Left, right, left, right, left, right…<\/i><\/p>\n
It\u2019s about 12:30pm on a very mild Sunday. You just ran pass another big, blue sign that marked the 29th kilometre of the run. As you make a left turn onto the dreaded Burrard Bridge, you grab one of the bottles attached to you at the hip and take a quick gulp of the grape-flavoured electrolytes. You\u2019re grateful that your friend helped you buy a hydration belt with his work discount. It\u2019s also a good thing you only had one glass of wine and champagne at the open bar event that took place two nights ago. That was still more than what you should\u2019ve drank, though. If only alcohol wasn\u2019t exceptionally dehydrating…<\/p>\n
Despite the fact you\u2019ve ran over the bridge so many times to the point where you can run with your eyes closed, you feel like you\u2019re dying a little on the inside. Your throat feels as dry as the peanut butter whole wheat toast you had for breakfast, even though you just<\/i> had a drink a minute ago. It\u2019s been almost 4 hours since you left Queen Elizabeth Park. The sweat on your face, hands, arms, and legs feels gritty like sand. You can\u2019t even fathom how bad you smell anymore. On the bright side, at least you\u2019re not prone to developing blisters on your feet while running.<\/p>\n
The sun relentlessly beats down on you as you inch your way across the bridge. This is the part you always despise. Even though your brain is telling you that you can keep running, you legs start to feel tired. You know you can\u2019t stop moving, otherwise the fatigue will really start to kick in. You can\u2019t help but wonder if this damned bridge is anything like Heartbreak Hill<\/a>.<\/p>\n Surveying your proximity, you see fellow runners also crawling like slugs. Your friends are nowhere to be seen; they\u2019re faster runners than you are. Realistically, you\u2019re running in a crowd of\u00a04,999 lunatics, so it\u2019s not like you should expect to run into them. Slowing down in an effort to conserve energy, you look beyond the dismal\u00a0concrete pillars that hold up the bridge. You\u2019re reminded of how beautiful and lush the city is. For a moment, the picturesque view of the city takes your mind off the fatigue in your legs and calves, and of course, the stupid bridge.<\/p>\n Nearly a million years later, you finally made your way across and off the bridge. Somehow, you managed not to fall on your face or run into any concrete pillars. As you make a left turn towards English Bay, you see another big, blue sign a few hundred metres away: 30 kilometres. 12.2 left to go.<\/p>\n As\u00a0your mom reminds you on a daily basis, you\u2019re a freaking maniac.\u00a0She’s right about that one.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Left, right, left, right, left, right… It\u2019s about 12:30pm on a very mild Sunday. You just ran pass another big, blue sign that marked the 29th kilometre of the run. As you make a left turn onto the dreaded Burrard … Continue reading