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.