I woke up this Saturday and realized I had absolutely nothing that I had to get done. No need to go to the office, no laundry, nothing. The feeling was alien, unfamiliar. After waking up with the sun to feed Currie, I laid in bed and listened to CBC radio, watching the sun pouring in the window. I couldn't sleep in-I think the combination of work and Currie has knocked that ability out of me-so I got up and padded into the kitchen to decide what to make for breakfast. I opened the fridge and peered in. I decided on buckwheat pancakes and fresh strawberries, which I ate on a plate balanced on my lap as I watched my favourite guilty pleasure: British real estate shows. Ah, Phil Spencer and Kirstie Allsop. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
As I was doing the dishes I looked at the clock and thought I probably had time to get to Saturday morning yoga class...so I went downstairs, strapped my yoga mat on my back, hopped on my bike, and headed downtown. I chanted, I "om'd", I downward dogged, and an hour and a half later I was back out in the sunshine on my bike, pedaling towards Coal Harbour. I laughed to myself-two years ago my idea of a perfect Saturday was Borough Market, followed by a pitcher of Pimms in a pub by the Thames. Now, two years later, here I was on a bike, in flip flops and Lulu Lemon, post-yoga, blissfully happy. How did I get here?
I decided to stop in at Pure for an impromptu pedicure, flipping through OK! magazines. 45 minutes later, toenails glistening (color: OPI, "I'm Not Just a Waitress," a shiny dark pink), I lazily biked down Denman to Rain City Grill, got a salad at the take-out window, and walked my bike to the beach, where I parked for a little solo picnic. I wasn't solo for long; a couple on cruiser bikes like mine pulled up and wanted to "talk shop," so to speak...the guy had the "man" version of my bike, the Manhattan...a royal blue cruiser with skyscraper detailing, and a black leather seat. I admired it out loud and he said he preferred my bike, but that the sales people at the store had refused to let him buy a mint green and white bike with butterflies on it, claiming it was for "girls only." He asked if I wanted to trade. I laughed. His girlfriend liked my helmet (black retro with a bad-ass SKULL on the back) and we talked about the best places to get cool bike accessories like baskets, bells and the like. Then I climbed back on my bike and traveled along the Seawall towards Sunset Beach and Yaletown.
I called my friends Ruby and Dennis to see where they were and if they wanted to meet for a drink. Ruby was walking down West 4th in Kits and promised to call in an hour. I couldn't get ahold of Dennis, and as I was leaving a voicemail I realized he was over at Science World; the Davis dragonboat team, Oardeal (of which I am an erstwhile member) was competing at a regatta. Since I was already halfway there, I continued down Pacific towards Science World to cheer the team on. Right outside Science World I was flagged down by some bike enthusiasts who had set up an arts and crafts table: it was a "bike bee," called VeloDeco, and they were encouraging passing bikers to stop and decorate their bikes. I dutifully stopped and made a "corsage" for my handlebars-a flower made of tissue paper in pink, blue, white and yellow-and continued on to the Davis tent.
I was greeted by a sea of empty chairs...the team was out in the boat competing. I pulled down the kickstand on my bike and settled into my chair to wait. Before long, the team returned, drenched and exhausted, anxious for the next race. It wasn't long before they were called to marshal for the final, and they filed down the dock to load in the boat while I held the fort...well, held the tent. The team had been gone five minutes when Treena ran back to the tent, breathless. "We need another paddler...can you paddle right?" "You bet," I said. I jumped out of my chair and we ran together down to the dock. Treena already had a lifejacket and paddle for me, so all I had to do was zip up, and jump into the already-loaded boat. Within seconds we were paddling out to the start line for the final race. The "Rocky" theme should have been playing as Treena and I raced down to the dock...the only thing that would have made it more exciting would be if the boat had already taken off and we had to do a running leap into the boat.
I don't recommend trying to paddle in a dragonboat final when you haven't paddled all year. I tried to encourage myself with positive thinking, like, "It's only 2 minutes, Dani. You can do ANYTHING for two minutes." A minute into the race, my shoulder was burning. I was twisting, bending far forward to dig deep and pull as much water as I could, and my muscles were gasping for air. Garry, our coach and steersman, was bellowing commands at us. I frantically tried to focus on the hands of the stroke and to keep my timing in sync. Slowly, the Oardeal boat pulled ahead to win the final.
Victory! We won! I was drenched and laughing at the random directions my day had already taken as we reached the dock. Dennis and I and the rest of the team retired to the beer garden to enjoy the summer sun, oblivious of the UV Index. Ruby joined us, fresh from a visit to the new Holt Renfrew store downtown. After an hour, my shoulders started burning in a different, more uncomfortable and lobster-like way and it was time to leave. We loaded the cruiser bike into the back of Dennis' SUV and headed back downtown. I went home to feed Currie, andbDennis, Ruby, Dennis' friend Patti and I rendez-vous'd up the street at Lolita's for some cocktails (for me: a raspberry mint virgin mojito with an umbrella in it) and dinner. We ate ourselves silly (mmmm. almond-crusted snapper), enjoying the Havana-inspired decor, wide open windows to the street and blaring reggae music, and I rolled myself home early, around 11 p.m., exhausted from the sun and good food.
