Helen's Running Journal
2009
There is no passion to be found playing small - in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.
Nelson Mandela
The first year I began running seriously was also the first year I ended up with a knee injury. Just as summer was beginning and everyone was lacing up their shoes and heading out, I was stuck inside my apartment. What kept me inspired and hopeful was another runner, Peter, who posted his journal on the Web. It's no longer around (much to my dismay), but his daily entries of his training highs and lows - as well as his own recovery from a similar injury - got me through summer and to the 1999 Canadian International Marathon. Every evening when I came back from the office I followed his struggle, right up to his first marathon in Quebec City in 1999. I never sent an email to him, much less met him, but he was a great coach. To Peter from Montreal, thank you.
2008 Goals: Complete an Ironman in 12 hours
Feel like an accomplished athlete
There's a moment when we're about to write our view of the year to come, and in our mind's eye we see it stretching before us as a glorious series of successes. We start that year with a the very tiniest hope that this year our time will have come, this year we will get all that we have paid so dearly for, or at least think we have. After a few years of realising things don't work that way, we decide that maybe the struggle isn't supposed to end. There is no culmination, no payback. In fact, it's all about the struggle. And in that get-up-every-morning-and-face-it-all-again, there's the opportunity to discover ourselves. It's not resignation; it's realisation.
In 2009 I have the same goal as I've put down in previous years: chase that elusive 12 hour Ironman, with a secret fantasy of running a four hour marathon while doing so. I've also added "feeling like an accomplished athlete", in other words, daring myself to move from the perpetual amateur status that I've categorised myself as, which is really a comfortable world full of excuses why I don't do better. "I'm just an amateur; you can't expect me to swim/bike/run faster than this or actually do well." Leaving that world of low expectations is terribly frightening. There are no excuses for not doing well. There is an expectation of a great deal of self-discipline, investment, and hard work. The glimmer of hope that 2009 might be payback for all my previous efforts is gone. This year, what I really want to do, is work my butt off. And maybe, in the process, find a little more of myself.
Week of December 28
Tuesday There's much more snow on the ground than I had imagined tonight and the going is tough on Sussex: lots of ice has melted and frozen again, and I'm tiptoeing through long sections of the sidewalk. I get winded early and then get frustrated. There's lots of ice on the ground, there's more wind than I had thought and I didn't dress well enough, and going up Wellington there are big crowds of tourists who are in Ottawa for the junior hockey championships. Nothing is going well. On the far side of Wellington I stop and decide to turn back rather than going on around Gatineau. I'm too tired to risk getting even more tired on the other side of the bridge. I run back along Murray, which is almost as bad as Sussex for snow, and home, grumpy. 1h10
Thursday It's the annual New Year's Eve run, which my sweetie are doing tonight in Saint-Faustin, a small village just south of Mont-Tremblant in Quebec. We're renting a fabulous chalet that's situated on a huge property with plenty of small roads to run. Around 9:00pm we start to bundle up for our run. Dressing for the run probably takes longer than the run itself: it's -22 Celsius outside, colder with the windchill. And I'm a total wimp when it comes to cold weather running. We dress and dress and dress and finally head out. The cold is brutal and very dry. Within minutes of starting the run, my lungs begin to shrivel. As we start up a long series of steep climbs, the shriveling accelerates. At one of the last hills I hardly have any oxygen and I have to walk. Still, the running is peaceful. We run by beautiful chalets overlooking the property, under a clear sky fill with stars. The road is snow-covered but it has that nice squeaky feel that's characteristic of the best winter runs. 30min
Week of January 4
Tuesday I start on a milder night than usual and automatically head down to Sussex and on to the Wellington/Gatineau loop. I don't know why I do that instead of my other favourite, Beechwood to St-Laurent to Sandridge and back. I've got Last of the Mohicans in my head and I'm feeling OK. The footing is a little tough until I get past the Foreign Affairs building on Sussex and after that things are quite pleasant. What I'm trying to do on this run is get my right foot to strike the ground on the tempo (or first drumstrike) of the soundtrack. Trying this is a great way to get refocused, particularly when you're trying to get yourself together during a triathlon. My calves are painfully tight, something I don't understand. But I enjoy the exercise of trying to run to a beat and I find that I'm not as tired as I usually am for a run this long. 1h20
Thursday No snow or ice to report in today's entry, 'cause I'm in FLORIDA!!! Yippee! My sweetie is running in this weekend's Walt Disney Marathon (which I was supposed to do as well, but finally pulled out of due to injuries and colds). Tonight is his last run before the marathon, and we had been by the expo earlier to get his race kit. I got myself a new pair of adidas Adistar and I'm trying them out this evening as we run around the awesome Sheraton Vistana Resorts. This place is huge and we trot around late in the evening, exploring all the roads and loops we can find. After doing some loops twice we get to the main road and start along the sidewalk. In strange American fashion, the sidewalk ends shortly. We turn around and run back the other way. Less than a kilometre later, the sidewalk ends again. Being a pedestrian in the US - or at least Florida - must be a terrible thing. There's just nowhere to go and all around us are are six to eight lane freeways and highways. We trot back to the resort, a bit short of our 50min goal. 40min
Week of January 18
Sunday Yours truly has decided to volunteer with a running club, Sole Responsibility. It only meets once a week, Sunday mornings, at the Bridgehead coffeehouse on Wellington Street on the west side of Ottawa. The club's programs actually start next week: I'm here with some of the other volunteers this week to talk about how the club will be (figuratively) run. Then we go out for a brutal 4km run, brutal because of the snow and the wind and the fact that I'm wavering on the edge of a bad cold. It snowed overnight and the sidewalk is covered with greasy mush. The last part of the run, along Scott and up Caroline to get back to Bridgehead, is where I start losing my breath and barely able to stay conscious. Yeah, some great run leader I'll make! 25min
Week of January 25
Sunday A truly awful cold kept me from doing anything all week...again. I'm embarrassed at how little I've done as far as training goes. Yesterday my sweetie and I went to check out the Bernini exhibition at the National Art Gallery. Walking up the second of two flights of stairs, I was out of breath and my legs were burning. I can't remember the last time that happened to me! So I'm feeling good about myself this morning for having at least made it to my run at Sole Responsibility. I'm leading the half-marathon group, but for today all three groups - the 5k, 10k, and half-marathon- are doing the same route (basically the same as last week's). It's a lovely morning and it hasn't snowed in a few days. That means that conditions are good, and I enjoy trotting along with eleven others in my group. In fact, as we run along Scott and I get to run on clear pavement, I find myself enjoying myself, looking at the soft clearing sky, relaxing into the pace, and wishing I could keep going. Which is exactly how a run should end. 30min
Saturday This reminds me of the winter I trained for the Two Oceans Marathon in South Africa. I did so little training. On the bright side, I finished the year probably in the best shape and best running of my life. OK, enough whining. I head down to Beechwood and in the first two minutes of my run I badly, badly roll my ankle. This is not good. Then my feet freeze. They freeze so much that as I trot around Rockcliffe Village, somehow having gotten detoured from my original plan to just stick to Beechwood, I have to stop every now and then to stomp my feet. The traction is terrible because of the mushy snow on the ground. I'm cold. I'm really not happy. 45min.
Week of February 1
Sunday Out with the Sole Responsibility group this morning. One woman in my group has her Yaktrax on, and that gives me the courage to try mine for the first time. I truly hate running in loose snow, but I've always been a little leery of putting on Yaktrax and risking another rolled ankle. As we start down Wellington I'm surprised that I don't the same sensation from my feet as I do when I'm standing on the Yaktrax. I'm pleasantly surprised by just how much traction I do have. It seems as if I've finally found something that will get me out the door when it's snowing. We head down Gladstone all the way down to Preston, then up to Carling where we pause, walk a bit, and start again at Sherwood. Sherwood bends through a surprisingly nice neighbourhood full of grand old houses and big trees. There's not much traffic and I share a wonderful conversation with another runner in the group. Back to Huron and lots of traffic, then to Bridgehead. 45min.
Friday I listen to Strange Overtones by David Byrne and Brian Eno this evening before I start my run. Months ago when we moved in to the house my sweetie and I put together a sort of locker room in our basement, an ode to our love of sports and running. We bought two old lockers, used a trunk as a bench, put lots of hooks to dry clothing, and pinned all our medals and bib numbers from past races to the wall. As I get ready for a run there's a little iPod docking station on a stool by the trunk so that I can listen to a song in preparation for my run. All that to say, I've got a new song in my head tonight. I do my usual Beechwood/St Laurent/Sandridge and back route. It's nice to run on clear pavement on a relatively warm evening. And I always like running on Friday nights. It's much like going to the gym on a Friday night: no one else is there, and there's a wonderful sense of having the world all to yourself, and a chance to let go of the week and embrace the weekend. Tonight I just listen to my stride and try to make it as consistent and steady as possible. I'm looking for that motion that's effective and effortless, the one that carries you for miles without tiring you. Given how little I've run lately, I'm not tired at the end of this particular run, so I guess it must have worked. 1hr
Saturday The weather is getting a little strange today, going up over 0 Celsius on the first day of Winterlude, Ottawa's winter festival. I'm thrilled to be getting a bit closer to decent running conditions. I change my routine a little and start down Vanier, turning onto St Patrick with the intention of crossing the bridge to Gatineau. I'm quite tired and stiff; I've been swimming every morning this week and it's catching up to me. But I have that nice efficient stride, and that gets me thinking about the pursuit of simplicity. In every sport, it seems that great athletes are always talking about eliminating superfluous movement. What's the least I can do yet still achieve the most performance? A sport becomes an art to someone when pursuing simplicity becomes a goal in and of itself, not even related to going faster or longer. We simplify because doing so is equivalent to giving a stride or a stroke beauty. When I reach the corner of Sussex and Rideau I turn back and stay on Sussex all the way to its east end. It's nice to have less traffic and less noise. More space to think about keeping running as simple as possible, which is coming in handy now since I'm really getting tired. Up Mackay and home. 1hr
Week of February 8
Sunday It's sunny, very warm, and very windy this morning. That combination is actually pretty deadly in winter, at least for runners. On my drive to Bridgehead in Westboro I drive some of the route I had proposed to my half-marathon group. It wasn't looking good: most of the sidewalk was submerged under massive slush-puddles. Other areas were covered by a very thin sheen of ice melting in the sun. We decided that all groups and levels would do a workout together at Tunney's Pasture, where we could run more safely on a traffic-free and ice-free road. That loop is exactly one kilometre and provides an ideal opportunity to learn about pacing. We separated into 5, 6, and 7min/km groups, going around the loop several times to learn what the paces felt like. I think workouts like this are incredibly important but done far too little. It's great to be able to just go out and run, but time spent learning about how running should feel and sensing our body go through different paces is well invested. Things get distorted during events and we're stripped of all the benchmarks we got used to having during our training runs. The only thing left is reading the signals the body is sending and adjusting accordingly. That sense of inward observation needs to be developed during training.
After the run with the group I feel relaxed and warmed up, wanting to enjoy more of the sunshine and warm weather. I do the same loop we did last week: up to Tyndall and then Parkdale, a long icy stretch on Gladstone, a long wet stretch along Preston, then a beautiful run along Carling and Sherwood. My hamstrings are very tender and slight inclines have me a little tired. But at least I have the satisfaction of finally running a decent distance on such a gorgeous day. 1.5hrs
Tuesday It’s a lovely evening, calm winds and warmer than usual temperatures. I feel like I’m getting back on track with my schedule. Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays are gym nights, while Tuesdays and Thursdays are run or bike days. Like most people, I work best on a schedule. Everyone needs some structure to their life. Oddly enough, being structured lets me try out new things. Schedules afford us some security, and from that frame that we know well, we’re more able to go off course once in a while and check out new things. But tonight I’m still doing the same old route. Down to Sussex, up to Wellington, then around Gatineau. This route has nice long stretches without lights or intersections, more fluid running. I huff a little up the hill to the Chateau Laurier and then Parliament. And then I enjoy the long stretch down the other side to Portage Bridge. Sometimes it just feels good to run. 1h20
Saturday Sun! How I love running in sun! And it’s Valentine’s Day, so it’s a great day anyway. I go down Crichton, heading toward Sussex for my usual route. At the last minute I try cutting behind the old city hall, trotting along into the bright sun on the wood slats of the bridge. I make sure to keep my stride as short and as easy as possible. My endurance isn’t all the greatest and I have no speed whatsoever. The crowds are too heavy to run fast anyway: it’s Winterlude and everyone’s checking out the sites. Once in a while Last of the Mohicans goes through my head, but I’m having a hard time focusing. Going up onto Alexandra isn’t easy. Oddly enough, though, running up the far end to Sussex is easy. On the stretch back home I enjoy having the sidewalk to myself. Maybe it’s my second wind finally kicking in. I’m much less tired than I thought I would be. 1h20
Week of February 15
Sunday Wow, is Vancouver every gorgeous when it’s sunny! I’m here for a week for work, and I’m lucky enough to be visiting during a long sunny stretch in one of Canada’s rainiest cities. It’s warm (6 Celsius) and just a little windy. As soon as the plane touches the ground, I’m aching to be running. I get out around 2pm and go due north on Burrard to pick up the Seawall. I’m going as slowly as I can; I want to run for as long as possible, take in as much of this extraordinary day. The start of the Seawall is under construction, so I weave my way in and out of the crowds and down a bunch of stairs until I finally find a part that’s not under construction. The Seawall is insanely crowded, and even more so the closer I get to Stanley Park. But persevering past the busiest sections at the entrance to Stanley Park pays off. The Seawall hugs the water, so I hear the sound of salt water waves crashing into rocks, the sound of float planes taking off behind me. There’s the sight of the mountains on a clear, cloudless, blue sky day. The smell of salt water, the sunlight dancing off the water. It reminds me so much of Cape Town, the day I took a tour of the city on a bus. There’s even an English Bay, a city cupped in a bowl of mountains against the sea, a busy port. At the farthest point of the Seawall, the one furthest in to the channel, the cliff rising on my left is the largest, smoothest wall of stone I’ve ever seen. Past English Bay the Seawall is too crowded to stay on and I trot up to Beach Street, then up to Pacific. It’s a heck of a hill, climbing up to Burrard to the hotel. This might have been a slow run, but it’s one of the most satisfying I’ve ever done. 1h35
Monday Even though I’ve done two longer runs in two days, I’m still looking forward to running tonight. It’s pretty amazing what warmer temperatures can do to us. I go north on Burrard, then west on Pender. I want to go down Granville, cross the bridge, and loop back to the hotel on the Burrard Bridge. There’s lots of construction on Granville so I zigzag on different streets until I finally get to the base of the bridge. It’s a long, shallow climb up to the middle of the bridge and it feels like a really great effort. The views are breathtaking: the night is clear - I can see stars - and the skyline behind and around me is one of the most spectacular I’ve ever seen. Vancouver is truly a world class city. Granville Island is below me. Then down the long second half of the bridge, along 4th Ave to Burrard, and up again. In spite of all the running I’ve done in the past two days I’m feeling great. Really great. It might be the fact that I’m running with my adidas rather than my winter Asics. At the base of Burrard on turn west onto Pacific and go to the entrance of Stanley Park. The traffic gets quieter and quieter. I can hear waves crashing quietly. It’s nice to run in peace, to feel refreshed as I breath in the fresh air. 1h20
Wednesday I love Vancouver. I absolutely love this vibrant, amazing city. And all day long I’ve been thinking about running. The weather here has been on a sunny streak, very unusual for this city in winter. It’s cool at night, but after a few minutes of running down Burrard to Drake and then Howe, I’ve warmed up and my legs are feeling tight and spring-like. I cross Granville Bridge, again taking in the skyline. After Granville I take West 4th and follow the signs to Granville Island. The road onto the island is directly beneath Granville Bridge, which is pretty neat. The island is even neater, a collection of markets and artsy shops all cluttered together. I love the smell of the salt water, the fish market, the restaurants.
