Just One Marathon

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.

Ain't It Good To Know...

My friends are amazing. I know everyone says that about their friends, but mine really, really are. Really.

Want proof? No problem. Let me give you two recent examples of how my creative and talented friends have supported my recent infatuation with running.

When I ran the marathon last May (have I mentioned lately that I ran a marathon?), my friend Lisa not only showed up at four different spots along the route to cheer me on, she also made me a special sign which included my blog details, bib number, and a few motivational slogans. She presented the sign to me afterwards (it’s hot-ironed onto a pillow case), so it’s also a one-of-a-kind commemorative souvenir of my one and only marathon. Here it is:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The mittens resting on top of the sign are exhibits 2 and 3 in the case for my friends being the best in the world. Those beauties are the glorious Mittens of Motivation, knitted by my friend Kelly. Last Christmas, I was outlining for Kelly my possibly-ridiculous dream of qualifying for the Boston Marathon one day. When I told her the qualifying time for a woman at my … ahem … stage of life, she quietly filed the information away. About a month later, I received these in the mail:

Look closely at the mittens – the entire pattern is made up of 4’s. Appearing prominently on the wrist, where I can see it if I glance down is my goal time: 4.0 hours. Not only are the mittens funky, beautiful and warm, but they are also inspirational. Like my friends.

These are just a couple of examples of the generous support and caring demonstrated by my friends and family. I only hope I can be the same kind of supportive friend in return.

 

What about you? Have your friends inspired you? Or have you had the opportunity to support a friend in her running or other goals?

Thankful

It’s been over two months since I’ve felt really good on a run. I had a great outing at the Ottawa Army Half in September and it’s been all downhill from there – and not in a good way. Nothing’s really wrong. I’ve just felt weak, sluggish and out of breath (and the phlegm, my God, the phlegm).

There are probably a lot of reasons: too many skipped runs, not enough sleep, poor nutrition, inadequate hydration. Whatever. All I knew is that the strong, speedy runner I was last summer seemed to have disappeared, only to be replaced by an even-more-reluctant-than-usual athlete.

I vowed to turn things around with my long run last Sunday morning, but things didn’t seem to be going my way. At 4:30 a.m., my neighbour (the crazy one – doesn’t everyone have at least one?) let her dog out and it barked and howled constantly until 7:30, when another neighbour (the assertive one – fortunately, there’s one of them in every neighbourhood, too) banged on her door and told her to call him in. What with all the drama, I didn’t fall back to sleep until 8 a.m. and woke up at 9:30, already behind on my morning running schedule.

Still, I did my best. I ate a healthy oatmeal/raisin/walnut breakfast-of-champions, drank tons of water, loaded up my iPod with new tunes and headed out. It was cold but sunny and dry – about minus 12C (or 10 degrees Fahrenheit). Perfect running weather, if you’re dressed for it.

At first, it seemed like I was in for my now-typical slow and crappy run. Then I got the 5K bump, and this time it didn’t fade away by 6K. I was running my favourite route along a stretch of green space near my home and was really enjoying peacefulness the big open spaces.

The end of this running route includes three hills: a Mamma hill, a Baby hill and then a big, bad Pappa hill. Usually, Mamma’s a sweetheart, the Baby is a little cranky and Pappa is a brute that kills my pace and sends me home with my tail between my legs. However, just as I approached the hills on this day, the sun came out from behind a cloud and revealed a deer, standing on the opposite side of the road, not 100 metres away. She carefully picked her way across the deserted road and stood looking back. A few moments later, a second deer appeared and made her way across as well. When they reunited on the opposite side, one resting its neck across the other’s in the deer-equivalent of a two-cheek kiss. Then they glanced back at the crazy two-legged creature barrelling towards them in a bright red running jacket and headed for the trees.

Watching the whole drama, I barely realized I was already half-way up Mamma. A feeling of well-being propelled me over the crest of the hill. Suddenly, everything looked beautiful: the brown and gold fields, a glittering stream winding its way down Baby in the trees beside the road, the big blue sky. I felt happy, strong and above all, thankful to the universe for putting me in that place at that moment.

I won’t say Pappa was any less harsh than usual, but I managed to marshal my energy and make my way up the hill without diminishing my speed significantly. More importantly, I didn’t feel completely wiped out at the top of the hill, so I was able to pour on a little extra steam for the last few hundred metres of my run. And that gave me something else to be thankful for – a faster pace:

Last Sunday’s pace (13K): 6:16/K

This Sunday’s pace (13K): 5:56/K

Goal pace for my next half: 5:27/K (still a ways to go)

Thanks to The Runner’s Lounge for the inspiration for the post. This week’s “Take It And Run” Thursday theme is “Thank goodness for running”.

