Season's Greetings!

Hello faithful readers of the "Little Spruce Tree",

I just wanted to wish everyone a happy holiday and prosperous new year... so I made a little holiday card via the wonders of technology.

I am going to be taking a bit of a break, and thus the Little Spruce Tree shall remain dormant for a couple of weeks. I'll be back in the new year with more introspective and humourous ramblings... so stay tuned!

Thanks for making the Little Spruce Tree the most popular blog done by a coniferous, replanted tree.

All the best.

db

The Little Spruce Tree presents...

Deck the halls with consumerism,
‘Tis the season to be excessively wasteful!

And so the song could continue. But I am not here to shit on Christmas (or Hanukkah for that matter) – I actually enjoy the holidays (for the most part). I get to visit my family, see the sparkling lights, and contentedly sip on dark rum and soy-nog while belting out an off-key version of “I Saw Grandpa Kissing Santa Clause”. Oh, the memories.

However, I think it’s time for our holiday celebrations to evolve a bit. So The Little Spruce Tree is going to give you some hip ideas for gifts and traditions that are both environmentally friendly and low cost.

First up, for Christ’s sake (literally), let’s not run out there and chop down another “little spruce tree” to use for a couple of weeks and throw to the curb. How efficient is the use of land to cultivate trees that are used for a month? Instead, what about going to a second hand shop and finding a previously loved artificial tree? And for those who are addicted to the smell of spruce, perhaps you could go to a gardening center and by a potted spruce tree. Keep it around until the spring then ask local officials if you can plant it in a school or park.

Next, let’s think outside the box for gift-giving. Does your mother really need the latest “Il Divo” CD? Would your lover really use another butt-plug? Could your muscle-head brother live without an additional pair of blue-steel spandex shorts? If you’re like me, then some of the greatest gifts that you have given and received weren’t even “things”.

Gifts from the heart are always remembered. Homemade cards are more personal. A batch of cookies or a certificate for a 30-minute massage (that you administer yourself) cost next to nothing. Concert or theatre tickets take up less space in a landfill then the “George Foreman Grill”. A three-month pass to a yoga studio is a gift of health and fitness (but be forewarned: high risk of the “Are you saying I’m fat?” response).

But seriously, what if we were to give “experiences” as opposed to “objects”?

There is more you can do to have yourself a “Merry Little (alternative) Christmas”. Why not bundle your gifts in colourful old newsprint instead of buying glossy wrapping paper? Nothing says “I Love You” like some organic date squares wrapped in the “opinions” section of The Link. How about supporting your local farmers and buying a free-range, hormone-free turkey? And if you are hooked on the idea of a physical gift, there are affordable, sweatshop-free clothes available at "Blank" (www.wearblank.com) on St.Laurent Blvd and lovely smelling, enviro-friendly beauty products at various health food stores across the city. Alternative holiday gifts are the best thing since Rudolph switched to an energy efficient red nose.

But what do you give that person who has everything?

Well how about helping this individual become carbon-neutral. That’s right, there are organizations out there that are trying to off-set our environmental slothfulness through international sustainability projects. A “Clean Air Pass” is one option to neutralize the negative effects of your auto or home. The money goes towards an emission trading system to meet Kyoto protocol, and you get a sticker for your car saying that you are carbon-neutral. Remember, however, this is not a permit to pollute! (www.cleanairpass.com)

Or you could simply express your affection for loved ones by giving in their honour. There are countless community organizations that would be thrilled to receive a holiday donation. Think globally, act locally.



Finally, if you’re like myself and will be jet-setting for the holidays, why not think about neutralizing your emissions? I paid $15.44 to Offsetters (www.offsetters.ca) to be carbon-neutral for my trip to the popular holiday destination of Prince George, BC.



So whether you are homaging Hanukah, cajoling Christ, or celebrating Santa, I hope the holidays bring you time with those that you care for, as well as a bit of rest and recuperation. But before you get all buck-wild with the credit card, remember that there are some options out there to make your holidays low-cost and environmentally friendly.

May your holidays be white (and green)!

World AIDS Day

December 1st is World AIDS Day. So take a moment to tie on a red ribbon and remember the impact that HIV/AIDS is having on your community and your globe.

I thought it would be appropriate to share the video that brought many of us to tears at the Toronto International AIDS Conference this summer. Feel free to read back on some of the reports that I sent out from the conference (August 2006 archives).

Of mice and men...

