Nick's Jog Blog: Staying sober enough for a sneaky run in Whistler

As mentioned in the last post, between drinking, snowboarding and drinking during the final four nights of the year, which was spent in Whistler, I somehow managed to get a sneaky run in. I had really hoped to, but knew it was a long shot. Like, teeing-off-with-a-nine-iron-on-a-par-5 kind of long shot. I guess the choice of club doesn’t actually affect the length of the hole, but it’s kind of ridiculous. Just like running in Whistler in winter.

We were welcomed to Whistler by old mates Cameron and Alan on the 27^th, and quickly found our way to the bar known as Longhorns for a good old fashioned ~~getting shitfaced~~ dinner and drinks. Meeting up with the boys’ friends, both local and visiting, it turned into quite the night, with vague memories of dancing on pool tables in nothing but our undies. Ok so it was just me that did that... (It’s way more manly than it sounds, I promise). Predictably, the next day was very unproductive but in the days that followed we explored the Whistler sights on foot, and caught up with more friends from home (it’s seriously harder to find a Canadian than an Australian in Whistler…and that has nothing to do with the fact that Canadians love wearing camouflage, the sneaky devils). We did spend an awesome day on what Whistler is famous for…the glorious glorious mountain. Snowboarding for the first time since high school was epic, and although I took it easy on the 1080’s and corkflips and all those things I can’t actually do, it came back easily to me and enjoyed carving up North America’s biggest ski resort. Although maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought-the muscles that hurt the most the following day weren’t any of the classic ones, but my forearms, and I was told this was because I took so many falls. I say it was from doing too many push ups from saying the forbidden m-i-n-e word (a game played religiously by the boys and which took a bit of getting used to. If they had of banned an obscure word like “calibrate” or “toejam” or “~~flatulent~~” ? I would have been golden, because I know I didn’t use that word, but thems the breaks).

Running aside (I will eventually get to that), the a few highlights of our four day Whistler stop over in no particular order would have to include:

-Unforgettable first night in town at Longhorns. (well it was kind of forgettable but that’s not because it was terrible)

-Our day up on the mountain, with epic views, epic snowboarding and epic company. Special mention goes to Jen teaching Michelle how to ski, and them both getting tangled, tripping over and becoming a two-woman human bobsled and sliding speedily and ungracefully away from the rest of us, who couldn’t contain ourselves.
-Casual drinks at Brandy’s to watch the mighty San Diego Chargers clinch an unlikely playoff spot.
-New Years Eve house party with the boys and about 15 others from all over the world.
-Hanging out with old mates, like Al, Cam, Jen, Gerard and Rhys and meeting a bunch of new friends, all who are bloody champions.
-Randomly bumping into the one and only Justin Jones (of Cas and Jonesy fame-who kayaked unsupported from Australia to NZ, and also did a return unsupported trek to the South Pole, both which were world firsts) and talking adventure stuff.
-Going for a walk/hike with Michelle and Jen to Alta Lake (perhaps “Alta” means “Lost in a different language?) despite the foggy views. Fondue and oysters afterwards was awesome too.

I planned to go for a little exploration run on the morning with the mildest hangover (I am not just a pretty face) and took a look at the map to see where the hot spots were. Whistler is pretty hilly even at the base of both Whistler mountain and Blackcomb Mountain, and I was looking forward to a change up, as rural Ontario is about as flat as ~~Keira Knightley~~ a pancake.

As I’d had a nice little run by Lost Lagoon in Vancouver a few days earlier, I headed for the similarly named Lost Lake, not far away. I guess the early explorers of Canada just sucked at explored, ~~or were a fan of the hit TV show~~ as there a quite a few things named with the prefix. The problem with naming everything Lost Lake, Lost River, Lost Pond etc, is you’d get lost trying to differentiate them. Instead of Lost Lake, why not name it Barry? I’ve never heard of a lake named Barry and that’d be easy to find…silly Canadians.So off to Barry I went, and found the fresh mountain air to my liking, as was the concrete footpath tucked just out of sight of the road. Everything was going great until I got to the trailhead and everything turned to ice. Running on ice is hard enough as it is, but when there’s even the slightest incline, it becomes unbearable. The inclines near Barry were pretty decent and I found myself “spinning my wheels” with every step, and was reduced to a walk for the majority of it, and especially during the ups and down hills.

With the run becoming more of an ice skate and not being able to see the sights with all the concentrating on not slipping, as soon as I got to a fog covered Barry I cut away from the ice covered trail network and towards the less icy footpaths by the road.

Being able to pick up a bit more pace, I saw more, and found myself at the base of Blackcomb Mountain, dodging skiers and snowboarders dressed in their brightly coloured ski gear and looped around back towards Whistler Mountain.

I had been told there was a nice run around the golf course in the valley, and headed in that direction. It was actually pretty nice, running through enormous pine trees and watching chipmunks dart all around the place, crossing a few frozen rivers as I went. Although I’m unaware of the name of the golf course (it very well could be “the Lost Golf Course”) it was here I got lost. It would generally be easy to get my bearings on a clear day, with a whopping giant mountain as a reference, but, having a bit of a thing for maps (and cheeky rest breaks) I pulled the map out to find the best way back to Al’s place, as I was happy enough with my 12km little exploration. A new spot to run, and although the most challenging part was ~~staying sober enough to actually go for a run~~ the slippery ice, it was awesome to explore this sweet place on foot.

Taking the Saucony’s off for the last time of the year was bit sad, knowing it was my final run in Canada for at least a year, but knew the beers would taste even better after actually exercising in this little party town. And I knew that in a few days, we would be in our next stop-China, where it will be even easier to get lost, regardless of what they call their lakes.

Firstly a couple of non-running photos...