Just One Marathon

Messy

And if I was a bed,

I’d be an unmade bed.

Tom Waits, “Baby Gonna Leave Me”

 

Why do other people’s lives always seem so tidy? Me, I’m always forgetting my lunch, putting my car keys in the wrong place, and misplacing important documents. I go to work wearing one navy shoe and one black, often sporting a post-it note in my hair or a static-y stocking on the back of my sweater.

 

When it comes to running, I’m similarly disorganized. Sure, I make plans. I loooove to make plans. I create a training program, print it, post it on my fridge and, for the first few weeks, check off all my long runs religiously. Then life gets messy. I need to work late, or drive a kid to hockey practice, or I just get lazy. That neat little plan starts to look ridiculous when applied to a messy Reluctant Runner.

 

What helps? Structure. That’s why I’ve joined a running class to train for the hypothermic half marathon in Ottawa on January 24. I have a love-hate thing going with the group run. On one hand, it’s nice to be my own boss – run whenever I want to, at whatever pace I feel like, listening to my music. On the other hand, I really appreciate having someone set up a training schedule, map routes and supply running buddies.

 

During group runs, the running class divides into “pods”, based on our goal times for completing a half marathon. Not surprisingly, finding the right running pod has been, for me, a messy process. I started out with the two hour group. After all, that is my goal and I ran one half marathon in just under two hours. However, it’s been 15 months – and countless skipped runs – since I ran that sub-two half. These days, I can’t keep up. So, my next choice is the 2:15 group. Unfortunately, that pace feels a bit leisurely, since my slowest half marathon ever was about 3 minutes faster than 2:15. Mind you, it’s very enjoyable to run at that pace.

 

So, in my typical sloppy fashion, I’ve been alternating between the two groups. Last week, the clinic leader started a 2:07 group – yay! I ran with them on Sunday and it still feels like I’m holding back. Oh well. I’ll just keep muddling along, enjoying the company, and recognizing that this training schedule doesn’t fit into a neat little package.  

Hitchcock Was Right

My lunchtime run today was quick but slow. Quick because I planned a short 4K route with a few 400 metre intervals. Slow in the sense that I felt tired and sluggish the whole time and ended up abandoning any pretence that I was doing speed work about halfway through the run.

 

The only good moment came right at the end, as I was rounding the last corner and travelling a trail through a small copse. As I ran, I scanned the treetops – a bad habit for a runner, I know, but I come from a family of birders so it’s a hard one to break. When I saw a flash of colour and an interesting shape my body automatically twisted to follow the bird's path.  Unfortunately, while my torso turned, my feet kept travelling forward and I ended up pitching headlong across the trail and into the brush. It was a minor fall resulting in just a little road rash. It was my pride that hurt the most, because I’m not sure but I think I might have looked spectacularly uncool for a moment there.

 

Luckily for me, the cedar waxwing was the only witness. He showed no reaction while I picked myself up, brushed myself off and resumed my run. But I bet he “tweeted” all his friends about it as soon as I turned the corner.

 

The Princess Shoe Diaries

I’ll just come right out and say it: I don’t like pink.

I've got absolutely nothing against the singer. Or the colour as it relates to breast cancer awareness or gay rights. I'm cool with hot pink or bold fuchsia. Or pink when you wear it, dear reader.

No, I’m referring to the powder-pink crap that seems to dominate the women’s section of athletic stores. Pink shorts, shoes, tops, hair bands, jackets, water bottles, socks. Dammit, I’m a middle-aged woman pounding out significant mileage week after week. Why, when I shop, do I have to feel like Marathon Freakin’ Barbie? Where’s the bold red, the slimming black, the aggressive orange, the complexion-flattering turquoise?

Sorry, but I had to get that off my chest. That feeling’s been building for a while, but it seemed to peak recently when I put on my new running shoes. I’ve been wearing Aasics since I started running four years ago and have no complaints about performance (of the shoes, anyways … I may have a few about the runner).

However, when it comes to colour selection, it’s a bit like the old slogan for the Model T Ford: You can have any colour, as long as it’s black. With Aasics, you can have any colour, as long as it’s the one that’s been selected for this season. I’ve lived through bright orange, and a snazzy lime green and black combo. Whatever. But the colour for this season looks like this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yup, more pink shit. I can’t lie though. When I tried them out, my new shoes felt fantastic. I was way overdue to replace them, so for the first 15 minutes of my run, I felt like they were outfitted with wings. I just wish they weren’t fairy princess wings.

A Tale of Two Runs

It was the best of runs, it was the worst of runs. It was an autumn of running goals achieved, it was an autumn of running goals ignored. It was a season of speed, it was a … oh, you get the picture.

 

I have gotten a ton of stuff done in the last eight weeks, but unfortunately very little of it has been running-related. And the results showed in two 5K events I ran throughout the fall.

