Endless blue skies, flip flops, beach umbrellas, tan lines and slushy margaritas...these are a few of the things that spell summer to me. Summer also means taking off in our 23-foot Airstream trailer for several weeks, weighed down with bikes and kayaks in search of adventure and new landscapes to explore.


This year, summer also meant fitting in a few holiday runs into our biking, kayaking and road schedule. Here is a brief summary of our 25-day holiday on the run which took us through the Southern Interior of BC, Washington, Idaho, Montana and Alberta.

Wood Lake, Winfield, BC, July 18th


Running time: 35 minutes
Wildlife Encounters: zero


It was an overcast morning, not quite what I was expecting for my first vacation run in the Okanagan but I was eager to try out my new “barefoot” running shoes. After a little barefoot research, I fully expected my lower leg and feet to feel a little stiff and sore in the beginning, so I set out on an easy, flattish run through the neighborhood near our campground. The run was basically uneventful, except for the stiffness in my calves which began about 20 minutes into the run. Both calves were so stiff and sore the following day, I could barely walk, let alone run. Time to get out the bikes!


Kettle Falls, Wa, USA, July 21 and 22nd


Running time: 35 minutes/45 minutes
Wildlife Encounters: 4 deer, 1 eagle, chipmunks, rabbits, lake birds.


My stiff calves healed quickly after a day or two of soreness and I was eager to run in this scenic area of Washington State. The path I took both days ran along the grassy shores of North Roosevelt Lake which is contained within the upper Columbia River gorge. The first morning was cool and peacefully quiet. The shorelines of this vast lake are prime breeding areas for fish, birds and other wildlife as is the surrounding Ponderosa pine and Douglas-fir forest. I was eager to see if any wildlife would be revealed to me as I ran. About 10 minutes into the run, I was rewarded with the spectacle of a doe and three young fawns springing joyfully across the meadow in the early morning haze of sunshine. The views across the lake were beautiful and I was feeling quite blessed to be running in such a pristine setting when I got the eery feeling I was being watched. As I scrambled over a large fallen tree obstructing my way and glanced upwards, I found myself eye-to-eye with a large bald-headed eagle. Now I’m no stranger to eagles, in fact many inhabit my own neck of the woods back home, but when one looks you square in the eye and questions your very “being” in its own domain, there is no denying the feeling that you are in the presence of a higher power. The eagle graciously allowed me to pass by and I felt elevated, indeed I soared through the remainder of the run until once again both calves began to seize up and I decided to play it safe and walk back to our campground.


The stiffness in my calves only lasted the day and I was able to run again the next day.


Patti and Alan’s Cabin, Whitefish Lake, Montana, USA, July 26th and 27th


Running time: 50 minutes/43 minutes
Wildlife Encounters: 3 deer


I found myself running the first day late in the morning, it was overcast and grey, which pretty much described me after very little sleep the night before and more wine than I could obviously stomach, but what’s a vacation without a little carousing? Surprisingly, I could still actually move my feet and managed to run the entire route of Lion Mountain Road all the way to the main highway in Whitefish which was hilly at times. As much as my outer senses were dulled from the alcohol the night before, I was still consciously aware of the very real possibility I could very well meet any one of the alleged wildlife inhabitants in the area, such as mountain lions and bears.  However, a doe and two fawns were the only animals to cross my path the first day and the large predatory animals I was anxious about remained just a fantasy of my wild imagination.


Only my left calf felt a little stiff during this run, it’s possible my right calf was still just too intoxicated to feel anything.


Later that evening, back at the cabin and sober once again, Alan told me how he had received a letter from the “meter reader” earlier in the spring which stated: “unable to read meter due to bear sleeping on deck”. After hearing that story, let’s just say my run the next day was pretty much a dead sprint to the highway and back. Looking forward to next year and more of Alan’s stories.


Glennifer Lake, Spruce View, Alberta, July 30


Running time: 75 minutes
Wildlife Encounters: Rabbits and an assortment of feathered creatures.


