Just One Marathon

Tagged!

Just when I was about to wrap up this blog, I got “tagged” by Nicole, a runner and mom from the Netherlands. I have to confess that I always wanted to be singled out for this on-line experience. Plus, I thought this would make a really nice final post for “Just One Marathon”.

The rules are as follows:

Tagging is easy. Just copy the following onto your post. The rules of the game are posted at the start of your blog post. In this case, I'm asking you 5 questions about running. Each player answers the 5 questions on their own blog. At the end of your post you tag 5 other people and post their names. Go to their blogs and leave a comment on their blogs telling them they've been tagged and to look at your blog for details. When they've answered the questions on their own blog, they come back to yours to tell you. Got that?

So here goes.

How would you describe your running 10 years ago
It’s strange to think that I’ve lived with a dedicated runner for more than 15 years but had absolutely no interest in the sport until recently. I thought of running as something other, more athletic, people did. I also thought it looked boring and painful.

About five years ago, my husband completed his first 10K race, I was amazed that people of all shapes and sizes were crossing the finish line and entering the mysterious tent labelled, “Athletes Only”. I wanted in that tent, and wondered if I could earn my entry by running my own 10K. One year later, I did. 

What is your best and worst run/race experience?
Worst experience: Running a half marathon in February along the St. Lawrence River in Montreal. Though the temperature was minus 20-degrees Celsius, it wasn’t the cold that made things difficult – it was the surface of slippery packed snow that made me feel as though I was running backwards. Also, the course was a three-loop run, which meant covering the same ground over and over again. Plus, during the two-hour drive home, I was struck with gastro-intestinal problems that made it necessary to stop a couple of times. Having said that, I plan to do it again next year!

Best experience: Because I haven’t run too many races, every one has been a “best experience” for me. It always feels fantastic to cross the finish line. I haven’t (yet) wrestled with pain or injury during a race and since I am a relatively new runner, my times have improved on each outing. Having said that, completing my first marathon last month seemed like a culmination of all those great moments.  

3. Why do you run?
Most days I really couldn’t tell you why I keep running. I am really and truly a reluctant runner, and it only takes a few skipped runs for me to wonder why I do it at all. Having said that, when I run, I sometimes feel moments of joyful, inner peace that I carry with me into my hectic (but also happy) day-to-day life. Running puts my head right.

4. What is the best or worst piece of advice you've been given about running?
Last year, I was fretting because I wasn’t as fast as a friend and fellow runner. All that foolish worry was taking the enjoyment (what little there is) out of running, for me. My husband told me, “In the end, you’ve got to run your own race – no one else’s.” Keeping this in mind has helped me set goals that were right for me, run at a pace that’s challenging but comfortable, and feel proud of my own accomplishments and pleased for those of my friends.

I can’t recall any bad advice I’ve been given, but I do have a knack for ignoring good advice and learning lessons the hard way.

5. Tell us something surprising about yourself that not many people would know.
I hated turning 40 – went through a mini mid-life crisis where I dyed my hair blonde, got a tattoo and complained a lot. Four years later, I wouldn’t trade my 40s for any other age – I’ve got a great job, a wonderful family and I just ran a marathon! I still do manage to find things to complain about, though.

Now it’s my turn. Here’s who I’m tagging:

• Runner and mom of three Donna at The Mommy Minute who just ran her first half marathon
• Nineteen-year-old Tiger from I Run For Life who makes me feel Hip With The Young People by visiting this blog
• POM from Pieces of Me, though I can’t believe she hasn’t already been tagged, because her blog is so (deservedly) popular
• Robert at Half Marathon Man, who just started blogging recently and has run 10 … count ‘em … 10 half marathons
• And AKA Alice from HefferBlog who ran her first marathon with a group of friends

Thanks again, everyone and see you around the virtual water cooler, grabbing one last drink before heading out for a run.

 

Running Off Into the Sunset

“What else can I do that I thought was impossible?”