 

First of all, the distractions. I finally, finally (finally) finished my most recent university course on managing change. Finally. And I don’t mind telling you, I did myself proud. Only had to hand in my final assignment once, and then rocked the exam and ended up with an A. So that’s done. Just three more courses to go in the certificate program I’m completing, but I’m not thinking about that for the next couple of weeks.

 

Secondly, we renovated our kitchen. What an emotional rollercoaster that was. It all went pretty smoothly, but I doubted myself at every step of the way. The cupboards were delivered and I decided I hated them and they were all wrong. Then I decided they were just fine and I loved them. Then I went through the same process with the counter, sink, backsplash and just about everything else. It was, to use a term coined by a friend, a full-blown bourgeoisie crisis. Yay for patient contractors. But it’s over now and we have a very nice kitchen and our only remaining problem is how to pay for it. Here are a few pictures of the renovation process:

 

 

    
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thirdly, the big hockey monster emerged from its summer hibernation and is now on the rampage, eating up our free time. This year, I’m the manager for my son’s hockey team, so I’m actually busier than he is, although he’s much faster on skates.

 

And, oh yeah, I did a little running. Very little, actually. Up until mid-September, I was training to run a half-marathon on the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend and had actually gotten my miles up to within spitting distance of the half. Then I came to my senses. My entire family (parents, sisters, spouses, niece, nephew) visited from Toronto on Thanksgiving weekend, and running a half mary on the same day as The Big Dinner would have been a little too much like running a full marathon. Or two. So I ran the 5K that morning and had a wonderful, relaxing run. Not too fast, but still managed to bring it home in under 30 minutes, which is pretty good for me.

 

Earlier in the fall, I ran another 5K during Ottawa’s Army Run weekend. Because I was actually running regularly back then, I was faster and completed that run in under 27 minutes. Not a PR, but close. I sprinted the last couple of hundred metres to get under 27 minutes and actually thought I might vomit after I crossed the finish line. I had to give myself a pretty stern talking-to about how pathetic it would look to vomit after a 5K race. In my book, you need to run at least 40K to earn the right to puke your guts out.

 

The Runner I Married, on the other hand, smoked in both those 5K races. At the Army Run, he ran a speedy 22:40 race, despite being hampered by the huge crowd of racers, and traumatized by cannon blast that started the race. At Fall Colours, he was even faster – ran the race in just over 21 minutes and came in second in his category. My hero.

 

My 15-year old son also ran the Army Run. We had a little bet going about who would finish first. I won’t say who won because apparently, gloating about besting your children in a foot race makes you a “bad mother”. However, he was only seconds behind me. Also, he is completely in my good books for getting up early (for a teenager) on Thanksgiving to walk the 5K with my Dad and actually enjoying himself while doing it. Here’s the evidence that he is a great kid and that my Dad is kicks butt as a walker:

 

Race times:

 

Army Run

Reluctant Runner: 26:58

The Runner I Married (TRIM): 22:40

The Truculent Teen: 27:40

 

Fall Colours

Reluctant Runner: 28:56

TRIM: 21:20

Truculent Teen and His Speedwalking Grandfather: 43:00

 

It's nice to be back blogging! I'm recommitting to writing and running over the next couple of months.

The Long Way Home

There are rules in running that are not written in any book. You only learn them from experience.

 

For example – and I’m not saying this happened to me, but I’m not saying it didn’t either – you might be in the middle of a race and think, “Gee, I haven’t seen a kilometre (or mile) marker in a while. I wonder if it whizzed by it without my even noticing. I must be going even faster than I thought.” You might feel really good about that for a bit, until way, way, way, way (keep saying “way” for 5 minutes) off in the distance, you see a tall sign by the side of the road. Have you stopped saying “way” yet? Okay, now you’re close enough to determine that the sign is actually the damned mile marker. And that makes you, not further ahead than you thought, but actually further behind. Way, way, way (five minutes worth of way) behind. Plus, people think you’re weird because you’ve been saying “way” under your breath for the last five minutes.

 

Now you’ve discovered one of the immutable rules of running: it’s never as far as you hope it is. If it feels like 10, it’s probably 8. If it feels like 8, it might be 4. If it feels like 4, you’re probably still at home reading the paper.

 

My experience on last Sunday’s long run illustrated this hard and fast (pun intended) rule. I was haphazardly stringing together a 16K outing, kind of making it up as I went along. I had two options for my route: a short loop that I hoped would add up to a 10-mile run, and a bigger loop I knew was more likely to make the distance. I figured I’d get to the turn-off for the short loop and use my judgment (ha!) to determine if I’d covered sufficient distance to complete a 16K run. But when I’m running, the blood doesn’t flow to the judgment part of my brain. It flows to the part of my brain that hopes sitting down will someday become an Olympic sport. So, I made the short turn and you can guess what happened. Three quarters of the way home, I realized I’d only half the required distance. A more focused and disciplined runner might have turned around and made it an out-and-back. Heck, I’m married to a runner like that. But I guess I figured one smart runner is enough for any family. So, becoming increasingly self-delusional, I added a short detour to my route. It wasn’t quite enough. So, I added another. And another.