One person I spoke with today explained the difference between motivation and inspiration. Her goal, through her work, was to inspire people so that they could become advocates for her cause. Motivation, she said, was short term and too specific. But inspiration came from a deeper place. It lasted a lifetime and took its own direction, specific to each person. It reminded me of why I started running, pretty much the same reason most people start: I was motivated to lose weight and get in shape. Eleven years later, I am no longer a motivated runner. I am an inspired runner. My own form and philosophy toward running are unique to me. The goals are long term. But without the motivation, there would never have been inspiration. It just seems that there’s a time and place for each message. I run across Burrard Bridge, take the stairs down to Beach Street, and head toward Stanley Park. It’s nice to have a long stretch of unbroken sidewalk to run along. 1h20
Thursday Another cloudless day in Vancouver. I can’t believe my luck. I’m also thankful that this is my last evening in the city. I don’t think I could handle any more running. My legs are a little tired but my stride is still pretty good. I cross Granville again and run along West 4th for quite a while, through Kitsilano and Jericho Hill. I pass a bike store with the latest Argon18 tri model all decked out in the window. I nearly pass out. Thank goodness I don’t run with a credit card. It was another day of meeting remarkable people, the kind who reaffirm the notion that you do reap what you sow. In this case, these people sowed the fundamental belief that people are good, that the world ran on an abundance mentality, not a scarcity one, and that everyone has a role to play in making the world a better place. After a few hours in that atmosphere, it’s no wonder that I’m running and smiling, feeling pretty good about my own place in the world. I skip the run along Beach and Pacific Streets this evening, a little too tired to do anything but cross Burrard Bridge and head back to my room. 1h20
Saturday Still away from home, but not Vancouver. This week I'm in Montebello, Quebec and I'm not happy. There's snow on the ground, I've got to put on lots of layers, and I have to go back to running with my winter Asics. After a week of running with a lovely pair of adidas that were easy on my legs, particularly my hamstrings, running with the Asics is a major letdown. My sweetie is with me today. We make our way to the main highway that runs along the river and through the very quaint town of Montebello. It takes me a while to get used to my stride shaped by my Asics, a sort of bow-legged rolling run from the heel rather than the forefoot. That puts quite a strain on the hamstrings as they try to push off a longer foot. We turn up a beautiful road that leads to the Montebello Kenauk resort. It makes you feel like you're running in a winter postcard. My sweetie turns back since he's doing a shorter run today, while I keep going, enjoying the silencing and trying not to think of the long hill I'm trudging up. The hill goes on and on and on, and that effort combined with the Asics is finally too much; I'm stopping often to catch my breath and feeling more and more nauseous. I turn back and slowly head home. 1h10
Week of February 22
Sunday Finally back home, and the first thing I do this morning while I'm getting ready to go over to Westboro for the run club is switch the despised Asics for a pair of adidas trail shoes I bought two years ago. I didn't like them back then, finding them a little too cushy. But now, compared to the Asics, they're a dream to run in. The temperature when I wake up is -17 Celsius with a northwest wind, but interestingly everyone in my group, myself included, is just right during the run. The sun is very strong and there isn't a cloud in the sky. We're doing an 11km loop today, from Bridgehead Coffeehouse to Tyndall, along Gladstone, up Preston to Carling, Carling to Sherwood, and looping around Island Park and some of the quieter streets that are really nice to run along. Since the route is so circuitous and the runners I'm shepherding have split up into a really fast group and a really slow group, I find myself racing between the two groups to make sure they don't get lost. I end up doing just over 12km of all sorts of speeds. All the running in Vancouver and the new adidas pay off, however: when we get back to Bridgehead, I'm feeling so good that I head off for another 6km. I've got Last of the Mohicans playing solidly in my head. That gives me a great rhythm, something strong to set my stride to. It also gives me glorious music that's fitting for the great run I'm having. 1h50
Tuesday My sweetie asks me if I want to go running with him this evening. I have to explain to him, again, why I like running alone. Every time I think back to a good run, I remember it as a quiet discussion with myself and an opportunity to put myself in an exploring frame of mind. I think of the music I was listening to in my head and the stories I created as I went through various neighbourhoods. Running with someone else takes away all of that and makes me a mindless runner. The whole point of going out for a running is to feel the joy of movement. If I'm talking to someone or trying to pay attention to them, then that's just not possible.
Besides, this is a great evening to be out on my own. I'm doing the Sussex/Wellington/Gatineau/Alexandra Bridge loop, and there's hardly anyone around. The streets and sidewalks are quiet. My winter adidas hit the ground much more softly than did my Asics and I get the sense of running lightly. Going up the small incline after Alexandra Bridge feels great. What's even better is that I find myself naturally accelerating in the last 20 minutes of the run. 1h20
Saturday It's a Vancouver flashback! Amazingly warm temperatures, sun, little wind! How wonderful to run down a road and not spend most of my energy dodging puddles, ice or snow. We might still have a snowstorm or two left in the season, but spring is most definitely on its way. I even wear sunglasses for my run. I'm aiming for two hours of running - on a day like today, anything less would be a waste - so I add various loops to my Sussex/Wellington/Gatineau loop. At the end of Wellington, for example, I run by the War Museum until the sidewalk ends, then turn back and cross Portage Bridge. On the other side of the bridge I keep straight instead of turning right, as I usually do, and go through the decrepit Gatineau centre. Wow, how does a place like this exist right next to Ottawa? Prostitutes are hanging out in front of bars and flashing signs to prospective customers. Some corners in front of bars have a mound of hundreds of cigarette butts in front of them. When I come to Boulevard des Allumettieres I find another way to go around the centre and come back to Alexandre Tache. I pick up my usual route along Laurier and head toward the Alexandra Bridge. In my past few runs I've been enjoying the fact that I seem to naturally speed up in the second part of every run. My left hamstring is literally cramping my style, however. I've had a knot in the upper part of the muscle that has become problematic over the past few weeks. My leg doesn't extend freely so I have to turn my left foot in to get as much reach in each stride. 2h00
Week of March 8
Sunday This morning looks lovely, although I'm more tired than I care to admit after yesterday's long run and the loss of sleep due to Daylight Savings Time. By 4pm yesterday I had reset every clock in the house so that I wouldn't miss this morning's 8:30am run with the Sole Responsibility Run Club in Westboro. A surprisingly large group shows up in spite of the time change. Our group is repeating last week's 11km route, but I'm feeling off and my plan to do a second loop falls apart. A lot of other people are just plain falling: puddles that melted yesterday froze into a wicked sort of black ice this morning. It's impossible to tell the difference between melted water and ice, and in some places the ice simply doesn't show up. Toward the end of the run I chase one runner who has gone astray, something I seem to do every Sunday. Keeping together a large group of runners with a huge variation in speed is quite the challenge and a great way of getting some speed into my longer workouts. 1h10
Tuesday This is one of those delightful evenings when, in spite of being tired (or maybe because of it), I run exceptionally well. It doesn't always work that way, unfortunately, but when it does it's the most wonderful feeling. I do the usual Gatineau loop, finding that over the first two or three kilometres my stiff legs start loosening up. As usual, I'm happy that this route, which takes me about 1h20 to do, has become my default duration. With every run like this I remember the year I trained for Two Oceans in South Africa, how all the long, slow runs paid off, even though I never did the race distance in training. Just put the time in. Tonight there's a funny snow that begins partway through the run and my face gets bombarded with little ice pellets. Eventually as I'm running down Wellington toward the bridge the ice pellets stop, but the headwind on the way through Gatineau is tough. 1h20
Friday Friday afternoon, it's still sunny, and I want to go running! I'm doing the Gatineau loop, but now during rush hour, so I'm not used to all the traffic on the roads. I want my peace and quiet. I miss that so much. I still find it hard to get used to running in the sun, as odd as that may sound. I have to take my pace down a notch and focus on form. 1h20
Saturday Another sunny warm afternoon! But running today is a huge mistake. It takes every ounce of energy I have left in my body to get it out the door and running. I am exhausted to the core, and the run is 100 minutes of pure torture. First, I overdress. It's s sunny 4 Celsius and I've got four layers on, as well as a tuque. I'm trying a new route since I want to avoid the tourist crowds on Wellington, so I go to Montreal Road, cross the bridge, and up Range Road and eventually to Lees and Main. Things aren't so bad at first, but by the time Main has crossed back over the river and become Smyth, I'm feeling awful. I can barely run. I'm trudging, trying to find a short stride that will at least be faster than a walk. When I cross Alta Vista I notice in the reflective windows of a building nearby that I seem to be landing on my heel. Hm, time to bring back some of the Chi Running principles. I focus on landing and taking off from my forefoot. It brings back some Achilles tendon pain and sounds loud on the pavement, but I immediately notice how much easier running is. I just don't have the mental strength to focus on doing it for any amount of time. I eventually turn back on Smyth and take Alta Vista and the Vanier Parkway home. 1h40
Week of March 15
Sunday After yesterday's experience I wasn't exactly looking forward to today's run. But my group is doing an easy 8km today, although I end up going a bit faster than usual. We go up Parkdale and Sherwood, aiming for a nice quiet run through the Experimental Farm. It's a beautiful morning, the start of what's going to be a spectacular day, and there are runners EVERYWHERE. The Running Room groups are out, women all loaded down with six bottle Fuel Belts for the 10km run, and serious runners who whip by us so fast they don't have time to reply to our "Good morning!" I'm amazed that I actually survive this running given how exhausted I feel. 50min
Tuesday Happy St. Patrick's Day! I love it when St. Patrick's Day is sunny, blue skies, and 11 Celsius. That just didn't happen in Fredericton. I'm a little late out for my run tonight, so I cut the usual 1h20min run down to one hour. It's been bugging me this year that I'm very stiff: I run with more than just a little snap in my stride. It's as if my legs have lost some fluidity, there's some jarring in my lower back. It's very frustrating. Now that I'm running lots and no longer obsessing as much over my lack of endurance, I've switched my anxiety to my flexibility. I want that fluid running motion back! The one where I would just let go and start running. Endurance plays a part in that. But something else is going on, probably not enough yoga. Run to the Chateau Laurier and back, and finally get a bit of speed at the end. I just wish it was easier sometimes. 1h00
Week of March 22
Wednesday Hm, haven't run in a few days. Last weekend was all about the Ontario Masters Provincial Swimming Championships, and from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon my life revolved around sprints, butterfly, relays, and way too much chlorine for the human body. It was my first major meet and I did no less than nine events, from the 1500m freestyle to the 50m butterfly and every conceivable relay in between. A year ago I had never dived into a pool because I was too scared; by Sunday evening I was pretty much falling into water without thinking about it.
And that's what I was thinking about this evening as I did an easy run run along Beechwood, north on St-Laurent, to the end of Sandridge and back. I wasn't running exceptionally well since my core muscles were quite tired from the weekend. But I was trying to run faster than usual (the only way I could justify doing a shorter run.) I thought about all the things that I haven't done or even tried for the silliest reasons, usually reasons I've invented. Why didn't I try diving years earlier? I would have been having so much more fun long before now. Why didn't I try butterfly until this year? Why hadn't I exposed myself to the potential humiliation of coming in last in a swim meet event, only to find that it didn't matter at all and that I had loved every minute of it? How we hold ourselves back! I run a little faster. 1h00
Friday Yippee, no winter tights this evening! The evening is very quiet and my legs seem to have remembered the faster run two nights ago. My back is feeling strong, as if it's really able to hold me up and run proud. I do my usual Sussex-Wellington-Gatineau loop. My left hamstring has been bothering me for weeks and tonight, after a strong massage appointment this afternoon, it's a little better but my stride still doesn't seem to extend as far as usual. My hip flexors are also feeling weak. Wow, do I ever have a lot of work to do. 1h20
Week of March 29
Sunday This morning we leave Bridgehead at 8:30am for a 14km run. It's warm but the wind has quite an edge to it. Our route goes along Iona, which becomes Clare and then Princeton and Keenan. That's a long stretch through some very lovely and quiet neighbourhoods, pleasant to run through when the wind is in your back. When we loop around at the end of Keenan onto Dovercourt, however, we're now straight into the wind and going uphill a little. Yesterday was my first bike ride of the year, and since it was 15 Celsius and gorgeously sunny, I wasn't the only one on Rockcliffe Parkway. I'm a little stiff this morning, especially in my back, from being hunched over the aerobars. But I'm running well and I feel strong. I have to pick up the pace a little when I'm trying to catch up to a group ahead that might be off track; the opportunity to raise the tempo for a while is great. I turn onto Island Park, go down Holland, and pick up Sherwood, which is much more of a climb than I had first thought. I finally catch up with the other group, who are on their way back down Sherwood. We cross Holland again and go over the 417 on the coolest bridge. It's a neat way to end a great run. 1h20
Tuesday Day 1 of Ironman training! It's so nice to begin the program without worrying about snow or ice, although that might change next week when the temperatures will go down for a few days. I do the Gatineau loop again this evening. My hamstring is doing OK. I run down toward Sussex amazed at how tight my shoulders are; it feels like I'm running and they're right up to my ears. Typical triathlete who overdoes the swimming and weightlifting. I'm more able to zone out on this run, find that groove and then stay in there while I try to keep a solid pace. The last 20 minutes of the run are supposed to be at tempo pace and I only manage that for about 15 minutes before I begin to sputter. Coming up the Vanier Parkway I see a raccoon thinking about crossing four lanes of traffic. I clap my hands and shoo him back into the shrubs. 1h20
Thursday The warmest day of the year, and the last one like it for a few days. The weather will be getting much worse for the next week or so. I listen to U2 Where the Streets Have No Name before I start my run. I haven't listened to it in the longest time, and as I'm running down St Laurent (I'm doing the Beechwood/St Laurent/ Sandridge route tonight) I find that thinking of the song makes me dig in and keep my tempo pace. My hip flexors have been bothering me terribly lately. It's very hard to lift my legs because of a pain just above the hip crease. I'm not zoning out on this run as I did on the last one. Instead, I'm thinking of what I've been seeing at work over the past few months. It seems that the office is divided into two groups of people according to a fundamental notion or definition of human being. One group is made of people who see an employee or colleague as a machine that produces something. The other groups sees employees and colleagues as human beings in their full complexity. I don't much like working with the former group; I find its members are small-minded, nasty, and insecure. They've got a view that condemns others to drudgery, worthless of any investment of time, kindness, or even some variation in their workday. The latter group is obviously a lot more fun, a bunch of people who have a sense of humour and some flexibility, who can roll with the punches and still come out smiling. But they're a small group and being pushed out by the former. It's the kind of situation where you ask yourself what's the best you can contribute. 1h00
Saturday The forecast for today looks awful. The winds are supposed to pick up in the afternoon, gusting up to 60km/hr, accompanied by heavy rain. So not long after a long, fast swim practice I haul myself out of the house and go for my first long run of the Ironman training season. The morning wind is calm and the stuff coming down is mostly mist. I remember my first long run of the training season last year, which had been absolutely miserable. The weather conditions had been similar to this morning, and I had gaged my pacing poorly so that after about an hour I was struggling. That crappy run had made me look at each subsequent long run a bit suspiciously. This year I want my first run to be a positive experience, so I start with an excruciatingly slow pace and a lot of thought about posture. I also dance before my run, something I haven't done in ages. And just to make sure things go right, I listen to a really quiet song so that I don't get the urge to run too fast.
It all works, at least for the first two hours. I go down to Sussex, along the Chateau Laurier, cross Rideau/Wellington in front of the Government Conference Centre, then run along Colonel By so that I can get on the path along the Rideau Canal. It's nice to run without being interrupted by intersections and traffic lights. The only people on the path are other runners and they're all passing me as if I'm standing still. I'm fine with that; my goal isn't to run fast, it's to have a pleasant running experience. After Dow's Lake it's time to turn back and get a bit of a tailwind. I'm certainly a little more tired now and after a while my left hamstring feels like it's shriveling. I have to walk for a bit along the Chateau Laurier, but I'm still happy and the pace is still steady.
There was an article in this morning's paper about the death of an extreme skiier, Shane McConkey, a 39 year-old known for his jumps of massive mountains and parachute landings. He died recently attempting one of those jumps; one of his ski bindings didn't let go when it was supposed to. The article brings up the debate about whether people who do such extreme sports are irresponsible, particularly those people who have families and children. Spouses often claim that an extreme sport spouse is a selfish thing since they're not considering the impact their likely death would have on the remaining partner or the kids. It's a debate that makes me roll my eyes. No one makes the same argument about couch potatoes, morbidly obese parents, or smokers. No one gets outraged at any of those parents, even though the likelihood of their premature death is far greater, and their lifestyle sets a far worse example for the children. All I can see in this debate is selfish, fearful spouses angry at their partners' sense of adventure.
Interestingly, the article quotes McClonkey from an interview two weeks before he died when he was asked, as all people in these sorts of sports are asked, why he did it. "We as humans have the built-in need to go explore, to go and see what's possible. And that's where I find it, in the mountains, with my skis and my parachute." As I'm running I'm wondering whether human beings as a species do actually have that tendency and desire to explore. True, some do, but the vast majority of people let their fear curtail it. We have, unfortunately, a much greater tendency to protect ourselves. We just don't like to admit it. Being adventurous is just so much more popular and glamourous and romantic. Whenever you get a quote like this from a person, you can see the mistake they're making, the generalisation that they have without recognition of their own minority status. There aren't too many Shane McClonkeys in the world, people with dreams of pushing the limits and actually do that. But they speak of "we humans." I think the more well-rounded person is the one who takes on that internal debate on a daily basis, trying to find that balance between finding their fears and pushing the limits. Although by the time I get home after 2h20 of running, I'm pretty much at my limit with running for the day.
Week of April 5
Sunday I so do not feel like running this morning. I'm exhausted, but I can't skip the group run at Bridgehead this morning. The outing is worth it if only to meet Joseph Nsengiyumva, one of Ottawa's elite runners. Joseph is from Rwanda; he's a small, gentle looking man who does 2:15 marathons. He speaks to the group just before we start running, giving us a bit of advice about the length and intensity of our runs. He has trained with the elite Kenyan runners and, like them, believes in consistency in running, not in long slow runs once a week. It's far more important to get out five or six times a week at race pace than it is to slug out long 30km+ runs every week. If you're training for a marathon, for example, Joseph suggests that doing half the distance at tempo pace is much more worthwhile than the long slow run. Getting out consistently, running daily as the Kenyans do, is what builds endurance. Reflecting on my own experience training for Two Oceans and seeing my own running improve tremendously in 2007, I have to agree with him. I just happen to also like running long distances and work them into my training program simply because I enjoy them. Joseph also talks about race strategy, basically explaining the negative split and pointing out how the pack of frontrunners will stay together for the first half of the race, then break up in the second half when the stronger runners move forward. That's good to hear; my tip of the week to the club in our newsletter was about pacing, and especially on the importance of pacing conservatively at the start of any race.