My wise sister Kathy posted this question after my previous post and it’s been echoing through my head ever since I completed the marathon almost two weeks ago. I’ve spent the time recovering physically from the run and deciding what’s next. Here’s my summary.

How I’ve Recovered. The Running Gods have a weird sense of humour. I burned over 4,900 calories on race day, then was unable to enjoy food for the next three days. I was nauseous, had heart-burn and food tasted weird. But I’m no quitter: I ate and drank copious amounts anyways.

Also, while I was running the marathon, I heard a guy telling another runner that he’d lost eight pounds once during a marathon, and I made a mental note to step on the scale when I got home. Somehow, I managed to gain two pounds. I am truly a freak of nature.

Otherwise, it’s all gone pretty smoothly. The muscle pain progressed like coals in a backyard barbecue – first there was burning heat like they had been doused with kerosene, then there was red hot glowing pain, then smouldering embers that only hurt when you touched them, then blessed, cool comfort. The whole process took about four days. Last Friday, I went for my first run (5K) and felt pretty damned good. On Sunday, I ran 10 and felt even better.

Where I’ll Go From Here. I’ve always said that after running a marathon, I’d quit and never run again. People have always been too smart to believe me. There’s no way I’ll quit – running owns me body and soul. As long as I’m healthy, I will keep it up because running makes me happy.

Having said that, I have no plans to run another marathon in the near future. I need to focus on other things that I put aside during the last 18 weeks. For example, I’ve been working towards a university certificate in Human Resources, completing it at a pace that’s equivalent to walking a marathon. I’ve hit the academic wall and I need to get through it and get this done. Meanwhile, my family has been operating at a pace that’s the equivalent of a full-out sprint – we just have too many extra-curricular activities on the go. We’re gearing down for summer and focusing on getting recharged and reconnected.

And no marathon means no “Just One Marathon”. My original goal for this blog was to chronicle the journey to my first marathon. I thought it might be interesting to other new and reluctant runners, motivating for me, and a great way to keep in touch with friends and family. It’s been all that and more. I’ve been able to write self-indulgently about my most recent passion and get advice and feedback from people all over the world. How cool is that?

From now on, I’ll just haunt the funny, informative, heart-warming and addictive running blogs I’ve started reading, many of which I found because the nice people who write them have taken the time to post encouraging comments here. Thanks to all of them and to friends and family who have taken time to read and post.

My Next Running Goal. This is where my sister’s important question comes into play. I used to think it was impossible for me to run a marathon. So what else can I do that I thought was impossible? I often tell people what a slow runner I am. Is it possible I could become a fast (or at least less slow) runner? I’d like to find out. So, my next running goal is to complete a half marathon in less than two hours. Right now, my fastest time is 2 hours and 12 minutes. I’ll try to shave that time gradually in three half-marathons over the next 12 months, culminating with a triumphant (I hope) sub-two-hour run at the National Capital Race weekend next May.

And after that? Who knows? Running the marathon was such a great experience that I can’t imagine never doing it again. I was spouting off to a friend recently about how I have no desire to run the Boston Marathon. She jokingly replied, “Well that’s probably good because you’ll never qualify.”

And a little voice inside my head said, “Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”   

Race Day

If you had asked me a few weeks ago how my marathon would go, here’s what I would have predicted: I’ll eke out the first three quarters of the race with gradually deteriorating speed and energy, just as in both my 32K (20 mile) training runs. Then, I’ll limp through the final 10K, running at a pace that’s barely distinguishable from a walk.

 

But that was a few weeks ago.

 

A funny thing happened after my last long (32K) training run. I began to feel stronger. For the rest of my pre-race runs, I felt swift of foot and full of energy. I began to experience a sense of mental flow where time and the miles seemed to slip by. I was no longer counting the steps but relishing them. My body began to whisper, “I’m ready”.

 

When I wasn’t running, it was another story. I felt nervous and jittery. I obsessed over everything I needed to prepare for race day and scanned my body for signs of injury or tension. When I wasn’t running, I wasn’t enjoying myself.