I don’t eat meat for many reasons; one of them being that I do not enjoy the thought of any animal being subjected to cruel conditions. Yet, I recently psychologically damaged, then mutilated, suffocated, and froze two defenseless creatures until they slowly died from their inflicted torture.

And I swear to god, it was all unintentional.

In late October my apartment was abandoned for two days. Outside the weather was turning chilly, making the living room an attractive living space for a rodent. In this case, it was two field mice looking for a warmer place to past the winter.

When the first mouse scurry across my foot, there was a very specific sensation - it was a raw feeling of being invaded. My primal instincts exploded in a need to guard my territory from vermin invaders. This was after I stopped screaming like a drag queen on a roller coaster, and got down from the chair I had jumped on.

I immediately began to rationalize with myself, “It’s just a little mouse. The poor guy is probably scared shitless”. A day later, I found out he was not scared shitless as I discovered little brown nuggets of “hey jerkwad, I’m eating your food and checking my email while you’re trudging to class” dribbled around my bowl of almonds and peppering my dish-drying rack.

That’s right, Mr. & Mrs. Mouse were munching on my nuts and pooing in my apartment.

And so the war began. At first I had idealized notions of an ethical “catch n’ release” intervention, where the little cheeky bastards could be displaced to a new, happy home deep within Parc Mont-Royal. But sightings began to occur at an alarming frequency; time became of the essence. I became motivated by rodent rage.

I obtained some spring-loaded snap traps, and with utmost delicacy (to avoid losing a finger), I laced them with peanut butter and loaded the hinges. I waited with “baited” breath. A day later, the peanut butter was skillfully snacked without activating the trap.

I shook my fist in the air, “Foiled!”

Upon consultation with my landlord, I was recommended a second type of trap. This time it was a little sticky mat, where the mouse would walk and get stuck in a small pit of goop. “Perfect,” I thought, now I can catch them, gently coax them off the mat, and take them to the mountain where they can spend their lives eating fresh maple leaves, watching hazy sunsets, and laughing at the medieval Sunday swordsmen.

I put the traps out and within ten minutes I had caught two mice.

And this is where it got ugly. I discovered quickly that these great little “sticky mats” were actually vats of extra strength crazy-glue, and coaxing them off turned into a feat of limb-dislocating persecution. The instructions on the box told me to apply a bit of vegetable oil to aid in the processes. I did. It didn’t help. The emotional agony of prying the mice off the cement mats, which I experienced, was minimal compared to the squeaks of suffering expressed by my fellow creatures. A wave of nausea came over me.

After separating the mice from the mats, I placed them in a bucket with a plate on top (to prevent escapes), and put them on my porch; they were jumping around, trying to escape. I saw this as a good sign. I gave myself an hour to recover emotionally and attempt to convince myself that I wasn’t a monster.

But when I returned, I found was two cold, oil-covered, rodent corpses – I had killed them.

Perhaps I should have thought about the cold autumn temperatures, or that the plate was blocking any fresh air into the bucket. Perhaps I could have researched more ethical ways to catch mice. Perhaps I could have borrowed my neighbor’s cat. But, unfortunately, these little gems of wisdom never crossed my mind.

Now, I am not especially proud of my actions. My ideal was simply to catch the mice and release them in a more “mouse-friendly” space, yet what ensued was a mouse holocaust. I guess sometimes the purest of intentions can lead us to unintentional results. But, as the saying goes, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions".

Unfortunately in this case it was paved with intense crazy-glue.





Trust me, there are better options out there...

November 24th - Thou Shall Not Buy

"Buy Nothing Day is an informal day of protest against consumerism observed by social activists. It was founded by Vancouver artist Ted Dave and subsequently promoted by the Canadian Adbusters magazine. Participants refrain from purchasing anything for 24 hours in a concentrated display of consumer power. The event is intended to raise awareness of what some see as the wasteful consumption habits of First World countries. Activists may also participate in culture jamming activities like the Whirl-Mart and other forms of radical expression. It is also used to protest materialism and bandwagon appeals."

-Wikipedia





Click Here to find out more!

The Little Spruce Tree (a column)

Yee-haw! It's official. I am the newest columnist for "The Link", which is the student paper at Concordia University. It is read by at least 13 people worldwide. Next stop, "The Globe and Mail"... eat my dust Leah McLaren!

So here's my first column. It is simply an introduction to how The Little Spruce Tree started to grow. Hope you like it!

