Boston or Bust - One Man's Journey to the Mecca of Marathoners

The Next Chapter

2010-01-10T16:57:00.001-08:00

To see what Vince Hemingson is up to nest, go to:

http://vince-hemingson.blogspot.com/

The End is Nigh

2009-12-20T12:15:00.000-08:00

Well, Boston or Bust has reached it's conclusion, at least as a Blog, albeit with more of a whimper than a bang. Such is life. It was fun while it lasted, but the ride, or the run, has come to an end. I should have reached this conclusion a couple of years ago, but I do hate change and I hated to let go of a favorite pair of boots, regardless of wear.

Over six hundred and fifty Blogs over five years about trying to qualify for the Boston Marathon, or going 'Bust' in the attempt. January, 2005 seems like a half a lifetime ago...

I loved Blogging, and I loathed Blogging, cursed the time it took, and blessed it in the knowledge that it made me a better marathoner, and was ultimately thankful that the Blog was an enormous source of inspiration and motivation when I often needed it most. It was like a rainy day running buddy. My Blog was always there for me, even when expecting a post.

I managed to qualify for Boston in the Fall of 2005 with a 3:29:39, still my personal best. Hell, this year, I'm actually moving up a category! Or down, depending on how you look at it.

That's right, in August of 2010, I'll be turning fifty, the half century.

I ran Boston twice and to this day consider my first Boston Marathon race in 2006 the best marathon I have ever run. My 3:30:38 is my best marathon performance to date on race day.

Having achieved my goal, the ostensible reasons for continuing to write the Blog were a little difficult to come up with.

I still run, and in fact, plan to run my tenth Vancouver Marathon this spring. That will be my twenty-eighth marathon.

But, I am about to start another Blog, one that will continue to reference my love of running, but one that will quite literally focus on the newest passion in my life. I am really excited about it, and the idea for the new Blog is even more of a challenge than Boston or Bust!

Thanks to everyone who followed Boston or Bust. I truly loved connecting with so many people who took the time to follow my Blogs, and even better yet, take the time to comment.

When I launch the new Blog on January 1, 2010 I'll post a direct Link.

Again, thank you for reading.

Go to:

http://vince-hemingson.blogspot.com/

Thanks again, Vince Hemingson

The October Harvest Moon

2009-10-04T17:15:00.000-07:00

The Harvest Moon usually comes at the end of September, but this year it snuck into October before it became a full moon. The Harvest Moon is named because it casts so much light that farmers could gather their crops in by its light. The next full moon is often called a Blood or Hunter's Moon because it coincides with large migrations of birds and animals that would be hunted in the Fall in preparation for Winter, and even by the light of the full moon.

Vancouver has been experiencing some stellar clear days this autumn and the atmospheric conditions have been wonderful for astrophotography. I shot this image with a Nikon D700 and a Nikon 600mm f4 with the Nikon 2x teleconverter. I had to manual focus, but was very impressed with the image quality and overall sharpness considering the use of the teleconverter. f13 at 1/40 and 200 ISO. Wonderful to have tripod mode in VR (vibration reduction).

Nikon Nikkor 28mm f1.4 Lens Shots of Vancouver

2009-09-28T21:51:00.000-07:00

Nikon D700 with the Nikkor 28mm f1.4 lens. What a combination. ISO 3200. Hand-held, wide-open at f1.4, hand held at 1/8. One eighth of a second.

Hand-held shot of the stars. One-eighth of a second, wide open at f1.4. Stars are - I hate to indulge in the oldest cliche in the book - sharp as a tack, pin-point, edge of a knife, you call it. I was simply amazed. This is the full frame. A little colour drop off in the corners, but no change in sharpness, edge to edge.

More Nikon Nikkor 28mm f1.4 Lens Shots

2009-09-28T21:37:00.000-07:00

Shot with a Nikon D700, ISO 1600, f1.4, 1/30. Love the colours of the neon against the sky.

I was impressed with how the D700 and the 28mm f1.4 picked up on the neon lighting up the tree leaves. This camera and lens combination was picking up details I couldn't see with my own eye. I'd look at the LCD and either shake my head in disbelief or giggle like an eight-year old girl... I bow down to the Nikon optical engineers.

Nikon Nikkor 28mm f1.4 Lens

2009-09-28T21:03:00.001-07:00

Unbelievably crisp, wonderful contrast and colour rendition. Shot with a Nikon D700, ISO 1600, wide open at f1.4, 1/15.

I am in awe of how this lens handled the reflections on the water.

Fireworks, Symphony of Fire

2009-08-01T00:36:00.000-07:00

Vancouver Shoreline, Symphony of Fire

2009-07-31T16:04:00.001-07:00

Vancouver and English Bay Skyline

2009-07-28T12:46:00.000-07:00

All shots are thirty second exposures as I tracked boats crossing my field of view on English Bay.

Hot Summer Nights

2009-07-28T12:38:00.001-07:00

Bee's Knees

2009-07-26T16:13:00.001-07:00

Have You Even Seen a Bee Pee?

2009-07-26T14:43:00.001-07:00

After a Summer Shower

2009-07-26T14:31:00.001-07:00

Blue Magic

2009-07-24T17:29:00.001-07:00

Smell the Flowers

2009-07-18T10:10:00.000-07:00

Flower of Scotland and Wee Bumblebee

2009-07-17T23:20:00.001-07:00

The Back Lane Blossoms

2009-07-13T23:38:00.000-07:00

The Back Lane Redux

2009-06-27T10:45:00.000-07:00

Variations

2009-06-19T11:14:00.001-07:00

Japanese Garden in Kitsilano

2009-06-18T19:08:00.001-07:00

More Perambulations

2009-06-17T13:31:00.000-07:00

2009-06-15T13:35:00.000-07:00

Back Alley Stroll

2009-06-13T12:50:00.000-07:00

Back Alley Flowers

2009-06-12T18:17:00.001-07:00

Back Alley Wanderings

2009-06-12T17:44:00.001-07:00

In Front of the Camera - A Pirate's Life For Me!

2009-03-29T21:25:00.001-07:00

We were short a model during our last photo shoot, and while I am not pretty, I thought I might add a certain.... grizzled, quality.

Interestingly, it was much more of an effort to jump back and forth between photographer and wannabe model than I thought it would be.

I have been running, but between work and photography school, my plate has been a little full. I am down to 206 pounds. The marathon training has been going well.

My classmate, Victoria snapped these shots.

If all else fails, I figure I have a decent shot at playing a scurvy 'ole sea dawg at a pirate theme restaurant..... I wonder how many Pirates of the Caribbean Johnny Depp is willing to make?

More Photography Class Shots

2009-03-23T23:34:00.000-07:00

Still Alive and Dreaming of Warmer Climes...

2009-03-06T10:35:00.000-08:00

Life with Jonah

2009-02-19T15:54:00.000-08:00

It's A Fish Story...

2009-02-18T09:35:00.000-08:00

Down along Baja way...

Books, Travel and 'Stuff'...

2009-02-06T09:11:00.000-08:00

I have, as I almost always do, bitten off more than I can probably chew, thrust more irons into the fire than I can possibly juggle without blistering myself, and taken on a series of projects that the Greeks would have described as 'Epic', in every sense of the word...

My first book - Tattoo Design Directory - is coming out on March 19 (www. Amazon.co.uk), I have an ever-growing team of people who are in the process of razing and resurrecting my web site with an entirely new look and with a host of new uses and interactivity for visitors. I still can't say I could actually define what Web 2.0 is supposed to be, but I'm happy to venture there.

I am beetling away on a couple of 'skunk-work' type projects that give me goose-bumps just thinking about what they will look like when they are done (of course, many experimental projects end in fiery explosions on the launch pad and never achieve orbit, let alone break the bonds of gravity and get off the ground). But that makes it even more exciting. Nothing quite like the possibility of spectacular failure to keep your brain fidgeting with contingency plans.

I am leaving town on a ten-day trip - one planned more than half a year ago when I made the assumption that many of my current projects would not only be coming to fruition, but bearing fruit. Hah! The gods laugh at such hubris. At least the seeds have all been planted....

But having worked all through the holidays, a little time off will be a welcome respite. And, I tell myself, a great opportunity to get some homework done. Now that I am in my Intermediate Digital Photography class, I have a whole new list of shooting assignments - most of them dealing with difficult lighting, so the work will not only be creative, but a challenge to my meagre talents and feeble brain as well. And now I have no excuse not to shoot away.

It's good to be alive and on the sunny side of the grass.

And oh yeah, I'm still running. Last Sunday, the first two hours were in the rain, and the last forty minutes was in the snow!

And my weight is down to 212.

Robbie Burns Night and a Year of Memories

2009-01-26T10:13:00.001-08:00

January 25, 2009 was the 250th Anniversary of Robbie Burns, Poet, Romantic, Bard and Soul of Scotland.

Jim Byrnes is signing a collection of Robbie Burns' poetry in the above photo, and I will forever be grateful to Jim for narrating the poetry that we used in my Father's Memorial service.

At this time last year, I had just returned from the Bahamas and my Father was in the hospital. The first anniversary of his death will be here shortly and seeing Jim brought many memories flooding back.

My Father never wanted a "Funeral", a "Wake", anything called a "Memorial Service", or anything even remotely resembling a "Celebration of Life". What Errol C. Hemingson really wanted was a party, make that a great party, with as many of his friends in attendance as possible, and he wanted a party with a nautical theme, and he wanted good wine and good seafood. One of his instructions to me was very clear. He wanted as many pictures of his boat displayed as possible.

In the interests of time and space - and perhaps good taste - I chose to display a large portrait photo of my Dad and what I thought was one of the nicest photos I had taken of the Dream Chaser on what was my Father's last voyage on his beloved ship.

After much consideration, and after putting together the Memorial to my Father, of pictures and music and poetry, I thought I should honor his wishes. If the Memorial was about my Father and his life and his family, the Dream Chaser is about one man's love affair with a ship.

http://www.vanishingtattoo.com/dream_chaser_cape_horn/index.html

My Father was only aboard the Dream Chaser for the briefest of time, a few short months. His trip around the world lasted less than a week. But he fulfilled a lifelong dream.

And there are pictures of the Dream Chaser from every angle that my Father loved.

For those who requested it, here are the the Links to the Memorial we showed at his "Nautically Themed Party".

http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=ULpGdmqBnpo&feature=PlayList&p=F734101EDB263CAB&index=0&playnext=1

http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=FKd9LkcSF6o&feature=PlayList&p=F734101EDB263CAB&index=1

http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=p4k60QqoiVs&feature=PlayList&p=F734101EDB263CAB&index=2

http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=mFfiovpcZjY&feature=PlayList&p=F734101EDB263CAB&index=3

What A Week It Was

2009-01-25T16:23:00.000-08:00

After a fabulous run last Sunday I was all geared up for week of great training.

I'd also finished off some projects and was in the process of re-organizing my home space, just to make living and working a little easier and much, much, much more - well, I say this with a heart filled with childish hope, more efficient.

On Tuesday I packed up a bunch of books and CDs - all on mu iMac now - and carted them off to storage. I dragged a huge air compressor OUT of storage to sell it. Think well over a hundred pounds.

I have a weakness for collecting things from my travels. I have this beautiful old carved stone Buddha from China. It weighs AT LEAST two hundred and fifty pounds. I moved it a couple of times, ever mindful of my hardwood floors.

All this moving and shifting took place over the morning and afternoon. I moved the stone Buddha one last time at about three in the afternoon.

I am not unaware that of Buddha's Four Noble Truths, the first Noble Truth is that all life is suffering.

I knew I had done some thing. I had the good sense to moan and lie down. I passed on running the tempo run on Tuesday because I thought I might be pushing my luck and my physical limits.

The next day I was very sore and had trouble sitting. But no referral pain down my legs or any sign of muscle weakness that might have indicated that I had messed up an old back surgery. I called around to a few doctors and therapists who thought they might be able to see me in a week to ten days. Might be...

On Wednesday I could hardly move. Straight for the pain killers, muscle relaxants, and analgesics. But the current treatment protocol is movement as the key to rehabilitation, so I moved fresh blood and oxygen and nutrients through stupidly strained muscles.

Thursday and Friday I could walk with a cane. Slowly. Lots of walking. Gorging on green vegetables and fruit.

Walked five K very slowly Saturday morning. Had to leave class after sitting for five hours. Simply too much.

Rested and stretched all saturday night.

Sunday morning I ran 18K.

Felt great.

What Are My Goals?

2009-01-19T12:04:00.000-08:00

So the last comment said it all. Enough about the weather! Enough sniveling and complaining! (okay, that last part was me) How are you training? What are you training? How are you working out? What are your goals?

All good questions. I am the Pace Group Leader for the 4:30 group in my sixteenth consecutive marathon clinic. I like this particular time group because it is filled with first-time, would be marathoners who have no bad habits. In fact, they know nothing. That is a beautiful thing. They are empty vessels to be filled with the proper knowledge. They all know that I on the other hand, have run enough marathons to have made ALL the mistakes, so that when I make suggestions to them, they actually listen. I am also fat and out of shape and a 4:30 Sunday pace is a sensible way for me to get back into decent condition without injuring myself.

I am running six days a week. Notice I said running and not training six days a week. I can only really train 4 or 5 days a week without risking injury. But I can easily do some easy miles whose soul purpose is to burn fat just about every day of the week. Because it is important to practice what I preach - and God knows, I do have a propensity to preach - Mondays are once again my rest day. No running, no gym.