It was the most random of days. I had expected, when I left home from yoga, to come home and clean my house, as I do most Saturdays. But I felt exhilarated that I had followed my fancies all day...and got back in touch with my spontaneous side. I think I need to check in with it regularly. Oh. Wait. Oxymoron. Nevermind...
As I was doing the dishes I looked at the clock and thought I probably had time to get to Saturday morning yoga class...so I went downstairs, strapped my yoga mat on my back, hopped on my bike, and headed downtown. I chanted, I "om'd", I downward dogged, and an hour and a half later I was back out in the sunshine on my bike, pedaling towards Coal Harbour. I laughed to myself-two years ago my idea of a perfect Saturday was Borough Market, followed by a pitcher of Pimms in a pub by the Thames. Now, two years later, here I was on a bike, in flip flops and Lulu Lemon, post-yoga, blissfully happy. How did I get here?
I decided to stop in at Pure for an impromptu pedicure, flipping through OK! magazines. 45 minutes later, toenails glistening (color: OPI, "I'm Not Just a Waitress," a shiny dark pink), I lazily biked down Denman to Rain City Grill, got a salad at the take-out window, and walked my bike to the beach, where I parked for a little solo picnic. I wasn't solo for long; a couple on cruiser bikes like mine pulled up and wanted to "talk shop," so to speak...the guy had the "man" version of my bike, the Manhattan...a royal blue cruiser with skyscraper detailing, and a black leather seat. I admired it out loud and he said he preferred my bike, but that the sales people at the store had refused to let him buy a mint green and white bike with butterflies on it, claiming it was for "girls only." He asked if I wanted to trade. I laughed. His girlfriend liked my helmet (black retro with a bad-ass SKULL on the back) and we talked about the best places to get cool bike accessories like baskets, bells and the like. Then I climbed back on my bike and traveled along the Seawall towards Sunset Beach and Yaletown.
I called my friends Ruby and Dennis to see where they were and if they wanted to meet for a drink. Ruby was walking down West 4th in Kits and promised to call in an hour. I couldn't get ahold of Dennis, and as I was leaving a voicemail I realized he was over at Science World; the Davis dragonboat team, Oardeal (of which I am an erstwhile member) was competing at a regatta. Since I was already halfway there, I continued down Pacific towards Science World to cheer the team on. Right outside Science World I was flagged down by some bike enthusiasts who had set up an arts and crafts table: it was a "bike bee," called VeloDeco, and they were encouraging passing bikers to stop and decorate their bikes. I dutifully stopped and made a "corsage" for my handlebars-a flower made of tissue paper in pink, blue, white and yellow-and continued on to the Davis tent.
I was greeted by a sea of empty chairs...the team was out in the boat competing. I pulled down the kickstand on my bike and settled into my chair to wait. Before long, the team returned, drenched and exhausted, anxious for the next race. It wasn't long before they were called to marshal for the final, and they filed down the dock to load in the boat while I held the fort...well, held the tent. The team had been gone five minutes when Treena ran back to the tent, breathless. "We need another paddler...can you paddle right?" "You bet," I said. I jumped out of my chair and we ran together down to the dock. Treena already had a lifejacket and paddle for me, so all I had to do was zip up, and jump into the already-loaded boat. Within seconds we were paddling out to the start line for the final race. The "Rocky" theme should have been playing as Treena and I raced down to the dock...the only thing that would have made it more exciting would be if the boat had already taken off and we had to do a running leap into the boat.
I don't recommend trying to paddle in a dragonboat final when you haven't paddled all year. I tried to encourage myself with positive thinking, like, "It's only 2 minutes, Dani. You can do ANYTHING for two minutes." A minute into the race, my shoulder was burning. I was twisting, bending far forward to dig deep and pull as much water as I could, and my muscles were gasping for air. Garry, our coach and steersman, was bellowing commands at us. I frantically tried to focus on the hands of the stroke and to keep my timing in sync. Slowly, the Oardeal boat pulled ahead to win the final.
Victory! We won! I was drenched and laughing at the random directions my day had already taken as we reached the dock. Dennis and I and the rest of the team retired to the beer garden to enjoy the summer sun, oblivious of the UV Index. Ruby joined us, fresh from a visit to the new Holt Renfrew store downtown. After an hour, my shoulders started burning in a different, more uncomfortable and lobster-like way and it was time to leave. We loaded the cruiser bike into the back of Dennis' SUV and headed back downtown. I went home to feed Currie, andbDennis, Ruby, Dennis' friend Patti and I rendez-vous'd up the street at Lolita's for some cocktails (for me: a raspberry mint virgin mojito with an umbrella in it) and dinner. We ate ourselves silly (mmmm. almond-crusted snapper), enjoying the Havana-inspired decor, wide open windows to the street and blaring reggae music, and I rolled myself home early, around 11 p.m., exhausted from the sun and good food.
It was the most random of days. I had expected, when I left home from yoga, to come home and clean my house, as I do most Saturdays. But I felt exhilarated that I had followed my fancies all day...and got back in touch with my spontaneous side. I think I need to check in with it regularly. Oh. Wait. Oxymoron. Nevermind...