* * * *

By Dan Baylis

Welcome to the first entry of The Little Spruce Tree.

Actually, that’s a lie. Ten words into my first column and I’m already lying… shit. The truth is that The Little Spruce Tree originated almost a year ago on a chilly winter’s morning. I had a huge assignment due and I desperately needed something to help me procrastinate...

keep reading...

A day to remember

This week saw some specific events in regards to one of the world's largest conflicts. In a matter of 4 days, one the most famous dictators was sentenced to death, the most powerful nation in the world witnessed its own power shift, and the man who planned the American attack on Iraq was sacked. Some may say that the tide has shifted. Has it?

On the home front, Canada continues to send soldiers to Afghanistan. We hear on a weekly basis of soldiers "fallen" in the line of duty, yet how does this affect us? Personally, I find that my reaction is becoming more and more blasé... and that is somewhat disheartening.

What is your experience? Are you angry, supportive, or apathetic? Are we helping or hindering in Afghanistan?

Please Comment.

Let us pray...

Today is Sunday, also known as "God's Day"... so in honour of a poor evangelical Priest being exposed for drug-fueled sexual exploits with a male sex worker (oh the beautiful irony), I have summoned the help of my good friend J-Chris. It's a sad day when a man of God can't get some crystal meth and a blow job without losing his job.

But fret not dear Mr. Haggard, you will survive...

Hibernation (two)

There is a time for everything to sleep. The trees will shed their leaves, and the sap, which runs through the branches, will be still. The bears will fill their bellies, and then find burrows to sleep the winter through. The ground will freeze, the insects will hide, and the sun will cast long, dreary shadows across snow covered parks. We live in a country with four specific seasons, and the season of sleeping is on its way.

Yet how many of us actually take the winter to hibernate? Are the days of reaping the harvest, and then sitting back for a winter of reading, wood whittling, and knitting all but through? Is it even realistic to think that winters are for resting anymore? Sadly, I think we are losing our slumber season.

What has replaced the once unifying Canadian winter-imposed pause is a year that has less notable differentiation. These days, our Canadian identity is less weather based; perhaps we relate more to each other through our deadlines and commitments. We have got jobs to go to, books to study, children to raise, holiday presents to find, and bodies to keep fit. For many of us, slowing down in the winter is as likely as finding wildflowers in February.


Our increasing culture of “doing” instead of “being” leaves me slightly concerned about the lack of time for resting, reflection, and rejuvenation. Without long periods of quietude or isolation imposed upon us, how many of us will actually go out of our way to create this space? And what is the value of having it? The time to be still, ideally, leads to the opportunity for introspection, and the value of introspection should not be overlooked.

Introspection is a commodity that seems to be in scarce supply these days. If, as a species, we valued the process of contemplation (examining one’s own thoughts, emotions, and actions), I wonder how our current state would be different? Would we be healthier? Would we approach conflict differently? How would we treat our natural surroundings? I hypothesize that a global increase in individual introspection would lead to a decrease in public health pandemics, international conflicts, and earth-threatening environmental issues.

Indeed, it is a big leap from hibernation to world peace. I do realize this. Yet when I take it down a notch, the essence of the logic rings an opus of truth: introspection inevitably leads to improvement. It is incredibly intrinsic. It is incredibly simple.

And even if a period of rest does not lead to existential examination, there are the benefits of recharging energy levels, of having quiet time with loved ones, and of watching snowflakes fall on windowsills. A wise society values introspection and stillness.

So as winter approaches, we will wrap ourselves in thick layers of scarves, toques, and mittens to fight the cold. Jack Frost will tell us to stay inside to rest, and chances are we probably will not listen. But before we battle the blizzards and penetrating cold, perhaps you could take a minute to ask yourself, “How will I create stillness for myself this winter?”

…And alas, you will have already become more introspective.

Hibernation (one)

Real Beauty

This is a short video done by a major beauty corporation. I am not really interested in promoting "DOVE", but I do think the advertising campaign that they have created straddles the line between marketing and social change.
Fascinating.




What is real beauty to you?

Please comment.

A Short history on fire

So there is always news about the craziest developments in technology: we’ve got cell phones with cameras, cameras with computers, and iPods the size of garlic cloves. IPods are actually getting so small that a friend of mine mistakenly ate his iPod as he was shoveling his mouth full of beef stroganoff in the Loyola cafeteria. I kid you not, he was burping Justin Timberlake for days. He brought sexy back… repeatedly.

