Siem Reap, Cambodia

Angkor Wat rising into a sky threatening rain.

Joy here…Back when The Man and I first had our great idea to relocate from Canada to Malaysia for the 2013-2014 academic year, I looked around to find some fitness goals for us to sign up for.  One of our friends (Lulu, who gave us a guest post here about learning how to run) told me about this amazing half marathon through the UNESCO protected heritage site of Angkor Wat, an amazing Khmer empire temple just outside of Siem Reap, Cambodia.  So I looked online for this race, and I was happy to discover that they offer a 10km version, not just the half marathon.  I wasn't sure what my fitness would be like by early December, and I just didn't think I could commit to 1/2 marathon training at the moment.

Turns out I was right.

Our glorious hotel pool, as photographed from our equally
glorious hotel pool-side bar!

I've barely hit any of my running workouts, and have been hanging on to my fitness by the skin of my teeth.

But December approached, our tickets were booked, our race registered, and our hotel reserved, so off to Cambodia we went.

We stayed at an amazing hotel - The Shinta Mani, which I would highly recommend - and in between touring some of the amazing temple sites (with our own English-speaking guide and driver), sampling unbelievable cuisine, and generally relaxing in the beautiful setting, we also headed out the door one day to do a little run, figuring that we should at least loosen up our legs a little bit before the big race day!

Out for an early morning jog by the canal.

A canal wends its way through the tree-lined streets of Siem Reap where bicycles, motorcycles, and tuk tuks outnumber cars, and where cafes and shops open up to offer busy passersby anything from textiles to wood carvings to jewelry to food.  The air is scented with spice and lemongrass and sometimes something that I can only describe as the wetness of the jungle, this latter scent arises especially in the quiet of the dawn hour.

As we ran along the canal, making our way between the massive tree roots that dislodge and disgorge the stones from the pathway, much like at Angkor Wat and the other temples that lie in different states of ruin amidst the jungle that has grown up and around them over the centuries since their abandonment, people stared at us and watched us unashamed of the obviousness of their gaze.

A view of Ankgor Wat from the other side, as the rain
clouds blow away to reveal a brilliant blue sky.

Our run was around 30 minutes:  We weren't in shape; we weren't running fast; we weren't even conscious of training; we were just soaking up the beauty of this town that boasts some of the most amazing archaeological and architectural marvels that the world has to offer.

The view of the canal (and across) from the colonial terrace
of the FCC (Foreign Correspondents Club), which was once
the French governor's mansion.

It's hard to resist the temptation to wax philosophical about the tragic history of Cambodia - not just its colonialization by the Thais and French and its genocidal suffering under Pol Pot's regime, but also its current under-development, sex-trafficking, and exploitation - or to pontificate as an essentialist on the resilience and optimism of the Cambodian people, but I generally tend to loathe people who travel to other places and then write about their experiences as though their few days somewhere have made them deep and insightful experts about the plight or experiences of people undeniably "other," so I won't claim to have any new or important insights about Cambodia, although, you can be sure my mind is bubbling over with my own reflections on visiting Siem Reap.

I will, however, urge you to get yourself there to develop your own thoughts and feelings.

And if it takes something like a running race to get you there, well, then all the better for it.

Over and out,
Joy

I'm a Leader not a Follower

Joy here…I've been trying to get into the habit of heading out on Saturdays and Sundays to ride my bike up a 15km climb nearby; on a good day it takes me around 54minutes to complete the climb, and on a bad day it takes me around 58minutes.  One of the women who I've met on this bike ride has a Personal Best time up the hill of 49:30, and some people take over 2 or even 3 hours to complete the climb.

I usually ride with The Man, but sometimes some other friends join us.  And I've learned something important about myself on these rides.

I'm a leader not a follower.

What I mean is that, when someone races past me (or us), going full-steam ahead, The Man is often motivated to chase them down.  When someone better at something - even something non cycling related - appears in his sights, it is his habit to pursue them and do what it takes to be able to improve so that he can be competitive.  It is a trait that I certainly admire in him.

It is a trait I don't have.

