Golden Gate Bridge

The other side of San Francisco

Races

I had a blog topic all planned out for tonight, and it was a good one too, but then I had to go and scrape the back of my car into the back of another chick’s car while leaving Pilates, and now, well, my mind’s not exactly in the right place. So, tonight my friends a San Francisco photo story you shall get and a bucket of ice cream I shall get. It wasn’t all about the blue box: SF skyline. It only took me 10 minutes to find my name WAY up there. Route map at Niketown. Triplets of Runnersville take on SF! Pre-race wine, oh yes please! Big, fat, lonely sea lion. Bay Bridge. Golden Gate Bridge. Favourite running chicks enjoying a post-race Bay cruise. Can’t go to San Francisco and NOT have California bad-boy wine. Twilight at the Ferry Market. And that was San Francisco. Thank you […]

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The Tiffany Report

Races, Running

No one said the robins’ egg blue road would be an easy road. I knew there would be hills, massive hills; I knew I’d likely feel that familiar nausea at some point in my lungs; and  I knew I’d probably face the inner turmoil of whether or not to continue to run or cave in to an early walk break. But I was NOT prepared for a run akin to trying to run through Metrotown – BC’s largest shopping mall, featuring the most ignorant shoppers who walk at a snail’s pace 5, 8, and 10 across blocking any which way around them or through them. The early morning start. Me and my running chicks. This year’s NWM had 22,500 participants; 22,000 of who I swear were walkers. And these weren’t racing walkers, oh no, there was no walking etiquette with them whatsoever. They walked on the right, they walked on the

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San Francisco: stairway to heaven

Races

The hills were unavoidable. It didn’t matter how much I tried to block my eyes, avert my eyes, shut my eyes, in San Francisco, I was surrounded by hills. And not mole hills. Oh no, these suckers were straight up, stomach in your gut, oh my god, what I have I gotten myself into hills. Lombard Street: One of the world’s crookedest streets featuring eight tight switchbacks, which were designed out of necessity as most vehicles in 1922 could not ascend the 27% grade! On most occasions, I am not a fan of knowing the route of my races or even my long runs before heading out. I don’t want to know if I’ll be having to run rolling hills, or descend down stairway to heaven hills, I don’t want to know if one of my running partners has picked a route that I hate or a route that bores

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