2010 Goals: Be a fast runner (1h50) in half-Ironmans
Feel like an accomplished athlete

Is it OK to say that 2009 was a disaster? Disasters, at least for athletes or people with athletic goals, are defined as unexpected differences between expectations and performance. I expected to do so much better - I had the experience, the equipment, the strategy - so what in the world was happening to me? In trying to answer that question and as the answer itself became clear, I started to be aware to what little degree we have any understanding of ourselves and the thousands of factors and little tendencies that push or pull us into action. Talk about frustration! And, at the same time, opportunity: if we do know ourselves so little, who knows what we might find when we do a little digging? I’m starting this year much more humbled than I was at the start of 2009; my goals are set back a bit (no talk of Ironman this year). But I’ve gone deeper into the concept that the capabilities that I’ll discover within myself are being shaped as I head toward them. In other words, I’m deciding what I’ll find before I find it, which reminds me of the question I asked myself in 2009, “Why do so many settle for so little?”

Week of December 27

Thursday         The annual New Year’s eve run. If this run is a portent of things to come, then 2010 is going to be one awesome year. My sweetie and I are in Saint-Faustin again, staying in a sweet little chalet. The temperature is reasonable for our run, and we’ve decided to head off in the opposite direction from last year’s route, hoping to find flatter ground. We end up taking the public road that runs through the resort. It’s snowing very, very lightly and the sky is overcast, which means that everything that’s snow-covered is glowing softly. I remark to my sweetie that it feels eerie to be running through this, almost as if we’re running on a moonscape. The road we’re on is a small public gravel road that winds through two low mountains and goes by a lake. It’s not very wide, there’s no traffic, nor are there any street lamps. We’re on our own, running quickly since I seem to have a lot of energy tonight. My last run in Beloeil on Sunday has inspired me, the idea of seeing your fear, defining it, before being able to overcome it. That was the piece that eluded me all year ever. We go by the clubhouse on the resort ground; I listen to my feet on the ground and, as we head out of the resort and into the woods, I reach out to the landscape around me. My left hamstring complains a little as we climb the first hill. We eventually turn around when we reach a lake, and by then I’m really antsy to just run fast. Going downhill doesn’t help, oddly enough: even though I have my YackTrax on my running shoes, I’m still a bit hesitant to go down fast on ice. But when we reach the bottom I loosen up and go. 50min

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Week of January 10

Friday This morning I come close to calling in to work and telling people I'll be late. The weather is really warm and as I'm getting ready I get a whiff of that spring-is-in-the-air smell. It's above 0 Celsius and everything is melting. But I hold off and instead I wait until late in the afternoon. I do the Gatineau loop, which is always pretty much snow-free since it goes through downtown. By the time I'm going down the hill past the Supreme Court and crossing Portage Bridge I'm regretting my decision to do such a long run. My legs are tired and my hip flexors hate me. I'm a little disgruntled at all the people walking four or five across on the sidewalk. By the time I've crossed Alexandra Bridge and I'm huffing back along Sussex I'm also arguing with my very sore hip flexors. Then my left hamstring starts acting up. I'm having a hard time I thought this problem was over...1h20

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Week of January 17

Tuesday         The warm weather continues. It's actually hovering just at the freezing mark this evening, so I watch my step when I'm running and avoid any ice. I baked a lot last Sunday - stew, lasagna, cheesecake - and had some leftovers for supper. I feel like I'm running with a cement block in my stomach and I have to deal with a bad stitch for the entire run. My sweetie and I start out together and the pace is a bit too fast for me, at least if I'm planning on doing the Gatineau loop. My sweetie turns back after 3km while I keep going. My hamstring had really hurt after the last run so tonight I'm wary, particularly going up the inclines in front of the US embassy and Parliament hill. And I feel stiff. Yeah, there's a lot of whining going on throughout this run. After crossing Alexandra I'm feeling way too tired to take Sussex back home, so I head straight down St Patrick. It doesn't shave a lot of time off the route, but tonight every minute counts. 1h15

Friday         I'm starting to like Friday evening runs after work. Unlike most people, I don't feel exhausted at the end of the workweek, but I do want to be alone. Ever since university, Friday night has always been a very quiet time for me, usually spent at the gym or writing in my journal. This time for running is very good. My legs don't quite agree; they're stiff and heavy, particularly after a hard session on the bike trainer last night. I shorten my run to under an hour since I don't want my hamstring to flare up. I go down Mackay to Sussex, then along Sussex until the National Art Gallery, and turn back. Nothing fancy, just a simple run with the delightful Johnny Clegg singing in my head. 55min

Saturday         Running in daylight in winter is always such a treat. And it's not just daylight running today, it's sunny daylight running, the best kind! Even though yesterday I promised myself that I'd be staying away from hills for a while so that my hamstring could recover, I decide to run in Rockcliffe today since it's rare that I get the opportunity to do so in winter. Interestingly, my hamstring doesn't bother me at all today. I'm starting to wonder if maybe the bike is causing the pain. I go up Acacia and around Crescent, along Sandridge to Birch. There are so many people out walking today. Even though my legs are stiff, I like how things feel. I especially like that when I compare this run and these legs to how everything felt and worked a year ago I realise that this year is a heck of a lot better. I'm stronger, lighter on my feet, and have tons more endurance. I go back up Acacia then head for home, picking up the pace and racing the last ten minutes. Woohoo! 1h20

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Week of January 24

Saturday         Ok, before anyone says anything about the week-long absence, it's been cold here in Ottawa, and as everyone knows, I hate the cold. And I was on the treadmill yesterday. Tonight I'm trying out a new pair of running tights I bought Friday, ending a three year search to replace the fabulous North Face running tights I had bought in Fredericton in....1999? These tights now have holes and are threadbare around the knees, but I just could never find anything that came close to them. Friday at The Running Room I found not one but two winter running tights, and tonight I'm running with the thicker pair.