My bike stats for today's ride.

You see, when someone rides past me going fast, my automatic response is "good for you!"  Often I'll cheer someone on, or give them encouragement.  And when The Man urges me to chase them down, I find that I actually ride slower than when I just ride at my own pace.

And when am I fastest?

It's not when I'm chasing someone, and it's not even when I'm just riding along without any goals (as I mention in this blog post that I don't do well without clear goals).  In fact, I ride fastest when I think someone is chasing me.

Are you the one who chases, or are you the one
who is chased?

I first noticed this last summer when I was riding in the park in Ottawa and the group of male cyclists gave me a head start, and I expected them to breathe down my neck at any moment; when, in fact, it took them a good, long time to catch up to me.  And then a couple of weeks ago, we started ahead of some other friends of ours, and the whole time I expected them to catch up with me, but they never did.  Today, The Man had to complete a Time Trial up the climb, and so we only rode together for about 10 minutes, and then he headed back down to the bottom to do his warm up and then ride hard to the top.  I expected him to come roaring past me at any moment.  And before I knew it, I was at the top of the climb and hadn't been caught.  I finished in 53:49, a new PB for me.

I don't know what's the psychology behind chasing or being chased, but I'm becoming more and more comfortable with the fact, that I'll do much better if I feel like I'm being chased than if I have to get out there and chase someone else.  I think, in life, there are chasers and those who are chased.

And I suspect that this is a life lesson for me, not just an insight of how to get the best cycling performance out.

Now what exactly that life lesson is, I don't quite know…but surely it's something deep and insightful, right?

Over and out,
Joy

Mad Sally Goes Pee

Joy here…Last week, as many of you will have read, I had a very near miss with a poisonous Malaysian coral snake (a lovely orange specimen that I wish I didn't see quite so close up).  Well, this week I found myself out there riding the same route, up the 15km climb, and needing a pee break by the side of the road once again.

Filled with fear, I lay my bike down in the grass and stepped forward into the foliage, and this is what happened:

-----Mad Sally Goes Pee-----
Out there under the sun on my bike,

A road bike, not a motorcycle or a trike, 

I suddenly felt the need to pee.
"Oh no," I thought, "can it really be?

I went potty just before leaving,
Surely I don't need to be relieving

Myself so soon!"  But of course,
I couldn't hold it, couldn't force

Myself to just keep riding
Without first heading and hiding

In the bushes so that this Mad Sally
Could find a spot to go pee.

Last time I found a bush
And bared my tush

I stepped on a deadly snake.
The mere memory made me quake.

So what was I to do?
(At least I didn't have to poo!)

I decided to be bold.
For that pee I couldn't hold!

I went to the very same spot
That last week was so fraught.

I stomped all around
Scanned the entire, leafy ground.

Sure that I was in the clear
I showed the jungle my rear,

And felt some relief
And came to no grief.

The snakes stayed hidden,

Both banished and forbidden

As I did the dirty deed
With the very utmost of speed.

So I conquered my fear
As no snakes came near.

But I'm still going to try
To not be the weird guy

That everyone sees
Every time that she pees!

I sure would like it a lot
If I could find a convenient pee pot!
-----THE END-----

So it turns out that I was able to overcome my fears of snakes lurking in my specific peeing spot, but it would be even better if there were toilets somewhere that I could use.  I mean, at the spot where we park the car at the start of the ride, guys just line up on the side of the road and let 'er rip.  And all along the 15km climb up to the top of the hill, guys are able to pull over to the side and just stand there and pee.  It's only girls who have to wander into the jungle.

Oh well…wish me better luck tomorrow so that I'm able to hold it in for the whole bike ride…

Over and out,
Joy

From each according to his/her ability...

Joy here…If you read this blog, then it'll be no surprise to you that I'm having a hard time committing to my running goals and objectives.  And as I was out there doing a 5km run today, I was thinking about that.  My last running race was in 2011, and I quit my job as a professor in 2011.  I've felt a little bit at sea since then; sure I've done lots of things - I took up bike racing; I launched a consulting firm; I moved to Malaysia; I co-founded a series of kids books - but I've not felt the same focus and drive that I've been used to.