Last Sunday we did 14.4 K. Tuesday I went out hard for the first time in months. I thought I was going to die. Shame and embarrassment are sufficient to keep me from revealing my time. And I only did 6K because I thought an 8K tempo run might result in my death.

We did just under 16 K yesterday on Sunday. Perfect weather, nice and slow.

I am working out in the Gym, 5 or 6 six days, for sixty to ninety minutes. Very light weights, high repetitions, a maximum of three sets. Bizarrely, I still think I have actually put some muscle back on. The gym workouts are just to tone and tighten my carcass and to engage more of my muscles enough to fat burn. I am alternating chest, back and abdominal work-outs. My legs get enough, thank you very much.

Diet-wise, I am trying to eat far more fruits and vegetables. I am trying to cut back on portion size. I am trying to drink less alcohol. More or less....

My primary goal is to be healthy. My secondary goal is to continue to have a great looking ass in lycra-spandex. It is after all what they make running tights out of, and I feel both a moral and aesthetic obligation to keep the world as beautiful a place as possible. I'm just trying to do my bit.

My third goal is to get back into marathon shape. And my ultimate goal is get back to a place where I have another shot at a Boston qualifying time.

There you have it in black & white. In a couple of days there will be more hideous photos of my half-naked self...

Snow, Snow Go Away....

2009-01-09T17:38:00.001-08:00

The great post-snow flood...

Glacial lake after glacial lake....

Snowload... hard on trees, roofs and car-ports!

It's been a week devoted to indoor activity, although we've had enough rain and wind and sunshine to largely clear most major roads and sidewalks for this coming weekend. Looking forward to more rain!

Is that hysterical laughing I hear across the rest of the Northern Hemisphere? Hey, we live in Vancouver for a reason!

The Great Meltdown

2009-01-06T10:47:00.000-08:00

http://health.nytimes.com/ref/health/healthguide/esn-obesity-ess.html

Another great article from the Health Section of the New York Times.

It's being raining for the past eight hours and Vancouver is a curious mixture of ice and snow, with growing little glacial lakes and pools of six inch deep water at every street corner. The water has no where to go, as the streets are still lined with pushed up mounds of ice and snow. This is information I found out the hard way - by having icy cold rigid water fill my boots as I walked for my morning coffee and stepped off the curb into what I must say was a rather innocent looking puddle at first glance, and then had to spend the next half hour sloshing about until I could go home and change my socks and my footwear. Brrrgh!!! Lovely!

The Spring Marathon Clinic starts this evening but I think I will be better served by an hour on the treadmill.

I may show my ugly mug in a show of support and to see just how many die hards and New Year Resolution-ers there are out there!

The New Year

2009-01-05T11:00:00.000-08:00

Side View - 216.5

Front View - 216.5

The numbers at the weigh-in, 216.5.

Running Conditions in Vancouver on January 4, 2009.

Much of Vancouver seems to be in danger of getting cabin-fever. And I totally understand how they feel. My dogs REALLY know how they feel.

It's tough to get around, and many people don't even own proper snow shoes, let alone snow tires.

Bit aside from the endless shrieking of tires spinning fruitlessly on ice, it is beautiful to behold. But here on the West - also know as Wet - Coast, we prefer a myriad shades of emerald and green to the monotony that comes with a palette of white. Lord knows that both sets of Winter conditions bring their share of gray clouds and bleak skies.

But I am oddly optimistic these days. I think in good part to getting outside and to moving around.

And I weighed myself in after my Boxing Day shock to see myself at 227 pounds, and subsequent vow to try to right my sinking, er, bloating ship.

This morning, nine days later, and after much slipping and sliding, both real and metaphorical, I weighed in at 216.5.

Losing 10.5 pounds in nine days always sounds a little better than the actual reality of the feat. Weight loss is always easiest in the early stages. But I do feel better. And someone actually asked me yesterday if I'd lost weight. Although, that has happened even after I've just gained 10 pounds. So, it made me feel great, but also made me suspect that I may have evolved into one of those people who, instead of saying hello when you greet them, you ask, have you lost some weight?, knowing full well that it will cheer them up enough to have a drink with you.

Which I am still doing, but at least still in moderation.

The Treadmill is My Friend

2009-01-04T11:07:00.000-08:00

Back in the day, mid-September, 2005 - 181 pounds

End of September, 2005 - 177 pounds. The lightest I'd been since I was 18.

I slipped on the ice yesterday and rang my bell. Going down a steep hill, my feet shot out from underneath me and I felt myself flying through space and and purely by instinct I thrust out my arms to break the fall. But I think my poor left wrist took one for the team and absorbed the brunt of the force. My right wrist was already bothering me, and now I have a match with my left wrist. They both hurt equally this morning!

Still, my melon bounced off the ice and snow, I saw the proverbial stars and within a few minutes I had a doozy of a headache. I have a sore spot on the back of my skull but no contusion. Still, you have to wonder whether it's appropriate with such terrible road condition to be wearing a helmet of some kind! The force of the fall was also enough to aggravate an old whiplash injury.

I bought myself a Gym Membership as my Christmas Present to myself, and much as I hate to say it, right now I prefer running on a treadmill. Part of the reason I love running, aside from the camaraderie of fellow runners, is the ability to get lost in thought along the trail. I love the introspection of the road and the meditation of the deep breath. On an icy path, all I can think of is, don't fall!

And I dragged out a couple of pictures of myself in Boston form...

Fat and Happy

2009-01-03T12:22:00.000-08:00

I am never going to be described as "lean" or "svelte" or even remotely built like your average and/or typical endurance athlete.

I am perfectly happy with that. I'm even kind of, sort of, fat and happy.

From a big picture point of view - lifestyle-wise - I'd like to healthy as I can be while being as happy as I can be living the lifestyle.

From a personality stand-point this can be a challenge for me, because I rarely do anything in moderation. I have large appetites and I like to be sated. Therein lays the path to overindulgence.

The flip side of this is that I like to set the bar for myself fairly high when it comes to goal setting. I like an objective I have to stretch to reach and I don't mind the risk of falling off the ladder in the attempt. As long as no one gets maimed or killed I always say, especially me.

In my previous Post I was referring to Oprah, and while the thrust of the article was about struggling with keeping resolutions and maintaining weight-loss, an equally important part of the article - maybe the most important part - was Oprah's desire to find a healthy weight she could maintain and for her reach a new level of acceptance about her physical appearance.

Liking yourself and accepting who you are are goals every bit as important as being fit and healthy.

I accept that...

Oprah and Me

2009-01-01T14:34:00.000-08:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/01/fashion/01change.html?em

Over the years, I found Oprah Winfrey popping up in my life in the strangest ways.

I've never been a big fan of her show, but was contacted on a couple of occasions by one of her producers about information regarding the place of tattoos within popular culture and on another occasion about the influence of celebrity tattoos on regular folks like me and you getting body art.

Not watching the show, I have no real idea how that information was used.

When I ran my first marathon, my goal was to break four hours because I'd read some where that Oprah had run a "four hour" marathon, and if Oprah Winfrey could run a "four hour" marathon, surely I could!

I was actually rather gutted when I ran my first marathon in 4:06 and change. How was it possible? Oprah Winfrey had kicked my ass!

Later when a friend told me that Oprah had run a 4:32 I felt a little better and over time, developed an ever greater respect for her effort. She ran a great race.

And like any other human on the face of the planet it was impossible for me not to notice her rather omnipresent-like personality in the zeitgeist. Oprah is everywhere. Seriously, everywhere!

And as such, like a billion other people (or more), I had no choice but to learn of Oprah's many successes and her enduring - which makes her all that more endearing - struggles with her weight.

Even with a billion dollars and no shortage of personal chefs and personal trainers, and every conceivable and imaginable way at her fingertips to control her weight, at the end of the day, Oprah is no different than the rest of us.

One can only the image the amount of stress that she deals with on a regular basis, and despite her entourage and retinue of advisors, counselors, et al, in the end, she bears the brunt of being at the head of a corporate entity that employs thousands and one that effects million of people. Like us, Oprah must have good days and bad days.

And like us, I imagine that when Oprah has a bad day, she finds a little solace and a little comfort in the places where she has always found it - food.

So, as 2009 unfolds, I wish Oprah all the best of luck and much success in all of her goals, ambitions and resolutions. Especially if they include fitting into a smaller dress size for President-elect, Barack Obama's Presidential Inauguration Ball and feeling just a little better about herself, but most of all for a healthier lifestyle.

We need someone like Oprah, who encourages people to read books and be positive agents for change, like never before.

You go, girl!

More is Sometimes Just, More

2008-12-30T22:07:00.000-08:00

I've been counting my calories - kind of, sort of - and attempting to eat green over white. I'm actually an enormous lover of yams and squash and root vegetables and chard and kale and beets greens and spinach, et al. So this is actually pretty tasty.

I'm paying attention to portion size.

I was going to give up alcohol altogether, but who am I kidding? I am having a glass instead of a bottle, however. And have even abstained entirely on two days.

And I'm forcing my gargantuan ass out into the rain and snow and slush of Vancouver.

I wore my Polar Heart rate Monitor for the first time in months and I'm keeping myself solidly in the fat-burning zone, trying as best I can to ease back into activity without hurting myself too badly.

I went out for 102 minutes on Sunday morning, or until I had burned what I thought were a thousand calories according to the Polar. Afterwards I realized that my programmed body weight in the watch had been left at a svelte 196! So the simple physics of moving my massive girth through time and space at 225 pounds meant that I had burned at least 10% more calories.

I have been working out with these stretchy little rubber cables, thinking that, as I haven't lifted a free weight in at least three years, I should ease my old bones back into resistance training with care and consideration.

True confessions - I ache all over. As in Advil ache.

I am trying to figure out how I have somehow managed to screw up my right shoulder -although I have torn my right rotator cuff a few times over the years - so that it feels like I have been shot in the shoulder. This from what are essentially giant elastic bands!?

It's a freaking tragedy. My body feels like an abandoned building or an East Vancouver fixer-upper.

I wish all I had to do was splash on a fresh coat of paint and a little stucco, but it feels like my foundation is cracked!

The Numbers and the New Moon.

2008-12-27T09:34:00.000-08:00

As usual, I am going to go at this ass backwards. First the moon, then the numbers.

I have been fixated with taking photos of the moon lately and this morning I noticed on my calendar that December 27 is the start of a New Moon.

Having spent more than the last decade researching tattoos, and the last five or six of those years doing research into the symbolism behind specific tattoo designs I was more than a little familiar with the symbolism of a new moon. My favorite is the Blood Moon or the Hunter's Moon but those are tales for another day. As usual, I digress.

The new moon occurs when the sun and moon are in conjunction, or in simpler terms, occupying the same part of the sky from where you are standing on the earth. During this time the rays of the sun are not reflected off the surface of the moon and can not therefore be seen by us mere mortals on the ground - except during a solar eclipse. Or, to paraphrase Pink Floyd, the dark side of the moon is facing us here on earth.

In many ancient cultures, especially those that worshipped the Earth and had a belief that all living things had a spirit, the start or phase of a new moon is the time of new beginnings. For those who believed that the Earth was a feminine being, a Goddess, the new moon was the Maiden, virginal and pure, and season of Spring and new beginnings. The appearance of the new crescent moon was celebrated as a return of the moon from the dead. (A Full Moon represented the Goddess as a ripe, fertile symbol of Motherhood, and the Waning Moon represented the Crone, no longer fertile, but filled with a lifetime of wisdom and knowledge that was a vital force)

Symbolically, the New Moon is a time of gathering energy, rejuvenation and growth, renewal and hope. The New Moon was considered an auspicious time to make changes in your life, such as ending bad habits or relationships.

Well, folks, the December New Moon hit me between the eyes like a four foot length of two-by-four lumber administered by Paul Bunyan.

I have reacquired some serious bad habits and I need to end them before they start killing me.

And this is where the numbers come in. And to quote a good friend who is like a brother to me, "Vince, the numbers do not lie!".

This morning I got on the scales and I weighed two hundred and twenty-seven pounds. Naked.

This is the most I have weighed in more than ten years. I am on the edge of being morbidly obese. I have gained nearly thirty pounds in a couple of months. And I know better. I know all about living a healthy lifestyle and nutrition and exercise and balance. And despite knowing it, and knowing it deep in my bones, I haven't done it.

I won't make excuses, but I think I understand how it happened. 2008 has been a roller-coaster of a year, with many challenges, starting with the death of my Father, writing a book and going back to school as I tried to find something to pick up my spirits.

For some reason, and I'm not sure why, somewhere along the way I lost my passion for running. I haven't really run since the Long Beach Marathon in October. I have no idea where the spark went.

And food for me has always been a coping mechanism, almost a reflex reaction to depression and despair and heart-ache. When I am stressed out - I eat and I drink. And when I say I eat and drink, I mean I eat and I drink like a Highlander at a Clan Gathering or a Viking at a Feast.

Working at home has it's own special dangers because you can eat and drink any time you get the urge. And I can assure you, I was taught to clean everything off my plate because there were children in the world who were starving. And as an adult I don't believe I have ever stuck a cork BACK into a bottle that I have opened.

What's worse, is that my life had become so chaotic in the past few months as I dealt with what seemed like dozens of irons in lots of different fires, that my home had begun to resemble a storage locker, or a documentary film about hoarders. I couldn't even get into my kitchen for a six week period. It, and I was, insane.