 

But when I woke up at 5 a.m. on race day, all that tension miraculously evaporated. Refreshed and ready to go, I tossed on my race gear (Pearl Izumi short-sleeve tee, shorts, and trusty but very uncool hair band, and of course, my new slightly-larger sized-to-avoid-blisters Aasics). Had my pre-race breakfast of champions – oatmeal and canned peaches. Packed my water bottle and fuel belt (one gel, a bag of cran-raspberry Clif Shot Bloks, four e-Load capsules, and a couple of emergency painkillers). Headed out the door.

 

At the race site, I lined up to use the washrooms and then lined up to use them again. Before I knew it, it was time to join the other marathon hopefuls at the start line. It was sunny but cool (around 8 degrees C) to start, with very little wind. My husband, father and dear friend Lisa were there to see me off. Lisa had custom-made a special sign, screened onto a big pillow case, including my photo and a reference to my blog. I felt like a rock star.

 

I wish I could give a kilometre-by-kilometre description of the first half of the race, but I can’t because it just flew by. I felt borne along by a wave of support coming from the thousands and thousands of people who came out to cheer on the marathoners: little kids holding out their hands for high fives; people sitting at the end of their driveways in pyjamas; teams at designated “cheering stations” in costumes and make-up.  

 

Some moments stood out. At the 11K, Lisa appeared again, cheering and waving my sign. At 12K, we watched the elite marathoners pass by on the other side of the road, looking awesomely strong at the halfway point of their race. At 16K, I attempted my very first mid-run bush pee and wished I’d had the foresight to pack a couple of tissues. Except … what would I do with them afterwards?

 

In terms of strategy, I stuck close to the 4:30 pace bunny, Mark, who earned my undying respect for running the entire race carrying a sign and wearing rabbit ears. The pace bunny followed the Running Room method of “10 and 1s” for the entire race. I decided not to walk every 10 minutes for the first half of the race, stopping instead at the water stations spaced 3 kilometres apart across the entire route. I wasn’t totally convinced I could keep up with him, but wanted to at least attempt my fantasy finish time.

 

I expected to feel fatigued at the halfway mark, but I felt energized. At about 22K, a group of belly-dancers entertained the crowd and provided a fun distraction. And beside the belly-dancers – my friend Lisa, this time with her family! The route from 23K to 30K runs along the Ottawa canal. When race routes are described as “fast and flat”, this is the kind of course they have in mind. I felt wonderful and even considered asking the pace bunny to let me hold the 4:30 sign (he was passing it around to anyone who wanted to do the honours). I thought it would be cool to be carrying it when I passed my family, who planned to see me somewhere around 34K. But some inner wisdom held me back – I suspected I might be running at a pace I couldn’t sustain.

 

Sure enough, at 32K, when the race course started to climb upward, I began to lose the 4:30 group. There’s a hill at this point in the run, which for many is topped by a big, looming, imaginary wall, but in reality is actually marked by a big, orange sign that reads 33K. I ran most of the hill, and walked a little, choosing to marshal my energy for the final 10K stretch. Unfortunately, that meant I had to watch the 4:30 pace sign get smaller and smaller, and eventually disappear. Now, I had a new goal: don’t let the 4:45 pace bunny catch up with me!

 

Can I be honest? The last 10K was easy. Sure, I slowed down a bit. Yes, it hurt. And part of me (especially the part from the waist down) just wanted it to end. But another part of me (from the neck up) was elated. People I knew appeared all along that critical last stretch. A co-worker and fellow runner waited for me at the 34K mark with Hershey Kisses. At 35K, my mom, husband and kids cheered, took photos, then sprinted to the car in a mad dash to the finish (they made it). My dad stood at 40K, bellowing encouragement with such enthusiasm that he got people around him cheering. And Lisa was there, of course, with my own personalized sign at the 250 metre mark. At the very end, I saw my ordinarily quiet and collected mom, waving her arms and yelling at the top of her lungs: “Way to go, Theresa!” I gathered up their love and support in that final stretch and wore it near my heart like the very best kind of finisher’s medal.