When we actually start running I'm not exactly feeling like an elite runner, however. My breakfast is on its way back up and I'm out of breath. I hang in for 10km until I just can't take it any longer and need to go find a washroom. But still a nice morning to be out wandering through quiet neighbourhoods. 1h00
Saturday Because last week's long run went pretty well, I replay the strategy of finding a good song before I start, and of keeping my pace verrrryyyy slow. It's embarrassingly slow, only I don't feel too embarrassed. There's a wicked northeast wind today and I try to figure out a route that will give me a tailwind on the way back. But because the wind is dancing around the north azimut, there's no direction that doesn't factor in a headwind. I cross the Mackenzie Bridge and have to hold my cap on with one hand while I push against the wind. Then down to the path along the river; I want to go east and head up the path along the Gatineau...which, I discover after a few kilometres, has flooded the path and cut it off. It almost feels like I'm in Fredericton and dealing with annual floods again. I turn back and go all the way west to the Chaudiere Bridge. Crossing that is really cool: the water is high and really rushing through the water sluices just upriver. There's so much power and ferocity to the sight that I stop for a few minutes to check it out. Back on the Ottawa side I finally, for the first time ever, discover the neat criss-crosses of paths that take you along the Lebreton Development and under Portage Bridge until you get to the lovely path that's right on the Ottawa River. This is so cool. I'm starting to fade and need a ClifShot, which doesn't settle well at all. Hm, I'm not even going to check the expiry date on that! I trot up slowly - surprised that I'm strong enough to run up the steep hill so well - along the lock and up to Wellington Street, going around the conference centre and then crossing Wellington to get onto Sussex. Back home. 2h20
Week of April 12
Thursday Tonight is tempo night, and Beechwood/St-Laurent/Sandridge seems to be my new tempo route. I start a little too fast but at least I don't have the usual hip flexor or hamstring pains that have been bothering me a lot lately. Like the last tempo run, I listen to some U2 to get into my "fast" groove - not that anyone would see a difference! - and after about 20 minutes of running I pick up the pace. Of course, it's easy to run fast when you're heading north on St-Laurent: it's downhill all the way to the end of Sandridge where I usually turn around. Well, at least I get the feeling of what it could be like if I were fast! I manage to maintain the pace all the way back up and finally take it easy on Beechwood just before Birch. 1h00
Saturday The weather forecast is changed from showers to overcast and warm. I'm still one of the only people out in long tights, however. My plan is to go up the path along the Rideau River to Hog's Back, cross at Mooney's Bay, and trot back along the canal. I love the first hour of running. I've got a good tailwind, so it's almost effortless running, and there's hardly anyone on the path. Going under Heron is a first for me. I've never been any further on the trail. There's a long climb up to Hog's Back Park and, like last week, I'm surprised that I find it so easy. At Mooney's Bay I watch the canoe-kayakers who are training in the Bay. Actually, a lot of people are watching. The kayakers look like they're really good. Then I start north along the canal. Now I've got a headwind, and what a difference it makes. I'm tired and I'm fading fast. Things are OK until I get to Wellington and cross over onto Sussex. I've got to walk for a bit every now and then. It's not like I'm completely out of it, but I can tell that I'm running on fumes and I really have to manage my energy if I want to make it home. 2h40
Week of April 19
Tuesday It's a nice evening for a run. I downloaded Full Moon by The Black Ghosts after seeing the movie Twilight - I must have been the last person on the planet who hadn't heard about or seen the movie. What a great song to run to. It gives that sense of movement while also keeping things focused. There's travel and a whiff of seeing new things when you listen to it. When the bass and drums kick in, you kinda feel pulled forward.
When the thorn bush turns white that's when I'll come home
I am going out to see what I can sow
And I don't know where I'll go
And I don't know what I'll see
But I'll try not to bring it back home with me
So my run tonight is pretty great. I finally find that groove that I've had a hard time getting into in my runs since I've moved to Ottawa, and I stay in it for the entire run. All the way down to Sussex, enjoy the strong tailwind up to Wellington, then up and down Wellington into Gatineau. My core feels stronger than usual so my stride is solid and I'm running tall. The nice thing about doing long runs on weekends is that everything else seems easy. 1h20
Thursday Tempo night. To get into the mood for a tempo run, I listen to the second track from Twilight that I had liked, Supermassive Black Hole by Muse and warm up down Beechwood. It's tough to get myself into a tempo pace after 15 minutes or so, especially since just as I start the tempo Beechwood is still climbing at a very, very slight gradient. Not much, but enough to make any effort to go faster stand out. As I go down St-Laurent I finally get into the pace I like and the effort I want to sustain just before turning onto Sandridge. Running the length of Sandridge my challenge is to keep the pace up, and even when I start hurting a little I don't slow down. But I take a long pause at the end of Sandridge before turning back. Birch is also a teensy bit of a climb back to Beechwood, but surprisingly I'm really moving now and I can't seem to slow down. Ah, this feels good! I charge up Birch, feeling strong and focused and runner-like, turn onto Beechwood, and finally slack off. Guess that second soundtrack off the movie is pretty good! 50min.
Friday The weekend forecast changed this morning, going from sunny hot weather on Sunday to overcast and rain, so I've pushed my workouts back to fit everything in. That means a long run today and a long bike to Saturday. It's a little weird to be going from work to a long run, but the day is exceptionally warm and beautiful so it kind of feels like a weekend. There are a lot of people out. Full Moon is in my head and it's turning out to be a great song for long runs. I start my run with some hills, figuring I need lots of practice in them anyway. I go up Beechwood and try to ignore all the traffic, then up Hemlock toward the DND base. It's an easy climb; at least, it feels easier than last year. My hip flexors are doing quite well even though I ran last night. Around the mostly-abandoned houses on the base and back down Hemlock. Running through this area always makes me think of the X-Files. It's just weird.
I take a short break to put on some lip balm and pick up the path along Aviation Parkway to go down to the Museum. Lip balm is a little trick I've learned to rely on ever since my meltdown at Ironman Canada in 2006. Sometimes heat will cause you to lick your lips until they become chapped, and you then mistake the chapped lips as a sign of thirst. At Ironman Canada I had done precisely that and had ended up drinking way too much. Now I carry lip balm with me and find that it takes away that maddening cracked lips feel. Anyway, the paved path up the river to Rockcliffe is surprisingly busy for a Friday afternoon. Looks like I'm not the only one out early from work to enjoy the weather. The traffic leading up to the first roundabout is jammed. I'm actually running faster than the cars lined up and itching to get out of the city. I'm feeling pretty good now, even though I've been running for about 1h30. I go up Lisgar and falter for a moment when another runner whips by me. OK, I'm feeling good, but I'm certainly not feeling fast. I do some zigzagging through Rockcliffe (it's hard not to!), and do two loops through the park and the dog run. It's so beautiful through here: it's always quiet and the path always seems almost fairy-like. Back home up Birch. 2h30
Week of April 26
Sunday After a spectacular storm last night, the hot weather is gone and this morning I've got my running tights instead of my shorts on for my run with the Sole Responsibility group. We're doing 17km, heading down Island Park Drive, across the Champlain Bridge, and downriver along the path. The path is wonderful and quiet. I'm doing OK, given a long run on Friday and a long bike yesterday. I'm certainly enjoying the discovery of this path. Every once in a while we have to dodge large groups of runners headed the other way. We cross Alexandra Bridge and trot down to the lock to cross onto the south shore path that will take us back to Bridgehead. We've now got a tailwind and I'm enjoying myself even more until just past LeBreton Flats when my right hip flexor cramps. Only instead of letting go, it stays cramped. Wow, does this ever hurt. I have to cut my run short and take it easy back to Bridgehead. 1h30
Tuesday I've lost a few pounds in the last couple of weeks, and the nice part about tonight's run is that as soon as I start running I feel lighter, trimmer in a sort of athletic way. And for once there's no pain in my left hamstring. Thank goodness for foam rollers! I've been using my relentlessly lately to get rid of the scar tissue in one hamstring that's the result of an old injury from a bike ride. Tonight I also get to start my run not long after the sun has set. The sky is clear and the winds are light. It's beautiful running. The hills and inclines are easy, keeping a good, quiet pace is easy. Yeah, this feels good. 1h25
Thursday I came so close to not going for a run this evening. Sometimes I think that training a lot simply scares us. I get so used to hurting during each workout (because it is after all a workout; some exertion is required) that I start to dread the pain in the hour before it's time to go for a run. Biking and swimming aren't so bad. Running is the sport that seems to have just a little more pain involved. That's probably because, unlike biking or swimming, running is a direct effort. There's no intermediary to distract you or let you coast. Oddly enough, it's why I like the run part of a triathlon so much. It's the ultimate test of character. When all excuses are taken away from you and you are utterly, completely exhausted yet still facing a 13 or 26 mile run, what are you made of? Anyway, I do finally make it out the door. I don't quite do a tempo workout, however. It's just not in me tonight as I do the usual Beechwood/ Sandridge / St-Laurent loop. 55min
Saturday I've got a pain in the butt. Literally. It started a bit earlier this week, a complete surprised when I woke up one morning and tried to stand up. It went away after a good swim workout, but halfway through today's long run it's back. What a bummer (!) since today's run is going so well. I've cut it back from three hours to 2h40 since I have another long run to do tomorrow with the Sole Responsibility group and I don't want to totally trash my legs. I do the length of Acacia through Rockcliffe and pick up the path that goes through the Rockcliffe Rockeries. The Rockeries are quite crowded today, which is pretty unusual, since large open areas are covered with blooming daffodils. I love running through here. I go to the end of the paved path, turn toward Tennis Crescent, then back on the path through the dog park. Back on to Hillsdale, toward Birch, and then onto Beechwood and Hemlock. It's into the wind all the way along the path toward Sussex. There are very few runners out today, something I like about running on Saturdays. The tulips in front of the National Research Council building on Sussex are something else, mostly because there are so many of them. Past Confederation Park, trying to ignore how much the pain in my left side is hurting. It's definitely related to running uphill. But I don't feel any stiffness in my legs or any fatigue at all. And - bonus - I get a tailwind back on Sussex. 2h40
Week of May 3
Sunday Sometimes the human body is a funny thing. This morning I'm doing a long run with the Sole Responsibility group, and where I was in so much pain last week doing two long runs back-to-back, this week everything is great. No hip pain, no hip flexor twinges, I don't even have sore muscles. I guess shortening yesterday's run was a good idea! We do pretty much the same route as we did last week: cross the Chaudiere Bridge to Gatineau, stay on the path, and return on the Ottawa path. It's a gorgeous morning. It's also the morning that the Running Room groups are doing their annual Kanata-to-downtown run, so the paths are much quieter than last week. At one point we meet three men going in the opposite direction, and they warn us about a "crazy psycho guy who's totally drunk" up ahead. It happens to be the same crazy psycho dude who heckled us on Alexandra Bridge last week. This week he doesn't see us since we're coming up behind him, but just as we reach him he picks up a folded sign on the ground and throws it into the run. At Portage Bridge we pick up the path again and run along the river, climbing back to Alexandra at the Museum of Civilization. With the tulips blooming, it's a really great section of the path to be on. Back through Confederation Park, down to the Canal, and to Tunney's Pasture. The goal is to do two loops around Tunney's Pasture, which is exactly 1km. It's a good check for pacing, and it's where we find out what distance and fatigue can do to one's sense of speed and pacing. 2h00
Tuesday This is just a good week for running. I feel really great tonight when I start this run. I go down Crichton for a change, and turn east when I get to Sussex, going around the roundabout in front of the prime minister's residence and then heading west. I'm trying to add some distance to make my usual Gatineau loop a 1h35 run. As I'm crossing Portage Bridge I realise that I'm not getting tired; a few months ago, I'd usually remark that my legs would be stiffening about now. How nice to see some progress. 1h35
Thursday Tonight's speed run fades fast when I start and realise how heavy my legs feel. No amount of replaying songs in my head can get my legs started. I trudge down to Beechwood, trudge along Beechwood, and finally start to feel things loosen up as I go down St-Laurent to Sandridge. But by the time I'm at the end of Sandridge I'm still not going faster, and I turn up Birch instead of redoing the loop. I cut through to Pond Street and do the little hills up to Beechwood. Well, at least I got out for a run. Something is better than nothing! 55min
Week of May 10
Sunday Today's run with the half-marathon group at Sole Responsibility is on the actual National Capital half-marathon course. It's our group's long run; we're doing the 21.1km, and this run is essentially my long run for the weekend. It's chilly and windy, only 4 Celsius! We start from the Library & Archives building, right by Portage Bridge. The building is actually open, so we wait in the lobby for everyone to show up. Then just as we step out, the first of many, many running groups also doing the course pounds by us. We cross over to the War Museum and go up to Montcalm. I had printed maps and directions for the course, but with all the groups out, runners are always in sight and letting us know where to go. By the time we cross back into Ottawa after the Gatineau part of the course (which is pretty awful), there are even more runners out. The path along the Canal is congested. I finish the last few kilometres on my own when my running partner's knees start hurting. 2h00
Tuesday Medium long run day! I had taken a Tylenol earlier this evening after getting a terrible headache. The thing about Tylenol is that it always guarantees a great run. My headache clears out within minutes and I get pretty hyper when I take the stuff. So tonight I whip down to Sussex, go around the traffic circle in front of the prime minister's residence, and head west. I've got Full Moon playing in my head and I find a really fast pace to settle into. My strides are very short and snappy; I must actually look like a decent runner this evening because all the runners I pass or see on my route wave at me. Whip by the Museum of Civilization, across Alexandra Bridge, and back toward home. The only time I finally start slowing down a little is in the last part in Vanier along Landry Street. 1h25
Thursday Mmmmm. It smells like spring. Lilacs are just about to bloom and there are whiffs of them everywhere this evening. It makes running heavenly, even though my legs are a bit trashed from yesterday's hard bike ride and I'm not exactly moving at a tempo pace this evening. I do my usual Beechwood / St-Laurent / Sandridge route, going right to the end of Sandridge where it meets up with the Rockcliffe Parkway. It's a clear evening and I'm running not long after the sun has set, when things are almost dark but still strangely clear. Even time seems to have taken a pause; the run feels like it's lasting forever. I loosen up on my way back and feel a little more comfortable running. 1h05
Week of May 17
Sunday I'm doing my long run today since downpours yesterday and unseasonably cold and windy weather today has meant rescheduling workouts. It's incredibly windy and the Sole Responsibility group starts down Wellington and straight into that darn wind. We go down Island Park, to Lanark, which curves through some quiet, lovely neighbourhood and pops out at Westboro Beach. Along the paved trail with a tailwind, and then up Ross back to Bridgehead. That's the first 6km, and where the group is stopping since most are tapering for next week's events at the National Capital Marathon weekend. I, on the other hand, have another three hours to go. And I hate running in the wind.
But oddly enough the wind doesn't seem to be bothering me as much as it did last year (although I'm really cold.) I redo the start of our 6km loop, going back down Lanark, then pick up the older trail along the Ottawa Parkway. It's a little more sheltered than running right along the river. I take it easy, listen to Flow, and watch people on the Parkway (one lane is closed Sunday mornings for cyclists and rollerbladers.) I go through Britannia and onto a long, straight stretch of the path. It's all mine! It's lovely, green, the river right next to it, and there's no one in sight. Eventually I make it to the yacht club and pause for a gel and a drink before heading back. Tailwind! And strong one, too. I'm in a better mood, although I was in a pretty good one to start with when I was running against the wind. But this is just great.
The wind is so strong that my strides are almost jarring; I'm getting pushed forward onto slightly stiffer and stiffer quads. Time goes by quickly and the wind reminds me of running in South Africa. For a while, I even accelerate. Around the 2h45 mark I start getting a little tired and I stop to finish off the rest of my eLoad. As much as I enjoy the heat, I have to admit that running in cool temperatures is so much easier. I finally leave the trail at Parkdale. 3h20
Tuesday I did a really tough sprint swim this morning, so this evening I'm running with my shoulders up around my ears and a bit of a stiff back. It's the trademark triathlete running posture. I've overdressed quite a bit and the wind has died down. The first part of the run, the usual Sussex/Gatineau loop, is spent trying to find that quiet place. It's also spent enjoying how much my endurance has increased over the past four months. I run down Wellington and speed up crossing Portage Bridge without really thinking about it. The best part of the run starts when I turn onto Alexandra Bridge. The bridge is closed to traffic for the night so that repair crews can do some work. That means...no traffic. Just running the one kilometre span across the river, between the Museum of Civilization and Parliament twinkling on opposite shores, in silence. I can hear my soles hitting the boards, even the water swirling beneath the bridge. Oh this is fantastic. This is heavenly. I climb up to Mackenzie in that silence, then back into traffic along Sussex. But when I get to the end of Sussex, I realise I'm still short about 20 minutes on my run, so I take a chance and go up Lisgar and into the maze that is Rockcliffe Village. I find it terrifying to run through Rockcliffe at night, not because it's dangerous or scary, but because it's so easy to get lost in here. And I worry that I'll get so lost that I'll end up running around quiet little winding streets for hours until I pass out from fatigue. I go up Lisgar and when it ends and splits into about six different - totally asymmetrical - directions, I stop and panic. I'm trying to find Mariposa, one road that I do know and that I'm SURE leads off Lisgar, but it's not on any of the signs I see. I finally find Maple. Woohoo! I know that street! It leads straight across to Beechwood. I turn up Maple and enjoy myself again. There are no cars at all, nothing is moving. It's just a warm late spring evening, things are quiet, the scent of lilacs is everywhere, and it's me and my feet hitting the ground. I'm suddenly so happy, something I haven't been during a run for the longest time. I've missed this silence. 1h35
Friday Because it's the Ottawa half-marathon this weekend and I'm cheering on my sweetie and the folks from the Sole Responsibility Club, my long run gets shifted back from Saturday to Friday. My long bike goes from Sunday to Saturday. Thank goodness the weather is co-operating. And boy, is it ever co-operating. After a greyish, gloomy morning, the afternoon is just sparkling with sunshine. I start off in Rockcliffe, climbing Acacia, down Buena Vista, stopping to give some terrible directions to two women who are trying to drive the marathon course. They're in Rockcliffe and, of course, they're lost. Even people who live here get lost. All I can do is point them straight and say that everything will all work out in the end.