I ate out every single meal. And washed down every mouthful with a guzzle of beer or a swig of wine. And I ate every greasy, fatty comfort food I could think of.

This is literally what killed my Father. Caused numerous heart attacks and by-pass surgery, diabetes and any other number of complications, and a horrible lingering death that haunts me still and causes me nightmares.

And I myself feel terrible. I have endless heart burn and an aching back and every old injury I have ever suffered is screaming at me, "What in God's good name are you doing to yourself?!" I have been living on Zantac and antacids by the bucketful, and because of my schedule, working seven days a week and on four or five hours of sleep a night.

So what am I going to do? Now that I can smell the coffee?

Another Marathon Clinic starts on January 6. I'll be there.

I bought myself a one-year gym membership.

I went to the doctor this week and was astonished that my blood-work was okay, my resting heart rate was 58 and that my blood pressure was only 118/80.

So now I will bow my head in the direction of the New Moon and break some bad habits.

227 pounds. No, really two hundred and twenty-seven pounds.

The young Santa Claus.

Damn! That is one UGLY white whale off the portly bow....

Sweet Jesus, in God's good name what have I done to myself......

Vancouver in December

2008-12-19T14:27:00.001-08:00

I did this before 8:00 am, on the way to the Doctor's Office - in minus -15 degree Celsius weather I might add!

This morning was magic. A happy accident.

Like most art and many things in life and love.

I now think of taking photographs like training for a marathon or ultra-marathon.

You simply HAVE to set aside time to go out with your camera.

It's a date with yourself to replenish your heart and feed all the better aspects of your spirit and soul.

The time you set aside to be creative is an investment in your happiness.

Your camera is not a burden.

It is an instrument to set your imagination free on flights of fancy.

Running Genes - Calling all Sigurd Clan Members

2008-12-07T15:16:00.000-08:00

As mentioned in the previous post, I am descended from the Sigurd Clan in my Father's Patrilineal contributions to my DnNA

Running Genes - Calling all Uta Clan Members

2008-12-07T14:48:00.000-08:00

I've been working away, getting fat and sassy, (happy is a work in progress). But I did get my DNA tested from www.OxfordAncestors.com about six weeks ago which was rather a fascinating exercise.

Now I'm looking for distance cousins - especially on my Mother's side as Mom's hit a bit of a snag in the old family Matrilineal Line. Seems I have a Great-Great Grandmother with a wonderfully mysterious past...

Delicious stuff!

The old girl was born in Calcutta in 1814 and wouldn't it be great if she was the daughter of a local Indian woman who married an officer - my Great-Great Grandfather - who was in the Honorable East India Company!

Turns out my Mother belongs to the Clan of Uta, according to Dr. Bryan Sykes at Oxford University and Oxford Ancestors, a very rare Clan in the United Kingdom where my mother's family originates. Uta, you see, originates they think, in Central and Southern Asia! Perhaps India really is the Mother country and I am 1/64th Indian. But, and this is a big but, if you are descended from Uta and reside in England, you probably got your Uta DNA from a Norse Viking. Either or, two great stories.

On my Father's side, my Patrilineal DNA makes me part of the Sigurd Clan, or northernmost Vikings. Who would have guessed?

Short-Lived Retirement...

2008-10-18T14:05:00.000-07:00

No, I haven't retired. My Gawd, but I would have milked that for all it was worth!

I have just been on the road for three of the past four weeks, in Phoenix, Arizona and Long Beach, California and I managed to squeeze in a 2,600 mile road trip with my good buddy Kevin. We toured both rims of the Grand Canyon, Sedona, the Vermillion Cliffs, and did not one, but TWO laps of Death Valley!

I also finished the first draft of a three hundred page book, started going to photography school for a two-year program, and I am knee-deep in a complete revision of all three thousand pages of my web site, www.vanishingtattoo.com

Whew!

Retired?

I've never been so busy in my life!

The Smell of Leaves...

2008-09-19T09:43:00.000-07:00

Walked the dawgs this morning under grey skies. You could sense Fall in the air and the musty smell of leaves on the ground and it just feels like change is coming.

The book is done - at least the first part - and it's the time of year where everyone is going back to school. Even me. I've enrolled myself in a two year (or more, depending upon one's ambition and drive) photography certificate program at Langara College. It's part of their ongoing education department and I'm hoping to bone up on my digital photography and computer skills. As in marathoning, you can only fake it for so long with cameras and computers! The course attracts dedicated amateurs and aspiring commercial photographers. I have no idea where I fall on that continuum, but I did get a real kick out of getting a Student ID number again. Old man on Campus...

I actually ran three times so far this week and even did back to back speed work-outs. Minus the speed that is. I've even lost five pounds since finishing the book. Less stress and fewer excuses. Even my knee seems to appreciate the time off. No Boston qualifiers in the immediate future, but the future is a big place. Who knows what it holds?

Fall Floods

2008-08-28T09:59:00.000-07:00

Here on the Wet Coast, Fall is not so much a 'feeling' in the air as a splash of cold water in the face if you venture outside. After a week of weather where it was so hot and humid that I had to break down and buy a fan so I could sleep at night, I now may have to go and follow up that purchase with one of a space heater! It's still humid, but of the falling out of the clouds kind. And yesterday, as I walked my dogs, I could see my breath for the better part of an hour. And it's still August!

The cold and damp have my knee aching and it seems pretty clear to me that Long Beach is going to be a stop-gap marathon until say, maybe Sacramento at least. My Boston qualifier has slid far down my list of life's priorities as I juggle work projects and family obligations. Having been to Boston twice there is no longer the sense of urgency that there was was. Now, I can even entertain the idea of going to Boston as a spectator, there to enjoy the atmosphere and cheer on fellow marathoners who have attained their goals of qualifying.

Don't get me wrong, I still want to race Boston, it's just that doing so has to fit it with all the rest of my life.

Still, as September fast approaches, I find myself asking, 'Where did the summer go?!'

Okay, I am procrastinating now. Time to get back to the book....

More Miles

2008-08-24T10:39:00.000-07:00

We ran 27 miles yesterday and for me at least, it was one of the best long runs we'd done this summer. My right knee was still aching and at 13 miles we detoured into a 7-11 for some Gatorade and a little Motrin. Thirty minutes later I was as right as rain. The temperature was in the mid-70's and the humidity was fairly high.

But the five of us all hydrated conscientiously along the way and made sure we were well-fueled as well. We've taken Gatorade pit stops on the last few long runs that have approached marathon distance and it seems to have made a difference, at least for me. Of course I don't discount that the benefits may be simply psychological.

At a few places we have been able to add ice to our water bottles, and my word, what a luxurious treat that has been. Ice water tastes so good that it is hard to believe that it doesn't have any calories! Positively sinful!

Any time you run for five or more hours in hot temps it's nice to have good company. And the last few runs have been really enjoyable.

Here's hoping the knee is getting better.

Dog Days of Summer

2008-08-20T09:12:00.000-07:00

I love my bed. At 6:45 am this is the only coherent thought I am able to muster. That and I don't want to get out of bed. Don't even want to move. Moving is misery. Lying in one spot I am comfortable, cocooned in cushiony softness, every muscle and joint cradled and caressed. The effort required to move is an immediate mistake.

I haven't posted in nearly two weeks because I have been pinned down in front of my computer screen like a dog-faced infantryman in a foxhole. I am working on a September 1 writing deadline that has me sitting in front of the magical iMac for ten, twelve and even fourteen hours at a stretch. On Sunday we were supposed to run 25 miles but relented after 23.5 in heat that approached 80 degrees and humidity that went over it. My life is conspiring against me. Did I mention that I don't want to get out of bed?

Every injury it seems I have ever had is making itself felt. Or at least the ones that required cutting and stitching. As I shift my bones I feel every mile run this past month, feel every hour spent slouched in from of my computer screen. Neck and lower back creak and moan, hip bones and shoulder joints whine and commiserate, and my knee, even the knee that has never given me a lick of trouble has nothing good to say this morning.

But dogs have to be walked, caffeine addictions satiated and deadlines honoured.

I am labouring away towards Labour Day.

Lucky 8's

2008-08-05T09:10:00.000-07:00

I guess if I was Chinese, or a gambler, I'd be a little more enamored about turning forty-eight on 08/08/08. But, as it is, I have to figure I'm pretty lucky, both blessed and fortunate in the grand scheme of things.

I ran the Totem to Totem Marathon in Skidegate, Haida Gwaii on July 26. I even managed to mock up some pretty nice marathon gear and a couple of nice marathon graphic designs - if I don't mind saying so myself!

I finished my 25th marathon in 4:45:00, cruising through the course with an average heart rate of 138, or 63% of my MHR.

This past Saturday, I was MCing the wedding reception of one of my closest and dearest friends, and rather than attempt an early morning Sunday effort I went out on Saturday for 37K. We did it in 4:05 and my average heart rate was 128, which I was very pleased with.

But my right knee is a little inflames and achey, so I have decided to pass on the Stormy 50 Mile Ultramarathon Trail Race coming up this weekend. I hate to end a streak, but I have to think of the bigger goal this october, which is to re-qualify for Boston.

My weight has kind of leveled out at 196 and fluctuates up and down a couple of pounds. I'll have to focus on getting down to the 190 level next.

August will be about running, running and more running. Oh, and all that pure living I preach...

Would be great to exit the month around a 185 pounds.

Go North, Old Man!

2008-07-22T10:41:00.001-07:00

A couple of things...

I decided this week to run the Long Beach Marathon in October. Looks flat and fast.

My iMac suffered a catastrophic failure of its hard-drive and it crashed and burned in spectacular fashion. Thank the Lord for back-ups... But ten days to do warranty work, Apple? To replace a simple hard-drive? Scandalous customer service!

Did 30K on Sunday on a beautiful summer Sunday morning. A great run.

Heading for the Queen Charlotte Islands at the crack of dawn tomorrow to run another Totem to Totem Marathon.

A Run in the Sun

2008-07-17T08:26:00.000-07:00

After my epic little weekend - 17 and 23 miles on back to back days - I rested on Monday and went for a very easy 10K on Tuesday. I was working like a dog all day and after twelve hours, mostly just wanted to make sure I had some circulation.

Vancouver is in the throes of a week of utterly splendid weather, the kind of days that make all memories of winter rain and damp seem faint and distant. Yesterday was hot and clear and the sun beat down on beach-goers and runners alike. At six in the evening it was still 76 degrees - at least according to the Molson Brewery thermostat as I drove across the Burrard Street Bridge - and the pavement on the Seawall around the perimeter of Stanley Park had been well-baked by early evening.

This Marathon Clinics group of diehards is keen to qualify for the Boston Marathon or set personal bests this Fall, so they can reliably be counted upon to chomp at the bit during every training run. We set out to do a 10K at a 3:30 marathon pace, and we even discussed adjusting our time for the heat. But once we were underway all such considerations vanished like water evaporating on the pavement. We maintained a pace of 7:50 and banged off the 10K in a hair over 47 minutes.

Interestingly, there was much complaining during the run about the pace, the heat and the lack of shade but not a single person backed off... No competitive juices in this group, no Siree! A number of runners commented afterwards that last night's run was one of their best workouts of the Clinic, myself included, and I usually do not fair very well in that kind of heat.

My weight had jumped up over two hundred pounds over the weekend, but this morning I hit the scales at 198. Fruit and vegetables, fruit and vegetables!

Strange and Beautiful are the Stars Tonight...

2008-07-14T09:39:00.000-07:00

I woke up Friday and, almost miraculously, was nearly completely pain free. My neck was a little stiff but my back was nearly back to normal, normal of course being an entirely subjective state of being...

So I ran an easy 10K after a four day lay-off. Then on Saturday and Sunday I did 17 miles and 22 miles back to back.

I am still thinking I'll maybe do the Stormy 50 Mile Ultra Trail Race, so I figured I should pound out a little mileage. The Totem To Totem Marathon on July 26 and a 30 miler should give me a reasonable mileage base, but we'll see how I feel.

My weight popped back up over 200 pounds, but I'm not to surprised given my summer social calendar. I'll just have to be disciplined again and start keeping a food diary. And try not to eat and drink as a response to stress...

It was a glorious weekend in Vancouver, and even with sunblock I managed to get some colour. I wonder sometimes about the efficacy of sunscreens when you are sweating for hours on end, and I ended up being a little pink in a few spots where I either missed with the lotion, or I simply sweated it off...

But I almost never run without a hat, and never when I know it is going to be sunny outside, so I feel pretty safe in regards to protecting my face and my beak.

Aches and Pains

2008-07-09T14:32:00.000-07:00

After doing the 10K race on Tuesday, July 1st, I followed it up with a couple of easy 'recovery' runs on Thursday and Friday. I did 26K on Sunday and was glad to see myself at 199 pounds on the bathroom scale. Eureka, progress in the poundage department! But I have been quite stiff now for a week.

I passed on my 8K tempo last night because it was such a hot day, and because I spent several hours stranded in my car at the border, waiting as patiently as I am able for the guards to get their act together, and my back and neck were acting up.

I'm in a bit of a quandary, because I have a long history of neck and back problems, including but not limited to surgery, car crashes, trauma, traction and assorted broken bones and too many bruises to catalogue. The end result is chronic neck and back pain that I manage with varying degrees of success. Running, believe it or not, even high mileage, actually seems to help, as does staying lean. Stress does not.

My neck has been stiff for over two weeks and I have no idea what started it. This morning I could hardly get out of bed. Sitting in a chair too long is one of the worst things for my back, and I have been doing a lot of that lately. Oh well. Such is life.