But seriously, we are a culture that is obsessed with technology. In fact, as I sit here writing this article on my laptop, I am currently chatting on MSN Messenger, talking to my mother on the phone, watching kangaroos breed on the discovery channel, and baking blueberry oatbran muffins in my new laser toaster oven. Thankfully, technology lets me be in seven places at once so that my life can be simpler.

Really, what is hotter than technology these days?

Answer: Fire.

No, literally… fire is pretty hot. And with all this talk of electronic devises and “fuel efficient” cars, I think that we are to quick to forget the importance of this combustion phenomenon. Ever tried to roast a marshmallow without a fire? Hmm… didn’t think so. Ever tried to burn down the Whitehouse without a torch? Bet it was tough. Fire could be the most important discovery to man since oxygen.

Interestingly, a woman named A.Furchin invented the orange stuff by chance back in the year 73 865 BC when she was attempting to destroy her husband’s erotic stone tablets. A spark flew from a piece of flint and burnt down her cave. Furchin went on to be credited for the first loaf of bread and kiln roasted pottery, as well as the catalyst for a movement towards more discreet pornography.

And you thought fire came from dragons! (Ah, the naivety warms my heart.)

As humans began to incorporate fire into their lives, it was primarily used to heat the inside of small dwellings, to flame-broil wooly mammoth steaks, and to send smoke signals to distant clans. Throughout the years the purpose of fire diversified, such as conveniently incinerating witches and helping the romantically retarded to seduce potential lovers via the delicate dim of candlelight. Finally, today we use fire to light bongs, as a symbol that “the tribe has spoken”, and to destroy middle-eastern oil rich countries. Fire has helped us evolve to the highly intellectual race of humans that we are today.

So as we celebrate the latest in gizmos, widgets, and thing-a-ma-bobs, let us remember the spark that created the technological era. It’s the turning of the ignition, it’s everybody’s favourite little combo of heat, oxygen, & fuel, and it’s that little flame burning in your soul. It’s fire… and it’s the coolest technology out there.

* * *

Endnote: You heard it here first… fire is hotter than Kim Jong-Il’s sunglasses this fall! Smoke signals will be the new text-message.

Ode to a special soul...

Queer Issues

This week was the annual "Queer Issue" with the newspaper that I write for (The Link), and like an eager little gay journalist, I submitted two articles... and they were both published!

The first was a collaborative effort with my boyfriend, Tim. It is essentially a discussion that we have frequently had over the labels that we give ourselves. And the second article is an exploration of why it is problematic to equate "Gay" and "AIDS".

Anyway, I hope you take the time to click on the links, read, and let me know what you think!


* * * *

Designer Labels

Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, two-spirited, queer, dyke, byke, fag, twink, gym bunny, leather daddy, lipstick lesbian, tranny, bear, cub, alti-queer, homosexual, heteroflexible--this list could go on. We are a community that is obsessed with not only identity, but labelling our identities. Choosing a label is a personal process, reflects individual values, and can often incorporate a myriad of sub-identities.

Two boys, with similar backgrounds, education, upbringing, and appreciation for everything fabulous, can fundamentally disagree on the labels they prefer. Risking relationship bliss, the boyfriends duke it out to defend the label of their choice...


Continue here: Designer Labels


* * * *


World Without AIDS

This summer I was privileged to attend the International AIDS Conference in Toronto. The conference coincided sadly, yet appropriately, with the 25th anniversary of the start of the pandemic. In terms of a global health pandemic, twenty-five years is a long time. The gravity of this longevity is augmented by the fact that there is no apparent end in sight--millions of human lives have already been lost and many more continue to be lost by a preventable virus.

Coincidentally, I am 25 years old; this means that I have never known a world without AIDS...


Continue here: World Without AIDS

What comes next... you bust a move

Now that winter is on the way, it is inevitable that we head inside a bit more.

And do you know what is indoors? Yup... dance parties.

So if you are feeling the need to spruce up your moves in order to bag that certain hottie that you've had your eye on, then finally, help is here.

Go get'em tigers!

Is it time to cell my soul?

It is an unassuming Tuesday afternoon, and you are sitting in your new Philosophy class: Introduction to Ethics. The professor has the class in the palm of her hand as she elicits existential questions from deep within your brain. She pauses for a moment to let you think about moral principles, when suddenly an invasive melody springs from the purse of the Nicole-Ritchie-look-alike in the back row.