My biggest memory of this run is the sky. It was vast and the bluest of blues (must be why Alberta is called big sky country). I had great ambitions this day to run to the tiny nearby hamlet of Dickson, but somehow got lost in the maze of avenues and drives that make up the lakeside golf resort of Glennifer Lake. When I eventually found my way out of the resort and on to the main road, I had already been running for a frustrating 25 minutes. But once outside, the views were incredible: big sky and golden fields of Rapeseed (canola). An assortment of birds flitted here and there through the peaceful countryside and I felt I could run forever. 


Lacombe, Alberta, August 2nd


Running time: 50 minutes
Wildlife Encounters: Zero


Our next stop was Lacombe, Alberta, where we were visiting and helping my mother-in-law with a big move to a new house. Lacombe is a vibrant community situated in the heart of Alberta surrounded by parkland and nature reserves. I carefully plotted a running route on Google Maps Pedometer (mapping application) the night before and set off early in the morning once again under big blue skies. Unfortunately, Google Maps was not very accurate and half way through my run I had to devise a new route. I wasn’t exactly lost, but I missed the quaint and historic downtown altogether and never saw even a smidgen of wildlife, but I did encounter a number of friendly Albertans (with big hats) and surprisingly overly-courteous motorists.


Kelowna, BC, August 6th


Running time: 80 minutes
Wildlife Encounters: Horses, chickens and quail.


We arrived at our agri-tourism farm late in the afternoon and set up our campsite for a few days of fun in the sun. Our campground was a small, working agriculture operation tucked into the pastoral landscape of north Kelowna. Our campground came equipped with beautiful scenery, an apple orchard, chickens and a 70-year old “barefoot” running guru. We first met Lou when he pranced barefoot into our cocktail hour freshly back from a 60-minute run. Lou was a striking vision of a toned and tanned middle-aged adult who looked like he had just stepped out of the pages of Mother Earth News. Then he told us he was 70 years young, and that he often ran 100-mile races, barefoot, and had even walked across hot coals in his bare feet. He told us of his 90-percent raw diet and that he never wears sunscreen as it clogs up his pores.  Of course I was interested in the barefoot aspect of running having just purchased and broke-in a new pair of Merrill Barefoot Gloves and before I knew it, Lou had skipped off to his trailer and was back in a flash with a half-a-dozen books on barefoot running which he had recently ordered from Amazon. The books were thrust upon me, no doubt for a weekend of reading and research (just what I wanted to do on a hot sunny weekend in the Okanagan). Just when I was thinking Lou was about to “move-in with us”, he skipped off to get his beauty rest before the day of biking and running he had planned for himself the following day.


The next morning, feeling both humbled and inspired by the 70-year old Lou, I set off uphill to run up a storm. I passed beautiful farms ripe with strawberries, fields with horses and an occasional vineyard. I heard peacocks in the distance, but wasn’t able to find them and I was even chased by a brazen little quail, possibly a hen protecting its young. But when the downhill part of my run seemed much longer than I had anticipated, I realized I was lost...again! (Seriously! What is with Google Maps?) Fortunately, what was left of my sense of direction was able to eventually get my hot and sweaty self back to our campground where I found Mark just about ready to make a call out to search and rescue to find me. It was an interesting consummation of my vacation runs.


It’s been a few days now since we came home tanned and refreshed from our adventures on the road. Coming home is always a bitter sweet time for me, running the full gamut of emotion, missing the nomadic life of waking up in sunny new places but loving and appreciating the home which is my sanctuary from the craziness of the world outside. Summer definitely is the most wonderful time of the year for me, but still, there is no place like home.

The Adventures of "Juniper Jools" and the Legend of the Lost Cove.

It was a dark and stormy afternoon, or was it early morning? It was impossible to tell as today was a magical day...the day of the Summer Solstice, the day that the sun stands still and time is held in suspended animation. A day where magic can happen. This was the one day that Jools knew if she was lucky and searched hard enough, the long lost and forgotten Tiddly Cove and its treasures might finally be revealed to her.