 

Then, all of a sudden, I was a marathoner. I crossed the finish line at 4:36:42 and realized that I had been stronger and more ready than I knew. And that was the big surprise waiting for me at the end of 42.2 – that my ability to complete a marathon was actually no surprise at all.

 

I had it in me all the time.

It's Just That Epic

A single race report – are you joking? Look up and to the left side of the screen, my friends. This blog is called “Just One Marathon.” This is it: the climax of the story. After this, I am officially on record as quitting and never running again. That means I want to make sure I get it all down in writing. Unfortunately for you, that means three blog entries – “Before”, “During” and “After”. So here goes.

Part 1: Before

 The week before my Sunday marathon was endless. The Ottawa Race Weekend has grown into a huge event, by this city’s standards. It attracts over 30,000 runners plus their family and friends in five different events. It has many corporate and media sponsors. Pre-race coverage is pervasive and endless. In the seven days leading up to the race weekend, our local public radio station broadcast running stories every morning and afternoon. The newspaper featured special pull-out sections. The local news station sponsored a team of recovering addicts who ran the marathon as part of their recovery process.

Even I was sick of it – and I was completely obsessed with All Things Marathon. I found myself thinking, plotting and monitoring the state of my body constantly. I swear I generated a pull in my right calf just by the power of my own thoughts. I couldn’t concentrate at work and counted the hours and the days until race day, mostly from excitement but partly just to get the damned thing over with and get back to normal.

On Friday afternoon, my parents drove in from Toronto to cheer us on through race weekend – the boys and their dad in the 10K on Saturday and me on Sunday (did I mention I was running the marathon?). They were a huge support. My mom even brought all the ingredients to make a great pre-race carbo-loading meal of spaghetti and meatballs for Friday. When they arrived, it really felt like race weekend had begun.

Our clinic leader, Tom, suggested spending Saturday off our feet as much as possible. I tried to take his advice, but with two kids to entertain, it was impossible to just do nothing. We spent the morning meandering through a gigantic garage sale hosted by a local neighbourhood and the afternoon doing errands and relaxing. Around 4:30, we grabbed a quick snack, then headed downtown for the 10K, which started at 6:30 p.m. Our plan was to meet our friends, Lisa and Charles, at the race site at 6. They were both running their first 10K, and their sons (ages 14 and 11) joined us in cheering them from the sidelines. The traffic and crowds were as bad as we had suspected they might be, so we were really glad we left early. My friend Lisa was even smarter – a few weeks ago, she booked a hotel room downtown. They had spent the afternoon in the hotel pool, then walked over to the race site.

All the 10K runners in our party were cool and collected, except my 11-year old son, Jamie, who was intimidated by the huge swell of runners (more than 6,600) that stretched a few hundred metres back from the start line. One look at the crowd and he announced he didn’t want to run anymore. But my husband is an amazing running coach. – his easy-going, matter-of-fact manner got Jamie to the start line in reasonably good shape.

After we wished everyone good luck, we nudged our way close to the start line to watch the elites start the race, followed by a few thousand dedicated amateurs. We only managed to pick out Charles and Lisa (who looked gorgeous in a beautiful new peach-y pink running shirt) – the rest were lost in the crowd.

Then we fought our way through the throng of spectators to find a decent place near the finish line. By the time we got there and secured a spot, the elite athletes were already finishing the race – in just over 28 minutes! After the thrill of watching the winners cross the finish line, we settled in to watch the drama of the 10K race unfold for the rest of the participants. It was exciting and inspiring to watch so many people finish the race in so many different physical and emotional states – some intense, some relaxed, some exhausted and others looking like they could turn around and run back to the start line.

