It all kicked off on the July long-weekend with a Collier Cousin reunion in Cranbrook. It was great to see everyone and the kids had a blast. As much as things change – it always amazes me at how much they stay the same. Within hours I was shooting Fireball and sneaking cigarettes with my cousins. My dad was planted between his identical twin cousins – looking the like the long lost triplet - and laughing like crazy. And all of the poor spouses were just walking aimlessly around trying to figure out how their spouse fit into the whole mess and wondering if it was too late for an annulment.
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| drinking... |
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| Max cutting a rug with Grandma and Grandpa...I was out back smoking and drinking beer out of (what I hope) was my cousin's truck. All class, all the time. |
Then, a few weeks later we took off to spend some time in Sweden with Anders’ family. And it was pretty much the same. I shot Fireball with my brother-in-law, and although there don’t seem to be any cigarettes over there – there is snuff. And – by-the-by – the Swede’s know their shit. They sell snuff in these little teeny tiny tea bag looking things so you don’t get gnarly snuff teeth. And yes – I am talking to you Cranbrook boys.
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| Anders - happy to be back on home turf |
Anywhooo…I was all set to give snuff a try until my sister-in-law told me "you can try it – but make sure you are outside because you are probably going to puke." Awesome sales job eh?! So – I stuck to the Fireball and Swedish beer and made a note to pack some cigarettes for the next trip.
So really – it was pretty much the same with both families and reaffirmed for me that (luckily) everyone’s family has crap. Someone hates this person and that person has a questionable definition of what "not being an alcoholic" means. You always have your standard assholes in the crowd and usually there is that one guy who may or may not be on several "watch lists" and if they aren’t – they probably should be.
About the only difference between the two families that I could see is that one set (the Swedish side) has all of their fingers intact. My dad’s side of the family comes from a long line of farmers and loggers – and God love ‘em - we are a bit spastic. So when you put us around power equipment with sharp edges – you just know that eventually it is going to end with a call to 911. My grandma (who was four feet nothing tall of pure awesome) lost her finger in an out of control spin cycle accident, while my dad lost one in a fight with a logging truck. I remember meeting a few great-uncles and thinking they were giving me the "rock on" sign until upon further inspection it turned out they were just down a few finger tops. I am still intact – but am still in my 30s and work in an office. Give me a few years and I am sure I will be missing something.
Anyway…while we were over in Scandinavia, a couple of cool things happened. The first was that we got to connect with some friends from Canada which we hadn’t seen in years. Kind of weird right? We met up with Sheila and Owen in Copenhagen (and we didn't get any pics). We haven’t seen them in at least four years. They both just finished their MBAs in France and now touring Europe in a crazy small car loaded to the nuts. And then we met up with Cecilia and Torsten (Anders and Torsten both worked for the same company building the dam in Castlegar) who were home in Sweden for a visit from where they currently live in Africa.
My gorgeous little Peruvian friend - Miss Cecilia
Torsten is actually from Husqvarna. Yup, one and the same with the chainsaw brand. I got totally schooled on how we say Husqvarna wrong and it drives Swedes crazy. Fun fact - and kind of weird for a loggers daughter who grew up surrounded by Husqvarna chainsaws - it turns out that Husqvarna makes a ton of household appliances. They make everything from washing machines, to vacuums to dishwashers.
"Hey baby – dinner was awesome – fire up the Husqvarna will you?"
"What the fuck? Are you going all Texas Chainsaw Massacre on me? Are we getting wood? It is dark out – how is that going to go down? What in the holy hell are you talking about? Ohhhh – you mean the dishwasher. Got it."
And the second cool thing was that I got to visit the place in Norway where my mom and her family come from – a small town called Klofta.
I actually signed up to do a half-marathon in a town called Kongsvinger – which is about 50 kilometres or so east of Klofta - hoping to just drive by the area on the way to the race. My 85 year-old grandma did me one better though and drew a map (from memory) to help us find some landmarks.
In front of the house which my great-grandfather built
and in which my grandma was born and raised.
and in which my grandma was born and raised.