Don't get me wrong, there's no way you could persuade me to be a prof again, but I haven't yet fully hit on the next thing that I'll be stuck into for 5 years or so as a challenge.

And as I ran around and around and around the 500m loop in my neighbourhood, I couldn't help but think about that desire for challenge…or about motivation to be more precise.

You see, I think that I'm a very goal oriented person.  Set me a finish-line, and I'll run my little heart out for it.  But in the absence of that finish-line, I'm liable to put my feet up on the coffee table and take a bit of a break.

In fact, one of the things that led to leave academia was the lack of goals and objectives.  You see, once you actually become a prof there are no more finish-lines, especially if your Chair sits you down and says (as mine did), "You have enough published now for tenure, so don't worry about that."  Professional academia is a place where the pursuit of knowledge and excellence are ends in and of themselves.

I think for some athletes, sport is an end in and of itself.

It leads me to think of that oft-quoted maxim from Marx: "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs."  You see, anyone who has done any graduate-level humanities work will be familiar with Marxism to some degree.  Academics seem unable to resist the siren call of socialism; it's easy to see why:  what's so bad about envisioning a world where everyone is equal and the unjust methods of wealth distribution are abolished?  It sounds positively utopian.

The glitch for me isn't in the theoretical appeal of socialist or Marxist ideals, but in their practical applicability.  You see, I've come to the realization that the whole "according to his ability" thing is a little too static for me.  For without external motivation, there's just no way in heck I would be able to learn what my abilities may be.

Without a race to run, I would never learn how to run.  Without a bigger piece of the economic pie, I wouldn't know what I could ultimately produce.

Now what does all of this mean?

Well, the good news is that The Man and I are in the middle of an interesting project that we're developing together in addition to my other work, and if the potential of this project is what we think it might be, then it just might offer the kind of motivational challenge that I've been looking for for the next few years.

And I suspect that once I'm stuck in with a big professional challenge, one that gets me excited and makes me see the myriad mini-goals on the way to the finish line, I'll also feel somehow more committed to my sporting goals.

In the meantime, let's just hope that I can keep it together long enough to run my next 10km race in Cambodia.  Surely I have the ability to do that, don't I?

Over and out,
Joy

Mad Sally and the Snake

Joy here…As many of you know, "Joy" is not my real name, but the name I use on this sporting blog.  It came from a collaboration with my friend "Nomi" back when we used to blog together on East and West Running as we trained for our first-ever running races - her in Malaysia and me in Canada.  We took our names from Joy Kogawa's amazing novel Obasan about WWII internment and displacement of Japanese Canadians.  My co-blogger took the name "Nomi," the protagonist, and I took the name of the author herself.  It was our little inside joke and homage, and it's stuck.

So Joy I am.

But I'm also a writer in other genres.  In my past life I was an educator, writing teaching manuals; I was a scholar, writing peer reviewed, academic articles; I was a populist writer, penning materials for popular and trade magazines; I was a wannabe poet, drafting reams of earnest but bad poetry; and now I'm a writer of kid's books.

Here we are, the kids' story creative team:
I'm the arctic fox on the right, and Nomi is the kitty cat
painter, while her talented daughter is the imaginative beast.

Nomi and I have teamed up to write kid's stories; I do the stories, and she and her super duper talented 9-year old daughter do the illustrations.

Today's post takes the form of one of those stories, and it's about Mad Sally, yet another one of my pseudonyms.  You see, ex-pats (or white people) in Malaysia are referred to as "Mat Salleh."  There's debate about where the term originated, with some thinking it a bastardization of "mad sailor," those crazy drunken Europeans that early Malays didn't know what to do with!

Nomi's daughter looked at her just the other day and asked if I was a Mad Sally (mispronouncing Mat Salleh), so in this never-ending game of telephone where Mad Sailor -> Mat Salleh -> Mad Sally, I am now Mad Sally, and below is my weekend's adventure with a snake:

-----Mad Sally and the Snake-----

The early dawn light was just beginning to show,
So we loaded the car with bikes and got ready to go.

