peter huynh | blogging about

I’ve read about the 5 minute mile before but never had much interest in doing it as I have no accurate way of measuring a mile. I signed up for a YMCA member last night and they have an indoor track. I’m going to try for the 5 minute mile. I’ve read that this is an extremely difficult goal to attain and that it often takes months, if not years before it can be accomplished.

This blog post will mark the day that I set out to run this viciously fast mile. I’m not sure how long it will take me as I rather despise running, but I will return to this topic the day I run the 5 minute mile, and I will mark this one less thing to do in this lifetime.

It was raining. I was riding my bike. I right-turned. My tires slipped. The bike slide out from under me. I thought, ‘Oh God I’m going to fall’. I fell. I got up. My water bottle across the street. My handle bar misaligned. My shifter shredded. My saddle crooked. I’m okay. Pulled over to the side of the road. Walking on uncomfortable cleats. First: inspected bike. Inspected the bike again, and again. And once more. Pickup truck driver stops and asks if I’m okay. I say I’m fine. I’m fine. He sounds concerned. I ride home. Inspect the bike again. Inspect my wounds. Count my blessings.

Recently [well, not recently, but in the grandest scheme of things, then yes, recently] I have become aware of how unsustainable, detrimental, and unfulfilling this life of materials is.

I think, it is important to realize, or at least try to realize a higher spiritual sense. In this way can we determine identity, and self-satisfaction. The sustenance of our lives should not be the brand of cars we drive, or the restaurants we can afford to eat at, or the colour of credit cards we keep in our wallets; no, it should be in the virtue that we live our lives, and the understanding and compassion we have for ourselves and for our brothers and sisters.

A few days ago I posted a blog post regarding my summer’s ambitions. I was going to ride my bike across Canada.

Well it looks like my trip, or part of my trip, will be cancelled. I could not for the love of God find replacement spokes for my wheels, so, if a spoke breaks, my bike will become unmanageable as both wheels are already riding on a very low spoke count.

I called Shimano Canada and Shimano America and they don’t even stock their own spoke. I could not find it anywhere online either.

So I’ve decided that I won’t ride across Canada but I will still compete in Ironman Canada. Part of me feels relieved that I no longer have to burden this heavy and terrifying weight of being alone for so long. And a large part of me feels incredibly disappointed.

I picked up my bicycle from the snotty bike shop that I’ll never go to again, and on the way home, a fellow cyclist struck up conversation with me. He commented on my bike, and I asked him about his. He asked me if I was a student, and I said I was. I asked him how long he had been cycling, and he said, “about 60 years”. ‘God damn’ I thought. He said, and the title of this post would have given it away, that he is 77 years old.

I can say, frankly, I am impressed. The few 70 year olds I know have a hard time getting up and down a small flight of stairs.

So my summer’s aspirations are slowly but surely creeping into becoming a reality. Only one year ago I had thought of racing Ironman Canada, a single-day triathlon consisting of a 3.8km swim, 180km bike ride, and 42km foot race to end. Now, my ambitions are taking me on a much more elaborate journey from Sarnia, Ontario over 4700km via bicycle and a Mec Esspreso bag along the TransCanada Highway to Vancouver, British Columbia. Along the way I will be depending on the hospitalities of fellow Canadians to allow me into their homes [for free] whom I’ve been fortunate enough to connect with through ‘Couch Surfing’. With a notable stops in Calgary, Alberta to visit my much missed sister, and another one in Penticton, Bristish Columbia to race the race of my life. My journey will be captured by video diary and will begin on July 1st, the day Canada was united as a single country, and end as I fly home from Vancouver, British Columbia and land into my first year as an undergraduate student at the University of Toronto.

Wish me Luck!

A local boy drags along a rickety old laundry basket. His sandals slap up against his heels on every step, and the wheels on the basket bump along periodically to the cracks on the sidewalk. A few metres from where he is, a row of this similar baskets can be found, all lined up, all empty, all one after another, all alone. This line starts from the edge of a curb facing an open street and overflows in a neat order along the sidewalk where the end will soon meet with the boy’s basket - there are about a dozen empty carts. There are two people patiently waiting; sitting along the edge of a stump nearby. Dusk is approaching.

It is that of the week; of the month, when dozens of families will struggle for their share of bread and milk. The Daily Bread Food Bank will be arriving shortly. What will this boy be able to secure for his family?

I coast along on my bike solely as a spectator. My heart sinks, and my arms and legs fall weak in a desire to hide the shame that is this $2000 dollar bike.

when i first met you
i had dreams we’d be together
we would hold hands on the beach
then we’d fall in love with each other
in our eyes
we would see the things we saw inside
with the sand beneath our toes
and the water being sweet
we would walk along the beach
and laugh and sing in harmony
we would sit along the coast
staring out to sea
the water gentle washing up
brushing by our feet
we would wait until its dark
be the last ones on the beach
listening to the ocean waves
and then we’d fall asleep
did you know that you are so beautiful to me

[She named it 'the stupid song']

I ran my first marathon distance today in training [42 km]. Unfortunately, I didn’t finish in the time that I had expected and hoped due to a ‘poop problem’, but the important thing is that I finished. Thanks a lot to my buddy Victor who rode with me on his bike as I ran - you kept me good company and the ice water was a real treat.

The past few years I have had a growing interest in Mt. Everest. Looking more into the logistics of the climb and successful summits, I found Maxime Chaya. Chaya completed the Everest Summit, to complete the Seven Summits [reaching the seven highest peaks on every continent]; and while he was descending from the top, he found a dying man on the mountain. He stopped while nobody else bothered [note that he was in the "Death Zone" when this happened] and against the expedition leader’s advice, he stopped taking his own oxygen to try to revive the dying man. Unfortunately, nothing could be done. Upon further decent, Chaya broke down obviously shaken up by not being able to help and cried: “this is ridiculous, why do people come here to die?”

Not only did Chaya stop [in the fucking "Death Zone"] to help someone else, but he is an honours graduate from the London School of Economics, has competed in tons of international triathlon races placing very respectful overall finishes, and represents his country in many other international sporting events. Oh, and he is a motivational speak for young people.

Truly, this is a man one could admire.