Running for Beginners

I started running because it's good for me, and because I live next to the best running route in the world, and because I have like 10 extra hours a week to fill now that I don't have a 1.5 hour commute to work, but mostly because my best friend started training for a marathon and I am a competitive asshole super supportive. Whatever the root cause, I'm loving my new hobby: you might even say I've got a case of the runs!

It's been pricier than I thought it would be. In my younger days, all you needed to run were a pair of legs, a song in your heart, and a mean gym teacher who wouldn't let you sit out with fake cramps. In today's internet superhighway economy, it turns out you need a lot of stuff for running, and socks with cartoon bears on them from the Night Market —that may or may not have been "designed" for "children"— probably aren't going to be great performance enhancers.Walk into a running gear shop(pe) and you'll be overwhelmed by options: Shorts with pockets! Shirts that "wick away" sweat, presumably to some sort of moist parallel universe! Sneakers with arch support (that's runner-talk for "feet")! I hardly know where to begin, but to me, as a runner, the most important thing when shopping for gear is comfort. The second most important thing, as a runner, is making sure my butt looks good and the third thing is that my shoes need to be a fun colour. It's important to have standards, as an athlete (and runner).

It's nice to run the SeaWall, because other people are always out and about; running near other runners inspires you to keep going and try your best and blah blah blah, and tourists on rollerblades blocking your path provide a metaphorical reminder about the obstacles we all face in life on the way to achieving greatness/burning 300 calories. There are also dogs everywhere, which is pretty great, although some of the smaller ones could be a tripping hazzard or get puppy organs all over your brand new pink (pardon me, "Fireberry") shoes were they to be horribly crushed with a misstep. 

I've been using an app called Map My Run recently, which is a cool way of tracking your mileage, having a vaguely Australian robot yell at you every few kilometres, and getting sweat all over your phone all in one fell swoop. Other runners I see sometimes have a belt full of water bottles strapped 'round their bellies: those morons don't even realize we're running right beside an ocean full of delicious wet water.

Getting the Most Out of Your Run

• Envision a treat or prize at the end of your route and try to get there as quickly as possible!
• Carbo-load the night before, and bring a pocket full of macaroni to snack on during your jog!
• For a quick energy boost on long runs, shoot Gatorade directly into your veins!
• Ask a rapist to chase you!

Remember: You're only one workout away from a good mood and smug sense of superiority. Gotta "run"!

Jog ya later,
Stacey "I'm a Runner Now" McLachlan

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ !

Can you feel it? A special crispness in the air, a spring in everyone's step, a twinkle in children's eyes that doesn't necessitate an opthamologist appointment. It's the most wonderful time of the year: my five and a half year anniversary with my boOoOoyYYyFrrRriIiIiIiend who I kkkIIiiiIIissssSSSs on the moouuUUuttTThhh! The world is in a FRENZY of excitement right now! The mall parking lots are NUTS.

Here's a recent photo. Get a room, am I right?!

Yes, we're still in love after all these years and a half. How could we not be? He's a human male with a symmetrical face, and I'm a girl who spends a lot of time talking about her severe orthodontic work. We're a match made in heaven! And best of all, he`s definitely real and exists so shut up.

Often people (also real) will say to me, "You've been in a relationship for over 2,000 days!" Great question! It can be a real challenge to form meaningful connections, in today's modern era of sexting and pizza you have to bake yourself at home, but with a positive attitude and a stylish, well-aligned jaw, love will find a way. And it will find the way even more directly, avoiding construction and drinking and driving roadblocks, with my helpful advice. Visit staceymclachlan.com for more details!

JUST THE TIPZ: LOVE TALK WITH STACEY "LOVE TALK" MCLACHLAN


Q: Is looking for Mr. Right on the internet a good idea?

A: If you're trying to meet a compatible, life-long mate, then your odds are slim, but if you're trying to meet Sebastian Right of Brampton, Ontario, he's out there and would love to see a video of you in an old-timey bathing costume (bonnet optional), fully submerged in a tub of gravy (chicken or beef only).


Q: How do I keep my relationship fresh after all these years?

A: Look for activities that you can do together, like couples' yoga, cooking classes, monster truck rallies, underground fight clubs, experimental invasive surgeries, or good old-fashioned hard drugs.


Q: Why won't he call?!