I expected to see my oldest son, Will, cross the finish line at around the same time as Lisa and Charles (somewhere around 70 minutes). I thought we’d see Jamie and Rob (my husband) finish in about 85 to 90 minutes. We saw Lisa and Charles first. They crossed the line in about 67 minutes, both smiling and looking like they were enjoying the whole experience. We screamed and waved signs and Lisa swung by for high fives. Charles had a little extra energy at the end, so he steamed ahead. After they had passed us, their youngest son Eric announced solemnly, “Dad beat Mom”. 

When Rob and Jamie came through at about 79 minutes, my heart skipped a beat. It was really beautiful to see them run together. My husband is a very fast runner; he has completed this course in around 45 minutes. Yet he looked happy and proud to be running the same distance in twice the time, helping our son achieve a goal he set for himself last fall. He talked Jamie through 3 kilometres of nervous jitters as he got used to the crowds and the excitement. Then, at the 5K mark, when Jamie told him he thought he could go a little faster, he paced him at just the right speed to finish under 80 minutes.

We waited for Will but didn’t see him. That only made me a little nervous, because there were so many runners, I knew it would be easy to miss him passing by. Still, a little part of me (the mom part) worried that he was injured or exhausted and walking for the last part of the race. We battled our way back through the crowds to the runners’ recovery area (they should give medals for crowd-surfing, too) and finally caught sight of Will and the others, though it was another 20 minutes until we were able to actually stand face to face. Will had made it in ahead of everyone else with a time of 59:25! 

We shared a quick feel-good moment before our friends headed back to the hotel and we made our way back to our cars. By this time, it was getting close to 9 p.m. We hadn’t eaten dinner and after an hour spent stretching and straining to see over the heads of crowds, my calf muscle was starting to tighten up with the phantom ache. I was beginning to worry that this wasn’t an ideal way to spend the night before the marathon. Also, we discovered that we’d forgotten to return our friends’ cell phone and hotel key to them after we parted, so we’d need to swing by their hotel to drop it off.

We picked up pizza on the way home and sat down to eat at close to 9:30. To ease the tension a little, I poured myself a short glass of wine and hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt me the next day. We were all pretty keyed up. But we turned out the light just before 10:30 and I fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened at 1:45 a.m. by Jamie who had woken up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. My husband told me he’d handle it, escorted him out of room and I was asleep by the time he returned. (He insisted the next day that he’d helped Jamie get back to bed using a blunt object, but I later learned he actually removed an extra blanket to help the over-heated child get back to sleep).

So much for a quiet, restful day-before-the-marathon. 

Support System

Less than 24 hours until I start that most solitary of activities, the marathon run, and I find myself thinking about … other people.  

 

If I didn’t know before I began this whole adventure how incredibly generous, supportive and kind my friends and family are, I do now. They have all gone the distance in their encouragement over the past few months and years. They have driven hundreds of kilometres to cheer me on, knit breathable cotton running gloves, sent flowers, given advice and pep talks, and most of all listened to endless talk about training, blisters, small victories and minor disappointments.  

 

And the best thing of all is that these folks get it. They understand why achieving this seemingly pointless and not very unique athletic goal is important and exciting to me. They have seen me evolve from a reluctant runner who can barely make it up the stairs without stopping to a slightly-less reluctant runner who considers 23 kilometres a “short run” (though I can still barely make it up the stairs without stopping).

 

So, to my husband, sons, parents, sisters, friends, extended family and running buddies (virtual and real world) – thank you for helping me get to the start line. I couldn’t have done it without you. See you at the finish!

Head Games

One thing I’ve been wondering about running 42.2K is what I’ll think about while I’m out there. We’re talking four and a half to five hours of quality contemplative time – do I really want to waste it mentally monitoring the size of the blister on my right middle toe?

 

Tom, our marathon clinic coach, says he passes the time by saying “hello” to each runner he overtakes, and by adding up the numbers on people’s race bibs. But I’m thinking I should aim higher. For example, I could:

 

·        Find answers to all the vital questions put to us by advertisers. That way, by the end of the race I’ll know, among other things: how they get the caramel in the Caramilk bar, where I want to go today, whether I eat the red ones last, and the location of “the beef”.