 

...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?

Amen

I am not a religious person. I was raised a Catholic, married a Jewish man, and have become part of a family of many religions (through my sister’s marriages, mostly). So I guess one of my deepest beliefs is that all religious and spiritual perspectives deserve respect – that we all have our own way of accessing divine truths.

Having said that, when I run, I have instances of transcendence that make me feel connected to a higher power. I feel grateful – for my health, the beautiful world around me, and all the people and circumstances that help me to arrive at that particular point in time. After experiencing such a moment the other day, I started to compose in my head my own “Runner’s Prayer” – something a little more all-embracing than my usual running prayer, which goes something like this: “Please God, let this run end soon!”

Of course, as soon as got back from my run, I couldn’t remember a word of it. Then it occurred to me that the idea of a heartfelt expression of gratitude sent heavenward from a lowly pavement-pounder can’t be new. A quick Google search unearthed several examples of runner’s prayers:

·         “Doctor J on Running” pretty much covers it all in his Thanksgiving prayer which gives thanks for everything from Vaseline to supportive spouses.

·         “Grant each of us the integrity to do our best in the quest to finish well. We can do no more and desire no less.” That is one line from a beautiful poem by Craig, a Texas Minister over at his blog “Running is Mental”.

·         I like the underlying S&M theme in the prayer posted over at “Mad Figs Parables”. I’m not sure who the author is, but anyone who rhymes “stretching” with “retching” is okay in my book.

·         Who hasn’t prayed to be faster and better? The runner’s prayer posted on BlueWarp’s blog, written in 1989 when he was training for the Dallas White Rock Marathon, asks for strength.

While I was out on my prayer-inspiring run, I encountered The Spitter’s distant cousin, The Vomiter – but that’s another story. Pray I don’t tell it.

Ardeth Woods

A few summers ago, something terrible happened along the route where I run. A 27-year old woman went out for an afternoon bike ride and never returned. Four days later, her body was found in the creek under a bridge, just a short distance from a busy bike path and running trail.

It was a dreadful tragedy for her family, but also a difficult experience for the whole community. For women who ran, walked or cycled along the green and pleasant path near where she was found, it meant that a seemingly safe and beautiful part of our mid-sized city was not as safe as we thought. I remember somewhat defiantly riding my bike along the same path that Ardeth (that was her name) had taken and feeling so uncomfortable that I ended up turning around and going home. At the time, Ardeth’s killer had not yet been caught. Although I knew that it was somewhat irrational to think he would strike again, on a gut level, I just couldn’t feel the same ease and security that I had taken for granted just a few days early.

There are always a few flowers tied to the railing of the bridge near where she was found. As a result, my husband and I started calling it “Ardeth’s bridge”. The bridge is about 6K from my house, the perfect distance for a Sunday long run. While I was training for the half-marathon last year, Ardeth’s bridge became a touchstone along the way as I stretched my run to 14, then 16, then 18K, passing it on the way there and back. I got in the habit of running by the flowers and giving the bridge railing a tap. I would think about this young, accomplished and athletic woman and hope that her family might find some peace. It was my tiny effort to honour her memory and reclaim this place.

At the risk of sounding a little flaky, I have to confess that every time I cross the bridge, I get a little boost – one of those tiny adrenaline bursts that one often experiences on a run. Ardeth began to feel somewhat like a guiding spirit as I trained for my run. Without telling anyone, I decided that my first 21K run would be in her honour.

I thought of Ardeth often on race day. The halfway mark was the high point of my race. The downtown streets of Ottawa were crowded with cheering friends and family. We passed under the enormous Laurier Street Bridge, also lined with well-wishers shouting encouragement and waving signs. A physical sensation of elation unlike anything I have ever felt while running traveled through my body, like my “Ardeth’s bridge” adrenaline rush multiplied by 10. My iPod was playing the Kate Bush song “Moments of Pleasure”. She sang:

“Just being alive
It can really hurt
And these moments given
Are a gift from time.
Just let us try
To give these moments back
To those we love
To those who will survive.”

That was the lesson I learned from my first (and to date only) half-marathon run. And I could not have learned it without Ardeth to teach me.

You can read the story of Ardeth Woods here.