 

In the end, I did manage to keep running until my Garmin registered 16.1K. But by then, my pace was pretty much in the crapper because I had expended so much mental energy figuring out where to go next.

 

This week, I pointed my body in one direction and ran 9K out, then turned around and ran back again. No short cuts, no detours. Just running.  

How Am I Slower? Let Me Count the Ways.

I thought it was just running. But I’ve realized recently that in just about every way possible, I’m slower. To summarize:

 

My running pace is in the toilet. My Garmin’s been telling me that for weeks, but I don’t think I’d really internalized it until last week’s long run. At one point, I gradually approached a slightly rounded middle-aged guy out for a brisk walk. As I passed him, I gave him a rather patronizing nod and smile, all the while thinking, “Way to go for getting out there on a walk, big guy.” Then his walk break ended, he kicked it into gear, and left me in the dust. As his form receded in the distance, I noted he was wearing a plain white t-shirt, black socks and brown shoes. Somehow, that made it more humiliating. 

 

I’ve been working on the same university course for more than eight months. The program I’m taking allows six months to complete a course, plus two costly extensions. I’m on extension number two, closing in on the final completion date of September 30^th and I’ve still got one assignment to finish and an exam to write. It’s not that I don’t work on it at all. It’s just that I work on it little by little – like digging a grave with a teaspoon, and just about as much fun.  

 

When it comes to planning, it’s all about the last minute. I was so organized back in July. But somewhere in the midst yet another summer of being on the road almost every weekend, I lost the will to pack. So my kids are in Toronto this weekend visiting their grandparents with what could be a critical shortage of socks and underpants. I’m not sure, and I can’t seem to get too concerned about it. They only seem to wear clothing from the top layer of their suitcases anyways.

 

Here’s the thing, though. I am running. I am studying. And the boys are in Toronto, leaving The Runner I Married and me with the house to ourselves for a week. So it’s hard to feel too worried.

Renewal

Have you ever experienced this on a run?

 

You’re tired and pushing hard but don’t seem to be making much headway. Despite a tremendous mental effort to stay strong, your pace gets slower and slower. Then, without even making a conscious decision, you’re walking. Your body just seems to issue the command: “We’re slowing down. Now.”

 

I’ve been having that experience in every part of my life lately. Since late May, my mind has making a mental list full of items that never seem to get crossed off. Go for a scheduled run? Take a yoga class? Write a blog entry? No check marks beside any of those “to dos”. 

 

For weeks, I’ve been vainly trying to vault myself out of this funk. Nothing seems to work. Apparently, in a funk is where I’ve needed to be. A lazy, disorganized, late-sleeping, junk-food-eating, wine-drinking funk. (And hey, if you've got to be in a funk, let me tell you, that's the best kind.) Finally, I just decided to go with it. I stopped making excuses for not running, or not running long enough. I just let it happen. That was at the beginning of July.

 

Then, a week or two ago, I started looking at potential goal races. I stepped on the scale for the first time in a month (yikes!). I visited other runner’s blogs. I created a training plan for a Fall half marathon.

 

Last weekend, I was camping with my extended family (husband, kids, sisters, niece, nephew, etc.). It was a short trip, so I didn’t think I’d have time to run. But I brought my gear anyways. On Saturday, I was awakened by the footfalls of a runner passing by the dirt path outside our tent. Trying not to think about it too much, I tossed on my gear and headed outside.

 

My sister and her husband suggested a 10K trail through the park. They were concerned about bears though – there have been lots of sightings in the park lately. My sister kindly agreed to accompany me with her bike (equipped with what is apparently a bear-repelling bell). We chatted our way through 10K at a leisurely pace, meeting birds, chipmunks and deer but fortunately, no bears. Afterwards, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time: excitement for my next run.

 

Yesterday, I started back to work after two weeks’ holiday. I brought my running gear (something I’ve been doing a lot lately), then actually used it to run at lunch (something I haven’t been doing much lately). And once more, I’m looking forward to my next run. Last night, I registered for a 5K in September and a half marathon on the Canadian Thanksgiving weekend in October.

 

I can’t say why I slowed down this summer. Like those involuntary walk breaks on a gruelling run, it just needed to happen. I needed to listen to my body, my heart and my mind, and wait for the moment of renewal, when I would be ready to pick up the pace again. Fortunately, that moment seems to have arrived.

Smells Like Teen Inspiration

I was poking around the house last week, engaging in two of my favourite pre-run rituals: bitching and complaining.