A: With all of today's tools for communication, it's no surprise that Mr. Edison's famous telephone machine is often pushed to the wayside. Why, I'm sure if you check your fax machine or singing telegram vestibule, you'll find a message from your sweetheart awaiting you! If not, pork his dad.

Bachelor (degree) party

After four (or in my case, six) years of hard work (or in my case, a Communications degree), here you are, ready to accept your university degree, among friends, family, and old guys dressed as wizards. Congratulations, young person! The world is your oyster. When I say oyster, I of course mean that in the sense that oysters are becoming extinct and increasingly difficult to come by, and that reaping the rewards of your education will be as difficult as remembering when it’s food-safe to collect oysters from the beach (months that end in Y?).

Though you completed your studies six months ago, today is the day you’ve been waiting for, or at least the day that your mom keeps telling you you were waiting for. After all, it’s not every day you can take pictures on the campus you’re at every day! Well, not pictures featuring you holding a document printed on fine, certificate-style stationary and wearing a dumb hat, anyways. So treasure this moment. Hold your head high as you stand in line like an overly-educated sheep for a smock that drags on the floor because you incorrectly guestimated your size: you’re a unique flower, just like the other 700 graduates with whom you will be forced to march around a building designed by Canada’s most stair-happy architect.

Don’t worry that you start freaking out about not being able to check your purse. Losing all sense of personal control is just part of the fun of being part of an elaborate ceremony! Other delights include: a bagpipe medley and a mortarboard tassle that you keep accidentally inhaling.

There is a certain art to writing a speech that could be applied to any event, and the organizers of your commencement ceremony have nailed it. “Y2K. 9/11. The internet. These are things that have happened. More things will happen in the future. Now that you’ve gotten your degrees, we hope you’ll agree that this is how time works.” Two or three people in hats stupider than yours – thus demonstrating their superior intellect – will throw this sort of abstract sentiment in your general direction. “You’ve achieved . . . stuff. That is something, all right.” Then come the honourary degree recipients! These are given out at every convocation ceremony at your school: 11 per year. Whether you are a math major or not, after 45 years, worthy honourees become harder to come by, and so today's newest doctor is a local singer who has, to be fair, done a lot of charity work, but who is mostly famous for writing songs about angels and remembering that are very popular funeral choices. After twenty minutes of being treated to the musical stylings of this woman who never went to your school and who certainly didn’t pay $20,000 for the privilege, the graduates are hustled across the stage at breakneck speed in order to make time for the next honourary doctorate, who will presumably be some sort of juggler or dog trainer.

“Abigail Chen. Andrew Chen. Dorothy Chen.” And a host of others! Your name is called, you run on stage, shake hands with the university’s prez. Your friends, so kind to sit through both pomp and circumstance, will hoot at you. He’ll crack wise about how you “brought your own fan club!” That’s why they pay him the big bucks. Someone will give you an alumni pin. Your boyfriend, another sweet supporter, will later find one on the ground and make some funny jokes about saving thousands on tuition; this is even more endearing than the bouquet he brought you. 

Afterwards, your grandparents make you pose in front of things and with things and next to things. Your family tells you how proud they are, although you are not necessarily proud of yourself. Though not everyone can get through, say, med school (mostly due to the ickiness of cadavers, I presume), pretty much anyone can get an arts degree. All you have to do is show up, and sometimes you don’t even have to do that, as a little class called Communications and the Canadian Creative Economy has taught us. You can pass classes without buying the textbook (theory tested, hypothesis approved). You can avoid the library for six years. It is not a testament to intelligence or stamina to get a BA, but an indication of not having anything lucrative to do. Who drops out of school because their publishing class is too hard? Nobody. They quit because baby boomers started writing them cheques for social media consulting or they found some steady work dealing drugs. People don’t get into university for the money (or I hope they don’t, or they’re going to be severely disappointed) but they’ll get out of it in the good name of dollah billz. 

Spending years of your life at this school was certainly not a pain, but those last three hours are. At least you got a diploma out of it though. One look at that bad boy and the employment opportunities are going to come pouring in! Every year, thousands of job recruiters die trying to race to the top of Burnaby Mountain to snag fresh grads. Perhaps one day, in addition to alumni pins, they’ll give you memorial ribbons to commemorate this tragedy.

Congratulations, graduate. No other day, ever again, will be more special than this. Please return your robe as soon as possible for the next ceremony.