The rain forest trail ahead of her exhaled great plumes of mist from its trees like a dragon sitting fat and happy in its lair. The mist ascended across the branches and emerged from the forest, hovering eerily at the edge as if lying in wait for it’s next victim. Jools wasn’t long into her run, about 20 minutes or so, but she knew the journey would be full of perils that only mystic and magic can bring. But she had on her trusty baseball cap and had strapped on her iPhone, because it was time to save the world!


Little by little the cloud of mist took on a dark color. It throbbed and hummed and carried the smell of bark and earth. But the smell couldn’t mask the stench of impending doom which was lurking just out of sight. Behind a berm on the edge of the trail, Jools saw the danger too late. As she ran by, the deadly nightshade plant growing in the gloom let out a puff of putrid fumes and Jools sank to the soggy, peaty ground in a toxic stupor; her mind swimming with visions of magic spells, witches and medicine men.


Some time later Jools awoke in the dark as if from a dream. She wondered out loud how she had survived. And as she struggled to sit up, the answer came to her. Her baseball cap had fallen down over her face when she fell to the ground. Not only did this extraordinary cap have an SPF of 50, but now it had saved her from the toxic fumes of the deadly nightshade plant by mimicking a gas mask. She was alive! And alive enough to feel something chewing on her foot. She sat up and watched in horror as a giant black slug chomped greedily on her new organic runners.


“Strewth! I am Juniper Jools! A woodland specialist, not a woodland slug dish! “ She exclaimed out loud with some impatience. She quickly sprang to her feet, tacky with slug slime, and sped away into the dissolving mist. It was time to get this show on the road.


Jools ran for a while and found herself free of the misty trail and running down a narrow road which snaked its way towards blue sky and the beach. Her running shoes were still a little tacky from the slug slime, but she jogged effortlessly downward. She heard a flutter and from the corner of her eye, she saw a single crow settle on a nearby tree. A little further down the road she again heard a flutter, but the single crow had multiplied and was now three. As she neared the bottom of the road, the three crows became five and instinctively Jools knew she wasn’t exactly out of the woods yet, so to speak. She picked up her running pace as the crows gathered menacingly on a telephone wire, cawing loudly. The single crow had now become a “murder” and Jools was the object of their wrath.


The nearer she got to the beach, the louder they cawed. As Jools approached the birds, one of the crows deliberately and abruptly swept down from the wire and viciously pecked her on the back of her hat. The crow was quickly followed by the rest and she was soon engulfed by the whooshing and flapping of crows intent on pecking her to death. She tried to outrun the mass of swirling birds, but it was no use, they were all around her. She tried to beat at the birds in flight, but was outnumbered and the flapping and cawing intensified. She quickly stopped, dropped and rolled into a protective position and with her left hand protecting her head, she used her right hand to intuitively pull out her trusty iPhone which was strapped safely in her pocket. She knew she had the perfect “scarecrow” in her iTunes library. Working quickly, she tapped on Celine Dion and let her rip full blast in the direction of the crows. The shrieking strains of “All By Myself” was more than enough for the terrified crows to take to the air and swoop off towards the beach.


Jools quickly headed in another direction, towards the base of a steep hill. She was no stranger to running hills, but this one was as steep as the side of a tall building. After about 10 minutes her heart was beating its way right out of her chest and the sweat poured off her like shower water, but she was almost at the top. Her legs felt like jelly and she was thinking about slowing her pace when all of a sudden, the road began to move backwards. Now she was running, but not going anywhere. The faster she ran, the faster the road flung her backwards. What trickery of nature was this? She had somehow found her way onto the treadmill to hell.


From the corner of the her eye she thought she saw an escape route and took it. Jool’s sprang lightning-fast sideways through a small gap in the thick vegetation lining the roadway and found herself lying on a dark and narrow trail entrance which had been invaded by laurel, blackberry and ivy. She pulled herself to her feet and brushed herself off. It had been another daring escape and she felt breathless and a bit woozy. She wearily pressed onwards along a winding path which led out into a beautiful forested glen. She realized she had entered the majestic Valley of the Giants, a legendary stand of old growth Douglas-firs, cedars and hemlocks. Jools knew that in the woods the trees could talk and she felt the magic heavy in the air. She was also weary and even though the woods here were very dark, she rested for a while on a rotting nurse log.