I go down Buena Vista to Lisgar, eventually coming back to Acacia to go through the Rockeries. Gardening season has arrived and gardens are in bloom everywhere. There's just so much to look at and be grateful for. I pick up the path through Rockcliffe Park, and then take Sandridge to Birch. I'm trying to draw out the time running through Rockcliffe because it's quiet and gorgeous, but eventually I get on the path along Sussex to go out to Gatineau. It's rush hour; I'm running faster than the cars are moving on Sussex. And when I get to the National Art Gallery I figure I'll be better off running along the river than trying to make it up Wellington with all the crowds. Up to Portage Bridge and back on the other side of the river, again along the path below the Museum of Civilization. It's much less crowded and even more beautiful.
It's not until I'm back on Sussex and passing in front of Rideau Hall that I finally start to struggle. It hits me all of a sudden, really, a wall. At precisely 2h40 into my run, I'm suddenly drained and aching. I knew I shoulda had a gel earlier. No amount of liquid helps now. I shuffle up Acacia, through the Rockeries again, and turn right to get onto Lansdowne. 3h15
Week of May 24
Tuesday A few extra days off make a difference this evening. I have that nice kind of tension or snap to my stride that usually only comes when I'm fit and rested. In other words, not too often. Tonight is one of my longest mid-week runs of the program and I'm lucky enough to start before it's gotten dark. I can run through Rockcliffe! I climb Acacia, doing much better than I did Saturday after a long bike. The evening is so still. At the far end of Acacia where it meets up with the Rockcliffe Parkway I can see across the Ottawa River. It reminds me of running on Golf Club Road in Fredericton. Even the parkway is quiet, which is unusual. As I go along Sussex and onto the Gatineau loop I try to remember some of the Chi Running ideas that I used to practice on every run. Now that I'm swimming and biking more, a lot of my core muscles are getting stronger and I can feel the pull in posture toward a taller position. It was something I noticed Sunday as well, when I was watching the Ottawa half-marathon leaders flying by. They're so upright. I think the real trick is that their hips are lined up with their torso; most people run with a bit of a bend at the waist, and that bend removes whatever power the hips can provide. When I get back from the Gatineau loop I still have 20 minutes to go, so I run up Mariposa. It's pitch black. Leave it to Rockcliffe not to put streetlights except on corners. Last time I do that. 1h45
Week of May 31
Sunday Juggling workouts because of strange weather patterns means that today is my long run. I did my long bike yesterday and I don't normally like to do my long run the day following it. It takes such a long time to recover when workouts are scheduled that way. I also think the long run is so important for mental training purposes that you need to be as rested as possible, considering all the training, to do it. You need to give it your full attention.
Because of yesterday's bike ride, I cut down today's run from 3h30 to 2h40. 2h40 is my get-up-and-go limit: any run shorter than this doesn't really require preparation or additional pacing conditions. Around 2h40, I start to struggle. My brick run after yesterday's bike went really well but I still have some scar tissue in my left hamstring. It's improved a lot in the past six weeks, as have my hip flexors. I don't want to mess with anything today. I go up Acacia and eventually make my way to the Rockeries. Eventually I get through Rockcliffe Park, enjoying the trail so much that I do it three times. It's so comfortable running through this; it reminds me of running through Odell Park in Fredericton on glorious, serene Saturday mornings. I'm running really well, given how many hills I climbed yesterday. Then on to Sussex and eventually up Wellington. This is all into an increasingly hard and cold wind, and it starts to rain when I turn around at Portage Bridge. I've got a tailwind on my home and enjoy running hard.
There was a fascinating ruling in Ontario this past week about aggression in sports. A judge of the Ontario court "ruled that an 18-year-old had committed manslaughter when he used aggression beyond the rules of the sport in a Peel District School Board rugby game two years ago." Just after the rugby game had ended, the 18-year-old slammed a player on the opposing team head-first into the ground as vindication for an earlier altercation between the two. The player later died of his injuries. The judge obviously qualified his ruling: he was aware that rugby is a contact sport and that players agree to the rules and risks of the game when they step onto the field. The defendant in this case had gone beyond the rules of the game. I'm fascinated by this ruling because I see so many examples in triathlon where athletes, usually crazed 30-34 year-old men, harass and almost assault other participants in order to get ahead. Or I think of the swim start at Ironman Canada, one of the worst events when it comes to participant aggression. Fighting, punching, people trying to push each other underwater...people who aren't going to come close to qualifying for or winning anything. What's going on? Why do we unleash that way when hundreds are witnesses - or maybe because hundreds are witnesses? Do people understand when their behaviour becomes criminal, or is the line between sport and everything else so absolute for them that behaviours unacceptable in one domain are perfectly fine in the other? I'm hoping this week's ruling will at least start some questioning on that. 2h40
Week of June 7
Sunday The Mooseman Half-Ironman Race Report, Bristol, New Hampshire
I love Mooseman. One of the worst parts about last year was not coming here. It's not just the triathlon, it's the cottage we rent, the friends we get together with at that cottage, the anticipation of my first weekend off for the year. Even the drive down to Bristol - this year from Ottawa instead of Fredericton - is breathtaking and spectacular. But the triathlon is just awesome. Thank goodness all of these things tie into this weekend, otherwise I'd be even angrier at myself than I am now. Conditions were perfect this weekend, and I had my worst Mooseman ever. Well, at least I discovered new things about this sport!
Race day morning was sunny, something I hadn't seen in a long, long time. We got to Wellington State Park minutes before 5am, when the gates were supposed to open, and cars were already entering and parking. I had plenty of time to set up transition and listen to my iPod. Things went smoothly. It took me forever to get my wetsuit on and by the time I was done my hands could barely fold. I think I need to lose a few pounds; that blueseventy wetsuit is really tight. Waiting for my wave to start I decided not to warm up. The wind had picked up very early and I was cold, too cold to want to swim a little. Much like last year at Tinman, I wasn't happy, nervous, or excited. No, I dreaded the next six hours. I dreaded the pain and discomfort that were coming my way even while I knew there would be moments of triumph and beauty. So when the race announcer yelled off our wave, I took my time before starting my first stroke. Just like every single swim in the past two years (why am I not learning?), I discovered that I had started too far back and that everyone around me was much slower. Bumping into people while trying to move ahead isn't very fun, even if it's completely by accident, and I hate doing it. By the first buoy I had finally cleared some space and zipping by everyone else. I had to stop just after that first turn to clear out my goggles, which had fogged up very quickly but stayed clear after that. The wind was pushing us into the course and it was a bit of a struggle to get to the outside of the buoys. I was waiting for my hands to turn into frozen claws and lose my ability to push through the water, but I stayed warm enough to swim well. 34 minutes for the swim!
I warned the wetsuit stripper as I came up, "This thing is on really tight!" The guy had my wetsuit off so fast I just sort of lay on the ground trying to figure out what had happened. Well, at least all my other clothes stayed on. I trotted over to the bike and got my feet completely covered in dirt, leaves, and muck. I scrubbed and scrubbed them on the bath mat by my bike to get everything off so that I wouldn't blister later on. Then it occurred to me that if the ground in transition was that sticky, what would happen to my cleats as I ran out of transition? I hummed and hawed and saw that everyone else was running out with bike shoes on, so on mine went and out to the bike mount area.
As soon as I got on the bike things felt better. Bike is home. It's more natural than walking. And here it was a gorgeous sunny morning and I had a whole three hours of biking ahead of me. Life was suddenly very good. I had opted to take my Litespeed instead of the Cervelo for this course, reasoning that it was a technical course and that I hadn't mastered shifting on the Cervelo. And the Litespeed is a lively, fun bike to ride. The guy ahead of me was having a hard time clipping into his pedals. I wasn't rushing or trying to pass anyone. My strategy was to take things as easy as possible on the first loop, then move faster on the second. My memories of the course were mostly of the leg-burning pain induced by Devil Hill and all the rollers on Cass Mill Road. I didn't want the leg-burning part of it. So I let everyone pass me until...Devil Hill. At the base of the hill I did my usual jump-out-of-the-saddle to attack the hill right away, and right away I shot by everyone groaning up and swerving all over the road. Wow, where did this power come from? This was new for me! It took me a few minutes to recover when I got to the top, and then off I was to take the next hill. There was a quick downhill/uphill and then on to a long uphill to Route 3A. More passing lots of people. Hm, this was nice! Things were pretty steady along the 3A. I didn't enjoy the rough pavement very much. In Bristol we turned up the 104 and started my favourite part of the course. This section has long stretches where I can really boot it in the aerobars, and the road skirts the edge of a large valley that's so picturesque at this time of the year. Onto Cass Mill Road and now lots of people were passing me. This is where I was working hard to not go hard. Cass Mill Road doesn't have one flat inch on it: everything is a wild up or down until a sharp turn by a church. It's so easy to get caught in the exhilaration of the route and leap out of the saddle to pass people and zip up little hills. Once we were out of the hills, the road flattened and the wind came up. But it was an odd wind, one that didn't seem to really make biking much harder.
The second loop was even more fun than the first. I was passing more people and enjoying myself. I was having a hard time swallowing gels; they were almost sickening and I had to really convince myself to get the calories in. I wasn't thirsty at all, and any sip of e-Load just made my stomach roil. The morning was cool so I wasn't sweating very much and I didn't worry about any of this. I shot up Devil Hill and snarled at one girl who was talking and swerving into the middle of the road. The officials enforce the "Don't Cross the Yellow Line" rule and I didn't want to get shoved over by someone who could barely keep their bike straight. At the 3A I cheerfully told another girl on a fast Cervelo P3 that she should go ahead of me. It was my turn to get snarled at. I moved ahead and pushed pretty hard. The stretch on the 104 was fast and I passed everyone I saw, although they all caught up on Cass Mill Road.
It was when I got off the bike at transition that things were not so good. As soon as my feet hit the ground I knew I was in trouble. My legs were stiff poles. I felt heavy. I wanted to throw up. I just couldn't figure out why. At the bike rack I slowly changed shoes and stood still while I put on my cap. I never stand while putting my cap on; I always do that while running for the run exit. Things were falling apart. I shuffled over to the run course and walked up the steep path to the road. I started shuffling again. I tried not to think of the misery awaiting me for the next two hours. In the end, it was actually more than two hours of misery. It was 2h15. I hated every single minute of that run. My splits for each 5km segment went from 31 minutes to 32:54, 35:11, and finally 36:05. My blood pressure was dropping and nothing was working. Not music, not Pepsi, not breaking up the course into hills and walking sections of it. I just wanted to lay down and sleep or crawl back into the lake. The only thing I noticed was something from ChiRunning: on a downhill, I tilted my hips a little more forward than I have in the past year and felt the power of running from a stronger core. I managed to keep that up for quite a while until I got too dizzy and lightheaded. Once in a while I'd manage to revive myself and find that posture. It was strange, as if my hip flexors were so tight that really moving the hips to run properly was impeded by the tension in the flexors. Yet in that the first clue about what I'd be focusing on when I got back to Ottawa was forming. I had neglected ChiRunning and proper running form far too long. All the endurance workouts and long runs in the world wouldn't be much good if I didn't run properly. The last two miles I ran with another guy with a good pace. Running with someone gave me something to focus on and a reason not to quit (Thanks #270 !)
Results
SWIM 38:48 RANK: 243 out of 668, Pace of 28:40 per mile
BIKE 3:12:15 RANK: 449 out of 668, pace of 17.5mph
RUN 2:15:24 RANK: 521 out of 668, pace of 10:21min/mile
OVERALL 6:09 462nd overall, 21 out of 42 W35-39
Lessons Learned
I am so disappointed in myself. I'm mad and disappointed that my best sport of the three - running - is now my worst. It used to be so satisfying to pass everyone as soon as I got off the bike, to not have to deal with the pain that I saw in others' faces on the run course. But Mooseman served its purpose. After all, I sign up for this race to help focus my training in the final six weeks before Ironman Lake Placid. I know that I've got some serious work to do on running form, and a lot of research to do on nutrition. What happened on the run was a sudden drop in blood pressure, brought on by too little salt intake. After the race I was talking to a friend, someone who wins everything in sight and is so gifted in this sport that it seems almost unreal. I asked her how she felt prior to a race. She said the two hours before a race were awful. She knew that she was going to be uncomfortable for a long time and pushing herself. I told her I no longer got excited before races. In fact, I dreaded them. This is new to me and I'll have to see how I deal with it.
- Making decisions by assessing risk versus security, and settling them with "What makes me happy?" instead of "What makes me faster?" I'm glad I took the Litespeed on this course, but I would have been faster on the Cervelo. Yet I appreciated not worrying about shifting gears under tension in the hills and worrying about the chain. I think that's a good way to lean in these types of situations.
- Nutrition. I thought I had this part nailed after the great Ironman Canada Bonk in 2006. I guess not. I have to start all over and focus on salt tablets and a new gel. If I never see another Clif Shot Vanilla Energy Gel, it will be too soon.
- Start farther ahead in the swim. I don't know why I chicken out like I do at each start. I get so intimidated by all the other athletes. Geez, Helen, toughen up.
Saturday Welcome to...Lake Placid. No, it's not Ironman yet. I'm here for a weekend of training. I haven't run very much since Mooseman since I was a bit stiff, which is quite odd for me following a triathlon. Today I've got a 3h30 run scheduled, but my goal isn't so much the distance as the focus on form. The afternoon is incredibly humid, a nice break from last year's cold, wet conditions. There's even lots of sun! I leave the hotel in Lake Placid and run down to River Road. That stretch between central Lake Placid and River Road along Route 73 is my least favourite part of the marathon. You don't have the huge crowds in the village to cheer you on, and the scenery is plain, nothing like the quiet loveliness of River Road. But it's a slight downhill and I enjoy that as I start the run. I'm putting a lot of thought into running upright, pushing off with each leg. It works well on the small inclines along River Road. There are other people out running; the Lake Placid Marathon is tomorrow, and it looks like it goes along River Road as well. No kidding. I'd run this road all the time if I lived here. There's a spectacular stream along the road, mountains in the distance, and the sound of birds and quiet. It's such a nice break from Ottawa.
I go until River Road meets up with Route 86. It's really hot by now, and I'm soaked. I can't believe how much salt is covering my face and legs. I turn around and go back. I'm not feeling tired yet, even though I'm running just a tad faster than I usually do during a long run, the consequence of more emphasis on high cadence and running well. I go back up Route 73, and surprise myself by running up the really steep hill up to the lights. But that costs me: as I head toward Mirror Lake and along Mirror Lake Drive I start to feel a bit ill and I slow down. Eventually I find myself stopping frequently until I finally tell myself that I might as well turn back. The fun is over. 2h45
Week of June 14
Tuesday I wonder how it is that we set such high expectations for ourselves. Not everyone does. Some people do a really good job at setting no expectations at all (or very low ones) and doing everything they can to avoid anything. That's just not me. But I have the extreme opposite condition, and I think the cost is catching up to me. High expectations are good, but what happens when you never reach them? There's some self-knowledge involved when we set them - we somehow intuitively know our limits and stay within that - but those of us fed on stories of heroes and breakthroughs don't accept those limits. So my expectations have risen while my performance has not. The gap in between is called disappointment and frustration. How do I find the balance? And I had better find that balance, or I'm going to end up so angry and frustrated that I'll quit this wonderful sport.
Anyway, I'm having a good run tonight. I'm desperate not to have a bad one. I go up Acacia toward the Rockcliffe Parkway. I love the view of the river just as you come out along the Parkway at the top of a cliff. The sun is just setting and I can see the Gatineau hills in the distance, as well as church spires on the other shore. I'm warming up a little, so the stretch from between Buena Vista and the roundabout in front of the PM's residence - always a favourite, it's so quiet - is just awesome. I'm trying to loosen up my legs and especially my hips and it seems to be working. The point is to kick back more with the legs and get that recoil in the hips that will bring the legs forward for another stride. I notice the difference mostly going uphill. It's finally easier! I go up Wellington, which is really crowded, and across Portage, finally slowing down a little. There's construction on Alexandra Bridge, so it's closed to traffic. I enjoy the site of Parliament Hill all lit up and quiet. Back home and settling in to a good stride. 1h30.