 

After my usual slow start, I was dressed and ready to go, but dragging my butt around the house, finding excuses not to get out the door. My two adolescent sons were still in their pyjamas, enjoying the no-time-limit computer free-for-all that we usually allow on the first few days of summer vacation. I paused by the door of the computer room, envying their leisure and sighed, “I just don’t feel like going for a run right now.”

 

My 15-year old son put his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye and offered these words of encouragement:

 

“Suck it up, princess.”

 

There was a pause, and we both burst out laughing. Then I headed out the door, feeling strangely rejuvenated.

Regarding Speed Bumps (the good kind)

Do you get the bump? You know, that little burst of energy that seems to kick in after running about 5K? I love the bump. Some runs, I live for the bump. Some runs, it’s the only good thing about the whole run, except for the part where you get to stop. The stopping part is also good.

 

The thing is, on a good day, I don’t just get a bump at 5K. When all is going well, there are all kinds of little milestones that give me a small adrenaline kick.

 

Things that Give Me “The Bump” on a Run:

- Other runners, especially when they smile, wave, nod or offer high fives.

- Cute, friendly dogs on leash, carrying big sticks in their mouths like treasures.

- Dads out with their babies and toddlers on Sunday morning, letting their wives sleep in.

- Old couples out for a walk, holding hands.

- Deer standing in a field, cautiously observing me from a distance.

- Turning the corner and feeling the wind at my back.

- Having a great new song with uncannily appropriate lyrics pop up on my iPod at just the right moment, a gift from the Pod Gods.

- A long, slow, gentle downward slope at the end of a run.

- Turning the corner onto my street and meeting a neighbour, providing the perfect excuse to en the run early.

 

That’s when things are going well. On a bad day, it’s just one long, bump-less slog, similar to crawling across a desert towards an imaginary water hole. 

 

How about you? What gives you the bump (running or otherwise)?

Another Late Assignment: Half-Marathon Race Report

I've submitted my second assignment for the course-from hell. Woohoo! But just 12 hours later, it was returned (unmarked) by my tutor for revisions because it’s improperly “formatted”. Crap. Those revisions are made and now, while I wait for the next exciting response from psycho tutor (I hope she never finds this blog), I’m taking a break to file my race report for the National Capital Race Weekend.  

 

In an effort to avoid porta-potty breaks while running the Ottawa half-marathon, I went to the bathroom six times in the two hours before the race. Maybe it was nerves, or maybe it was just something my body needed to do that morning. Whatever. I lined up, used the facilities, then got right back in the line again. And again. And again.

 

Still, as I stood in the crush of over 9,000 runners waiting to start the race at on Sunday morning, I had just one thought: “I really have to pee.”

 

That could have been a bad moment. Fortunately for me, though, one of the very important skills I’ve learned as a working mom* is how to Hold It. Seriously, there are times when, after a full day of meetings, I am running from the office to the car and thinking, “Maybe I’ll have a chance to pee after dinner.” So running two hours with a full bladder? Piece of cake.

 

That was the inspirational start to a half-marathon whose theme seemed to be, “It could have been worse.” Sure I was 10 minutes slower than my PR, but at least I didn’t log a PW (personal worst). I squeaked in 3 minutes ahead of that benchmark.

 

Yes, it was one of the first really warm days of the season, which can be tough when your body is not yet acclimatized to hot weather running. However, there was a beautiful breeze blowing across the canal for much of the run.

 

True, my Garmin decided to “work to rule” just three minutes into the run and showed nothing but the time of day for the entire run. But I was able to keep the two-hour pace bunny in my sites for the first 11 kilometres of the race. Then I spent the final 10K of the race imagining I could feeling the hot breath of the 2:15 pace bunny on the back of my neck.

 

So, while it wasn’t the most transcendentally positive race experience I’ve ever had, it certainly wasn’t anywhere near the most dreadful.

 

Time: 2:09

Place (gender/age): 166/644

 

What was more inspiring was watching the rest of my family participate in race weekend events on the day before. Kudos to The Runner I Married for running 5K with my 12-year old son and his best friend at 5 p.m., then running the 10K with my 15-year old son at 6:30 p.m. Both races were sold out, so he negotiated a huge crush of people along both routes and still managed to finish the race in just over 48 minutes.

 

The boys did a great job, too. My oldest son, Will, has been keeping a daily health log as an assignment for his grade 9 gym class. When I read his “motivational thought” for the day before the race, I nearly fell off my chair laughing. It said, “At least if I die in my sleep, I won’t have to run 10K tomorrow.” In the end, he ran a PR and lived to tell the tale.

 

* I have no doubt that stay-at-home moms (who are also working) also deserve the Iron Bladder award. After their morning coffee, they're probably thinking, "Maybe I'll get to pee if the kids have a nap."