The air is filled with a synthesized ringing of “Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls, followed by “yeah, I’m in class right now… I’ll meet you at Starbucks in 20 minutes”. Meanwhile, the whole class has turned to look, the professor has lost her train of thought, and cell-phone girl is applying her lip-gloss as if nothing has happened.

Am I the only person who wants to rip the blonde hair extensions off this girl and force a milkshake down her fake-tan-face so that she’ll have enough calories to comprehend that her cell-phone is completely obnoxious?

This is the ugly side of the cellular era. When owning a portable phone, we suddenly become accessible virtually everywhere - which leaves many people mistakenly thinking that they are somehow important. Talking to your mom or boyfriend does not make you the Dalai Lama.

One reason that cell-phones are problematic is that our culture has yet to establish concrete and appropriate norms when it comes to usage. Is it okay to use a cellular while in a public bathroom? Is it safe to drive and talk? Is it rude to be chatting on a cell-phone while ordering a latte? Is it really that wrong to send a quick text-message while sitting in class? If you have ever wondered if your cellular behaviour is questionable, then chances are it is.

Yet despite my obvious distaste for cellular culture, the time has come for me to consider the benefits of a cellular lifestyle. I am a busy guy with school, work, projects, and relationships to tend to; at times, a cell-phone would simplify communication and overall efficiency. But don’t get me wrong, I have no delusions of grandeur… I realize how highly unimportant I am.

So if I choose to sign my life away to some corporate contract, how do I remain as un-repugnant as possible? Is there some cellular code-of-conduct out there that I can use as a moral beacon? Unfortunately, I am afraid that I will be walking unguided through the mobile maze. But remembering to turn off the cell phone while in a lecture, lab, or tutorial will be a good place to start.

And as for those repeated classroom cell-phone offenders, I think Professors should start implementing stricter cell-phone policy. For example, they could propose that those individuals who have “cellular episodes” in class should be responsible for buying beer for the entire class at the end of the semester. Classmates would be sure to hold the guilty people accountable for their air-headed actions.

I just hope that I won’t be the schmuck buying beer for his class.

Your friendly neighborhood alternative medicine guru at your service...

I thought I would post something a bit lighter today. And everybody loves a personality test! How did they know that I have "complex, deep feelings"? It's like they read straight into my soul...

"This is like totally trippy man" (inserted with a surfer boy accent of course)

Anyway, let me know the deep dark secrets of your personality.

You Are An INFJ

The Protector You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity. Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is. You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience. You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them. You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher.

What's Your Personality Type?

To Montrealers...

“Where were you when…?”

This is often the question that surfaces when shocking events strike our lives – when the planes crashed into the twin towers, when the tsunami wrecked havoc on south east Asia, when the London Tube was bombed. What were you doing? How did you find out? What was your reaction? Large-scale events have haunting implications, and many of us are now suddenly connected in a way that we previously were not. If you were in Montreal on the 13th of September 2006, whether you are my friend or if we are strangers, we now share a similar experience. Often we create or maintain these connections through a process of sharing personal accounts and experiences.

If you could be so patient as to grant me a moment to briefly share my story, perhaps you will echo some of the sentiments…

* * *

I was sitting a home, typing up a cheeky article for The Link when my friend called me from Vancouver to make sure that I was okay. At first I was confused, but she quickly informed me about the news that she had heard, and I was on the CBC website within seconds. I was shocked. The first report that I accessed told me that six people were dead, with countless wounded. I immediately thought of my friend who studies nursing at Dawson, and I dialed his cell-phone to check in.

Fuck, no answer.

I turned on the radio, hooked up the dusty TV, and refreshed the news websites every minute to get more information. I wanted to go down to Dawson, but all reports told me to stay away. I felt powerless; there never seemed to be enough information. Finally, an email arrived from my friend telling me that he was okay. He was in the cafeteria when the shootings happened, but managed to hideout in a classroom until police came to assist in an evacuation.

I had a surge of emotion – mostly tears of relief, but also laced with anger that a friend was forced to experience such violence at a close proximity. There was also a knowledge that, despite the fact that my friend was safe, the reality of what had happened was still unchanged.

The day continued with minor news updates and a resonating sense of confusion. Friends and family from different parts of Canada called and emailed to check in, less out of fear that I had been physically harmed, but more to get a sense of the chaos in Montreal. I gave them what information I had – I told them that we were shocked and saddened and would need time to process.

