I didn’t puke, but oh man, I thought for sure I’d pee my pants. Yesterday morning I discovered I was going up in a plane for work; a fast-paced, high-flying, stomach-stuck-in-your-throat aerobatic plane. And while I love roller-coasters, no roller-coaster I have ever been on has outlined a Plan B – involving a parachute no less! – prior to boarding “in case of catastrophe!”
The pilot, Super Dave, (seriously, he had to pick that name? I’m already freaking out and now I’m thinking of Super Dave Osborne’s many failed stunts) kept trying to tell me how to work the parachute, telling me it was important to look at the lever before pulling, and I kept saying “But we’re not going to have to use that right? Right?”
Note to self: next time I fly, don’t wear a skirt … in my defense, I did not know when I dressed that morning I would be flying and would require a parachute to be strapped over my shoulders and up through my legs. Awesome!
The fact that Super Dave looked a bit like Lance Armstrong helped me put some trust in him. As we flew high in the sky, I started taking in the picturesque scene before me, Mt. Baker to one side of me and the Fraser River to the other, and I started thinking this wasn’t so bad, it was actually quite beautiful. So, I relaxed. I unclenched my guts, released my fists, stopped biting my lower lip. Big mistake.
The plane sped up, like super duper fast, and we were heading straight into the face of a tree-lined mountain. With me in the front seat, I started freaking out that maybe he couldn’t see that mountain, how could he possibly see it, and if he could see it, why the heck were we going mock speed towards it? I squeezed my eyes shut, grabbed hold of that parachute lever, and prayed to every god I could think of, promising them anything if only they would keep me alive. The world started spinning. Holy crap! I screamed into the microphone. Super Dave laughed. “Did you like that?” he asked. “Want to do it again?”
Twenty minutes of barrel rolls, him flipping the plane to one side and then quickly reefing it over to the other, drawing happy faces in the sky, and speeding straight down to the ground, left my queasy guts stuck in my throat for hours after. It also left the biggest smile plastered to my face.
From Super Dave’s website:
(For the full article on my experience, click this link: Up, up and away with Super Dave)
- 5:45 p.m. BG before: 7.4 (2 Swedish Berries)
- Temp. basal: -50 per cent (1 hour)
- Distance: 6 km
- Average pace: 6:05 min/km
- Time: 36:38
- 6:30 p.m. BG after: 4.6
- Temp. basal: +30 per cent (30 minutes)
Well, that wasn’t exactly one of my most favourite runs. Almost right from the get-go I was wanting to turn around. My calves were burning and the arch of my left foot was so tight, I feared the onset of plantar fasciitis, something I had a few years back, and something I hope never to have again. I had planned on running hills, but I was arguing, negotiating, berating myself the whole 2.8 km out, until finally I stopped mid step and said enough!
I was already halfway into the run, I knew I didn’t want to do hills, but I also knew I didn’t want to quit and plod back the way I’d plodded out. So, I made a deal with myself. No hill repeats in exchange for speed. The remaining 3.2 km, I ran a pace between 4:45 and 5:45 minutes per kilometre. And you know what, it felt great. The burning legs were gone, the tight hoof was gone, I was focused, I was fast. So, there you go, sometimes you just need to switch things up a bit.
Super Dave has his speed and Princess of Pavement has hers 😀