All Hot ands Bothered

2008-07-03T09:52:00.000-07:00

During Tuesday's Bank of Hong Kong Canada Day 10K Race, a number of the runners, myself included, were all whinging about their race results. It was hot, humid day on the morning of the race, and even at 8 AM, the early rays of the sun hitting as we rounded the Stanley Park Sea Wall were enough to make us all break out into a hard sweat.

My 10K time was a full minute slower than just six days earlier and the effort required was significantly higher. I wrote it off to tired legs and too many 'fast' miles in the last two weeks. This New York Times Personal Best article made me reconsider just a trifle and recognize that the heat on Canada may have been more of a contributing factor than I had realized. Well worth the read. And a reason to be doubly careful as we - hopefully - head into the heat of the summer months...

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/07/03/health/nutrition/03Best.html?ex=1215748800&en=8d6a5c4a4d5422b2&ei=5070&emc=eta1

Even Perfection Has Its Limitations

2008-07-02T09:36:00.000-07:00

Last Fall I was absolutely and utterly convinced - by the best-meaning friends in the world, I am sure - that after twenty years of cursing Bill Gates and my endlessly crashing PC, that if I had an ounce of common sense and and any aesthetic taste at all, I simply must switch to an Apple.

Appealing to my artistic vanity nearly always works, so I soon found myself in possession of a brand spanking new iMac 24. A thing of rare beauty. My brain still hurts on a regular basis from attempting to decipher a new operating system. I am after all, a dog that is getting increasingly longer in the tooth. Or is that a horse? My memory is starting to go as well... And now the new operating system doesn't operate worth a damn. Yes, those primal screams emanating from the heart of Kitsilano belong to yours truly.

My state of the art, supposedly super-fast Apple is moving like a six hour pace group or molasses in January. I am endlessly confronted by Apple's not so cute, mushroom inhaling, psychedelically coloured, spinning basketball of doom. I want to heave the sleek, designed to give geeks an erection, 24 inch screen through my office window.

But enough about my crappy Apple... ARRRGGGH!

Last Wednesday I ran a great 10K in 48:15 at an average heart rate of 158. A beautiful run. But after a week and a half of running more than my fair share of fast miles, my legs were not co-operating in yesterday's Bank of Hong Kong Canada Day 10K Race. On an admittedly hot morning, but still only 8:00 AM, I ran the race in a chip time of 49:10. And my average heart rate was 167, nearly ten beats higher than six days ago. I crossed the Finish Line at 188!

Okay, time to figure out what to do with this beautiful beast sitting on top of my desk....

ARRGGGH!

Totem to Totem Marathon - Fringe Benefits

2008-06-26T11:22:00.000-07:00

Neil Wakelin may have caught more Chinook than me, but mine was the biggest! And honestly, isn't that really what everyone remembers on a fishing trip?

Three beauties.

Almost too beautiful for words...

Marathon measurer extraordinaire, Neil Wakelin and Fishing Guide extraordinaire, Andy Wilson.

More photos at - http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=58678&l=a036f&id=706271404

My Marathon Affair

2008-06-26T10:40:00.001-07:00

Wow, just thinking about the last nine days leaves my head spinning and thinking about all the myriad ways in which the marathon has insinuated itself into my life...

I have run two dozen marathons in the past eight years, run them in runners and kilts and combat boots, run them fast (at least for me), run them slow, run them alone and run them as a Pace Bunny, I have run them hot and run them cold, in the rain, on sunny days, in sleet and snow and run them in three countries, two states and two provinces, I have run victoriously and run until I bonked. I have eaten, slept and dreamed marathons. My years, my Spring and my Fall have been planned around marathons and many vacations have had a marathon at the center. I even came up with the idea of starting the Totem to Totem Marathon. And of course I started my Boston or Bust Marathon Blog...

I thought I had experienced the marathon in just about every way I possibly could and then I went North to Haida Gwaii and I experienced the Marathon in a whole new way.

I went to Skidegate in the Queen Charlotte Islands and helped Neil Wakelin measure the Totem to Totem Marathon course in order for the race to be sanctioned and certified, as, among other things, a Boston Marathon qualifying course. It was such a fascinating experience to break a marathon down into its constituent components, 50 metres of steel tape at a time. And in the rain I might add.

Here is my Face Book Photo Album of the trip -

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=58678&l=a036f&id=706271404

Walking and biking and driving and running the course multiple times over three days made 26.2 miles seem like such an intimate distance.

It took Neil and I two and a half hours to measure an accurate to within one inch (or is that two centimetres) one kilometre stretch with which to calibrate the Jones Counter which we had attached to a bicycle. We hammered nails into the shoulder of a perfectly straight stretch of highway and then measured with the steel surveyor's tape and spray-painted the road for good measure. Because it was raining, we had to go into the Co-op and buy paper towel and actually sop up the the shoulder of the highway until it was dry enough for the paint to stick... Now that must have been something to see!

Then Neil sat in the truck and worked out all his calculations, translating the number on the measured kilometre into miles and kilometres on the Totem to Tote Marathon Course.

The next day - still drizzling rain I might add - we measured the course in just under four hours. Or about the length of time it takes to actually run a marathon for the average person! We saw a bear, several deer and multiple eagles along the course.

We marked out every mile and 5K marker, and a 10K, and Half Marathon course as well, along the full Marathon route. And we built in just under 50 meters of error to make sure the measured distance stood up to any scrutiny in the future.

Neil was grinning from ear to ear despite the rain and the cold, as he contemplated measuring out what he thought might be one of the prettiest, flattest and fastest marathon courses he's ever been on, let alone measured. And after 112 marathons all over the world - his PB is a 2:28 - this transplanted Kiwi knows his marathon courses.

Of course, part of the reason for Neil's grinning may well have been the knowledge that after we measured the marathon course, Andy Wilson was taking us out fishing for Chinook! See photos for the results of THAT endeavor!

Neil and I were so enthused about the course that we talked about running all 42.2 K the next day, but given time constraints settled for a fast and hard 10K. Until of course when we reached the 10K turnaround and Neil said, "Let's do the Half course!", which we did. In 1:42:00... I was gasping at the end.

We flew back to Vancouver bubbling away with ideas for the Totem to Totem Marathon. Neil thought it was a fabulous race to run as a Boston qualifier and a natural place for runners to set a Personal Best. Only time will tell.

After getting back to Vancouver, on Sunday I ran the Scotia Bank Half Marathon as a training run. Because let's face it, I'd already raced a Half Marathon up in Haida Gwaii! I did it in 2:16 at an average heart rate of 138.

On the Tuesday night tempo run I was still stiff from the weekend and did an easy 6K.

Last night I ran 10K in 48:15 at an average heart rate of 158. That's almost three minutes faster than two weeks ago and I felt much, much more comfortable.

I weighed 203 pounds this morning. Twenty-three pounds to go...

Tuesday Tempo

2008-06-17T23:14:00.000-07:00

Ran 8K tempo tonight in 39:16, about half a minute faster than last week.

Felt terrible. Serves me right. Ate too much at lunch. Drank too much at lunch.

Most of our wounds in life are self-inflicted.

Eventually, not only will I learn this lesson, I may in fact one day actually heed it.

But not today...

Tomorrow I am headed north to measure and certify the Totem to Totem Marathon course. Now THAT should prove interesting!

The Data Does Not Lie!

2008-06-16T09:43:00.000-07:00

What initially started as a trickle of interest from runners interested in qualifying for the Boston Marathon or running a personal best has turned into a torrent. To date I have sat down with no fewer that ten runners in the past three weeks to outline programs that might help them achieve their goals. In most cases we are talking about time improvements of 10-15 minutes.

And as altruistic as I might be, my recent focus on the basics of outlining a training program with very specific goals for others has helped me immeasurably as well. I have gone through dozens of old posts as I have tried to illustrate all of my training suggestions and more importantly, back up what I am saying with secondary evidence and hard data. It's been eye-opening for me as I realize that I have fallen out of many "good" training habits as I struggled with the task of finding the time in my schedule to run at all. So I have already benefited from "going back to the drawing board".

For better or for worse, I am still a fervent believer in the benefits of training with a heart rate monitor. I still believe it is the best way for runners to maximize and achieve the most out of a quality work out. And with a finite number of work outs in a marathon training cycle, why would you want to squander even one work out? And a heart rate monitor gives a runner invaluable instantaneous insight into their performance. To paraphrase an old friend, "the data does not lie".

I've encouraged everyone who has a goal to establish a baseline from which to start. Knowing where you are at is the best way to chart a course to where you want to go!

To that end, I gave everyone who asked me for specific training tips a "little black book", also known in some circles as a Training Journal or Log. That last was more tongue in cheek than sarcasm.

Starting with their best race time to date and the goal time they wanted to achieve, I also had them write in their Maximum Heart Rate, Resting Heart Rate, Body Weight, Percentage of Body Fat, and MAX VO2.

Of course, this all sounds much easier in theory than in practice. With the exception of myself, not a single one of the ten runners has been able to completely fill in all the blanks on their baseline assessment. Now comes the fun part - filling in the blanks!

The first step has been to get people to either acquire heart rate monitors, or actually wear the ones they already had in their possession but which had been tossed into the back of the closet.

The next step is to go as a group and get tested for Maximum Heart Rate, Max VO2, Lactate Threshold and do an immersion body fat test. After that step, every single person will have all the data they need to chart a course for success over the next 16 weeks.

On Sunday we went out and as a group ran 12.8 miles in 2:13:00. So far, we are tentatively called the 3:45 Pace Group, as that is the minimum marathon time goal for most of the group, but we have a bunch who want to run everywhere from 3:20's to 3:40's. We did the Jeff Galloway ten and one walk breaks as we normally do, and ran a pace of 9:30 per mile. I think this was a bit of a shock for some. And for those wearing a heart rate monitor for the first time in a while, even more so.

My average heart rate was 138, or 68% of my MHR. Our average pace was 9:30, but factoring in walk and bathroom breaks, 10:24. I burned 1942 calories - praise the Lord, and I will be keeping an eye the calories I consume between now and the Fall Marathon (I still haven't picked a Fall race yet...). A little less than two pounds per week for the next 12-14 weeks is the same plan I followed with success back in 2005. My God, where has the time gone?

I must say, that I have not been this enthusiastic about a marathon clinic in a very long time. It's wonderful to see so many people excited about setting a new goal and enthused about running a Boston Qualifying time. And that feels great for me as well.

Racing Improves the Breed

2008-06-14T10:29:00.000-07:00

Last night, and due largely to the urging of my running buddy, "Fast" Pat Gross, I ran the Longest Day 5K out at the University of British Columbia Thunderbird Stadium. It was perfect night for a run and the 5K got off at 7:45. The sun had actually made a rare appearance and it had been a lovely summerly afternoon, not too hot, but the rays of the sun had real heat for the first time in weeks. And then as our own little solar system star began to set, it cooled off appreciably.

This week I went out reasonably hard on Tuesday - 8K (39:51), Wednesday - 10K (50:52), Thursday - mile repeats (7:00 miles), and Friday - 5K (23:18).

In every instance I had no trouble revving my heart rate to near stratospheric levels. And my times were not that bad for the start of a marathon clinic. More importantly, if I recalculated them taking my recently blossomed waist into consideration, the numbers were really not that bad. Dropping 10-12% body fat does amazing things for race performance! Take 10-12% off all my times this week and I'd be ecstatic.

Once again, the benefits of being able to look at old workouts and old numbers helped immeasurably in taking stock of my current condition.

I had not run a race since the Portland Marathon last October and it was great to pin on a race bib and feel the familiar fluttering of butterflies before the start. I ran the first mile - which in all honestly is significantly downhill, in 6:10 and then wheezed across the Finish Line to an average time of 7:33. Any race course that goes down must of course go up!

The Longest Day Race has a barbeque and a beer garden attached and usually attracts a great crowd. There were seven of us who ran the event and it is always great to swap after race horror stories and "you-should-have-seen-the-size-of-the-one-that-got-away" yarns.

I ran until I was gutted and treated the 5K like a real race, finish time to the contrary. Perhaps I erred in not taking the time to properly cool down, but I went straight from the Finish Line to the BBQ line-up and within ten minutes of finishing the race I was scarfing down a hamburger and a plate of veggies and fruit. I did try to be sensible. And I was feeling light-headed because it was after 8:15 PM and I hadn't eaten since a salad at lunch and all I'd had for breakfast on Friday was two slices of multigrain toast. Food finished, most of us were getting pretty chilled from sitting in the shade of the setting sun in sweat-soaked technical race gear, so we nixed the idea of the outside beer garden in favor of a warm and cozy pub.

Whatever the reason, my stomach was none too thrilled. I went home for a quick shower and intended to join my friends, but once home I quickly lost my dinner. And I was utterly knackered. I collapsed on the couch and could hardly move I was so fatigued. I am sure there is a lesson in there somewhere...

I am definitely taking Saturday off...

Training Journals and Marathon Performance

2008-06-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went out and did two mile repeats, the first one at 6:54, which is probably a bit fast, and the second at 7:09, which is probably a bit slow, but at the end of three straight days of what felt like pushing-the-envelope speed work for my current level of conditioning, I was happy just to finish. I knew going in, with my achy stiff-legged warm-up run, that I was going to be paying a price, and that was certainly confirmed with my cool-down run!

This morning I am stiff, tired and I slept like a log last night. Eight solid hours which is about an hour more than usual. And it was lights out the whole way.