* * *

Days later, I think I am still confused, but much of my anger is beginning to change into forms of compassion and/or sympathy. Like so many of us, I have wondered what could possibly motivate someone to act in such a horrific way. Yet, I am also sad for this young, violent man, who apparently slipped through the cracks of our communal ability to care for one another. I grieve for our disconnected cultural system, a system that often isolates instead of includes. I wonder what our process would look like, as a human race, to be able to prevent such events before they occur.

But before we can analyze, first we must grieve: as individuals, as a student body, as a city, and as a society. I hope we are able to go through this recovery process completely - if we felt fear, then to feel safe again; if we are angry, then a chance to express; if we are confused, then perhaps some frame of resolution. When we have returned to a sense of normalcy, it will be time to be critical about what has occurred.

So as we recover, I hope that you get the chance to share, to tell your story. Where were you when you found out about the shootings? How did you react? What sort of impact will this event have on you? Keep speaking of your truths - and let’s move forward as a system that is connected and that cares for each of its irreplaceable parts.

Graphing the Glory

Sometimes after a time of goodness in our lives, there is a space where we are without direction or orientation. It comes when we return from inspired travels to a dusty apartment, and are unsure what to do next with ourselves; when we graduate, and there are no employers knocking at our doors; when race-day finally arrives, we run as fast as we can, and then wake-up the next morning to sore legs; when the sun has set in an opus of breathtaking colours, and we must find our way back from the beach in the dark. In each of these instances, the goal has been achieved, but what happens next is often unclear.

The time after the glory is fascinating… and potentially scary.




For myself, a linear question that often accompanies reflections of happy times is- must every high point be followed by a low point? In other words, if we are to experience adventure and joy and achievement, is it logical that there will be a slope going back down afterwards? And if so, how do we manage these times?

I ponder these thoughts because I have just had “the summer of my life”. It was incredibly great for many reasons: adventure, romance, education, and the visa bills to prove it all. So according to my motley theory of karmatic emotional equilibrium, I should be experiencing a major mood crash any day now. By the weekend, I should be listening to old-school country music, drinkin’ Jack Daniel’s out of a Dollarama mug, and recounting exaggerated tales of the dog days of summer.

However, mercifully it has yet to happen, and knock on wood, I think that I just might be in the clear. The trick has been to set my eyes on new potential highs and to start climbing towards them. Somehow, for me, knowing that I am building towards a goal or ambition can be as fulfilling as achieving it.

So if you are one of the many people experiencing the pandemic of post-summer depression, leaving you daydreaming in class, staring out the windows, and wondering if afternoons in the park are all but a fading memory. If you are forcing yourself to meander up the mountain, plan a picnic, and squeeze in a siesta, all in a desperate attempt to maintain the fair-weather high that keeps the winter blues at bay… know that you are not alone. I too am avoiding the valley of after-glory lows. But next summer is only a winter away, and it’s never too early to start pondering new projects and thinking about taller mountains to climb.

beating my best

This morning I rolled myself out of bed at 7am (keeping in mind that it is a Sunday) and headed for the starting line of the 10km race that I had so masochistically enforced upon myself. I am a sucker for self punishment.

Actually, now that I've started running races, it has become a continual competition with myself to beat my "PB" (personal best). Each race is a chance to be better, a chance to kick my own ass, and then a chance to gloat about it in my journal.

My PB for the ten kilometer distance was established last year at 42 minutes. Not bad... but I knew I could do better. So this morning, inspired by the tightness of my new retro-knee-high socks, I set out to enter the "thirties". I wanted a score below 40 minutes.

The race was long, with a strong sensation to vomit around the 8km mark, but I managed to keep the bile in my stomach. I entered the Olympic Stadium (the site of the finish line) to the cheers of Tim and Betty-Lou, which inspired me to push harder. Upon rounding the last corner, I saw the clock above the finish line... it read 39 minutes, 45 seconds. So with 100 meters to go, I gave it my all, crossing the line as the clock turned to 40 minutes.

So did I get my below 40 time?

Well I verified my time a couple hours ago, and I am proud to announce that my new PB is 39:59.6... Yeehaw! Yup, I snuck in with 0.4 seconds to spare.

I would like to dedicate my race to irony and individuality. There was a tragic lack of representation of disheveled retro runners with short-shorts, head bands, and tube socks...

If I am going to beat myself, I am going to kick my ass with style.