We drove out to the parking spot,
Getting ready before the day got too hot.

We put on our helmets and got ready to ride,
Up into the hills, side by side.

The trees were swathed in mist,
And the leaves glistened with dew newly kissed.

We were rather early and it was rather quiet,
Well, aside from the monkeys who always make a riot!

But as we rode in the early morning,
Suddenly without any warning, 

This Mad Sally
Had to pee.

So by the side of the road we stopped,
And off my bike I quickly hopped.

I looked into the trees;
It was still; there was no breeze.

There was green all around,
And I stomped to make lotsa sound.

I wanted whatever was in the bush
To get away from my soon-to-be-bare tush!

"Here I come," I said to shrub and tree,
Hiding myself from the road in order to pee.

Then I squatted as if the outdoors were my loo,
Only to see something pinned under my shoe.

Orange on one side it showed,
Then writhing its belly exposed

Horizontal stripes,

And I wondered how many types

Of snakes live out here,
And should I be in great fear

Of the little guy so bright
Pinned under my foot in fright.

My pants were half-mast,
And I peed super fast,

But had to release the snake from under my cleat
Without getting poison bitten into my feet.

So with my heart in my throat,
Fearing my chances remote,

Knowing I had no chance for mistake

I had to leap over a writhing snake!

I jumped half a mile
And ran with no style

Back to the road
Where my husband had slowed,

Waiting for me
To be done with my pee.

He heard my shout,
Wondered what it was about,

And when I described the snake
I had escaped

We decided that next time Mad Sally
Has to go pee

We'll wait and find a pot
So I don't have to squat

And risk the poisonous ache
Of being bitten by a Malayan Coral Snake!

-----The End-----


PS:  I didn't actually take pictures of the snake!  I found the images here from random google searching to find pictures of the little guy who struggled under my shoe!

Relativity...

Joy here…In very simple terms, one aspect of Einstein's theory of relativity is that it clarifies the relative elasticity of our perception of things like motion, space, and time.  Depending on whether we (or other objects) are in motion relative to other things will affect the measurements of those things (such as space and time).

Put in even more simple terms:  things aren't as fixed as you might think they are.

Now what, you might ask, does this have to do with my lacklustre training of late?

I mean, I've been grappling with not being able to hit my workouts, with my injuries and hiccups along the way, and with wondering about my inability to be effectively coached; I've rambled about my pseudo-deep thoughts about why these failings on my part have arisen, about my thoughts on what sense to make of these failings, and my continued optimism to see my difficulties of late as part of a larger journey, a journey that is supposed to be teaching me some lessons.

But there's a funny thing about lessons - Einstein's or not - and that is that it's one thing to understand those lessons, but it's totally another thing to put them into practice.  I may be well aware that I do some self-sabotaging by indulging in that extra drink or dessert.  I may be well attuned to the fact that I need to get some perspective on all this, but those many truths do not add up to equal action.

The only thing that equals action is action.

So as I headed out for my Saturday morning bike ride up the incline, I was feeling bad about myself.  I was feeling like I've not hit my running workouts; I'm carrying an extra kilo or two of weight around my midsection; I'm letting my running coach down, and in general I was letting myself be brought down by negative self talk.

A healthy post-ride lunch with a smoothie!

Even when I completed the climb in one of my quicker times (a good day is around 54 mins, and a slow day is around 58 mins, and Saturday was a 54 minute day), I was still feeling down on myself.  I roared down the hill on my bike, and The Man and I hopped in the car, planning to stop at the grocery store on our way home so that we could pick up something healthy for lunch.

We popped into the local shop still wearing our cycling gear and loaded up on fruit and produce.

As we walked out, I was heading to the car and came face-to-face with a Malaysian lady out to do her shopping.  As she saw me, she literally stopped in her tracks:  "Woa!" she exclaimed involuntarily, and then looked me up and down, "So fit!"

And suddenly, a smile broke out on my face, and I didn't feel so fat and out of shape.  Instead of feeling like the fat sack of potatoes riding a bike, I suddenly felt myself as she saw me, as a fit woman.

