In which I do not mention running

AKA - reasons why I would make a crap critic*.

I'm a lucky gal. I like musical theatre and I love free stuff. In the past two months I've been able to combine these loves for a record five shows (well one was ballet and one was stand-up, but none of them cost me a cent). Let's begin my mini reviews.

West Side Story - First musical I've ever seen that I really didn't like that much. And I've seen We Will Rock You and a rather amateurish production of Cabaret. I think this means I lack...ummm, what's the word. Taste. Yes, that's it because apparently this is a quintessential musical. And I saw the Broadway production, people. I found the fight scenes a little sissy what with all the kicks and jazz hands and the only song in the whole show I knew was in Spanish in this version. I'm Canadian, the extent of my knowledge of Spanish is how to say "where is the bathroom" and count to 13 (Thank you, The Offspring). The actress playing Anita, however, rocked.

The Toxic Avenger - I saw the movie 10 days before and wasn't expecting much. I was pleasantly surprised with the Toronto premiere. I would totally have paid $30 to see it. Kinda funny, entertaining and catchy little songs. I think it might be geared more towards the fellas though what with the arm ripping off, blood spraying and increasing rising hemlines of the blind librarian's outfits.

The Sleeping Beauty - The premiere of the National Ballet of Canada's latest production of the classic story was nothing short of elegant. The athletic ability of these waif like creatures astounds and baffles me. Lovely, just lovely.

My Mother's Lesbian Jewish Wiccan Wedding - The hit of the Fringe Festival is now in an extended run by Mirvish productions. Pretty good, I was again pleasantly surprised.

(*see, I like everything. A crap critic indeed.)

I am a runner

So I ran four to five times a week for six months. (I just had to double check that count using my fingers because OMG I couldn’t believe I exercised that much and that consistently). I ran a half marathon. I ran hills and distance and did speed work. But, that is not what makes me a runner.

• I am a runner because high on my list of things I MUST do while on vacation in New York City for four days was run in Central Park. I did. I started my 30s by running up the Upper West Side to Central Park and then running around the Central Park reservoir - I believe it’s kind of like Mecca for runners in Manhattan. And I couldn’t think of a better way to start my birthday

• I am a runner because I woke up at 8 a.m. on a Saturday to go watch others run in the Canadian national 10k championship and this past Sunday I devoted two hours of my lazy afternoon not to Project Runway or Tori and Dean, but to watching NBC’s entire two hours of the New York City Marathon. And it was awesome.

• I am a runner because for the past two weeks I have been going through withdrawal from not being able to run. As I drove home and watched people trotting along through the ambers and golds of fallen leaves I wanted nothing more than to rush home, change into my clothes and get in some kilometres before the light faded into dusk.

But, I can’t. I’m injured. I felt a twinge in my right hip starting in August (maybe late July) and I ignored it because I was afraid I would be told to stop running until it healed and I didn’t want to miss training or not be ready for the race. It didn’t hurt that badly and only when I stretched, I could suck it up. And so I did and I gave myself a break after the half to let myself heal. I ran the next weekend and it kinda hurt, I ran in NYC and it was sore and then I ran after watching the 10k and it really hurt so I made myself a doctor’s appointment and started physio. I’m likely sitting out the next week or two and I’m getting antsy. And despite the training log I have of proof of the craziness that was my half marathon training I am surprised.

While I secretly hoped the being active thing would stick. That the running thing would keep my interest I knew better. I’m the girl who did belly dancing for 10 weeks, rowing for one summer, soccer for four months and I thoroughly enjoyed those activities (well, the last two anyway), but I never took up with them again. I never missed them when they were over. But, I really, really miss lacing up my shoes, putting on my earphones and heading out for four to six kilometres of sweating, panting and pushing my muscles. And that’s how I know: I am a runner.