Thursday This evening is my "speed" workout. I no longer do track workouts, which is a good thing since there aren't too many tracks around here. Instead I've got 3x8min fast intervals, followed by 3x4min. I'm not looking forward to it too much. I don't like running fast, especially not this year when running just hasn't been as fun as usual. But tonight I surprise myself. I only spend about ten minutes warming up as I go along Beechwood, then kick in to my first eight minute interval. I don't feel all that fast, which is pretty normal. I go down St Laurent on my second interval and use the downhill as much as I can. I pass the Canadian Police College, and because it's still quite clear even though it's late evening, I have time to run down the path along Birch to the Parkway. I love this path. It's just a serene gravel delight cutting through a field, and this evening there's the smell of fresh cut grass to go with it. I'm starting to feel really good; I go back up and down the path (it's only about 300m) just to enjoy it. The last eight minute interval starts up the path. I have no power at all going up the hill, and it's not even a hill, just a faint incline. The four minute intervals go well. I'm thinking an article on a blog I enjoy following, ( Matt Fitzgerald , and an entry that talks about how the mind essentially limits the body during physical activity in order to protect it. How do I convince myself to go past that self-imposed limit on my body? What happened in the past few years that I started slowing myself down? 1hr
Saturday My sweetie and I went to the Humane Society today and came back home with Churchill, a two month old black and white kitten. To say Churchill is adorable is understating the case. He's got that intent wonder with anything moving (or not) that makes anyone's mothering instinct go nuts. I spent all afternoon with Churchill and finally got out for a run around 3pm. And maybe because I've spend the day with something so small and wondrous and alive, it seems that I'm paying more attention to all the details about life and colour throughout my run. I notice all the wildflowers, purple and yellow mostly, growing beside the path along the Ottawa River. I notice a massive black and grey bird that swoops up from a field, chased by a smaller bird. There's the tall grass swooshing quietly. It reminds me of lines from William Blake that a meditation teacher once wrote on a board before a class, "For every thing that lives is holy / Life delights in life." The path is quiet. I go all the way to where it curves up and meets Rockcliffe Parkway. That last bit through the woods is so refreshing; I've always enjoyed running on forest trails more than any other type. There's something about the curve of a trail and how you keep wondering what's waiting around the next bend. The way home is equally quiet. My goal is to keep my pace as slow as possible so that my heart rate doesn't go up. 3hrs
Week of June 21
Tuesday Sometimes the most successful part of a workout is just getting out the door. That's how I feel tonight. I feel terribly sluggish during the first third of the run. My hamstring doesn't bother me too much until later on when it begins to pull very suddenly. I eventually get into a rhythm, working on my stride and relaxing my legs so that I get a more fluid stride. I watch the sun go down as I turn onto Rockcliffe Parkway at the end of Acacia. It's beautiful: hot summer evening, Gatineau hills in the distance, calm river. The very last streaks of sunlights make it through the woods as I follow the trail onto Sussex. There are lots of people on Wellington as I cross downtown. A huge stage is being set up on Parliament Hill for Canada Day celebrations next week. Sometimes it's strange to think that I live here now, after years of being in quaint Fredericton or a small town in northern Quebec. I can't help thinking that I miss trails and trees and birds singing. It's also strange how life changes us like that. We go from one extreme to another over several years and, without realising it, end up liking or disliking things we would have thought inconceivable years earlier. Once upon a time I was a city girl. Now I'd do anything to be running on a country road right now. In the meantime, I keep my pace as slow as possible in order to make this more of a technique run. I actually finish the run feeling better than when I started. 1h40
Week of June 28
Sunday I know today's run is going to be hard. It's very humid, and it's the day after my long bike ride. I normally do my long run the day before the long bike, simply because doing so means less recovery time, and because I think long runs should be about quality, not just grinding out miles on tired legs. I start out OK. I've lost a bit of weight and my legs feel pretty solid. I trot along Beechwood and go up to the old military base, CFB Rockcliffe, at the end of Hemlock. This place is really weird, like X-Files weird. It's an older, almost perfectly preserved residential quarter that's virtually deserted. The lawns are tended, there's no junk or chaos, but windows are boarded up and weeds grow in the cracks in the roads. I like running here because it's quiet and different, but I don't get a chance to explore it all that much because I'd never run here except in broad daylight during normal hours. Now that I've got some time I explore every road on the base. I wonder what it was like living here; there are no fences between any of the properties. It must have been like living in a fishbowl.
I go back down Hemlock and make my way to Manor Park. I'm always surprised at how many houses and condo units are so quietly stuffed away in this area, a tight and serene squeeze between St. Laurent and Aviation Parkway. I'm still feeling pretty good but the heat is starting to get to me. I run around Rockcliffe for a while, up Birch, down Mariposa, Buena Vista, the Rockeries. It's just over the two hour mark and now I'm starting to feel the heat. That surprises me. I should have been able to last longer. At 2h45 I pick up the path along Rockcliffe Parkway and figure I'll make it to Rideau and Mackenzie and be back home for four hours of running, but at 3h20 as I'm running along Sussex and dealing with a strong headwind, a little red light goes off in my head and I know I'm getting close to heatstroke. My head is getting hotter and hotter and I ain't feeling so good. Running back along Sussex is brutal, but I get my act together in the final 25 minutes of the run. I don't even want to think about what's going to happen at Lake Placid during the marathon. 3h50
Tuesday The way I'm running tonight it's hard to imagine that Sunday's run was so tough. I outsmart the rainshowers this evening. This summer there's a downpour just about every evening, and when I say down POUR I really mean POUR. Tonight it starts at 8pm and suddenly switches off at 8:20. I'm running at 8:25. I'm doing the Gatineau loop without any detours through Rockcliffe. My peak running week is over, although I'm a little worried since running just isn't going all that well. That obsessive-compulsive side of me wants to add another high mileage week "just in case", but I think experience is finally kicking in and telling me to have faith. The body will develop in time for Lake Placid.
I run along Sussex and try to keep things slow. It's not easy since everything feels really good and the emphasis on ChiRunning is paying off. The eve before Canada Day, and downtown is deserted. Running up Mackenzie and onto Wellington is strange, not what I had expected for this time of the year. It's neat to run by the huge stage on Parliament Hill; great, kinda world rhythms, music is playing, then gets cut short as two people talk over the sound system calling for sound adjustments. Down and across Portage Bridge. Try to relax legs and hips, make the most of the recoil power of the leg. I go back across Alexandra Bridge and realise that my left hamstring hasn't bothered me in the past few runs. Thank goodness for foam rollers! I remember to do some strides in the last kilometre along Landry Street. I do four sets, alternating fast and slow between light poles. 1h25
Thursday I get a bit of a shock this evening when I check my training schedule and see that my speed workout is 1h20. I was so looking forward to doing a shorter workout! To heck with the schedule: I'm shortening my run. I'm feeling a tad stiff anyway, having switched yesterday's speed bike into a four hour flat workout followed by a really great 30 minute run. My legs are missing a bit of fluidity. I focus on loosening them up as I go down toward Sussex. There's a truck going from light to light replacing some Canadian flags on the lamp posts with Japanese flags. The Japanese emperor is visiting Canada next week. I start a 20 minute tempo just after passing the Prime Minister's residence. It's not going too well; I just can't get any speed. I climb up Mackenzie, getting chased by a group of kids hanging around the corner at the light. That finally gets me to move a little faster and at last I get that fluid-striding feeling, the sense of moving faster and more powerfully. I go down Rideau and loop back to Sussex. OK, so if I can't run fast, then I'm going to have think about running well, getting my feet to hit the ground beneath my centre of gravity, picking them up quickly, and using my hips more. Something I haven't worked on a lot is relaxing my leg below the knee as I run. It's a ChiRunning concept and I'm convinced it's one of the reasons I've managed to avoid a lot of injuries that affect other runners. Funny how hard it is to relax. 1hr
Saturday Is it really July? It's overcast, cool, and blustery today. I even put on a long sleeve shirt for my run. What a stretch of terrible weather we've had. The upside is that since the weather is cool I don't need to carry anything to drink, even though today's run is three hours. I do my bit in Rockcliffe, then go up along Sandridge toward the old CFB Rockcliffe. I watch the old biplane taking off from the nearby Rockcliffe Airport. It gives tours of the region throughout the summer, taking off and landing every 30 minutes. I love watching it take off and hearing the rich sound of the old engine. The biplane is really struggling against the wind today. Once in a while I see it while I'm in the city of Ottawa or out walking and I imagine that it's World War I and I'm watching biplanes over a German city. It's hard to believe that something so heavy and slow used to strike fear in the hearts of people everywhere with its speed and sound. Today it's used to give tours out at the local airport. I guess it's a bit like seeing F-14s thundering by and how they deafen us; in 90 years or so, we'll be able to go out for a ride on them and marvel at how quaint they are. Every time I attend a presentation or hear the argument that technology is faster than before, and therefore qualitatively different from anything before, I think of the biplane. It's only the fact that none of us were alive 90 years ago that lets us make that statement. After all, how do we know that things are different from before, if we didn't live in the "before"? People claim the media is different today since it's faster, but forget that the telegraph had the same impact when it was first invented and commercialised in 1856. The world is not really moving at a faster pace. We just have never learned to slow it down.
I wander around CFB Ottawa and try to make the most of my time there. A fire department is practicing some rescue techniques in one of the abandoned houses on Arcturus. I'm starting to get hungry and my blood pressure is going down. And I've only been running two hours under cool conditions. This isn't good. I have a gel and go up the path along Aviation Parkway. It's wooded and private, reminding me of the trails I used to run in northern Quebec. I'm really getting worried about the marathon in Lake Placid. Since 2007, my running ability has plummeted and I don't know why. I don't know how to adapt my training, what to change, or where to begin in figuring out this problem. So as Lake Placid approaches I get the sense that I'm not doing anything. I hate procrastinating, I hate not doing anything.
Back through Manor Park and around Rockcliffe. I go through the Rockeries but get lost when I come out at Hillsdale and turn right, thinking it will take me back to Acacia. It doesn't, not by a long shot. I climb some steep hills and shuffle around until I end up on Mariposa. I'm starting to get myself back together again, mostly by reducing my pace and looking to the side as much as I can. I find that if I look straight ahead I feel nauseous, but looking to the side while I run clears it up. One tidbit of research I've discovered is that motion sickness increases with one's fitness level. So I finish the last 30 minutes of my run looking off to the left. Hey, whatever works....
Week of July 5
Tuesday I start my run not long after returning home from work. I normally start much later, after traffic has died down a little and my legs are not feeling as stiff, but tonight I've suddenly got the urge to run early. It probably has to do with the Tour de France re-broadcast at 8pm, especially of the incredibly exciting team time trial (which I watched this morning as well!) Since it's still daylight out I do most of my run in Rockcliffe where it's quieter and where I can work on hills. I warm up by going down Crighton and eventually turning east on Sussex. My pace is pretty slow and stiff, all the more reason to work on relaxing the lower leg as much as possible.
I decide that it's my day to explore Rockcliffe a little more and maybe try to orient myself in this labyrinthe of expensive homes. I take Birkenfelds, a very small lane off Buena Vista, and follow it around to Minto Place. Then left on Minto Place, because I've never been on this road either. Suddenly I'm running along a totally unexplored - to me - part of the village. The houses are stunning. I turn left onto one small street and pass a manor with a carriage house that both look like they belong in a Jane Austen movie. I'm still moving really slowly. At least the houses are distracting me from my miserable pace. Back out to Minto Place, which is now Coltrin, and suddenly I see a huge police motorcycle arcade passing. Huh? I'm on Acacia? How did that happen? There are so many police and VIP vans and vehicles parked on Acacia that I turn away and opt in stead to go down Crescent, another road I've been on. It's stunning. I have house envy. And it's so quiet, so rural in a way. I'm just loving this run, padding down one lane roads that feel like they belong in another country. But suddenly I'm back on Buena Vista, and Acacia is just on my right! What?! I'm so disoriented. I turn left and go down, find out I'm on Cloverdale, and give up trying to mentally map the area. All I know is that if I keep going down, I get to McKay Lake and I've got a great hill to practice on Cloverdale up to Buena Vista. I go up and down a few times. The hill is quite hard but not crazy. It's good for practicing form without blowing up my legs or lungs. Finally I turn down Acacia and go home. 1h10
Update No journal entries for a few days. It looks like I may have kidney stones. The only thing worse than the pain is the calculation that I may not pass them before Ironman.
Week of July 19
Thursday I don't have kidney stones. I have a very, very short, sprained quadratus lumborum, a muscle that runs from the spine to the pelvic bone and happens to go over the kidneys. And when that baby spasms in the morning, I tell ya, you're not going anywhere.
So it's been ten days and I haven't done a thing except watch the Tour de France and go to chiropractor appointments. It's looking like I'll do Lake Placid, but it won't be pretty. Tonight I do my first run in ten days. I end up doing 50 minutes after I had only planned to do 30. My legs are heavier; I've gained weight and my hip flexors, never very strong to begin with, aren't dealing with the extra load too well. But things are basically OK.
This is an exciting time for sports. Maybe you're like me and glued to the television as Lance re-defines sportsmanship and performance at the Tour. I'm a big Lance fan. OK, I'm totally in awe of the man. He represents all that an athlete should be: he's both inspiring and inspired, he's obsessed with the technicalities of cycling as well as its mystery. Of course, everyone's making a big deal about his age. He's 37, same age as I am. And he's showing everyone at the Tour how it's done. Anyway, I'm just excited to be doing Ironman on the same day that he'll be wrapping up the Tour de France.
Actually, that's about the only thing that excites me for Ironman this year. I've been having a hard time staying motivated for the event, largely because the bike course terrifies me, and a repeat of my horrible run at Mooseman terrifies me even more. Throughout my run this evening I'm thinking about a post on Matt Fitzgerald's blog. The post is for July 23, and it's called Believe The Hype. Matt talks about how performance is a function of the importance we place on an event. "It is a potent demonstration of the fact that fatigue is always to some degree a choice. The closer a competition comes to having life-or-death importance to an athlete, the more capable he is of refusing fatigue to the point where it becomes truly involuntary." We tend to think that something external limits our performance - genes, weather, family, etc - and it's always interesting to see the gymnastics people put themselves through to find ways to explain why they didn't do well in something. But it all comes down to choice. And I know my current condition - unmotivated, injured, and scared - is my own making, starting not with my body but with my head. I've got to back to a question I asked myself when I first started doing triathlons: what do I want my performance to say about me?
Week of July 26
Sunday Ironman USA Race Report, Lake Placid, New York
I never thought of myself as having a motivation problem, but here I was, the morning of my biggest race of the year, thinking of every possible excuse not to get my wetsuit on. In fact, all week long I had been hoping that my back sprain would be too much to do Ironman. Last year's monsoon during Ironman had left me with very few good memories of that day. Then my terrible run at Mooseman earlier this year crimped whatever self-confidence I had as a triathlete. I hadn't done a single workout in two weeks except for a (rainy) bike on the Friday before, and a short run on Thursday, just enough to discover how much tone my muscles had lost and how much weight I had gained. On Saturday morning I didn't even think about signing up for 2010 at the early registration. But hey, I had paid my fees for 2009 and my brother and his girlfriend had made the trip down to Lake Placid and were here to cheer me on. I couldn't quit. My sweetie was here too, even though he had a gazillion other priorities on the go. So Sunday morning we're up at 3:30am and at 4:15am we're driving from a rented cottage in Ausable Acres to Lake Placid. We're part of a long line of cars making the trip, turning up Northwood Road and heading over to the parking lot on Wesvalley Road. We trudge up to transition. I get bodymarked, give my stuff to my sweetie, and wander into transition to check my bike. It's overcast and I'm pretty miserable. I've got my raincoat on and my iPod in my pocket, listening to today's playlist: Caribbean Blue, by Enya, just to stay calm and focused, Everloving by Moby for the bike, and Somebody Touched Me by Bruce Cockburn for the run.
OK, about my playlist. I used to use Caribbean Blue all the time when I used to be afraid of open water swimming. I'd be at Masters swim practice at the UNB pool, looking at other swimmers serenely going up and down the lanes in the blue pool and I'd be playing this song in my head. It got to be associated with these serene, happy workouts and the fluid motion of swimming. I can listen to it now while I'm in the transition, checking the pressure in the tires and filling my aero bottle, and I'm right back in the pool at UNB, thinking that life is great and realising that I really do enjoy swimming after all. The same goes for Everloving; it has a sense of movement to it, of travel and journeys and watching the world steadily go by while I'm on my bike. That's why I love biking. It's not the workout or the sport, it's what it represents: discovering new roads, seeing new landscapes, peering into people's lives and homes as I ride by on my way somewhere, and mostly just feeling alive. Then Friday night, while I was puttering around getting my race bags ready in the cottage, I heard Somebody Touched Me on my iPod, just the result of a random shuffle of songs I hadn't played in a while. It's a gorgeous song, probably the most beautiful love song I've ever heard, underscored and quiet, great for running, especially for a run course as spectacular as Lake Placid's. And I thought of - who else - my sweetie. The guy who shows up to every event I enter (and I enter a lot), even the ones I come in dead last, the ones that last 13 hours, the events in downpours, the ones that are hours from home, the ones that couldn't come at a worse time. Every year at Ironman I run or bike parts of the course in memory of family members who have been really important to me. I love biking and thinking that my grandmother is with me, enjoying a ride and what she never had an opportunity to experience, or that my great-aunts are cheering me on in their own quirky ways. I think of my "aunt", a beloved neighbour who passed away two years ago, a woman as carefree as they get and always full of laughter. Today I'm dedicating the race to my sweetie. Not to say that the rest of my entourage won't be with me throughout the event, but when I play Somebody Touched Me during the run, I'll be thinking of my sweetie and thanking my lucky stars I've got him and that he's waiting at the finish line for me.