This marathon training cycle I have been approached by more than the usual number of runners interested in taking their marathon performance to the next level. Getting better as a marathoner is all about understanding what makes you tick as an endurance runner; incorporating speed, stamina and strength work outs, with a fairly knowledgeable comprehension of nutrition, physiology and training and racing strategies.

Looking back over my training history it's quite apparent that all of my best training cycles have come when I have kept fairly comprehensive training journal. Frankly speaking, I can't do my best without a training journal. Stricken as I am with limited mental capacity, it's just too hard to remember over a four and five month period how I have felt at different times, the progress I am making, the mileage I have actually run on a daily, weekly or even monthly basis, which work outs I have responded well to and which ones I didn't, what I weighed, what I ate, what my heart rate was, what I... well, you get the idea. There is just too much information to carry around in my short term memory and it gets readily lost when I try to box it up and ship it off to long term memory.

I was recently reading a training journal from five years ago and while I recognized my handwriting, I might as well have been reading a stranger's diary. But once I started reading, it the memories all came flooding back.

Two things have worked in my favor when it comes to keeping track of my marathon training. The first was my Polar Heart Rate Monitor with its ability to download workouts; a hugely useful amount of data, and the second of course has been my Boston or Bust Marathon Blog. And it never hurts having the knowledge that all kinds of people are essentially reading over my shoulder. It keeps me honest. It also makes me show up for work outs!

So yesterday I went out and got simple marathon training journals for those runners who had approached me about getting faster and setting new personal bests and qualifying times. On the inside of each front cover I labeled them "Marathon Personal Best Kits".

Oh yeah. I weighed 205 this morning.

I have a 5K race tonight.

The Real World Realities of Marathon Race Pace

2008-06-12T10:16:00.000-07:00

Last night a small group of us went out for a 10K at marathon race pace. It was a little shocking. And that was even with me fudging the numbers a little. We did a hair over 10K in 50:52. I had been shooting for 48:00 flat, which requires a pace of 7:43. I should know better than to do math in my head while running! Our actual average pace was 8:11, which would have resulted in a marathon time of 3:34:24. Close, but not close enough! Actually, it would have been fabulous for everyone in our group but me!

To qualify for the Boston Marathon I have to run a marathon pace of 8:00 per mile. Realistically of course, with breaks for water and other interruptions, a safer pace is around 7:45 per mile. Hence the 48:00 minute 10K's at race pace. A 3:20 is an even more daunting task. That requires a pace of 7:38, which means that in the real world I should be aiming for a marathon race pace of 7:25-7:30.... Or faster!

It may seem a little obsessive to agonize over seconds, but in the end that is what every marathon boils down to, minutes and seconds per mile.

Once again of course, 16 weeks can work a lot of magic, but last night was a real reminder of how challenging it is to run a personal best.

The first night of the Clinic, the Clinic leaders usually have a brief discussion about running etiquette. Never mind treating your Pace Group Leaders like the Gods they are!

Crikey, for once I wish they would tell people not to douse themselves in cologne or perfume. Few things are more disagreeable than going out for a hard run for the better part of an hour and having your proboscis assaulted along the way. The current clinic has a couple of men who wear so much of something that they run in a cloud. You either have to run ahead of them, or simply drop back to keep from literally gagging.

At the other end of the scale are the runners who've apparently never heard of deodorant, or even worse, wear the same workout gear for multiple runs. THAT in and of itself is enough to make fly larvae regurgitate a meal of decaying meat, or as my Daddy used to say, smell bad enough to make a maggot puke...

On a positive note, the scale read 205 this morning!

A New Marathon Clinic - A New Road

2008-06-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

A new marathon clinic started last night. If my faulty memory serves me correctly, I think this is my fifteenth consecutive marathon clinic. My next marathon will be my 25th.

I have set myself an overall goal of yet again qualifying for the Boston Marathon - still a daunting 3:30:59 or better - and I must confess that I am really looking forward to running a Fall Marathon. In a perfect world I would love to break through the 3:20:00 barrier.

I agreed to be the Pace Group Leader for the 3:45 group and know that my Sundays will be spent with many old friends. Something else to look forward to in the coming months.

One of the best parts for me - at least anticipated - in the upcoming clinic has been the number of marathoners I know who are looking to set new personal bests. I really do love nothing better than crunching numbers...

I encouraged everyone who expressed an interest in setting a personal best to start out with a clear baseline of their current fitness by going and getting their Max VO2 tested and their body fat accurately measured AND by knowing their current Maximum Heart Rate. Once you've established those parameters, the rest is numbers crunching and training. Hard training. Smart training.

The clinic started out with a tempo run and I finished up about where I expected after a long springtime of sloth, gluttony and indulgence!

First confession. I am tipping the scales at 206 pounds. Three pounds heavier than when I began my first quest to qualify for Boston! And at a body weight back in the day of 203 pounds, my body fat percentage was 22%. So my current beluganess puts me in the 24% body fat ball park!

For a little walk down memory lane, here is that old Blog...

http://vanishingtattoo.blogspot.com/2005/03/max-vo2-and-max-fat.html

I ran 8 kilometers last night in 39:51, which is about what I expected to do. My best 8K last year when seriously training was a much more promising 34:11.

One of my favorite marathon web sites for training information, tips and calculators is marathonguide.com

http://www.marathonguide.com/fitnesscalcs/

An 8K time of 39:51 calculates to a marathon of 3:54:48, which I suspect is spot on.

A rough rule of thumb is that for every percentage of body fat that you lose, you gain one percent in performance, or speed. Calculated another way, for someone like myself, for every pound of body fat I lose, I'll get one minute faster over 26.2 miles.

In 2005 and 2006 that is exactly what happened. I lost twenty five pounds and ran back to back 3:30:00 marathons in Kelowna and Boston.

Back to the tempo runs. Last year in 2007 I ran a best 8K of 34:11, which according to the marathonguide.com Race Result Predictor projects a marathon time of 3:21:24, all other things being equal, and in the best of all possible worlds...

After the run last night the usual suspects went for pasta and pizza. And in time honored tradition we bench raced our bodies. "If I do this, if I do that, you should really..." God how I love these lunatics...

So this morning I woke up a little stiff but so looking forward to the next 16 weeks of sweat and toil. I signed up for a couple of races yesterday to get my competitive edge back and to give me some concrete goals to work towards.

Back on the Boston Diet - or as I like to put it - the long, cruel summer...

And under the category of you can never have too much information:

BENEFITS AND ADVANTAGES OF TRAINING WITH A HEART RATE MONITOR

http://www.marathonguide.com/training/articles/HeartMonitorTraining.cfm

HEART TRAINING ZONES

http://www.brianmac.demon.co.uk/hrm1.htm

MAXIMUM HEART RATE STRESS TESTS

http://www.brianmac.demon.co.uk/hrm2.htm

WHAT IS LACTIC ACID? IS THERE EVEN SUCH A THING!?!

http://www.brianmac.demon.co.uk/lactic.htm

http://www.runningplanet.com/articles/article_detail.asp?article_id=739

http://sportsmedicine.about.com/cs/exercisephysiology/a/aa091301a.htm

http://www.time-to-run.com/theabc/lactic.htm

THE LACTATE THRESHOLD

http://home.hia.no/~stephens/lacthres.htm

AEROBIC ENDURANCE

http://www.brianmac.demon.co.uk/enduranc.htm

WHAT IS MAX VO2? WHY IS IT SO IMPORTANT? HOW DO YOU IMPROVE IT?

1. What are some different levels of VO2 max, and what do these numbers mean?

VO2 max values, typically expressed in ml/kg/min., can vary between 20 and 90 ml/kg/min. The average value for a sedentary American is about 35 ml/kg/min, while elite endurance athletes average about 70 ml/kg/min. Your sedentary VO2 max value is primarily determined by genetics (a sedentary person may have a VO2 max value as high as 50 ml/kg/min. or as low as 20 ml/kg/min). Although anyone can improve their sedentary VO2 max value through training, this genetic variation helps explain why everyone can't train themselves to be elite.

2. What are some of the highest levels of VO2 max ever recorded?

The highest VO2 max value ever recorded, 93 ml/kg/min, was from a Scandinavian cross country skier. Steve Prefontaine, at 84.4 ml/kg/min, had one of the highest VO2 max values recorded in elite runners. Grete Waitz had a VO2 max of 73 ml/kg/min. when she was running at her best, one of the highest recorded values for women and on par with the values for some elite men.

3. How do some elite runners make up for lower levels of VO2 max?

Although all elite runners have VO2 max values well above the population mean, the correlation between VO2 max and performance is not absolute. Derek Clayton only had a VO2 max of 69 ml/kg/min. and Frank Shorter only recorded a value of 71 ml/kg/min., yet both of these runners ran marathon times of under 2:11 and surely outperformed runners with higher values. This variation in VO2 max values among the elite is possible because VO2 max is only one of several factors that determine running performance. These other factors include mental attitude (ability to tolerate pain), running economy (how efficiently one runs), and lactate threshold (fastest pace you can maintain without accumulating large amounts of lactic acid in your blood). A runner with a relatively low VO2 max, but high in these other performance factors, could outperform a runner with a significantly higher VO2 max but with poor running economy and a low lactate threshold. For example, Derek Clayton and Frank Shorter compensated for their lower VO2 max values with their high efficiency and ability to run their marathons at a high percentage of their VO2 max without accumulating too much lactic acid (high lactate threshold).

http://www.brianmac.demon.co.uk/vo2max.htm

http://www.coolrunning.com/major/97/training/hampson.html
MAX VO2 Calculators

http://fig.cox.miami.edu/~cmallery/113/vo2max.htm

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sportacademy/bsp/hi/in_the_gym/html/default.stm

The Boston Marathon Qualifying Trilogy

2008-06-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

During a Winter and Spring that had more than its shares of personal ups and downs, and honestly, it often seemed more like a series of downs, my training for the Vancouver Marathon often hung by a thread. Fortunately for my marathon training, I had promised my good friend Paul that I would run his first marathon with him and he had chosen to come all the way from Paris to run in Vancouver. That promise, and the knowledge that Paul was indeed going to be showing up on my doorstep come the first week of May, compelled me out the door on many occasions where it seemed like I had neither the time nor the desire to train.

After my Father's illness in January and death in February, I had any number of priorities that took precedence over my training schedule. But in a show of loyalty and commitment to Paul, I did manage one or two runs during the week and I rarely missed a Sunday Long Run. Paul had a goal time of five hours and I spent every Sunday as the Pace Leader of a Five Hour Pace Group. So Paul and my five hour pace bunnies allowed me to run less for my own goals and objectives, and to run for other people and other reasons.

That, in and of itself, after my disastrous 2007 marathon year was a great thing. I have seldom enjoyed my Sunday runs more than I did this Spring and I have seldom enjoyed a marathon more than the 2008 Vancouver Marathon. Paul ran a 5:00:22 and I had the most fun I'd had in months. Paul stayed with me for a week, and when he flew back to Paris I moped around the house like I'd lost my best friend!

The next marathon clinic starts tomorrow and I'm entering the latest training cycle with the most enthusiasm I've had for running in ages. I won't lie; it was a major disappointment not to run the Boston Marathon in 2008 after running it in 2006 and 2007. But it only strengthened for me the great lure and appeal of the Boston Marathon. My friends Pat and Kevin both went to Boston this year, both ran great races, both re-qualified for Boston in Boston, and their joy and excitement and passion for the race helped rekindle my own enthusiasm.

The past two weeks I did something I haven't done in a couple of years, I managed to run five days in a row. Felt great. Felt hard. But great. My body has been soaking up sleep like a sponge. I have ached like I haven't ached in ages. It feels great. I've even lost ten pounds.

I still haven't decided on a Fall Marathon, but my choice will be predicated on re-qualifying for the Boston Marathon.

I'm looking forward to it.

Life's Tapestry

2008-04-11T10:40:00.000-07:00

Ran a very comfortable 30 kilometres last Sunday.

This week I couldn't find the chest strap for my heart rate monitor, so I went out for my runs sans strap and I even bagged my watch and just ran for the joy of running. Training? What training? Sometimes you have enough on your plate dealing with all the vagaries of life. Just running can be more than enough, and times and heart rates can often get in the way of enjoying the physical pleasures of turning over the miles. A quickened heartbeat, the sound of your feet on gravel and the quick uptake of cool air in the early morning are satisfying enough in themselves.

My life is still entirely caught up in dealing with my Father's death in February, and doing just enough training to get ready for the Vancouver Marathon on May 4 has been a blessing for my peace of mind. Thank God that my friend Paul is coming over from Paris to run Vancouver. It has been good to have commitments to others to take my mind off of my own running. That is one of the great reasons to be a Pace Group Leader on Sunday long runs. When I don't want to get out of bed at the crack of dawn on a cold, wet and blustery morning it is good to remind myself that I have obligations to others.

The same week as my Father's Memorial Service in March - within days, actually - a former paramour told me that she was pregnant, and although the news was slightly bittersweet, it was a powerful reminder that life goes on.

And this week, two of my oldest and closest friends both had their Father's pass away on Monday. Sobering news and if I wasn't already in an entirely introspective frame of mind, it would certainly have given me pause for thought.

Think it's time to go out for a run. Just to run.

Snow!

2008-03-28T11:47:00.000-07:00

We've had a solid week of cold, grey, wet, cold (did I mention how cold it's been?), miserable weather here in Vancouver. Leavened only occasionally by rare moments of sunshine as the sun struggles to find an opening in leaden, overcast skies. I have been hailed on twice this week! And this morning it has snowed for nearly two hours. Huge wet flakes are drifting past my window.

