From red line to puke line (well almost)...

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ok, so a working week away from Kville. Nat had a conference to attend and Jeff was captive in the hotel, attempting to work...at least he was able to wander the streets at lunch time, suffering through the wonderful food Quebec City has to offer...Nat, well she got egg salad sandwiches with the crusts cut off and tepid coffee.

We'd made a promise to each other that we would stick to the training schedule this week no matter what the imposed corporate schedules had in store. As colleagues were headed to the bar, Nat headed to the room to get all decked out for a run. The laughter and comments as she walked past the bar, priceless....

Tuesday is a double run day because Ray likes to punish us twice after a day off. We had run in the morning, before we left for Quebec City but once we arrived that evening, falling out of the car after a five hour drive, the second run just never happened. After all there was always Wednesday morning....

Wednesday is a hill repeat day, something we have come to love and hate in the same breathless space of time....Kville is basically flat but there is a single hill we run. Well we call it a hill. Quebec City is another story... Think studded tires in winter, cars parked with chaulks and locally bred dogs that have shorter front legs than hind. We set out for our first morning run, optmistic that somehow we would pick the perfect hill for that evening's hill repeat workout. You know, the one that offers a scenic vista to distract your anaerobically depleted self from its breathless reality, the hill that has you wondering why you ever thought you might actually make this part of your weekly routine rather than take the door number 3 option in which the winning prize was a new car or a trip to somewhere warm and complete with Manuel the bartender and chaise lounges.

Two post workout thoughts predominantly remain. First, the newly discovered puking emoticon that shows up on the heart rate monitor once you have crossed the red line threshold. Second, the depressing realization on the next to last hill repeat, is that the seasons are moving faster than your legs... in spite of our Mach speed windsucking action. Enough said on this topic, after all its a travel and not a running blog.

So....in other news. The filters arrived at the house, it was just like Christmas. Unwrapping the boxes, taking things apart and attempting to put them back together. Wondering, 'am I supposed to have extra pieces left over?' We've signed the agreement with the tour company who will be supporting the run. The map we have 'drawn' does not actually have roads on it for some of the areas. The direction we got was to 'draw a line between here and there'....wondering what that will actually look like once we get there. This then leads to another question...when mapping out a 30km trail run, you don't have to worry too much about anything except food, water and a first aid kit. Well that and is there cold beer for when we are done! Contrast that to the urban running we have been doing lately, buddy the Plains of Abraham officer is not all that pleased when you pitch up and take a pee on the side of the road! Fast forward to Cambodia and the question we have is....how do you safely veer off the oxen trail to answer the call of nature (or last nights dinner), without going BOOM!. Land mines unfortunately remain a very real and tragic reality of daily like in rural Cambodia....

Off to Le Hobbit for braised rabbit and escargot. Bonne nuit.

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