Where was I? Oh yeah, transition. Checking tire pressures and water bottles. I'm starting with only an aero bottle this year, using Gatorade Endurance simply because it's what will be handed out on the course and I couldn't go through the logistics of filling water bottles for my special needs bag. I also don't want to haul a water bottle up the first big climb out of Lake Placid. But I brought the wrong straw for this particular aero bottle, and the straw is way too long. When I'm on the aerobars the straw will be up around my ear or poking an eye out. Not good. I stand around for a few minutes, a bit stupidly, until the girl whose bike is racked beside mine shows up. "Would you happen to have a pair of scissors?" I ask. She hands me one. Maybe today won't be so bad after all.
Back out to the open area to meet my sweetie and put my bags at the special needs areas. We get really warm walking up; it's very humid, completely unlike a typically cool morning in the Adirondacks. Around 6:20 I start putting on my wetsuit in a little shelter at the small town building. We're joined by two other athletes, who did the event last year, and we complain about the rain and how awful it was. It starts to rain, and a spectator walks by and yells "It wouldn't be Lake Placid if it didn't rain!" My wetsuit isn't as hard to get into as it was at Mooseman. More standing around until I figure I should get in the water. My strategy for the swim start is the same as last year's: as far up front as I can get, in line with the buoys. I tread water for the longest time as we jostle around, waiting for the cannon. Mike Reilly, the announcer, is a few feet away from me but I can't hear what he's saying. Suddenly the cannon goes off - whatever happened to the countdown? - and we push forward.
The fighting for the first length is pretty bad. We're a huge mass of bodies hauling over each other and tangling into arms and legs as we try to swim. Whenever it clears up I realise that I've wandered to far out to the right. It's not until I get to the second length that I tell myself that I've got fight for my place in the crowd. I've got to earn the right to be with the faster swimmers. I'm really, really unsteady when I get my feet back on the ground at the end of the first loop and walk out to start my second. I also haven't been in the pool in two weeks, and I'm not used to the side-to-side rotation of swimming. But once I'm onto my second loop I find the famous buoy line and really start moving, not giving space to other swimmers or sighting other buoys. It's cool to watch the buoys quickly go by; I know I'm swimming fast and things are going well. Things lighten in the water...the sun is coming out! I'm elated! Until I run into The Kicker, someone ahead of me whose angry at having his feet touched and thinks people are deliberately grabbing them. He kicks hards and wildly, slamming down his legs whenever my fingers bump into him, and it unnerves me. It also makes me want to tell him it's not my fault he's slow. He just has to swim faster. Anyway, I get quite rattled and panicky, suddenly feeling ill. The swim ends - 1:14, a minute slower than last year.
I run the quarter mile from the lake to the transition tent, spotting my sweetie on the way. Into the transition tent, at least thankful it's not raining. In fact, it might even be clearing up. It's very hot. In the tent I tell a volunteer that I think I'm at the wrong event; it's sunny. I take a chance and put on sunscreen, then go out to get my bike. A kind volunteer is holding it for me so I don't have to run into the rack to get it, and I'm off. I approach the bike mount area carefully. There are a lot of people rushing out and trying to get on in a very narrow space. I find a spot along the wall where the odds of being run over are a little lower, and I click in and go. My sweetie has made it over and I wave, then wave to my brother and his girlfriend on the downhill part. Thirty seconds later, it starts to pour. And I mean pour. Flat out, drenching rain that's coming down so hard it bounces back up when it hits the ground. It pours just long enough to wash off all my sunscreen and soak my feet, then it's gone for the day. I start the climb out of Lake Placid. The sun is coming out now and the mountains off to my right are simply stunning. At least I'm not thinking about the climb and how I'm getting passed like I'm standing still. I'm thinking about how maybe I'll get hit by a car or another cyclist and I won't have to do this event. I don't want a flat tire or a mechanical problem; it would seem pretty lame if I quit because I had a flat tire. But it would make a great story if another cyclist clipped me and I fell. I'd be able to drop out of the race without it being my fault. Yeah, that would be OK.
Unfortunately, I don't fall. I just keep pedaling. I pass the first aid station at the top of the first climb and grab a water bottle. I can tell that the strategy to use the aid stations is going to be a good one: I'll be able to get cold water on what's going to be a hot day, and I won't have to worry about weight. The Keene downhill is a pleasant, newly paved surprise, along with my new Zipp wheels. I start flying down the hill, all seven miles of it, passing people and maintaining 45km/hr on the flatter parts. When we get to the bottom and turn left toward Jay, I get my groove back and really start to move. From Keene to Jay I average over 40 km/hr with little effort, passing most people, listening to Everloving in my head, and wondering why I don't sign up for flatter events. I pass a sign that says "Be the bubble." Obviously it's meant for one particular person on the course, a private joke, but the statement stays with me. It reminds me of one of Rich Strauss' tips for athletes: the box. A box is a small, defined amount of time stretched out before you, something you can manage, something less than the entire event. It's 20 minutes, maybe, or the time until the next aid station. Don't think outside the box. From that, the sign on the side of the road becomes "Stay in the bubble", my mantra for today. When we arrive at Jay (so quickly!) and start heading uphill and I start getting passed again, I stay in the bubble. Don't look at the people going by; they're not my problem. Don't think about the time on the bike, what's coming up, the marathon. Just stay in the bubble.
The mantra has something to it. My stomach is quite upset, but my mind is starting to turn around. The sun is coming out, suddenly I'm flying along the out-and-back and surprised that the turnaround at Black Brook has come so quickly as well. M and P are there to cheer me on, something I don't expect at all. As I start to accelerate, I think about just how lucky I am. I'm pretty happy until the long grind up from Wilmington to Lake Placid. Just like the first year I did this course, it's the worst part of my day. The climbs are relentless and I'm not in shape for them. The absolute worst climb is the one that ends right by the Wilmington Notch campground. It's the last of a long series of hills that wipe me out completely. I recover after that, trying to plug into my music and the scenery. But the stretch to Lake Placid is long and I'm a little testy as I go through the village and start my second loop. That said, I've just finished that first loop in 3:15, my fastest time ever. I know I can't do that again on the second loop otherwise I'd never be able to do the marathon. My goals for Loop 2 is to get rid of my stomach problems, and to ride more slowly so that I can finish the bike feeling rested. Yeah, I want to feel rested after 112 miles of biking in roasting humidity and sun and 4000 feet of climbing.
Interestingly, I actually manage to accomplish that. I get out of the saddle as often as I can so that I can move my hips and waist around, hoping to get whatever's in my stomach moving in the right direction. I stay in my bubble. I use the wind that has come up to cool off by picking up water bottles at aid stations and dousing myself. And when I'm climbing that hill by the campground, I'm thinking that maybe I'm not such a bad triathlete after all. I might not be fast, but at least I'm not stupid. I'm still really happy to get off the bike, however, and shuffle into the tent to get ready for the run. I have to pee, which is absolutely fantastic. There's nothing like confirmation that your internal organs are still functioning after biking 112 miles, ingesting massive amounts of green liquid, and eating squishy artificial gels to make your day. While I'm sitting in the portapotty I hear Mike Reilly announce the arrival of the winner. What a great way to find out that someone's so fast that they're finishing just as you're starting.
I start the run. It always amazes me how I can tell within the first few tentative steps how my run will go. I know almost instantly that today's marathon is going to be slow but that I'm going to be OK. My stride is very short and smooth and I'm not quite able to get that tall posture I like to have on the run. But at least I'm running and the sun is out and I've got a good song in my head. In fact, I'm really enjoying myself. I decide to not look at my watch. I just don't care about my time. I want to look at the scenery and simply enjoy each moment. I guess it works; the turnaround at the far end of River Road is here before I know it, and I hadn't spent a single moment wondering when it would come. I'm just trotting along very slowly, keeping my fingers in a cup of ice that I get at each aid station. The ice melts and turns into delightfully cold water in this hot afternoon. It distracts me from the pain and keeps me in my bubble. A few days ago while in a drugstore I bought little bottles of dextrose, marketed for diabetics or people with hypoglycaemia. I put two bottles in my run bag and I'm carrying them now. I take one and am surprised at how effective it is. When I make it back to Lake Placid the crowds are great. But I'm looking forward - yes, that's right, looking forward - to starting the second loop and being back on River Road. As inspiring as the crowds are, the quiet of River Road and the sun floating through the trees and on the Ausable River are so much better. I especially love running by the straight stretch along the potato farm. It's enchanting in the evening sun. On my way back I take off my sunglasses. I've got to walk a little more often now, and the Gatorade isn't staying down very well anymore. But I'm surprised at my discipline at the aid stations, something I credit the fingers-in-ice technique with. My goal at each aid station is to get more ice. That specific goal means that I'm not thinking about my stomach.
The last two miles through Lake Placid arrive at last. I'm moving pretty slowly but at least I'm still running. As I finally start the last downhill stretch toward the finish line, I think to myself that if this is the last Ironman I ever do, I'd be pretty happy with it. I'm thinking of my entourage, what people have given up to help me through today, and I'm OK with never traveling this road again.
Results
SWIM 1:14:41 RANK: 50/104 age group, 1116 out of 2200, Pace of 1:58 per 100m
BIKE 6:48:43 RANK: 42/104 age group (Nice! Didn't expect that!) 1335 overall, average speed of 16.4 mph. Very happy with this.
RUN 54 1222 5:08:38 RANK: 54/104 age group, 1222 overall, pace of 11:47min/mile.
OVERALL 13:35 1251 overall, 46 out of 104 W35-39
Lessons Learned
I'm happy with my decisions, with how I managed myself and used my experience to navigate the course's hurdles and my own weaknesses. I didn't break during this event. I also didn't take any risks, and my slow time reflects that. I think we're all afraid of the trade-off we make as we age when we're faced with becoming better at something, or accepting a lesser performance from ourselves. That's the one thing I'll always wonder about this race. Was my slow time an unconscious decision to avoid pain? Did I make excuses for myself? I can go on and on about how wonderful it is to enjoy myself during a race and how beautiful a course is, but it's a race, not a poetry contest. It's supposed to hurt. I don't want to be the kind of person who avoids pain. That thought, and the questions it leads to, is going to chase me for a long time.
- Stay in the bubble. I've know about the concept for years, but it's only now that I understand it.
- Distractions are useful on the run. The fingers-in-ice-cup technique is what saved me from drinking too much Gatorade at aid stations. You need to focus on one overwhelming, pleasant sensation in order to manage your negative ones. Maybe that's why I hammered out 40km/hr on the flat part between Keene and Jay. I focused on how great it felt to move fast and the delight in being so strong.
- How incredibly lucky I am to have the friends and family that I have.
Week of August 2
Sunday Holiday weekend! I'm just getting over a short cold, but I feel good enough to go for a run this evening. It's a very humid, warm day. A thundershower has just passed. I don't want to do anything too stressful - a week ago I was running a marathon, after all. But I'm not stiff at all from Ironman. I always find it strange how I can run a marathon and not be able to walk for weeks, but do an Ironman, which includes a marathon, and spring back within a week or two. If anyone can ever tell me why that is, email me. It's something I've been wondering about ever since I started doing triathlons.
I go up Acacia and admire the gardens and the sun in the trees. It feels like I'm running in a rainforest. July was Ottawa's wettest month on record, and quite a bit of rain fell earlier this morning. In less than ten minutes sweat is running down my forearms. Otherwise I'm feeling exceptionally good. My strides is short and snappy and I feel light on my feet. I have a nasty knot in my left hamstring that keeps the leg from completely straightening out, something that was bothering me during the marathon last week. When I get to the end of Acacia and start along Rockcliffe, looking at the blue hills of Gatineau Park in the distance, I'm moving at a decent clip (for me). I've started doing yoga since returning from Lake Placid and I think that's what's helping my body feel looser while still running with tension. I stay on the path to Lisgar, up Lisgar along the Governor General's residence, Mariposa, then Acacia back home. 45min
I didn't sign up for 2010 Ironman in Lake Placid. I haven't thought much about other Ironmans and won't be near a computer on August 24 to sign up online if there's online registration for Ironman Louisville or Canada. My sweetie pointed out that I must be proud to have completed five Ironmans, but the first thing that came to my mind was how much time that represented training on my bike, and the opportunity cost of other things I could have been doing. Now, I love biking. On a hot summer day there's nowhere else I'd rather be than perched over my aerobars of the Cervelo and flying along a flat stretch of road. But my priorities got mixed up as I tried to make time for longer and longer training sessions. Time on the bike came at the expense of yoga and weightlifting and long evening walks. In winter I'd obsess about trying to squeeze in long runs in cold weather instead of just picking up a book and relaxing with the cats in the couch. I think I need a bit of time to find regain some balance.
Week's Summary Every two years, the police and fire fighting organizations of the world hold the equivalent of the Olympics for people employed by those agencies. The event is called the World Police & Fire Games (WPFG) and goes from country to country. The difference between the WPFG and the Olympics is that you don't have to be good to sign up. Since the WPFG were in Canada this year, I figured it would be fun to try them out. I signed up for a blitz of sports - open water swim (which I dropped out of after a scheduling conflict with another sport), road cycling time trial, triathlon (of course), and the road race (half-marathon). I also figured most participants would be like me: middle-of-the-pack amateurs signing up for lots of fun with little talent. When some countries came with their Olympic teams in tow and others kitted out as if these were the Olympics, I lowered my expectations. But I had a blast. My sweetie and I had rented a neat little room on the UBC campus where I practiced in the 50m pool every morning, just because it was a 50m pool, and we ran the trails in Pacific Spirit Park thinking that we had died and gone to running heaven. We cooked fabulous meals in the tiniest kitchen on land, drove around Vancouver, and wished we lived here. There wasn't a day we weren't working out in world class facilities and great weather. On to the events:
TIME TRIAL, Wednesday August 5 This is the event where I got my butt handed to me on a silver platter. There were only a few women signed up for this out of over 150 participants and I thought that I might have a shot at doing well. Every once in a while I think stupid things like that. I came in dead last. The time trial route was 18 kilometres on a paved trail in North Vancouver's Mount Seymour Provincial Park. The scenery was stunning, and the trail started with a short descent then a long, tough uphill, peaking at 5.5km from the start. It descended wildly to the 9km mark, where we turned around and climbed it all over again. Lots of curves meant riding on the bullhorns most of the time, making it hard to really accelerate on the descents. The start was in the classic time trial style, something I had never done: on a ramp, with an assistant holding up the bike, and hauling down on a big gear to make use of the ramp to accelerate. There was nothing in my rather extensive biking experience that could help me judge this. What gear should I put the bike in? How could I click in to the pedals when the assistant was holding up the bike? Would I topple over when she let go? My biggest fear, for once, wasn't coming in last; it was falling off the ramp in front of everyone because I had overlooked a bike handling detail. I hadn't been this nervous before an event since trying out butterfly for the first time at a swim meet and obsessing about diving off the platform. Thank goodness I had spent three weeks watching the Tour de France; that was the only thing I could draw on for help. When it was finally my turn, the ramp start turned out to be the most fun of the entire run. I hammered until the 4km mark when a little red light started flashing in my head and telling me that if I kept going this hard, I'd have to throw up soon. I still had another 15km to go. I still rode as hard as I've ever gone on a bike, and even though I did come in last in my age group, I somehow managed to average over 30km/hr on a hilly course. In triathlon, I would have been ecstatic and over the moon with that statistic.
TRIATHLON, Saturday August 8 The triathlon was being held in Maple Ridge, a 1.5 hour drive from UBC. Overcast, somewhat warm, no wind. You couldn't get better weather conditions, unless you're weird like me and you like sun and high humidity. The event was incredibly well-organized and even had the feel of a fast-paced, professional triathlon you'd see on television. The Olympic athletes on the course helped with that. The swim went very well for me, although the course was a bit shorter than 1.5km. I was grateful for all the swimming I had been doing at UBC: I fell into a rhythm and fast, consistent stroke almost right away and really enjoyed pushing quite hard for the 24 minutes I was in the water. What's 24 minutes after the 1h14 at Ironman, right? On to the bike I also rode very aggressively. Interestingly, Wednesday's time trial had given me the feel of riding over my limit, and the courage to do so again. And those three weeks of watching the Tour de France meant that I was cornering harder and faster than I usually would, and climbing hills in the same style that I had seen the pro riders do. The course was long steep hills, but there was enough downhill before most of them to accelerate and swing right back up on momentum, leaping out of the saddle only at the very top to crest the hill. The course was also three loops: by the third loop, you knew exactly what gear to be in at what point and how to approach each hill. I saw only one other woman on the course; I think I just never caught up to the others, even though I also averaged over 30km/hr on this course. I rode so hard I didn't eat or drink. The run was a much more humbling experience. It was three 3.3km loops, long slow uphill on the way out. And the people out running were bounding along at 35min/10km pace. It was like being a hippopotamus among gazelles. I kept a hard, intimidating expression otherwise other runners would have shoved me off the course. My sweetie says I looked really unhappy. That's not quite true: I was doing OK, but I was pretty mad at some of the other competitors who had blatantly drafted on the bike course and were pushing runners around to get a clear route on the run course. I might have been slow, but I didn't want them to think I was going to give my spot. I found my running legs on the third lap and ran decently.
