Vancouver

Most of the staff in the stores and in the Hotels speak English with a discernable accent. Even though English is their second or third language it is impeccable. This makes you feel like you have two left feet.

You give up trying to get advice about buses, you think you will be able to figure it out except the buses no longer go where you think they should, given their numbers, and you don’t pick them up on the same street you used too. Since you don’t want to run back to your hotel, to use the computer to google your questions, you ask a young girl. She is stapling a poster for an indie rock concert to a hydro pole. She gives you a blank look. You could have sworn she was a native.

The Grouse grind is a lot harder to climb than you think. You doubt anyone ever runs up this thing. The most you can manage is a walk at railway pace. By the halfway mark you are visibly slower.

Nine out of ten people doing the Grind are Asian or of Asian decent. One out of three people, including you, are wearing something from Lululemon. Only three people pass you. Two of them are guys, you can hear them coming up behind you so you move to the side to of the trail to let them pass.

The Grind is mostly stairs made of wood, mud and rock. The wooden risers vary in height from a few inches to more than a foot high, making any kind of consistent pace unattainable. Mud and water trickle down the Grind in equal amounts.

You spend a lot of time trying to dodge around slower people. You think to yourself they must know you are behind them since you are breathing heavily and loudly, so why don’t they move? You also think to yourself that maybe you’re a tiny bit impatient. Terrified of slipping you keep your eyes fastened on the ground.

After an eternity you pass the quarter mark then after an eon the halfway mark. Another eon goes by and you overhear a girl, talking into her cell phone, saying she thinks she is near the top. Unbelieving you lift your head to see sunshine pouring through a big hole in the trees. Suddenly new energy courses through your limbs.

You feel something touching your right arm. You look down to see a women, older than you, her brown muscular legs and arms and lithe body make you envious especially when you realize the reason you didn’t know she was there is because she’s not even winded. Feeling guilty you step aside and say, sorry, watching as she bounds effortlessly in front of you.

Finally you pop out onto the rock exhilarated that you have finished. You look at your watch to see it has taken you fifty-five minutes. Later when you tell your son, he says, I thought you would be faster. Your sister says, that’s not bad.