If  Hulk and I were gnomes. 

The number of years since I last wrote a blog entry and since I married Hulk.

Just a few months ago, on our second anniversary, Hulk and I moved into a brand new house. It’s double the size of our previous house, closer to my work and gives us enough room to finally host my whole family. 

I absolutely love it.

We quickly started to fill the rooms with furniture, knickknacks, and photos – you know, the things that make a house a home.

However, there is one room that remains vacant. A room that remains untouched except for the occasional vacuum. It’s the room my husband calls the future nursery. I call it the empty room.

Today, two years later, we are still two.

We knew starting a family would be hard as I have a condition that is known to cause problems. What we didn’t know was that we would face much bigger obstacles, ones that baffle doctors and that make the chances of us conceiving on our own slim to none.

So here we are, just two, but with months of testing and waiting ahead of us, or the prospect of having to pay a truck load of money for IVF for a chance to be three. A chance, not a guarantee.

A friend recently asked me if I was sure I wanted children as we watched her own flail around wildly, as children sometimes do. A harmless comment from a sometimes frustrated mom is like a sucker punch to my gut. But my answer is always yes. I want the opportunity to have what others have, what is natural and effortless to so many. I’ll take the yelling and time outs over the heartbreak and pain I’ve felt in the last two years any day of the week.

Although it has been a struggle with lots of frustration, tears and me eating my feelings to the point where I am back at “before” weight, the most important thing is that I haven’t lost Hulk. We are still two, a couple and partners for life.

I can see how this whole process can destroy a marriage, and how easy it would be to give up, both on the idea of a family and the relationship, but I am in no way willing to do that.

I’ll keep dreaming and hoping for three.



As a child, weddings were regular events played out by my toys. Having been gifted Tracy and Todd (a set of husband and wife dolls complete in wedding attire) one Christmas, I would arrange other dolls and figurines of various sizes into an audience and have the bride and groom process, stand in front of their closest inanimate friends and exchange vows in front a Barbie doll missing her half of her hair. It was a classy and dignified affair.

But as I grew older, the dolls were thrown out or donated, and the thoughts of marriage went with them. I never pictured myself in the place of Barbie's cousin Tracy. I didn't have a longing for the white dress, the big fanfare or the handsome husband. Weddings were events my friends had and I stood on the periphery, only a guest or a bridesmaid, never a bride.

And then two weeks ago, after 14 months of planning, saving and fretting, I found myself standing at an altar and saying I do. I officially became Mrs. Hulk.

To say the events were surreal would be an understatement. Even though I was the one in the white lace dress standing in front of our friends and family and saying I do, it never felt like it was my day. I didn't cry over our vows, I didn't feel all that nervous about speaking in front of the crowd and I only tripped over my dress half a dozen times. Despite small hiccups, the day was fantastic and now I get to call the guy I love with all of my heart my husband for the rest of my life.

It’s amazing how childhood fantasies can be crushed by the cynicism of youth and young adult life, but it’s even more amazing that you can find the happiness you deserve despite it all. And as some of my family pointed out, I am ridiculously and obnoxiously happy. 


I’m a better follower

I fully admit I’m not the best teacher.

There are times where my brain seems to fire too fast and my mouth doesn’t keep pace or I end up taking the long way to arrive at my point and I scramble to find answers to questions. This is why I prefer to write so that I can arrange all of my thoughts and try to make some sense of things. Emphasis on the TRY.

When Hulk made the decision to run, I was 100 per cent behind him. To help him train, I created a free plan using smartcoach on Runner’s World. I had him running less frequently but overall faster than I would because I wanted him to have a great time. Yonge Street 10k - Look at me go! Photo courtesy of Linda

Now, I never noticed that runner speak was that complicated. I never had trouble distinguishing between steady, speed, tempo or long runs so I wasn’t prepared for questions or having to justify why training plans are built the way they are. I’ve just trusted the training plan and couldn’t see why anyone else could not. This caused me to get unnecessarily frustrated on several occasions. I had to learn that not everything is a simple as I think that it is and be more patient because it wasn’t my race.

So after several weeks of training, Hulk made it to the finish line, and faster than I had him target – 50 minutes! Sadly, he may have been able to go even faster if he hadn’t been following my advice. Sorry!

The Yonge Street 10k was a great race for him, for jainey who again improved on his kickass time, and our friend Pepper, who also had a PB. As for me? Well, I finished and that’s all that ever matters.

So what now? Well, Hulk is now mulling over the option to run a half in the fall. Or next year.

I have to say, despite my never wanting a partner that runs, I am REALLY enjoying our Sunday runs together. And by together I mean that I tell him to start running, I watch him run WAY ahead of me and he’s already showered and dressed by the time I get back from the run.

And so the training continues.


Update by the Numbers

229 – Days until my wedding.

174 – the number my scale has been displaying for the last month

11 – pounds that I have gained since the marathon. oops.

6 – the number of dresses that I tried on when I went wedding dress shopping.

1 – the number of shopping trips that I wanted to go on to find “the” dress.

14 – the size of the wedding dress I ordered.

3 – the number of times I wanted to kick the manager at David’s Bridal in the taco when I was trying on dresses. The last one was for when she thought I should really order the 14W.

0 – how much motivation I have to lose any weight right now.

7 – weeks until the 10k

1430 – calories tracked for the day

1 – day of 229 that I need to stay on track.

Wish me luck?


New Year = New Running Plans

I’ve always felt blessed to have made some great friends through my adventures in running. It’s been amazing that I’ve also been able to share the sport with important people in my life. From my little brother inspiring me to run my very first 5k to friends made at different Running Room clinics in the GTA and now having friends take up running and sharing their triumphs, I have so much to keep me motivated.

Last year was a big year for me and I was lucky to have Hulk see me through an injury that I thought was going to crush my dreams of running the New York marathon but instead saw him cheering me along the way of 26.2 mile journey.

What I didn’t know was that our Big Apple experience left a huge mark not only on me but on him as well. My post-marathon mantra of “NEVER AGAIN!” was met with “Really? I think that I want to run one now.”


I know that I’ve said before that I never want to have a runner as a partner but I feel as though this is different. This is him wanting to share in that experience. It’s not about comparing pacing, talking race strategy and training methods.

And with that, we’ve planned to run the Toronto Yonge Street 10k together in April, with our lovely friend Pepper* and hopefully Jainey.

He’s already looking at a goal time and I’m trying to help him with a training plan. My plan is just to show up and run. My only goal for the race is to cross the finish line and give him a giant hug.


*name changed to increase awesomeness

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