ROAD RACE, Sunday August 9 Yep, the day after going hard during the triathlon (and waking up at 3:30am), I was back at it for the road race. The road race was the last event of the Games and everyone had signed up for it. It's not like running 21km takes any skill or special equipment, so you might as well sign up for the glory of saying you competed in the WPFG. When my sweetie and I got out of the elevator in the lobby of the UBC residence, all the black members of the South African team - about 20 people - were sitting and waiting for their bus to the event. "You're toast", said my sweetie. They were the people who could do this distance in 1h10. The run started at Harbour Green Park in downtown Vancouver, and went around Stanley Park twice. I had a slow run - I was tired - but a lot of yoga in the past few days kept my legs loose. The run was beautiful, even in the rain. Hey, it's Vancouver and Stanley Park. I ran the second loop faster than the first. Still, I came in just over two hours, and again I was surprised at how poor my running has become in the past year. The speed on the bike came at quite a price.
Week of August 30
Sunday So where have I been for the last two weeks? Bummed out. Too bummed out to write, mostly because it's been a tough triathlon season and I'm really struggling with my runs. Last weekend my sweetie and I travelled down to New Hampshire for the Timberman Half-Ironman. I finished with one of my worst half-Ironman times ever. The only time I did worse was at my very first one in 2002 in Montreal. 2.5 hours just to do the half-marathon. The day was hot and humid, my favourite race conditions, and all I could think of during the run was how I didn't want a repeat of Mooseman. I didn't want to feel pain, didn't want to push myself, didn't want to experience fatigue. What kind of athlete am I? What happened?
Since Lake Placid I've started doing a few things that might eventually turn this thing around. More yoga, for one. I can already feel the greater muscular control and the wider range of motion returning to my hips. And more sit-ups. Chi Running takes a lot of core strength. I could feel it on today's two hour run. I didn't really intend to run two hours; I've done some shorter runs in the past two weeks and finally tried 1h20 last Thursday on the Sussex/Gatineau loop. But that loop went fairly well and I surprised myself, so today I thought I'd try to the path along the Rideau River toward Hog's Back. The showers had cleared out, a lovely breeze was coming in from the west, and the path was oddly quiet for a Sunday. I'd read an article earlier this week by Alan Couzens (http://running.competitor.com/training/run-like-a-pogo-stick_4737) about footstrike. Yes, I know, yet another article on footstrike. Maybe there are more important running topics out there, but footstrike gives me something to focus on when I'm running. All Chi Running gives you on footstrike is that you should lift your foot up as quickly as you can when you're running. But Couzens gives a little more detail, describing the recoil of a foot that hits the ground swiftly and very hard. Heel strikers lose that recoil, since the energy of their footstrike is absorbed by the ground, mostly because their foot is too relaxed and on the ground too long. I try it today. I actually tried it Thursday night, too, and it was one of the reasons why my run went so well. But I was stilled bummed out Thursday night, too bummed out to write a journal entry.
I run down Coupal to the path along the river and head south. It's quiet, even through the park just after Montreal Road where all the winos hang out. The showers are clearing out and I'm in a pretty good mood. Going through Hurdman Park is a delight; there are tall yellow flowers growing on both sides of the path and small birds flitting about. I don't even hear traffic. Jeez, this is just great. I eventually come to the stretch just before Bank Street and along Riverside Drive, and a man passes me and holds out his hand for me to shake it. Looks like the world is in a good mood today. And I'm liking the hard footstrike concept. It seems like Thursday's run wasn't a fluke. But I notice that whenever my concentration wavers, my core strength crumbles and my feet spend more time on the ground, making my run more of a shuffle. I turn around at the far end of Vincent Massey Park, enjoying the section of path that winds through the trees along the river. The sun is coming out and when I get back to Hurdman Park it's just delightful. Everything is fresh and the yellows are so vivid. Keeping my torso from caving over as my abdominals and psoas weaken is getting tough. I shorten my strides, making sure my feet are going straight down and landing hard. It seems to work; each time I reinforce the pattern, I pick up a little bit of speed without the additional effort. But I'm still going to take this one run at a time. 2hrs.
Wednesday What a beautiful evening. Now that summer is over, summer has arrived. We're on a splendidly long streak of clear, sunny days and cool nights. This evening the moon is almost full, it's warm, and there's a nice breeze blowing from the west. I run down to Sussex and admire the reflection of the lights in the river. I'm trying to repeat Sunday's focus on the short, taut stride, but I don't seem to feel as solid today. My stride is softer and I just don't have the core strength to follow through. It does work well on gentle inclines, however. I force myself to really shorten my stride and I find myself gliding up Mackenzie to Wellington, then up Wellington. As I'm running across Portage Bridge I hear a sports car speeding up behind me. It passes an SUV by going right into the bus lane, then up further and over the curb onto the raised concrete bike lane. Wow. Thank goodness there were no cyclists or runners on the path, or that anyone on the sidewalk hadn't wandered into the bike lane. It's peaceful running back across Alexandra Bridge, which has just been closed for construction for the evening. I enjoy another glide up back to Mackenzie, but in the last 20 minutes toward home I get tired. But what a great night to be out.
Week of September 6
Sunday It's the most gorgeous late afternoon of a long weekend. I can't imagine more perfect weather. I start my run thinking that I have to find a route that befits this day, so I head out to Rockcliffe. This is when I miss Fredericton and the Northside Trail, wandering along the Nashwaak River alone on a beautiful path, breaking out into a meadow full of crickets and the setting sun. Running up Acacia through Rockcliffe is pretty good, though. It's so still this evening; the air has a sort of magic quality to it. Everyone is out on bicycles or walking around the neighbourhood. I take a route I sometimes do on bike when I'm going out to the Parkway. The first time I took it on my bike it had rained the night before and the sun was gently lighting up the gardens, streets and yards. It looked like something you'd see on a postcard or a photographer's book, a moment of captivating peace that sets the place and time apart from the rest of the world. From Acacia I go right on Mariposa, then a quick left on Cloverdale and down until it curves around and becomes Hillsdale. Curve along Hillsdale, past the dog park and Mackay Lake, and suddenly you're out on Sandridge and the big field between you and the parkway. I run all this, just enjoying myself and the fact that I don't have anything to train for or any set time. I take the path along Birch down to the parkway, then turn back up and go back along Sandridge. I'm spending a lot of time thinking about driving my leg quickly down to the ground at each stride, then trying to snap the leg back up. The "back up" part is a bit harder. Through the dog park, then up through the Rockeries and back to Acacia. Crowds are walking down toward the parkway to see the hot air balloons take off just across the river at 6pm. I stay on the path, debating what route to take and how I feel, then opt to go to Lisgar and back home via Mariposa and Acacia. One of the few runs where every minute is sheer delight. 1h15
Tuesday I get out a little earlier than usual tonight. I've been doing sets of sit-ups after each run since returning from Vancouver, and tonight I can feel some new strength and stability in my posture that I didn't have before. The short stride and "drive to the ground" habits are a little more ingrained, too, so running doesn't take up as much focus. But maybe that's more of a problem than a positive. Without a specific technique or idea to concentrate on, my mind often wanders and digs up all the worst moments of the day and relives them, over and over again. Sometimes I get pretty riled up during a run, which isn't exactly the point of running. That might explain why the training I did before South Africa and the time I spent learning Chi Running coincided with a long streak of great runs. My mind was occupied with running. Sometimes it's amazing how simple the best solutions are. 1h00
Week of September 13
Thursday I'm still here. It's hard to describe the last week. I've switched workplaces, going from one extreme (low) to another (high). My sweetie and I spent the weekend cheering on my brother and his girlfriend at the Montreal Half-Marathon. It's a great event, for anyone considering a half-marathon in mid-September. Starting on the Jacques Cartier Bridge is very cool; finishing in the Olympic Stadium is pretty darn good too. Everything is well organised and there are lots of fans. I think the only thing we were a little leery of was the "local" sports drink they gave out on the course.
I hadn't really felt like running. I've been in a bit of a slump, still discouraged by my season and still stuck on my poor performance at Timberman. Things ache everywhere: my shoulder, my hip flexors, my upper back. But finally tonight I really feel like going for a run. I'm sick of being inside and watching the sky darken from my desk. I start out and hear crickets chirping in the schoolyard by our house. It's such a peaceful sound, the kind that brings you back to simple times and puts the rest of the world aside for a moment. I feel really good, but I suppose my body is pretty rested now. In fact, running is effortless the entire time I'm out. Down to Sussex and along the river a little, then back, passing in front of the PM's residence, then going up Rideau and eventually Mackay. I need to run because I need to air things out, get away from dark spots in a day that tend to cling to you and then overtake everything. But in my running I also have to get away from the training plans and distances and structure that I've given it: all of that weight has snuffed a lot of the simplicity that gave running its joy. U2's In a Little While is in my head. That's a good start. 45min
When the night takes a deep breath
And the daylight has no air
If I crawl, if I come crawling home
Will you be there?
Oooh, oooh
In a little while, I won't be blown by every breeze
Friday night running to Sunday on my knees
Week of September 20
Thursday I don't run so much as I lumber tonight when I start my run. A week without running really shows; a week in a new office that has a candy counter just around the corner makes that run pretty ugly. For a while I just run, not thinking too much about posture or stride. It's not until I get close to Sussex that I can manage thinking about my stride and getting my leg to drive down quickly. I run up to the Chateau Laurier, which is surrounded by security people. Instead of turning around and taking the same route back, I go down to the corner of Rideau and Sussex, then back home. I recently checked out the SmartCookies website. It's a basic financial planning website, intended mostly for women in their thirties, and one of the things it asks you to do is imagine a typical day in your life five years from now. You go into as much detail as possible, and the idea is to describe life as you want to live it. It's an exercise I've always had a hard time with. I liked to keep my options open, and choosing something specific to aim for didn't jive with that philosophy. But when I take a look around at people who are happy and successful, it seems fairly clear that while they didn't have a plan, they certainly had an idea of what things would look like at certain points in their life. The first question on the SmartCookies plan is asking me what a typical morning is, and encouraging me to describe where I live (in five years from now in my ideal life.) But I've never really thought about, since I always kept my options open, so now I'm stuck. What exactly is my dream home and location? How would I know if I haven't been there? I was hoping for an epiphany during the run, or at least some time to think this one through, but I come back home just as confused as when I left. 1hr
Week of October 4
Sunday It's nothing short of amazing how lots of little things add up to something big. Around 5:00pm I tell myself that after I clear out a few little household chores - making my lunch for tomorrow, folding laundry, putting away recycling - and suddenly it's 7pm and I don't feel like going out for a run anymore. It takes another hour for me to convince myself to go out, and the only way that happens is by telling myself I'll only go for half an hour. That works every time. It's Sunday evening, so it's really quiet out. I run down to Crichton to start my usual route, figuring I'll just go down to Sussex and then come back. I put my orthotics in my running shoes tonight, something I haven't done in over a year. They started giving me knee problems last year and it seemed that I had finally outgrown them. But tonight they're doing my stride wonders. My lower back, normally quite tight, feels loose and my upper body is much more relaxed. I'm also running off the front half of my foot. Running seems ridiculously easy. Instead of increasing the space, I just enjoy the feeling. I'm enjoying everything. I turn right when I get to Sussex, go by the PM's residence, then up to Lisgar. Maybe I can make a nice loop out of this, one that would be convenient in winter when the sidewalks become worse than the roads. Up Lisgar, to the left, and around an impressive construction at the intersection of Lisgar and Mariposa. City construction crews are working on a pipe that's at least 15 feet deep. Along Lisgar to Buena Vista, then up Buena Vista. Strange, I know Buena Vista is quite a little hill, but I'm not feeling a thing. I'm just floating up, without any change in heartrate or breathing pattern. I turn right on Acacia and bask in the silence of Rockcliffe Village. There are no cars on any of the streets. Peace and quiet and just me running along smoothly. Down to Beechwood and eventually to Charlevoix. 45min.
Tuesday Two runs in three days. And I went to the gym tonight. I've changed work location and the office I'm in now has a huge gym with treadmills and weights. I've started doing weights right after work; in winter, I'll probably switch from running outside to using the treadmills. Yep, this is going to work out just fine.
In the meantime, it's still outdoor running weather. Sunday's delightful run means that I'm looking forward to running this evening. But I think I've put on a pound or two since then. I feel heavy and out of breath. I'm running with my orthotics, though, so my back feels great. Down to Sussex, to the Chateau Laurier, then back along Sussex, around Rideau Hall and up Maple to Acacia. It never ceases to amaze me just how much difference a few pounds can make. You'd think that would be incentive enough to cut back on all the sweets I eat, but no, I still eat 'em. There's got to be a better way. 1hr
Saturday Today defies all weather expectations and turns into a brilliantly clear fall day. It's a bit on the cool side and there's some wind, but for a holiday weekend who's complaining? I'm out for short run and stick to the east end route I've developed around Rockcliffe. I shuffle up Acacia and run its entire length to the Rockcliffe Parkway. Holy crap I'm slow. But I'm in a great mood, which makes it easier to overlook the discomfort of running. The fall colours are a little off this year, as if trees can't decide whether they should change their colours or drop their leaves first. Most seem to be compromising by doing a lot of both at the same time, probably the result of an unseasonably cool October. And September, August, July, June, and May. I go around on Rockcliffe Parkway, then pick up the path along Lisgar, where the trees have all turned yellow and you feel like you're running through a gold cathedral. The slight downhill to where Lisgar meets Sussex is slow too. Up Lisgar along Rideau Hall. When I try to cross Mariposa to make it to Buena Vista I find the construction on the water pipes has closed off all access. I vaguely remember that one of the streets up Mariposa connects to Buena Vista as well, so I pick up the first little road I can find - Minto Place - and discover a breathtaking, narrow street with overhanging fiery red maples and massive houses set back in the woods. I stay on Minto Place when it crosses Buena Vista and keep into the posh area just above the American ambassador's residence. The area is so stunning that it feels like a strange combination between Europe with its beautiful architecture and Canada with its colourful autumn. I eventually go to Acacia, relaxing more and more into my run and feeling better than before, and pick up Crescent. More winding little streets through serene and hushed estates. My left hamstring is complaining a bit, though I'm not sure why. Running back along Acacia is the best part of the run; the sky is blue and cloudless and some of the taller trees that have turned orange or red are something to see. 1hr
Week of October 11
Monday Happy Thanksgiving! My sweetie and I roasted a turkey yesterday and had our big Thanksgiving feast last night. When my sweetie asked what I was thankful for, I realised that we're always expected to respond with an expression of gratitude for what we have, not what we do. It's not that there's anything wrong in saying that we're grateful for our health (if it's good), family, friends, etc, it's just that it seems strange that any other type of answer is considered selfish. We're not supposed to say we're grateful for a certain talent or accomplishment, or something we've done. That smacks of pride and it's just not nice. Why is that? Is there really something wrong with pointing to our achievements or recognizing our own strength?
Today I'm grateful that I got myself out the door before noon and I'm running while there's a bit of sun shining. It's nowhere near as beautiful as it was Saturday and my legs are really tired after putting up our little winter car shelter yesterday. Much like Saturday's run, however, I loosen up as the run progresses and eventually I just forget about how long I've been running. Amazingly, I don't even think of how soon I can get back home; I've lost myself in this run. What's happened, I think, is that I'm making up my route as I go along and I'm curious about putting new paths together and seeing the result. I go down Crichton, turn east on Sussex, and stay on the path along the Rockcliffe Parkway until Acacia. Up the short hill at the start of Acacia, then down into the Rockeries, which is where I start my exploring. I turn off the main path and trot down a flat stone path and discover Soper's Fountain and some columns from the former Carnegie Library . What a delightful spot. Back up the stone path and on to my usual route around the dog park. Leaves are covering the path, and parts of it remind me of a spectacular run in Val-d'Or, Quebec many years ago. It was about the same time of the year as now and I was trail running near the airport. It had rained earlier in the day, then the sun had come out, and the path I was on was covered with wet yellow birch and aspen leaves. When the sun came out the path, the glistening leaves lit up like gold. I still remember the carefree running, the joy of seeing something so beautiful and being given the chance to experience it. I retrace part of the path through the park, then back on to Hillsdale, Cloverdale, and eventually home via Acacia. My climbing isn't as bad as before. I'm running with my orthotics and I think they make quite a difference. 1h05
The South Korea journal will be here.