·        Make sense of all the conflicting parenting advice I’ve read and heard over the years and come up with a single, unifying Theory of Parenting. If there’s time, mentally sketch out a book outline so I can sell my wisdom to others.

·        Decide – definitively – who is cuter: Starsky or Hutch? David A or David C? Bert or Ernie? Mr. Roper or Mr. Furley?  

·        Do a mental search of my house, office, car and every other place I’ve been in the last two years to track down the car keys I lost in 2005. We sold the car last year, but it’ll be satisfying just the same.

·        Come up with a really good answer to the interview question: “Where do you see yourself in five years?” One that doesn’t cause the interviewer to check the “smartass” box at the top of my résumé.

·        Make a list of the stupidest things I’ve ever done. See if running the marathon makes the top three.

 

I picked up race kits for our family tonight. It felt strange and exhilarating to walk past the 10K and half-marathon t-shirt tables to collect my marathon shirt. Now, I just have to earn it.

Four Seasons in One Day

It’s time to begin that all-important last-minute race prep activity: obsessing about the weather. For me, this activity is made more challenging and complex  by the fact that I’ve never run a marathon and have no idea what ideal race-day weather would be.

 

Yesterday, for example, the forecast called for scattered showers, with a high of 22 degrees Celsius (or 71 degrees F) and a low of 6 degrees C (or 43 degrees F). That sounded okay, if “scattered showers” meant occasional refreshing sprinkles of slightly-less-than-body-temperature water droplets. But if it means cold, driving, relentless rain, forget it. I’ll hold out for something better.

 

This morning, the forecast said sunny with no cloud cover and a high of 23 degrees C. That could be okay, too, though a bit of shade would be nice. Also, that’s getting dangerously close to hot weather – not a good thing for a runner whose last event was called the “hypothermic half”.

 

You might argue that there’s no point in worrying since there’s nothing I can do about it. Good one.

How Fast Will iRun?

Canada has a new running magazine. It’s called iRun, and you can’t go anywhere in the Ottawa running community these days without seeing its new logo on hats, shirts and probably other cool swag. Because I’ve lately become obsessed with all things running, it was inevitable that the first issue would eventually find its way into my house.

Here’s what iThink. It’s definitely an idea whose time has come. In Ottawa, and I’m sure this is true of many other cities, running has caught on in a big way. Our National Capital Race Weekend has become one of the biggest events of the year. I hardly know anyone who isn’t running, walking, volunteering or spectating (I am now declaring that a verb) sometime over the weekend of May 24 and 25.   

It’s neat to read a magazine that features Canadian runners, races and heroes and suppliers. I also really liked their feature on yoga poses for runners, and not just because I know the yoga instructor who is pictured in the article.

Minor quibble: the kinda cutesy over-use of the iRun name. The magazine is peppered with quotes from real runners completing the sentence, “iRun because…”. How about we officially declare an end to the use of a lowercase letter followed by an uppercase letter to indicate cutting edge, technology-oriented cool?

Another small irritant (probably stemming as much from my own insecurities as anything else) is a light-hearted feature at the beginning of the magazine about celebrity marathoners. It clocks their times and makes snarky comments about runners who took longer than four hours to finish. It’s not that celebrities need my pity – I’m sure they have staff for that – it’s just that, as a runner who expects to finish just a little faster than Katie Holmes, I take that kind of pettiness personally. On the whole, though, I think it’s a fun and info-packed magazine, with a content-rich accompanying web-site. I’m looking forward to the next issue.

