Just One Marathon

Snow: I'm Sick of It

Looking back on this blog, I notice that every January or February, I write a post about how sick and tired I am of winter running. Some people might call that repetitive. I call it a tradition. Here is this year's edition:

In Ottawa, it’s not cool to say you don’t like snow. In fact, one way to show your sporty-hipness in this city is to express great joy every time the flakes start to fly, and to be bitterly disappointed if the snow doesn’t amount to much. That’s because much of Ottawa embraces winter sports – skiing, skating, snowshoeing, dog-sledding, and eating beaver tails on the Rideau canal.

Even The Runner I Married has joined the hoards. Last year, he bought a pair of light-weight, aluminium running snowshoes. Yup, you read that right. Running snowshoes. They are billed as an alternative to running on icy pavement and look something like this:

 
Apparently, he turns heads when he comes bounding along a trail wearing them. And they are an incredible cardio workout that is easy on the legs and knees.

I, on the other hand, do not acknowledge the existence of winter sports. Instead, I take what is essentially a spring and fall sport – running – and do it all year long. That means that in August, when I’m sweating it out a long run in 30 degree C weather, I yearn for cold, crisp winter weather. And in the winter, I realize just how stupid that kind of thinking is. Because it sucks to get out of a nice warm bed in a nice warm house to spend time in sub-zero conditions doing an activity that is painful and tiring. Plus, it requires a lot of clothing -- though I'm never sure of the exact right layerage. Too much, and I can feel the sweat running down my face and then freezing on my cheeks. Not enough, and I just get the freezing part. 

But the really, really bad part of running in winter is the snow. Snow makes sidewalks disappear and the small ribbon of remaining curb become dangerously slippery. It gets in your shoes. It causes snow plows to appear, not before your run, but during it. These days, when I reach a clear patch of pavement, I want to kneel down and kiss its salty, gravel-strewn surface. 

Sure, it looks pretty, drifting from the sky and blanketing the trees in white. But to this runner, snow is just not cool.

I'm Putting It Out There ... Almost

Who would have thought there’d be a reason to be thankful for bad plumbing? On Wednesday night, we discovered a leak in our basement. Thursday, I worked at home to wait for city workers to turn off our water supply ($75), then the plumber to fix the pipe ($350), then the city workers to turn the water supply on again (another $75). It was an expensive afternoon.

On the plus side, I was able to register on-line for the Ottawa Hypothermic Half on January 25 – an additional $60. I’ve never spent so much money so quickly and had so little fun doing it. (BTW, that date just happens to be our 17^th wedding anniversary. Nothing says romance like an 8 a.m. run through snow and ice.)

I have a couple of very specific goals for my half-marathon performance over the next few months. I may achieve these goals at the Hypothermic, although I’m a little doubtful. Last year at the Montreal Hypothermic, I found that the slippery ice and cold weather really took the edge off my speed (and I use that term – “speed” – quite loosely when it comes to my running).

Nevertheless, at this half marathon or my next (or my next, or my next…), I hope to shave almost 4 minutes off my PR and finish in 1 hour and 55 minutes. Why? Well, I'll tell you my friends: if you punch this time into a race time predictor, it estimates a marathon finish of 3:59:54. Which is just four second under the qualifying time for women ages 45-49 in the Boston Marathon. Not that I’m going to try for it. I’m just saying.

 

Snow Fatigue

Twenty-eight centimeters (almost a foot) of snow today. More on the way tomorrow. Here’s what it looks like when I step out my door for a run.

Enough already.

Eighteen Short Hours and One Big Suitcase

Tomorrow, I’m running the Hypothermic Half in Montreal, Quebec. This race represents two new experiences for me: my first winter running event and my first out-of-town race. So the two big questions I’ve been asking myself all week are: how do I dress and what should I pack? (Plus the additional nagging question: why am I doing this?)

First, the weather. The forecast for race day is -20C and sunny with 10km/hr winds.So it will be pretty cold when we start at 8:30 a.m., but not too windy. Or will it be windy? The race is being held on a small island on the Saint Lawrence called Ile Ste-Hélène, which is just over the bridge from downtown Montreal. Island on big river + winter conditions = wind.