She tried to shake off the sleepiness which was attempting to envelop her when she thought she saw something move in the dark in front of her. She needed to get a better look so pulled out her iPhone and tapped on her handy flashlight “app”. As the torch lit up the darkness, the ground in front of her began to move. Jools gasped wide-eyed at an incredible huge mass of spiders swarming on the ground; giant hairy spiders, creeping along the ground, moving slowly towards her.


“Spiders! Why’d it have to be spiders?” Jools shrieked.


To be or not to be was not the question. She really didn’t want to “be” right now. She backed up slowly and silently cried for help. Of all of her many fears, this was by far the worst. She continued to back up slowly, fending off the advancing spiders with a long stick. Before long she found herself back to back with a bold rounded hillock of bare granite. She clambered up it and watched with despair as the spiders too began to climb. The other side of the hillock revealed nothing but a swirling mass of mist below her. Then miraculously she heard a whisper on the air, a response to her earlier cries.


But wait, she thought, what exactly is it telling me? It sounded for all the world like “hump”? Or maybe “thump”? Or ”dump”? Puzzled, Jools strained to hear the murmur over the drone of the spiders now in full pursuit of her. As the spiders reached the top of the hillock, Jools got it!


“You can’t be serious trees? You really want me to “jump” into that swirling mass of air?”


“Yesssss” she heard, as plain as day.


So Jools jumped and her short life flashed quickly before her eyes. And after that it seemed like a week, then an eternity, then an eon had passed before “sploosh”! She landed in the water. She sank deep, ten or twelve feet, and stopped, then started to float upward. The tide, apparently, was in. As soon as she broke the surface and got a breath, she yelled a wordless cry of victory. She was in Starboat Cove, a small basin of water off Atkinson Point. But the sea was roiling, wind and rain lashing into it. She began swimming in the froth, aiming for the shore that didn’t seem that far away. But the sea had other plans for her, and she felt herself dragged further and further out by an unknown force.


Jools was pulled out of the small cove and round a rocky bluff into a smaller, deeper bay. The cove was sunny and bright and littered with logs. She was in Caulfeild Cove. The current carried her up to the beach and tossed her gently ashore along with a handful of purple starfish, colorful sea anemones and hermit crabs. Jools lay still for a moment and tried to catch her breath. The cove was more of a rocky outcrop than a beach, but just beyond the rock and sand was an area ablaze with brilliant color. It was home to a diverse array of wildflowers in full bloom such as sea blush, camas, and cluster-lilies. And all around her was the buzz of pollinators at work. It was then that Jools realized that she had found the lost cove and the hidden treasures were the beauty, fragility and biodiversity of this precious natural environment. None of this could be seen from the road or trail high above, an area that had, over time, become invaded with alien species. The cove had been renamed many years before and now only a handful of old timers know it by its former name "Tiddly" and know of the treasures it holds.


It was the best of times and the worst of times. Jools was elated at her discovery of the lost Tiddly Cove, but she wasn’t home safe yet and magic still filled the air. She set off running with a new found energy and headed for home. It wasn’t too long before her home came into view in the distance and she let out a sigh of relief which might have been a tad too soon. It was then she noticed a large clump of giant Japanese knotweed on the side of the trail and before she had time to think, it was too late. She felt something thick and woody entwine around her left ankle and instantly she was flat on her back as the knotweed dragged her fully into its impenetrable thicket. She looked up in horror as the giant knotweed stems writhed like the serpents on Medusa’s head and she could feel herself losing consciousness.


Then out of nowhere she heard a voice. “Jools? Why are you lying on the ground?”


Jools recognized the voice immediately, it was Gene, her neighbor, and by some great miracle of nature, the sound of his voice had broken the evil magic of the giant knotweed and it was once again just a large and overgrown weed on the side of the trail.


“Hi Gene, I’m okay, I just lost my footing that’s all.”


But she was more than okay, she was Juniper Jools and she would live to run another day!