Already suffering through stiff legs, it has been a real effort to get out and run in such weather, as it seems to take miles to get warmed up.

And now I'd like some cheese to go with that whine...

Only 23K this Sunday. Thank God!

My Aching...

2008-03-27T08:46:00.000-07:00

My ass is dragging on the ground this morning. I did ten hill repeats (800 metres) with the Marathon Clinic last night, only except I didn't. I only managed to do nine and a half. I think that my 47 minute 10K on Friday, 32K on Sunday and a hard, fast 8K on Tuesday finally caught up with me. My legs felt like wooden pegs...

Exacerbating the situation was the rather bizarre weather we had yesterday afternoon in Vancouver. We had a great clapping thunderstorm with lots of lightning and thunder and buckets and buckets of pea-sized hail. In lots of areas it looked like it had snowed. And the temperature dropped to 42 degrees - 6 degrees Celsius. You could see your breath with every gasp and after a few laps of the hill, every runner was giving off steam like a racehorse. It took me two or three hills to get warmed up.

My heart rate was in the 166-168 range and by the end of the last few repeats I was popping up to 172-175. On repeat number 9 I saw 182....

....gasp*

So far this clinic I hadn't managed a single hill work-out, although my Friday long run almost always takes in a long hill, well over a mile in length, with a six to eight percent grade all the way.

My stamina and endurance were actually pretty good although I was sucking wind by the end, but on the last repetition I started to cramp up. Shades of the last few miles in a marathon!

Afterwards I got to hang out with my running buddies for what seemed like the first time in months. Which I guess it has been. Where does the time go? There is nothing quite as satisfying as a few beers and slices of pizza amongst friends after having busted your butt for something like a ten hill workout. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed the camaraderie of the people I run with.

It was a nice way to end the day. And I slept like a baby last night. Even with a sore ass.

** As I write this, my scone is badly undercooked and my coffee is burnt. F@@K!

The Long Way Home

2008-03-25T11:58:00.000-07:00

Ratcheted up the mileage a notch on Sunday and eked out the first twenty miler since January. The run wasn't difficult on Sunday, a little on the cool side at 43 degrees, and a light drizzle, but the mileage felt all right. And the sun actually peeked out in a few places by Noon. I did have to remind a few in the pace crew that nutrition was crucial to getting through the Sunday long runs. A bag of Sharkies is just not going to do it for twenty miles over four hours...

I should have been listening to my own advice... I didn't stop for breakfast, okay - brunch after over four hours of running - and as a result I wasn't quite myself all afternoon. I had friends over for a Sunday Easter Feast and it took me a few cheese and crackers and a few glasses of wine to get back up to speed.

The food was simply amazing and we washed it all down with a couple of spectacular bottles of wine, including a 1993 Chateau Certan Pomerol that smelled of a tack room redolent with well-worn saddles... It was an aroma that transported you back to the farm and all things equine. Topping it off were notes that reminded you of an after dinner Cohiba relished in a book-lined study. So much so that some guests raided my humidor.

That's the great thing about a twenty mile run. A hedonist may relish relatively guilt free pleasures for the next twenty hours....

Playing Catch Up

2008-03-22T17:05:00.000-07:00

What with all that's been going on, I've been struggling to re-establish my running routines.

I missed the last two Sunday runs because of my Father's Memorial Service and other obligations. You make plans and then the realities of life weigh in.

On the positive side, my weight has dropped back down to 203 - all praise sensible eating and a healthy lifestyle. And fewer bottles of wine!

I had a check up and my blood pressure has dropped down significantly from my stressed out 135/115 in mid-medical crisis, to 118/85 last week, but still a ways from December's 108/68!

This week I ran 23K, 21K and a fast - near race pace for me - 10K in 47:19. I did the 10K just to get a feel for where I was at and I did feel a little better after the run. My average heart rate was 162 and I finished with a pant-inducing 172. Last spring, my best 10K time was around 42 minutes. Sometime you just have to take what you can get!

Tomorrow I'll be doing my first twenty miler in two months.

Thankfully it will be followed by a Sunday Ham feast!

Errol Hemingson - A Celebration of Life

2008-03-13T11:42:00.000-07:00

I have been very touched by the response we got at my Father's Memorial Service, or as he would have preferred, "nautical-themed party", to the slide show we put together showing different periods and aspects of my Dad's life. A moving photo album set to music...

A Nautical Party for Errol Hemingson

2008-03-10T10:08:00.000-07:00

We had a little shindig for my old man on Sunday.

My Dad never wanted a "Funeral", or to be buried, or anything even remotely funeral-like or formal. Didn't want a religious Memorial Service, or a Wake, and if you are a non-believer, what they call a Celebration of Life. Stated simply, he wanted a party. With his family and friends.

In fact, he wanted a party with a nautical theme. So we did. I say we, because I never could have accomplished the task without the extraordinary efforts and help of many friends. Some deserve a special thanks. Without the help of Glenys and Justin and Cathy and Patrick and John in particular, I couldn't have pulled it off. Thank you all.

My Father was at the party, in both spirit and form. We had his ashes in the corner with his new boat-shaped urn, which is a rather beautiful ship's model of a gaff-rigged schooner capable of carrying ten pounds of cargo.

We put together a slide show of my Father's life, mostly of the early and later years, set to music and then recitations of Sea Fever; The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls; and Crossing the Bar. I think people enjoyed it. I spent the better part of two weeks with it, with Justin and Pat, and relived my childhood scanning photos. I say this because one would think that you would get a little distance from the photos after spending so much time with them. But I didn't. I was often brought to tears. When it was all assembled and put together and we ran it on the computer, I was brought to tears. When we did a dress rehearsal and sound check early Sunday morning, I was brought to tears. When we ran the film during the party I had to turn away, and when people asked to see it again, I watched it and shed a tear again.

Mondays, usually because of my long distance Sunday runs, have always been recovery days for me.

I didn't run yesterday, although my heart raced, but this Monday will be a recovery day as usual.

This is what I had to say about my Dad:

Some Thoughts on my Father.

Often times the hardest people to love are the ones who need it the most.

It's hard to describe someone like my Father unless you met him in person. I have lost count of the numbers of times over the years that, after introducing my friends to my Father for the first time, they would turn to me and say, "You really weren't kidding".

I can never remember a time in my life where my Father doesn't loom large, a figure to me often times more mythic than human.

Meeting Errol Hemingson for the first time was for many people an experience that they still haven't forgotten. It was, to put it mildly, often a shock. An eye-opening encounter with a force of nature. A little like falling off a boat unexpectedly. Which actually happened a few times.

My Father was not only physically imposing, but at times it seemed his body was not even large enough to contain his personality, character, dreams, ambitions and especially his voice. They all kind of just spilled over the top. And if you were standing too close, you might get Errol C Hemingson all over you.

My Dad didn't so much enter a room, as take it over. Like the Vikings coming ashore in Ireland. He was a complex man, who embraced and embodied all the glories and frailties, all the virtues and vices that make up the human condition. He was often exhilarating to be around, sometimes exasperating to be around, and occasionally exhausting. He was unique.

He marched to his own drummer and kept his own time. He did what he wanted, when he wanted and where he wanted. Heaven help the obstacles in his path.

Even if you didn't see him, you could probably hear him. And much as many of us often wished that he had come with a volume control knob, if you didn't hear from him, his voice was a sound that you missed.

The constant in my Father's life was his love of movement, adventure and what lay around the next bend in the road. He was his happiest when in a car, truck, RV, motorcycle, airplane or boat going somewhere.

He was someone who lived in more places than I can recall, who called wherever he hung his hat home. And if said home had wheels or could pull up anchor, so much the better.

My father was a gypsy, rover, traveler, cowboy and a rambling man. He was a restless spirit and could not stay in any one place for too long before the road beckoned him.

But my Father was not a loner, and wherever he went he sought out company. He made a friend in every place he stopped.

I think that nearly every pet and animal that we had growing up was a stray that Errol had picked up along the way. My Father had a soft spot and a weakness for the abandoned.

And in the company of others, my Father's appetites for a good story, a good meal and a good bottle of wine were as outsized as he was.

Over the years I lost track of the times I took him into the Emergency Room of a Hospital. If it could be said that Dad was often hard on men and equipment, he was even harder on himself.

And even when Doctor's said that Dad was at "Death's Door", I lost track of the number of times he bounced back. His powers of recuperation were nothing short of astonishing, right up until the end of his life.

Even last month, my Father was surprised that he wasn't going to confound the doctor's one last time. And when it was clear that his heart condition was going to restrict him in a way he could not accept, he once again did what he wanted to do.

A restless spirit, I hope that on his next journey my Father finds what he was searching for in this one.

Serenity, contentment, and peace of mind.

God speed, Dad and a safe harbor.

Sailing

2008-03-07T09:13:00.000-08:00

My Dad loved this song.

Sailing - by Christopher Cross

It's not far down to paradise
At least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away
And find tranquility
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

It's not far to never never land
No reason to pretend
And if the wind is right you can find the joy
Of innocence again
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

Sailing
Takes me away
To where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free

Fantasy
It gets the best of me
When I'm sailing
All caught up in the reverie
Every word is a symphony
Won't you believe me

It's not far back to sanity
At least it's not for me
And when the wind is right you can sail away
And find serenity
The canvas can do miracles
Just you wait and see
Believe me

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMkIuKXwmlU

Dad's Ashes

2008-03-07T08:59:00.000-08:00

My Dad came home yesterday. His ashes, that is.

The Funeral Home had called me last Thursday to say they were ready and it took me a full week to gather up whatever it was that I needed to gather up before I could get them.

What is left of my father now resides in a nondescript rectangular cardboard box about the size of a loaf of bread.

The box came in a plastic bag inscribed with the Funeral Home's name and insignia. They seem like nice people. They were the only place I called that did not try to sell me a long list of additional items at exorbitant, some might even say emotionally extortion-al prices. They were number five on the list.

Why, for instance would you want to cremate someone in a ten thousand dollar casket? That seems less like a show of "respect" and more like an expression of something I hesitate to hang a tag-line on.

Still, carrying your Father home in a cardboard box inside a plastic bag is an unsettling experience.

Putting him out on the table was something else entirely different. I was transfixed. I couldn't take my eyes off the box. If I left the room, I would find myself coming back just to look at it.

I had to leave the house and have dinner with a close friend because I couldn't be alone in the apartment with the box of Dad's ashes any longer.

Now I just have to find a boat-shaped urn.

But that's a whole other story.

I Believe in You

2008-03-06T09:21:00.000-08:00

I Believe in You - by Don Williams

I don't believe in superstars,
Organic food and foreign cars.
I don't believe the price of gold;
The certainty of growing old.
That right is right and left is wrong,
That north and south can't get along.
That east is east and west is west.
And being first is always best.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.

Well, I don't believe that heaven waits,
For only those who congregate.
I like to think of God as love:
He's down below, He's up above.
He's watching people everywhere.
He knows who does and doesn't care.
And I'm an ordinary man,
Sometimes I wonder who I am.

But I believe in love.
I believe in music.
I believe in magic.
And I believe in you.

Well, I know with all my certainty,
What's going on with you and me,
Is a good thing.
It's true, I believe in you.

I don't believe virginity,
Is as common as it used to be.
In working days and sleeping nights,
That black is black and white is white.
That Superman and Robin Hood,
Are still alive in Hollywood.
That gasoline's in short supply,
The rising cost of getting by.

But I believe in love.
I believe in old folks.
I believe in children.
I believe in you.

But I believe in love.
I believe in babies.
I believe in Mom and Dad.
And I believe in you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dj9xbE60HJg

Actual Stuff About Marathon Training and Running

2008-03-02T12:41:00.000-08:00

Since January I guess it has not been that surprising that my Father and his health, ill-health and eventual death on February 16 for all intents and purposes, pretty much took over my Blog.

My training for the Vancouver Marathon with my friend Paul, who is flying in all the way from Paris for the event, has been spotty at best.

But as I have advised hundreds of runners over the years in various clinics, I have tried to treat the Sunday Long Slow Distance runs as sacrosanct. I have only missed one Sunday run since the start of the clinic, and that was when I was in the Bahamas. But even there, I made a point of walking for at least sixty or ninety minutes per day at as brisk a pace as I could manage - when we were ashore that is.

I did the Pacific Road Runners "20th" Annual First Half Marathon three weeks ago in a time of 2:21:12 at an average heart rate of 118 beats per minute.

I have been the five hour pace group leader during this particular Marathon Clinic and that may well be my saving grace.

Our 26 K run took over three and a half hours, but my average heart rate was 114.

There have been a bunch of weeks where I have only found time to run once or twice during the week. Last week, I didn't get in any runs at all, but have been able to walk my dogs at least a couple of times per day for thirty minutes. That's if I have been in town at all...

I think I have only been to two Tuesday night clinic sessions. One Wednesday night run. It is now March 1!

Trying to juggle work, being Executor of my Father's estate (which makes it sound way more organized than it really is), my friends and relationships, plan a Memorial Service on March 9, and the daily routine of life has almost been more than I can handle.

And truthfully, it has. Ain't no house-keeping or laundry being done at Vince's house lately...

I went well over a month without a day off, not enough sleep, and I have tried to find solace and comfort in too much food accompanied by too many glasses of wine.