As long as we’re on the topic of speed, though, I’m officially declaring the Reluctant Runner Finish Time Pool open. There are no prizes for winning but you can’t beat the cost of entry. Let me give you a few guiding facts:

My fastest 5K: 28 minutes

Fastest 10K: 57 minutes and change

Fastest Half: 2 hrs, 12 minutes

My outside goal is to finish in less than five hours. Honestly, unless something goes terribly wrong, I think I will meet that goal (and may I take a moment to implore Athletica, goddess of runners, not to punish me for my hubris). My fantasy goal is to finish in 4 hours and 30 minutes. But my back-of-the-napkin calculations around my current running pace are telling me that might be a mathematical impossibility. Bottom line: this Reluctant Runner is amazed just to be out there at all.

Want to guess when I’ll finish? Just post a time below. I will take every entry personally, read all kinds of messages into your guess, and probably end up mad at you. But don’t let that stop you.  

...And Then What?

"Beginning Monday 19 May, you will enter the final phase of your pre-race taper. Some of you will feel very heavy, and your usual sunny disposition won’t be quite so sunny. Warn those close to you and be aware that your mood may be off. This is a normal reaction to the reduction in your training mileage.” – Words of wisdom from Tom, our marathon clinic leader

Why wait until Monday? Despite being early into a gradual two-week reduction of miles, I’m already feeling a bit blue. The reason – and I feel stupid admitting this – is that this marathon training roller coaster will soon be over. Yes, there have been cold mornings, sore muscles and bloody toes. But there’s also been the excitement of preparing to do something I never thought I’d do. What will I do without the constant planning, worry and underlying excitement of preparing for race day? What’s next? 

My post-marathon plan-of-record is to quit and never run again. But who am I kidding? I’ve gotten used to this fit new body I’ve been building. I like feeling strong and powerful. And I love having a goal that excites me.

Nonetheless, another marathon is out of the question right now. I have already put too many other things on hold to do this. Plus, I am really, really, really starting to bore my friends and family, who have endured (with remarkable patience) endless one-sided conversations that must sound something like this: “Blah, blah, blah MARATHON, blah, blah, blah, BLISTERS, blah, blah, blah, GROIN PULL.” Um, sorry guys. And thanks.

So now I feel downright panicky about not having another motivating running goal on the horizon – something that will get my butt out the door on hot (and eventually) cold days. Something to visualize while I’m out there on the 10th kilometre of a 20+K run.

It feels like there’s a big, empty void, looming just beyond race day. Is this normal? And how do I make the feeling go away?

The Meanest Mommy Ever

On Mother’s Day, I completed what I’m calling the Parenting Tri. The event included:

· A “short” 23K run with my marathon clinic buddies. Despite the reduced distance, I still managed to be the last one to retrieve my keys from the box where we toss them for safekeeping during the run. But I felt great.

·        A mad dash downtown to watch my oldest son’s jazz band perform at a “concert in the park” for Ottawa’s Tulip Festival. This leg of the parenting triathlon was the least taxing – mostly it involved sitting in the sun and being entertained. I resisted the temptation to embarrass my son by starting a mosh pit in front of the band.

·        A 10K bike ride alongside both boys, who are planning to run the 10K during our National Capital Race Weekend two weeks from now. I wore the Garmin, carried water and monitored their pace. Just as they do with almost everything else, each son approached running completely differently. My 14-year-old started out way too fast (gee, I wonder where he gets that from?) and spent much of the race alternating between running full-tilt and walking. My youngest son (age 11) kept a slow but steady pace and refused to stop running, even for traffic lights. I urged him to use the opportunity to take a break but not, I confess, out of concern for his health – it was my own reputation I was worried about. What would you think if you saw a skinny, sweat-stained 11-year-old jogging on the spot at a traffic light while his mom sat comfortably on the bike beside him, brandishing a water bottle and a Garmin? That’s right -- psycho-training-mommy-from-hell.

Post-tri celebrations included a fantastic dinner cooked by The Runner I Married (barbecued tandoori trout – mmm…), and the completion of a very satisfying amount of ironing while watching the Survivor finale. It was busy, but I’ve got no complaints. It was an absolutely perfect Mother’s Day. I wish the same for my fellow moms, grand-moms, surrogate moms, and moms-to-be.