Week of November 1
Saturday My first run after a marathon. I'm impressed: I normally can't even walk in the week following a marathon, let alone run. But for some reason I recovered remarkably well in spite of the cold temperatures after Sunday's race, and I'm looking forward to being out and running this lovely autumn afternoon. Of course, it's one thing to say you're legs are feeling great when you're standing still; it's quite another to say that when you're actually running. I'm OK for the first ten minutes as I run up to the local library to return a book. After dropping the book off I run on a path to a nearby sugar shack that gives a lovely and momentary view of the Ottawa downtown skyline in the sun through maple trees, the ground covered with red maple leaves. Back down to the streets, and that's when my quadriceps start getting a little stiff. They eventually stabilize at a level of stiffness I can handle. I cross over into Rockcliffe, run along Pond Street and turn left on Sandridge to loop back. I go by Michael Ignatieff and his wife on an afternoon walk. His wife smiles and waves at me, but I don't smile back since I figure they must like having some time alone and enjoy not being recognized. I climb (slowly) to Acacia. The strangest thing about being back in Canada is that all the leaves have fallen. There's no foliage left to cover views or backyards.
I trot along Beechwood to the local grocery store. I forgot some ingredients for tonight's supper and figured I'd make this an errand run. I get a lot of funny looks standing in the check-out line with mushrooms in one hand and a small tub of Haagen-Daazs ice cream in the other. Hey, I worked for it! 45min
Week of November 8
Wednesday A Remembrance Day run. Last year I vividly remember running in the late morning as the Remembrance Day ceremonies were taking place in downtown Ottawa. I was nowhere near downtown Ottawa, but it was hard not to miss the fighter jets roaring as part of the ceremony. I also remember that run because it was such a fulfilling one. I had gone out on a route I rarely take and found that I really enjoyed it, running up along the Rideau River until Hog's Back, with the path to myself for almost the entire two hours I was gone. I did a bit of the same today. OK, so I started a lot later and I only made it as far as Bank Street, and it was awfully crowded on the trail for the first 20 minutes or so, but I still had a good run.
I kept things slow for a while. That wasn't hard. Eventually, going through Hurdman Park, I passed a very slow woman after trying not to pass her. Within seconds of passing her I heard her speed up, her feet falling flat and harder on the ground. I accelerated just a little to test whether she was trying to keep up with me. The footsteps got harder. I accelerated. So much for trying to go slow. Could I keep this up while maintaining an image of non-chalance? I loosened my legs and tried to find that state of relaxation that lets you run faster. My lungs weren't too happy with it, but my legs surprisingly could keep it up. In fact, when I got to the Main Street bridge, where I was planning on turning around (it's the 30min mark), I decided to keep going another ten minutes up to Bank Street. By then I was alone but I was experimenting with my stride to keep the speed up. To do that I used one of my favourite drills, the one I call "Keeping the needle on 2." Imagine you have a dial that measures physical exertion when you run, something that looks like a speedometer in a car. The gauge goes from 0 to 10, 0 being no physical exertion whatsoever, 10 being an almost superhuman effort. Walking is about a four. Could you run by keeping that needle on 2? In other words, could you increase your speed and lessen the effort? The drill is basically focus. You need to continuously evaluate your effort and find places in your body that can relax so as to lessen the overall effort.
I managed until about one hour into the run. After that I could feel the post-marathon stiffness creeping into my quadriceps. I switched back to survival running, just hoping to get home without incurring too much more damage. 1h20
Week of November 15
Sunday I suddenly get inspired for a run late in the afternoon. It's warm and misty. For once I'm not over- or underdressed. As soon as I start I hit a good stride, short and effective. Some of that obsession with posture lately has paid off. Things are really comfortable the entire run - as I'm padding my way down to Sussex, up to the PM's residence and then back along Sussex to the Chateau Laurier, going up the slight hill in front of the US embassy. As with last Wednesday's run, it's all about efficiency. There's no need to exert myself, just learn to relax more and see how far I can go with the least effort. I'm just starting to learn to like running again. Much of the pain and discomfort that I had had to deal with over the past year is gone and running is something I almost look forward to. Almost. I'm still missing the groove I'd always find myself falling into when I was running in Fredericton. But I'll take an hour of comfortable running for now. 1h05
Tuesday It's going down to -8 Celsius tonight. I start my run when it's just above freezing and I'm OK for a while. But any colder and I'll be running in my winter tights, which I absolutely hate. I feel like doing something a bit different, so at the corner of Vanier Parkway and Beechwood, I keep straight and cross the Rideau River, rather than turning right onto Crichton, which would have taken me down to Sussex on my regular route. I'm in a great mood, almost smiling as I'm running. Last night I saw the preview for Clint Eastwood's upcoming movie, Invictus. It's the retelling of Nelson Mandela's strategy to use rugby to unite South Africa not long after he had been elected president. As well all things South African, the music in the preview is powerful. The voices, the rhythms, the crescendo. South Africans get music like no other nation or people on earth. I started looking on iTunes for some favourite South African bands I used to listen to but lost in my conversion from tape to CD to MP3. There was the obvious (and glorious) Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and then a band for which I had collected all sorts of albums, Johnny Clegg and Savuka. I downloaded one song, Dela, and if you ever hear that song you'll know why I was smiling. The smile and the mood turned into a fast stride turnover and a quick, light run. Gosh it felt good to run and find myself enjoying it. At the Chateau Laurier I turned back and got a bit of a surprise to find a chilly headwind. The run back home was cold, although it seemed to make my legs turn over even faster. Took Lisgar over to Springfield and then home. 50min
Week of November 22
Wednesday Oh boy, I haven't run in over a week. As a matter of fact, I haven't done anything except sit behind a computer and work for a week. I'm in denial when I start my run. "I feel great. I feel great. Wow, am I ever running well!" That's what I'm telling myself for the first twenty minutes. Then at 23 minutes I stop abruptly and walk. The fact is, I feel like this is my first run ever and I'm embarrassed to admit to myself how winded I am. I'm doing my usual route along Sussex, but this evening I don't even make it as far as the Chateau Laurier. Instead, I stop at the National Arts Gallery for a few minutes, catch my breath, and head home. I switch from thinking about short strides to using one of my favourite Chi running images, which is turning my feet over as if I was pedaling a bike. That relaxes me and helps slow my heart rate. 50min
Saturday It's clear and windy today, but I'm out running anyway. Of all weather conditions, windy days are what I hate the most for running. But it's late afternoon and I really want to do something today. I set out for Rockcliffe, going up Acadia very slowly. I definitely don't want a repeat of Wednesday's embarrassing run. One useful thing that came out of that run was the image of my legs going around as if I were pedaling a bike. The image makes it easier to keep my pace slow, even, and relaxed. As usual, I'm enjoying my route through Rockcliffe. It's quiet and I don't see anyone. I trot to the far end and turn left when I come to the Rockcliffe Parkway. There's a spectacular sunset just as I'm running around along the ciff: the sky on the far side of the river is a massive grey cloud moving in, and the sun has caught the bottom of it on fire. I turn left on Lisgar, follow the path all the way to the roundabout, then come back to Buena Vista.
I'm thinking about a fascinating article I read this morning, What Makes Us Happy? from the June 2009 issue of the Atlantic Monthly. The article highlights the famous Grant Study of a cohort of men who enrolled at Harvard University between 1939 and 1942. The study follows the men throughout their entire lives, sending them questionnaires, interviewing them, and trying various psychological tests. The Atlantic Monthly article talks about the study's long-standing director, George Vaillant, and how the information he's been gathering from the participants help understand human development. How do we change over time? Who is happy and who isn't, and is there something at an early age that would indicate success later in life? Participants who think they're happy die miserable; others who have strong tendencies for introversion and reflection appear happy. Education seems to help above all things, but if you can stay away from cigarettes and alcohol you're doing yourself almost as big a favour as getting a degree.
One thing that Vaillant notes - and of which he himself is a victim - is how we lie to ourselves over the span of years and decades. It seems we rewrite our own past as we age in light of that ageing, which, if it's maturing properly, is becoming more compassionate and happier. That means that what we described as a terrible childhood when we were 17 becomes something much rosier when we're 70. How does a person stay honest with himself over a lifetime? That must be the most fundamental question of them all, the very root or core of authenticity. How do we face up to who we are? Why do we feel the need to change our own past? If you've got some spare time on your hands, What Makes Us Happy? is well worth the read.
Week of November 29
Sunday On Sundays when the weather turns cold I like to do long indoor bike workouts, but today seemed like a good day for a run. I wasn't sure how things would go today since I don't normally run two days in a row. My legs weren't at all stiff or tired - surprisingly. I guess there's something to running with such relaxed legs and the "pedaling a bicycle" motion. I'm in a mood to do a bit of a longer distance today. That means having some discipline at the start of my run to keep the pace slow and consistent. I go down to Sussex, picking up the path along the Rideau River just north of Beechwood. West on Sussex, and climb up to the Chateau Laurier and continue past Parliament. I'm breathing a little harder going up the hill, but it's nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be. Cross the bridge and down to the trail along the Ottawa River. It's not until I'm climbing back up to Laurier and then the Alexandra Bridge that I can feel my legs getting stiff. That's OK. I knew I wasn't in great shape and that it would happen sooner or later. I'm just wondering how I can maintain the pattern of more frequent and longer runs throughout the winter. I remember the great endurance and speed I had two years ago after all the training I had put into the Two Oceans Marathon in Cape Town. I'd love to have that again, and I know exactly what it takes too. Why is it we always know exactly where we're failing and what it takes to achieve our goals? And what comes between that and our current behaviour? 1h20
Wednesday A little cooler than I expected tonight, and a lot later. When I start I'm surprised at how my foot turnover feels: it's much slower, almost plodding, but my legs feel relaxed and strong. It's strange how familiar this stride feels, as if I've been running every night and this is so natural. I know it sounds weird, but it's been a long time since running felt natural. It's nice to have this back. I don't do anything special this evening, just my usual route down to Sussex, west to the Chateau Laurier, and back the same way. My quadriceps stiffen up on the way back. I guess Sunday's run was a bit much for them. Otherwise the only reason I keep the run at one hour is that it's late in the evening. 1hr
Saturday The unusually mild weather keeps going. I joke with everyone at work that it might feel mild for December, but it feels no different than our summer earlier this year. I even wear sunglasses today, and my lighter running tights. I'm in a mood for quiet running so I stick to Rockcliffe, and when I start toward the village I'm struck again by the feeling that running feels natural. Even running up Acacia is maybe not easy, but it's strangely fluid. Toward the end of Acacia I turn right onto Crescent and run the narrow road between huge mansions, then down to the dog park and eventually to Sandridge and the path down to the Aviation Parkway. Whenever I run through Rockcliffe I always wonder what it would be like to live here, or in a house like you find in this neighbourhood. I suppose anyone walking through Rockcliffe wonders the same thing. What's it like to have been this successful in life? The ability is within anyone's reach, and that brings me to a quote I once read in Oprah's magazine, probably a phrase from a book, "Why do so many...settle for so little? I don't understand why they're not greedy for what's inside them." Why do we choose to be less than we could be? I'm running through a neighbourhood which I've often thought of as a giant showcase of rewards for people who have chosen to push a little harder in life, deal with the problems they're given rather than avoiding them. Maybe that's one of the reasons I like running through here. It makes me ask myself whether I'm greedy for what's inside me, and prods me to push a little harder.
Of course someone's going to read into this and figure that this is get-rich fantasy most of us have. That's not at all what I'm talking about. It's just that running through Rockcliffe reminds me that there are rewards to dreaming big, whatever those rewards may be. Houses are simply the most evident reminder of that. And sometimes it's good to have the reminder dangled in front of your face so that you keep the question alive inside you. I actually spend my whole run in Rockcliffe, the entire 1h30min, so I've got lots of time to ponder the topic. Take Birch down to the Aviation Parkway, stop, turn up, loop to Blenheim, then Sandridge and the long climb up Coventry. Then it's back on Acacia. My legs aren't getting stiff, I'm not getting tired. I'm just running quietly and naturally and enjoying myself. 1h30
Week of December 6
Sunday Hey, another run! And a long one, too, or at least well over an hour. I'm just thrilled that I managed to get myself out of the door for a run. I head over to Rockcliffe and climb Acacia. My quadriceps are just a teensie stiff, but otherwise I climb quite easily. I follow Acacia all the way to the Rockcliffe Parkway, then turn west and start on the usual Gatineau loop. It seems daring to be aiming for two long runs in a row. It's also pretty cool to think that I'm enjoying running enough to consider it. I know that all is good as long as I keep my stride short and relaxed, really thinking about the legs-pedaling-the-bicycle motion. And good music, of course; today it's Full Moon by the Black Ghosts. Up Wellington, cross Portage Bridge, and around into Gatineau, by the Museum of Civilization and the workers on strike. Everywhere Canadian flags are at half-mast. After crossing Alexandra Bridge I start getting tired and throw out my crazy idea to make this run last two hours. I chop 20 minutes off and pick up the trail off Stanley. 1h35
Week of December 13
Saturday Winter hot pretty hard this week, and it's been much too cold and snowy to run. The sun was out today, and that cleared out the roads a little and made running on asphalt possible. I dusted off my winter adidas (big mistake) and went out to do the Gatineau loop. I could tell as soon as I started that I should have tried running with my lighter Nikes; the adidas have a lower profile and more cushioning, and my hamstring was getting a beating trying to push my body forward. By the time I was going by the National Art Gallery I was breathing hard and struggling. Maybe I should go back? No way. I got a bit of a break going across Parliament hill since I had to walk around huge crowds of tourists. Then a nice downhill and across into Gatineau, where running felt more like work. I kept slowing the pace down until I really felt like a beginner runner. Running is such an odd sport that way. When you're biking or swimming, your bad days are never as bad as a bad running day. A bad running day makes you feel almost hopeless, wondering what the heck happened to you and why does your body feel like it just got hit by a tank. But a bad day in the pool or on the bike....well, you just feel tired. On my way back along Sussex I was saved by work. A few inspiring ideas about what to do at the office and things to try, and suddenly I was in another world and had totally forgotten about the run. 1h20
Week of December 20
Wednesday It's December 24th, not quite Christmas, but one of the best Christmas gifts you can get has just arrived: good weather. It's warm, sunny, and the winds are calm. Just after lunch I head out, going up Acacia and simply enjoying myself. There are a lot of other runners out, most of them women, and all of them a lot faster than me. It's not as discouraging as I thought it would be, since this run is turning out much better than I thought. I'm not at all winded and my legs feel strong. It might be all the indoor bike training I've been doing lately. My favourite workout is a VO2Max workout that has done wonders for me in the past. I know there's not supposed to be any benefit between sports from crossover training, but maybe in this case there is. I've also decided to wear my regular Nike Pegasus rather than the winter adidas that caused me so many problems last time. Down Crescent, toward Sandridge, get passed by a small white poodle scampering down the middle of the road on his way to meet his owners. Back up Birch and loop through Rockcliffe again, although the sidewalk along the Rockcliffe Parkway hasn't been plowed so I have to head back home along Acacia. But my left hamstring is now screaming at me. Even though I'm running fast and well, I just can't get my left leg to stretch out or the muscle to stop seizing. 1h20
Saturday Home in Beloeil for Christmas, and doing a route that I always, always end up doing here. I run down Dubois and toward the old part of the town. I've overdressed and my legs have absolutely no energy today; at 16 minutes into the run I'm already checking my watch and wondering how much longer I can go. I take the road by the church and go down along the river. I've got a strong headwind, something I really hate. The only good part about this run is the view of the river and the mountain. That reminds me of a good article recently that noted that runners who focus on their breathing had the poorest running economy, while those who focused on their surroundings as they ran had the best. People who focused on their running technique were somewhere in the middle. That's more of a comment about dissociation, or the art of not thinking about what you're doing. The very best runners in the world tend to do the opposite: they focus a great deal on their body, its sensations, and their running form. Maybe some of us are really born to run. Today, that's not me. 1hr
Week of December 27
Sunday The days when you're pressed for time and can only squeeze in a short run are the days when you feel like you could run forever. Our family is celebrating Christmas this evening (we believe in delayed gratification and Boxing Day sales) and I'm determined to make the most out of the warm weather before sitting down in front of a turkey supper tonight. So out I go on the same route as yesterday. My legs are a teensy bit tired but I feel a lot stronger. I actually meet one other runner on the road - runners in this part of Quebec are rare; motorists usually consider us either targets or wackos. My turnaround point is usually the Trans-Canada. On my way back I relax my legs as much as possible, trying to remember how I used to be able to just pick up speed and sustain that speed for quite a while. It was a mental exercise, an idea that I had to drop that fear that the speed would be too much for me and that I'd crash. As long as I get over that idea, the speed is there. The first part about the whole process is first seeing the idea that you're afraid of. If you can't visualise or articulate just what it is that scares you or that keeps you from doing you're best, you're pretty much stuck at first base. I think in the past when I've tried this technique, I wasn't successful in squeezing out that extra speed because I was taking it for granted that I knew what I was up against. Today I spend more time sensing what it is that holds me back from going faster, and I find it: the notion that I'll break or crash because the speed is too much for me. And the neatest thing starts to happen as that notion gets clearer: I get faster. I really start running. I'm flying along without feeling tired, flying up the long, long hidden gradient through the town that always kills me on the way back home. Discovery! Or, actually, re-discovery. 1hr
Ironman ~ Anything is Possible.
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Last updated on December 28 2009 by Helen Rooney