At two hundred and twelve pounds, I am the heaviest I can remember being in at least three, maybe even four years. Maybe even before the start of this Blog!

This morning we dropped back to 19 K - two hours and forty minutes - and at least my average heart rate was 114.

Back in December, my blood pressure and resting heart rate during a medical check up were 108/65 and 54 (after two cups of coffee and climbing several flights of stairs I might add). Usually, first thing in the morning lying in bed, I am 44-48 bpm.

In February, after visiting my Dad in the Palliative Care Ward, a similar medical examination produced a blood pressure reading of 135/95 and a resting heart rate of 74. I thought I might have a heart attack right there.

Hopefully by the middle of March, and once my Father's Memorial Service - Wake has been taken care of, I can go back to taking care of myself.

Run a little more, sleep a little easier, and pay much closer attention to a healthier diet and lifestyle.

Come the Vancouver Marathon, anything close to a five hour finishing time will seem like a huge victory.

Butler Mountain's Errol Hemingson dies at 69

2008-03-01T12:45:00.000-08:00

Butler Mountain's Hemingson dies at 69

2008-02-28 14:43 ET - Street Wire

by Stockwatch Business Reporter - www.stockwatch.com

Errol Hemingson, the prototypical Vancouver stock promoter

with the booming voice and the nickname Foghorn, died of

congestive heart failure on Feb. 16, 2008, at 69. He was a

week shy of his 70th birthday.

The larger-than-life Mr. Hemingson joined the Howe Street

mining scene in the 1980s. His best-remembered company

was Butler Mountain Minerals Corp., which won the

Vancouver Stock Exchange's annual volume contest more

than 25 years ago. There were many others, including

Toodoggone Gold Inc., which also never made a mine, but

did provide a motherlode of interest at the B.C. Securities

Commission and a 20-year hiatus from public companies for

Mr. Hemingson.

Growing up

Errol Cecil Hemingson was born on Feb. 23, 1938, in Portage

La Prairie, Man. He was the second child of Norman and Ivy

Hemingson, arriving between his brother Vincent and his sister

Delores.

He grew up on a farm, which meant a lot of hard work. His friend

Bob Swenarchuck remembers him talking about the wheat harvest:

building stooks and working the threshing machine.

The farm boy quit school after Grade 9 and joined the Hudson's

Bay Company in Churchill, Man., heading north as a fur trader.

At 20, Mr. Hemingson followed his uncle Alfred into the navy,

serving from 1958-1959, allegedly becoming the Pacific Fleet's

heavyweight boxing champion. He was stationed in Esquimalt, B.C.,

working as a radioman on a submarine.

His first marriage

As the sailor's brief naval stint was ending, he attended a

Christmas dance, where he found himself enchanted with

a fetching young lady named Sally Furneaux. She was

getting her teaching certificate at the newly opened University

of Victoria. Life with her looked much better than life on a

submarine, and Mr. Hemingson got an honourable discharge

from the navy. The couple was married almost immediately,

and moved back to Manitoba where their first child, Vincent,

was born in 1960. Bradley arrived in 1961 and a third son,

Kent, in 1965. The Hemingsons adopted their daughter

Charlene in 1966. "After three boys, my mother wanted a

daughter," says Mr. Hemingson's son Vincent.

In Manitoba, Mr. Hemingson worked for Allis-Chalmers Rumley

Ltd., selling tractors and heavy machinery. In sales he found his

calling, rising to vice-president of Western Canada. Prompted

perhaps by his wife's experience at the University of Victoria,

Mr. Hemingson started classes at night school. He completed

his high school equivalency and then took undergraduate courses

in agriculture and mining.

A move west

In the early 1970s, the family moved to Vancouver Island and

Mr. Hemingson started Hemingson's Water Services, a pumping

company. Sally also started teaching at French Creek Elementary

School. Mr. Hemingson took up sailing with Gerry Thompson,

a friend he met through his pumping business. Sailing, along with

mining, became his passion. His boat, a CT-37 called the Stone Raven,

is a fixture in many of the best stories about him.

The good salesman got his start in mining promotion through Leif

Ostensoe, a geologist with many connections to penny stocks

and the Vancouver Stock Exchange. Mr. Hemingson's son

Vincent remembers seeing Mr. Ostensoe at their farm on

Vancouver Island in the mid-1970s. At the time, Mr. Ostensoe

was looking for copper in the Highland Valley with his company

named Lawrence Mining Corp. "Like all good promoters, Leif

got some of my dad's money, and he had so much into it that

he started helping Leif raise money," Bradley Hemingson says.

To the mainland

Mr. Hemingson set sail for Vancouver in 1979. Two things

prompted the move: his promoting required it, and his

marriage to Sally was ending (they divorced in 1980).

"Like most larger-than-life characters who are used to getting

their own way ... [my dad] didn't always have the world's best

conflict-resolution skills," Vincent explains. "If he didn't ge

t what he wanted the first time, he might just turn up the volume."

Bradley, now a broker at Leede Financial Markets Inc.,

remembers his father's penchant for speaking loudly as well.

"My dad would phone me up, 'You know, I got this idea' and

I'd say 'I'm not interested.' He'd yell and scream and jump up

and down. Some times you'd hold the phone about two feet from

your ear. Then he'd get over it."

After arriving in Vancouver, Mr. Hemingson started promoting

Butler Mountain. It had a polymetallic property in the Yukon and

some good drilling results, but it never became a mine.

Mr. Hemingson promoted Butler enthusiastically. With good drill

results, and as one of the VSE's volume leaders in the early 1980s,

the promoter fancied a listing on the prestigious Toronto Stock

Exchange. The Butler never quite made it to that pinnacle of

Canadian stock prestige, but one business associate from those

days, who wishes to remain nameless, remembers entertaining a

delegation from Toronto on the Stone Raven. After a long night

of partying, the gentle rocking action of a Coal Harbour dock

proved too much for the anonymous associate's novice sea legs.

Walking down the gangplank, "One foot went one way and the other

foot went the other," he says of the dunking. Mr. Hemingson

never could lure him onto the water after that mishap.

Mr. Hemingson often partied: with friends, without friends;

on his boat, off his boat. "My father had a love affair with the grape

that was never unrequited. No meal was complete without a bottle

of wine," Vincent says. Mr. Hemingson's drinking was not good

for his health; he had his first heart attack when he was 46 and

was a frequent patron of the Canadian health system in the

following years.

His second marriage

In 1988, after a string of young, attractive girlfriends,

the promoter married Alexa Gilbert. He met her at

his friend Bob Swenarchuck's wedding in 1986. "I said,

'Errol, you've got to come and meet this gorgeous lady...

' and they sat down together and they didn't move for

three hours," Mr. Swenarchuck remembers.

Toodoggone Gold

Around the same time he married Ms. Gilbert, Mr. Hemingson

was busy with his latest venture, Toodoggone Gold.

The company had incorporated in 1987, with three directors:

Mr. Hemingson, Howard Andersen and Gordon Steblin.

Mr. Hemingson's son Vincent joined the board in May, 1988.

It listed on the VSE on Sept. 19, 1988.

Mr. Anderson and Mr. Steblin resigned in December, 1988,

the result of a squabble with Mr. Hemingson that had started

as the company was working on its $300,000 initial public

offering in August. Ms. Gilbert and James Regan joined the

board in their place.

By then, Mr. Hemingson's custodianship had left the company

with $32,000 in its bank account and he and his new wife were

on a sailing trip in Mexico.

The BCSC was not amused and held a hearing into

Mr. Hemingson's casual management practices in 1990.

The result was a 20-year ban from trading and acting as an

officer or director of a public issuer. At the time, it was the

longest ban the commission had ever handed out.

Sailing in Mexico

Mr. Hemingson and Ms. Gilbert did not attend their BCSC

hearing; they were busy sailing the Stone Raven on the

Sea of Cortez.

It was an exciting trip, missed hearings aside. Ms. Gilbert

remembers an eventful few days at the start of the trip.

They were cruising along when a freak summer storm

forced them to put in at Embarcadero, a small Oregon port

near Newport. It is a tricky passage. Compounding matters,

the pilot Mr. Hemingson hired did not have the right charts,

and the Stone Raven got stuck on a sandbar.

She started taking on water, and the Coast Guard showed

up to rescue the passengers. Ms. Gilbert and four tourists

the Hemingsons had acquired for the trip were taken off the

boat; Mr. Hemingson and the pilot stayed on to save what

they could of the ship's electronics and papers.

When the tide rose, Mr. Hemingson managed to sail into port.

He was drying the ship's papers on the dock when the Coast

Guard approached him.

"Stone Raven?" asked the white-clad officer, his sidearm clearly

resting on his hip.

"Yes," Mr. Hemingson answered.

"You're under arrest."

It turned out the Coast Guard was looking for the Stoned Raven,

a boat it suspected of smuggling drugs. To clear up the

confusion, Mr. Hemingson went to show the officer the

Stone Raven's registration, which was drying on the dock.

Whoosh! along came a gust of wind and away went the

precious papers.

The Coast Guard confined Mr. Hemingson and his fellow

sailors to the Stone Raven for two days before Vincent

faxed the ship's papers from Vancouver and proved his

father was not a drug runner.

Mr. Hemingson's second marriage lasted two years.

Life after Toodoggone

"There's lots of guys out there who'll put together a shell,

... and their goal is to get as much five-cent stock as they

can, tell a story and sell ... at the highest price they possibly

can and fill their pockets. The only time my dad ever made

money is when the drill hole succeeded," says Bradley.

"If he didn't have something real to promote, he was doomed.

More than once I know he blew himself up buying his own

paper ... he just wanted to find a mine."

Working under the BCSC's cloud was hard, but not impossible.

Mr. Hemingson just had to go farther afield and settle for a

regular job. After Toodoggone, the irrepressible promoter began

splitting his time between Canada and the United States, where

he promoted stocks under the radar. He did some work for his

close friend, the late Arthur Fisher, on his deal in Vietnam, which

became Olympus Pacific Minerals Inc. The last company where

he helped out was Inspiration Mining Corp., a potential nickel

miner in Ontario.

Randy Miller, the president of Inspiration, says Mr. Hemingson

drove his 45-foot motorhome to the property in Timmins. He lined

up drillers and set up the core shack. He got the results that

started the company moving and helped with the first financing.

"There's not a lot to do in Timmins, so we'd sit around and shoot

the shit and discuss the deal. I will miss him, that's for sure,"

Mr. Miller says.

"He was closer in style to Murray Pezim, I think, than today's

promoters," says Reg Ogden, a Canaccord broker of many years

who knew Mr. Hemingson well. "He had an extremely high energy

level." Mr. Ogden chuckles when he tells a story about

Mr. Hemingson and the equally hefty Mr. Fisher falling from the

moped they had to share on the poor roads of Vietnam.

Mr. Hemingson is survived by his four children, his brother

and sister, his three grandchildren, and his two ex-wives.

His family will hold a wake on March 9 at the False Creek

Yacht Club, starting at 3:30 p.m. Stories are welcome.

Mama, Don't Let Your Babies Grow up to be Cowboys

2008-03-01T12:18:00.000-08:00

Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Cowboys ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
And they'd rather give you a song then diamonds or gold
Lonestar belt buckles and old faded Levi's each night begins a new day
And if you don't understand him and he don't die young
He'll probly just ride away

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Cowboys like smokey old pool rooms and clear mountian moringin's
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night
And them that don't know him won't like him
And them that do sometimes won't know how to take him
He ain't wrong he's just different
but his pride won't let him do things to make you think he's right

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
They'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ngbcsxFET68

Errol C. Hemingson, Obituary

2008-02-22T07:24:00.000-08:00

remembering.ca > Vancouver home

View/Sign Guestbook

Errol C. Hemingson

HEMINGSON Errol C., born February 23, 1938,
passed away in his sleep in the early hours
of Saturday, February 16, 2008 in the
Palliative Care Ward at St. Paul's Hospital
just a few days short of his 70th birthday.

The second son of Norman and Ivy (nee Morrow)
Hemingson, Errol was born in Portage La Prairie,
Manitoba and is survived by his brother
Vincent Hemingson and sister, Delores Hill.
Errol is also survived by his sons Vince, Brad
and Kent and his daughter Charlene Bienvenu,
whom he had with his first wife, Sally Hemingson.
Brad and Margaret Hemingson gifted Errol with
three beautiful grandchildren, Stewart, Alastair
and Mhairi.

Errol served in the Royal Canadian Navy from
1958-1959 where he was stationed at HMCS
Naden in Esquimalt, where like many young
men from the prairies, he developed a
profound love of the sea. After leaving the
Navy and returning to Winnipeg, Manitoba,
Errol was an accomplished salesman with
Allis-Chalmers Rumley Ltd., traveling all
across Western Canada. After deciding to
spend more time at home with his family,
Errol moved to Vancouver Island, where
he owned several successful small businesses
in the Parksville and Nanaimo areas.

During this time Errol was an avid horseman
and hobby farmer. Shortly after moving to
the West Coast, Errol purchased the first of
what were to be many sea-going vessels,
from fishing boats and sail boats to pleasure
cruisers. Errol was also an avid car and
motorcycle enthusiast, a pilot and for a
time had a Cessna 172 which he loved to fly.