We actually managed to find the house where my grandma was born and raised and the church where my great-grandparents and several great-aunts and great-uncles are buried. It was pretty amazing to be standing where I knew that generations of people I come from were born, lived and died. It was also pretty awesome to be in a foreign country, but at the same time have a real sense of connection and belonging to this place. It felt a little bit like coming home.
several great-aunts and great-uncles are buried.
Speaking of the race…
So, I think I gave you some background on this thing but to recap – the half marathon course was all goat trails and logging roads and it basically went straight up a mountain. To help matters out – it was like 30 degrees Celsius with about 99 per cent humidity that day. So on the humidex scale - it was just slightly cooler than Hell’s armpit. Blinking was making me sweat but Anders’ helpful dehydration tips from his Swedish army days were freaking the shit out of me so I was actually glad to start the race. (You know what baby - if it gets to the point where I am honestly contemplating drinking my own pee- I am probably going to pull the plug on the race and just get some medical help. But thanks!)
Right out of the gate it was bad. The trail was rough – like hoping from root to mud pit to sketchy old wood plank in the mud - rough. Then the vertical climb started. I was only about two kilometres in at that point and really doubting whether I could actually run this thing when a funny thing happened. And not funny haha – but funny as in what in the shit balls….
I was running along – minding my own business and I went from …. running…running… running…running… to SWEETBABYJESUSWHATINTHEHELLISGOINGON…WOW!! SAYMYNAMEBITCH!
I had a runner’s high in my nether regions if you are picking up what I am putting down. I was thinking maybe I was having some ‘chaffing’ issues so once I pulled myself up off my knees I did some rearranging (as best as I could) and headed out again.
Then, on the second big climb at about eight kilometres – WAM – number two hit me. I tried to keep my shit a bit more together this time as I was actually having a conversation with a nice elderly Norwegian man. He was telling me about how he had been to Canada and that he and his wife really loved the koalas. I started to explain the difference between Canada and Australia, but I think it came out more like, "Australia is also a COLONNNnnnRRAAAAAAAFFFAAARRGGGHHHHHHHHHH….WOW…huh? What?"
I am not really sure if he thought I had just had a stroke or started speaking in tongues. Whatever he thought – I can confirm that he no longer gave a shit about koalas or the difference between Australia and Canada. He took off at a pretty spry pace for someone on the other side of 70.
By the time number three hit at about the 12 kilometre mark – I had worked out a strategy. I would avoid conversations at all cost (which by that stage was really a moot point – you couldn’t have paid any of the runners to talk to me after my little "episodes") and at the first sign of trouble my plan was to hit the deck and do a fake out shoe tie/water break. Which – aside from some probably pretty weird vocals - I think I pulled off pretty well.
The rest of the run was uneventful - except for a HUGE thunderstorm that started at about 17 km and kept up until the finish which was actually really fantastic after running in Hell’s armpit for like two hours.
When I finally came across the finish line, Anders was like, "Wow! You look great! You look really refreshed and not tired at all!" Yeah, no shit. I did however feel like I needed a cuddle and a cigarette. "Did you want to stay and hang out for a while?"
Coming across the finish line. Hey - who wants a hug?
"Ahhh - don’t ask too many questions in front of the kids because I will explain later – but I can’t really make eye contact with any of these people – especially that old dude over there – so can we get just get in the car and haul ass out of here please?"
Later that week I actually Googled it – and it turns out it is kind of common. It can happen during yoga, running uphill (I can vouch for that one), core workouts and even swimming. Who knew? And more importantly – why is this not Health Canada’s new slogan? I can guarantee you that I would see every chubby-ass mom out here in suburbia hell running the big-ass hill behind the local Home Depot DAILY.
I was telling a friend the story of my discovery and she was like, "Meeehhh. Let me know when you manage to have one while eating cake. THAT is the one I want to hear about. If you could teach people how to do that shit – you could buy an island and retire. No one is going to give a shit that you orgasmed a few times while running. There are MUCH easier ways to do that than running a God damned half marathon."
Well played. Plus I did another half marathon in Canmore two weekends ago – and nothing…bupkiss. All I got was really tired and a mean case of shin splints. I will keep you posted on the whole cake eating thing though.