I’m going to wear a long-sleeve shirt, fleece, shell, neck-warmer, hat, gloves and mittens. I may pull a sled behind me carry all the gear I will be forced to shed along the way. I often dress for the first 5K of the run when I’ll be cold, instead of the remainder of the run when I’ll be hot. It’s a rookie’s mistake, but I can’t help making it. Knowing I’m going to be warm is what gets me out the door.

Which brings me to the packing dilemma We are only staying for one night and leaving right after the race on Saturday, so other than my PJs, the rest of my suitcase is stuffed with running junk. Everything I need, think I might need, will decide later if I need, or don’t need but can’t bear to leave behind is in that suitcase. I had to sit on it to close it, and it only contains one pair of shoes!

After the race, we are dashing home to pick up our kids (my husband is also running the race). One has an art class ending at 4 p.m.; the other has a hockey game starting at 5. The race starts at 8:30 a.m., so with a quick stop at the post-race buffet, we should be able to make it home from Montreal (about a 2-hour drive) in time to grab a quick shower, pick up the kids and go. So I’ve also been thinking about what to pack in the car for two hours of post-race immobility in which our blood sugar levels drop and our muscles freeze into position. We’ll have protein bars, lots of water, and dry clothes.

Plus the satisfaction of knowing we’ve completed the race.

Ready To Go All Hypothermic

On Sunday, I completed my last long run before the Hypothermic Half on February 16. I went 21k, a little more than the 20k indicated by my training schedule. I just can’t forgo the feeling of having run the actual race distance before a race … and besides, what do all those smarty-pants running experts who create training plans know anyways?

It felt great – a little slower than I might have liked but nothing to panic about, especially given that it was snowing (lightly, in a picturesque way, but enough to make some of the road slippery). Today, my muscles are talking to me, but in a quiet voice.

For those who might be training for a half, I’ll outline the rest of my schedule for the next two weeks as a point of comparison:

Tuesday, Feb 5: 3 x 800 m (speedwork)

Thursday, Feb 6: 5K tempo run

Sunday, Feb 10: 10K logn run

Tuesday, Feb 12: 4 x 400m

Thursday, Feb 14: 4K tempo

Saturday, Feb 16: Half Marathon

I’m following a three-day-a-week marathon training schedule. On the off days, I am supposedly cross training. Ha. I have a yoga class on Mondays but I can’t even pretend I do anything on the other days. Well, I do lots of stuff, important stuff. It’s just that none of it qualifies as exercise. Still, I’m happy with how it’s gone. I have sensed a real improvement in my speed and endurance over the last few weeks and I feel fit and ready to run. 

And after that … it’s marathon training in earnest. I know I won’t have the luxury of a three-day a week running schedule. The Running Room training plan I’m following includes five days a week of running. Double ha. I will do my best, though, and muddle through as best I can.

Lies I Tell Myself About Cold Weather Running

Here is what I tell myself about cold-weather running before I go out, and what I realize as soon as I stick a pinky out the frost-covered door.

Myth: It’s not that cold out.

Fact: Two words – wind chill.

Myth: It’s okay if you dress for it.

Fact: There’s always one spot on my body that is not adequately covered. All the cold air within a 10 km radius rushes to that spot making it feel like I duct-taped an ice-pack to that part. The cold body part rotates in a random fashion from run to run.

Myth: I’ll run faster in the cold.

Fact: Only if I want to end falling ass-over-tea-kettle into a snow bank. If God intended us to run in the snow, then he would not have provided us with skis and snowshoes.

Myth: I’d rather run in the cold than in the heat.

Fact: That’s only true when I’m actually running in the heat. In frigid conditions, I recognize this for the foolish and weak-minded thinking it is.

Myth: Running in glacial conditions makes me an extreme, kick-ass, cold-weather road warrior.

Fact: Okay, that one’s true.

I will have to stick to those cold weather runs because I have found another half to run early next year. My husband and I will be running the Montreal Hypothermic Half on February 16 (or as I like to refer to it in my bleaker moments, the Hypo-freaken-thermic Half).