After moving to Vancouver in the early '80's,
Errol was a well-known and affectionately
controversial Howe Street stock promoter
in the junior mining sector of the
Vancouver Stock Exchange. A number of his
public companies received a tremendous
amount of publicity and it was a life-long
dream of Errol's to find and put into
production a working mine. Few things
in life made him happier than the
excitement of prospecting, staking claims
and running a drilling program. He was a
Vancouver stock promoter in the grand
old tradition. There was no part of the
mining business for which he was not
fiercely passionate. He is perhaps best
remembered for his company, Butler
Mountain Minerals Corporation.

After his first marriage ended in 1980,
Errol remarried again in 1987 to Alexa
Mieklejohn. Sadly, that marriage ended
in divorce as well. In Errol's own
words, "I had two wonderful wives, three
beautiful sons and a daughter who
was a miracle. That's not a bad life".

Due to increasing problems with his health
and a desire to spend more time in
warmer climates, Errol sailed to Mexico
in 1987 aboard his beloved ketch, the
Stone Raven. It was the first of many
trips to Mexico, the southern United
States and the Caribbean. In his later
years, Errol divided his time between
Canada and the United States, and
with his spirit of adventure still intact,
traveled all over the world.

Errol Hemingson was a cowboy, miner,
sailor, bon vivant, and raconteur with
a reputation for being able to talk the
birds out of the trees. He was a larger
than life figure who left an indelible
impression, and a character in the
grandest of traditions.

A Celebration of Life Service will be held
to remember Errol at the False Creek
Yacht Club, 1661 Granville Street, on
Sunday, March 9 starting at 3:00 PM.
www.fcyc.com Any who knew Errol,
family and friends, are welcome to
attend.

In lieu of flowers, Errol
requested that donations be made to
St. Paul's Hospital
- www.providencehealthcare.ca

For more information contact
Vince Hemingson (604) 331-0333
Published in the Vancouver Sun and/or The Province on 2/22/2008.

Guest Book

http://legacy.com/can-vancouver/GB/GuestbookView.aspx?PersonId=103997417

Errol Hemingson - In Loving Memory

2008-02-21T11:48:00.000-08:00

Dad in Freeport, Bahamas on January 22, 2008

Captain Hemingson of the Dream Chaser

Errol Hemingson's Memorial Service and Wake

2008-02-19T21:41:00.000-08:00

Dear Friends and Family,

As Dad requested, we will be holding a Memorial Service and Wake; a celebration of Dad's life on Sunday, March 9, starting at 3:00 PM and lasting as long as the stories hold out or until they kick us out. Apparently the liquor license is good until 1:00 AM.

Food, and it will be fabulous, and libations - the beer, wine and whiskey is on Dad, the rest is between you and the bartender - will be provided.

Please bring a smile, a sense of humour and a story or memorable moment with Errol to share. Any event commemorating the life and times of Errol C. Hemingson will of course have a microphone.

If you have any great photos of Dad, please bring them, because we'll scan them on the spot.

The event will take place at the False Creek Yacht Club and overlooks many of Dad's favorite places in Vancouver, including Granville Island and Bridge's Restaurant and Pub, and the last place where the Stone Raven was moored before he left on his first epic voyage to Mexico. Photos and stories of Dad's last great sailing adventure in the Bahamas can be seen at www.bostonorbust.ca Because all great promoters have a dog and pony show, we'll be doing a slide show of Dad's life. We can all laugh and cry together. The sideburns from 1974 still get me.

The Yacht Club is located at 1661 Granville Street, (under the Granville Street Bridge on the north side of False Creek), Vancouver, BC V6Z 1N3, (604) 682-3614. A map to the site can found on the Yacht Club's web site at www.fcyc.com

In lieu of flowers, my Father wanted people to make donations, should they so desire, to St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver.

Arrangements for donations can be made on the St. Paul's Hospital web site - www.providencehealthcare.ca

On the front page of the web site there is a Link to "Donations", and it takes you to the St. Paul's Hospital Foundation. The Official Charitable Registration Number: 11925 7939 RR0001 If you have any questions about Donations, you can call St. Paul's Hospital Foundation at (604) 682-8206 or fax (604) 806-8326.

Please forward this message to anyone you think would be interested.

If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call me at (604) 331-0333. I would appreciate a quick note telling me if you will be coming, known more formally as an RSVP. But, rest assured, Dad was never that formal. Please come, bring family.

Best Wishes and Warmest Affections, Vince Hemingson

101 - 3131 West 4th Avenue,

Vancouver, BC V6K 1R6

Small Miracles and Selfless Acts

2008-02-18T10:28:00.000-08:00

In accordance with my Father's wishes as expressed in his Living Will to be an Organ Donor, after he died, he was able, as his last act, to donate his eyes.

His decision to be an Organ Donor meant that his corneas and retinas were harvested shortly after his death and will enable several people to regain their vision.

I can only imagine what it must have been like to see the world through my Father's eyes, but whomever received those donations, will be getting facets of eyes that saw the world through a unique prism and in nearly seventy years saw an extraordinary number of people, places and experiences.

That his eyes will go on seeing, that in his last act he was able to help other people see, would have meant a great deal to my Father.

In lieu of flowers, my Father wanted people to make donations, should they so desire, to St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver.

Arrangements for donations can be made on the St. Paul's Hospital web site -

www.providencehealthcare.ca

On the front page of the web site there is a Link to "Donations", and it takes you to the St. Paul's Hospital Foundation.

The Official Charitable Registration Number: 11925 7939 RR0001

If you have any questions about Donations, you can cal St. Paul's Hospital Foundation at (604) 682-8206 or fax (604) 806-8326.

I am still in awe of the kind care that Dad received from the wonderful Staff, Nurses and Doctors in the Coronary Care Unit and in the Palliative Care Ward. Donations made to either of those two units would be greatly appreciated.

On a personal note, thank you on behalf of myself and all of our family for your heartfelt messages of sympathy and your condolences. They are greatly appreciated.

Dad - Errol Hemingson, Has Passed Away

2008-02-16T05:37:00.001-08:00

Dear Family and Friends,

At approximately 4:00 am this morning, Saturday, February 16, Dad passed away in his sleep in the Palliative Ward at St. Paul's Hospital in Vancouver, BC, Canada. Dad was just a few days shy of his 70th Birthday on February 23.

Dad saw both myself and my brother Brad and his family on Friday.

Dad's last words to Brad were "I love you", and to me he whispered, "It's been good, now it's time to end this."

Dad was listening to a compilation of Classical Music given to him by my brother Kent, so the last thing he heard was the best of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, and Vivaldi's Four Seasons, among others.

In lieu of flowers, please feel free if you so desire, to make a charitable donation to St. Paul's Hospital.

It was Dad's wish to be cremated, and a Wake/Memorial Service/Celebration of Life will be announced shortly.

If you would like to ask me anything, please don't hesitate to call me at (604) 331-0333.

Pictures of Dad's last trip in the Bahamas aboard the Dream Chaser can be seen at www.bostonorbust.ca

Thank you again on behalf of Dad and our family for your many expressions of support, sympathy and kindness.

Please feel free to forward this message to anyone you think appropriate.

Best Wishes and Warmest Affection, Vince Hemingson

!01 - 3131 West 4th Avenue

Vancouver, BC

Canada V6K 1R6

The tide rises, the tide falls,
The twilight darkens, the curlew calls;
Along the sea-sands damp and brown
The traveler hastens toward the town,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Darkness settles on roofs and walls,
But the sea, the sea in darkness calls;
The little waves, with their soft, white hands
Efface the footprints in the sands,
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

The morning breaks; the steeds in their stalls
Stamp and neigh, as the hostler calls;
The day returns, but nevermore
Returns the traveler to the shore.
And the tide rises, the tide falls.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Errol Hemingson and The Dresser

2008-02-13T14:38:00.000-08:00

There was a fabulous British film made about the English theatre during the Second World War, in 1983 starring Albert Finney and Tom Courtney, aptly called, "The Dresser".

Albert Finney plays a formerly renowned Shakespearean actor on his last legs, addressed only as, "Sir"and Tom Courtney plays the man behind the scenes back-stage - Norman - who helps Finney with his make-up, feeds him his lines, rehearses his lines with him, and helps with his costume changes between scenes.

Despite Sir's increasing frailty, memory lapses and clearly diminishing physical strength, Sir rouses himself every time he goes on stage. Once he is in the full glare of the stage-lights he gives his all to every performance. I won't give away any plot points, but the film is a gem and well worth seeing. In fact, Sir's last performance of King Lear, which he has played "227 times", is acknowledged as being perhaps the greatest of his life. It is also his last. Okay, 'one' plot point...

My Father, of course, is Albert Finney. I am Tom Courtney. I have seen my Dad for long hours every single day since he was first admitted to the hospital, when he is weak, when he is strong and every shade and variation in between.

As Dad's illness has progressed and his health declined, he has treasured every visitor he has received, like any great performer or actor, like the great story-teller he is. There was a reason my father spent his life in sales and was damn good at it. He too, performs best in the spot-light, at center stage.

I in turn have tried to keep as many people as possible informed of Dad's condition through e-mail messages, phones calls and the like. People who drop by to visit my father almost invariably come away with an impression that he is in remarkably good health.

Afterwards, nearly every single visitor has called me up and said to me, "Vinnie, what the Hell are you talking about? He looks and sounds great! He looks like he could get up off of that bed and walk out of that room next week!" Everyone thinks I am the great pessimist.

But what they are really seeing is my Father rising to the occasion of their visit or their phone call like the great performer that he has always been. My Father is an old lion making one last stand. Giving his Great Mane one last shake. He still roars, but there is no chase. Snarls, but does not bite.

Today my Father said he was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He has had enough. He has told the doctors that he wants no more treatment, no more pills and no more medications except those that help with pain or nausea.

And to that end, my Father has been transferred to St. Paul's Hospital Palliative Care Unit on the tenth floor. The Staff are wonderful and it is now all about making the Old Lion as comfortable as possible.

Errol Hemingson - A Note for Friends and family

2008-02-12T17:38:00.000-08:00

Dear Family and Friends,

Dad is not doing nearly as well we would all like, nor as well as his first progress under initial treatment indicated.

Sometimes, no matter how big your heart is, nor how matter how hard you fight, the fight does not turn in your favor.

Sometimes, you lose the close decision.

Dad's congestive heart disease has not responded as well as everyone had hoped to the kidney dialysis, nor to medical intervention.

His current well-being and health have been compromised by his diabetes, heart disease and other existing medical conditions.

In accordance with Dad's Living Will, which he authorized over a year ago, we are following the medical protocols he set out for the end of his life.

As of today, Dad will no longer be receiving kidney dialysis. No heroic measures will be taken to sustain his life.

Dad wanted to die as he lived, with freedom of choice, dignity and his self-esteem and self-respect intact.

All of these decisions have been made while Dad is fully lucid, and aware of the decisions he is making. He is, as always, in control of his life.

Dad will be receiving aide from Palliative Care, to ensure that his remaining days are as comfortable and as pain free as possible.

There is no way to determine how much time Dad has left, but he is in the last stages of his life. He considers his life to have been
a blessed one, a lucky one and a full one. He treasures all of his adventures, his life experiences and the friends he has made along the way.
Dad feels and has said explicitly that he was married to two "wonderful women", had "three beautiful sons" and a daughter who was a "miracle".

Dad's family and friends are uppermost in his thoughts, and he has asked me to convey to all of you his profound love and gratitude for being part of his life.

If time permits, Dad will be transferred from St. Paul's Hospital to a Hospice.

Dad does NOT want a "funeral". He would like, in the end, to be remembered in one last "party" and a Wake.
At such a time, you will of course all be notified of the Time, Location and Whereabouts..

If you have things to say to Dad, now is the time to say them. Life is too short for regrets.

On a personal note, I feel that my primary responsibility is to see to Dad, his comfort and to his last wishes.
I have taken time off work to spend as much time with dad as possible.

I hope you will understand if I do not respond as quickly as I might otherwise to your inquiries.

On a technical note, Dad's Cell phone seems not to be working.

Dad can still be reached at St. Paul's Hospital, the Coronary Care Unit, Wing 5A, Room 5003, Tel: (604) 684-6532 - Ext: 67503.

On a further personal note, if I fail to appear for social obligations, or return calls and messages in a timely matter, I trust you will understand.

Please do hesitate to forward this e-mail to anyone you think might be interested in being appraised of Dad's condition.

With much love and affection, Vince Hemingson
101 - 3131 West 4th Avenue
Vancouver, BC
Canada, V6K 1R6
Tel: (604) 331-0333
Cell: (778) 987-0729

Do Not Go Gentle nto That Good Night...

2008-02-06T00:05:00.000-08:00

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

The Crossing of the Bar

2008-02-06T00:00:00.000-08:00

Crossing the Bar

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea.

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home!  Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark! And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For though from out our bourn of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crost the bar.

Down to the Sea in Ships....

2008-02-05T23:53:00.000-08:00

Sea-Fever

I MUST down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide	5
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;	10
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over. John Masefield

Bahamas Adventure - Headed Home for Vancouver, Canada

2008-02-03T01:09:00.000-08:00

Lear Jet 35 Air Ambulance - A Cigar Tube with Wings,

And Not Much Room. None for Luggage!

Almost Home

Captain Vince - Born Three Hundred Years Too Late For the Caribbean

Dream Chaser - The Name Says it All

Final Days in Nassau, Bahamas

2008-02-03T00:49:00.001-08:00

Small Craft Warning - Squalls, Rain and Waves

Rum Cures the Rain...

Air Ambulance from Nassau to Vancouver - Ambulance to Ambulance Delivery

Lear Jet 35 - Emergency Room With Wings - No Room for Luggage