I guess Einstein really was onto something with that notion of relativity, after all!

"Woa! So fit!"

Over and out,

Joy

Running…? Not yet...

Joy here…Since arriving in Malaysia this year, I've written a number of times about the wildlife (like this one here that summarizes all the animals I may run into, or this one about being scared away from my regular 3-ish km loop by monkeys), and I've grappled pretty hard with being able to fulfil any of my sporting goals (like this post where I wonder if, in fact, I'm simply not coachable).

And the truth of the matter is that I'm still not sure if the hurdles I've not really been able to jump over - like the presence of animals, or a busy schedule, or prohibitively hot temperatures, injuries etc. - actually have anything to do with relocating to Malaysia and adjusting to life lived on the other side of the world, or if they're just about me being lazy or unmotivated.

The sign at the side of the road where I bike ride warning
about animals crossing!!!

The jury is still out.

I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, I did get out this weekend to ride my bike.  I make the 15km climb up the 3% gradient in less than an hour consistently, and I'm getting more and more comfortable on the downhill.  I've made some friends on the climb, and added myself to an email list with some other ladies in the hopes that I can get some riding buddies.

So I've done what I can to make sure that I'm getting some exercise on the bike.

I also head to a trainer for 90minute (or longer!) strength training sessions twice per week.  I'm doing squats and dead lifts and martial arts kicks and shoulder presses and all sorts of things that I don't know the words for but that leave me feeling strong afterwards (and sometimes sore the next day).

So I've made some strides when it comes to the strength training side of my regimen.

But I was supposed to head out for a 10km running race this weekend.  But I didn't make it.  I've been having a hard time heading out there for my runs.  Partly it has to do with the fact that there are no sidewalks.  Partly it has to do with some of the safety/security concerns here.  Partly it has to do with injury (like my poor toe).  Partly it has to do with the fact that BOTH the venue and date changed for this event! But more than that, I'm not even 100% sure why I didn't get out there to run.  I wanted to, but I just couldn't make it happen.

So I'm still signed up for a 10km running race in Cambodia on Dec. 1.

Wish me luck…at this point, just luck to make it to the starting line!

Over and out,
Joy

Why do we fall, Bruce? So we can learn to pick ourselves up...

Joy here…In my last post I was full of enthusiasm and getting back out there and into the swing of things, both on my bike and in my running shoes.  I was going to the gym every Tuesday and Thursday for a whopping dose of strength training, and I was building back some fitness running so that I don't have a heart attack and die on Sunday when I head out for my first 10km run in 3 years this coming Saturday.

Then, well, I fell.

On my toe, to be precise.

Ouch!!!!

Back in 2012 I fractured my baby toe, and that put an end to my marathon training goals.  The silver lining in that escapade is that I took up bike racing, and had a heck of a fun season of cycling time trials during the summer of 2012, culminating in a 6th place finish in my category at the Ontario provincial event.

But that was a year ago, and now I'm just getting back into the swing of things workout wise, and I was NOT keen on another broken toe derailing me.

The good news is that the toe isn't broken and is mending nicely.

But the bad news is that as my toe began to heal, I got one whopper of a chest cold.  I'm talking about coughing up gross phlegm and everything.  So even as my toe felt better and better, like I could get out there and run on it, my chest cold was telling me a very different story.

The long and the short of all this is that aside from some strength training, I've done a whole lot of not much.

But today I got out there for a Saturday morning right to pick myself back up and dust myself off.

And what a day…

Beautiful Morning!

So I rode my little heart out, coughing ever so slightly every now and then, as I rode up the hill close to where we live in Malaysia.  The weather was lovely (around 25C) and we could hear the ever-elusive gibbons calling to each other in the trees as we rode by.

Granted, my legs were heavy, my toe hurt slightly, my breathing was laboured, and I was slower than when I last rode this hill…BUUUUUTTTTT at least I was out there doing it.  

And I'll be out there again tomorrow morning bright and early.

Over and out,

Joy