Good thing too. Although the temperature isn't all that cold, there's a strong headwind along Sussex as I make my way downtown. It's late Sunday evening; I don't see anyone for almost the entire run. It's nice to treat my eyes to something other than a computer screen. It's also nice to be able to run easily, although I keep it slow since I'm doing the Gatineau loop. One effect of spending time behind the computer is that I find myself unable to concentrate for very long, or to be able to split into a state of quiet reflection during my run. Every once in a while, half of my brain is telling the other half to shut up. This isn't anywhere close to the meditative trance that really good runners always seem to be talking about. 1h20min

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Week of February 14

Monday         Yes, I'm still running...off my feet! My sweetie and I are engaged and getting married on June 26th this year here in Ottawa! It's only going to be a small ceremony and family-only supper afterward, but that doesn't seem to make the planning any easier or less onerous. I've been out for two runs in the past week. I've got a funny feeling I'll be out a lot more often and a lot longer as I get anxious about fitting into a wedding dress.

Tonight my sweetie and I go for a rare run together. It's the only way I can think of squeezing in time to update each other on wedding plans. It's relatively warm out, so I wear the second of the two pairs of running tights I bought at Running Room a few weeks ago. They're even more incredible than the first pair. I can't believe that after years of searching for winter running tights and being disappointed, I've found not one but two pairs that are so great. We run down Mackay, which we now do on a regular basis just to see the church where we're getting married ( St. Bartholomew's ). Then we turn west on Sussex and trot up to the National Gallery. My right Achilles tendon is bothering me a little at the start of the run. When it disappears and we're running back toward home, my stomach starts to bother me. But at the 34 minute mark I suddenly feeled warmed up and ready to really run. I'm listening to fiddle music in my head, inspired by Ashley MacIsaac's fantastic performance in the otherwise slow and rather dull Vancouver Olympics opening ceremonies. Thumbs up to organisers for having the guts to put him on stage; it paid off. I can't find a clip of his performance online, but here's the original video for the song he played, The Devil in the Kitchen. 50min.

Saturday         It's so warm and spring-like these days, and today in particular, that Burt the cat has taken to howling at the back door insisting that the time of the year has come to let him out. I don't let him out in winter, but the scent of spring is creeping in and Burt insists that it's already April. It's been a great winter for running, and I enjoy the snow-free roads and the fact that I can run through Rockcliffe. I go up Acacia and do my usual long-run route through the village: left on Crescent, down Buena Vista, left on Hillsdale over to Sandridge, around a bit until it's time to go up Birch and loop back. It's a fairly hilly run and I'm not moving very fast today. I'm seem to be unusually stiff and unable to relax.

I remember the few runs around Christmas when I was really moving. It was a matter of deciding what my body could do, and I don't seem to have the energy to go through that process today. It makes me think of the all the debate around the Canadian teams' performances at the Olympics. People are disappointed in how we're doing since expectations have been set quite high for the past four years. Unfortunately, the Americans are having a really great time at the Olympics and are cleaning up the medals. They certainly deserve them, and I hope Canadian disappointment doesn't turn into bitterness toward American success. When it comes to sports, no one works harder or aims higher than an American. Canada can't really expect spectacular performances from its athletes while at the same time saddling them with a culture of conformity and consent. 1h15

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Week of February 21

Monday         The weather forecast seems to be saying that this will be the last day without rain, snow, or wind for a while, so I'm out enjoying the bare pavement tonight. I'm surprised that my legs feel so good after four days in a row of long workouts. I keep my steps very short and tense since I'm planning on doing the Gatineau loop and I don't want to find myself halfway around and struggling. It's nice and quiet running down Mackay, then along Sussex toward Parliament Hill. I pass a cab driver in his idling car in front of DFAIT; he's on his laptop. Up the long hill to Parliament where someone has a camera set up on a tripod to take a photo of the buildings. I stop to let him take the photo. "You can keep going", the guy snarls, "The camera is motion sensitive and doesn't like you." Alrighty.

Down toward Portage Bridge. I recover on the downhill and speed up quite a bit. The best part is being able to maintain that speed as I cross Gatineau and head back into Ottawa on the Alexandra Bridge. Even the hills are easy tonight. I think it's because I've got one of those fluid, more ephemeral songs in my head, the kind that make it easy to zone out and run, Teardrop by Massive Attack. Unlike other songs, this one seems to be staying in my head. I trot by DFAIT again and the cabbie is still there, still on his laptop - a Macintosh, no less. 1h20

Saturday         The weather has been messy all week so I've been doing a lot of biking inside. My legs are quite exhausted today. I start my run and immediately set a 50 minute limit on today's run. I go up Acacia all the way to where it meets the Rockcliffe Parkway. The sidewalks along the parkway aren't plowed in winter, but so much snow has melted that there's enough room in the road to run over to Lisgar. When I turn onto Lisgar I see a small road on the left, one that - inexplicably - I've never seen before even though I've run by here so many times. It's a narrow dirt road and I wonder if it's the same dirt road I once discovered running at the very top of Rockcliffe. I start up and stop by an RCMP car to ask if I'm on private property. "Not if you're just running" says the officer. It's a delight to be able to run on something like this in a city, and I find out that the road is indeed the same one that I found sometime last year. I wander around the area, going back down to Lisgar, up to Manor Avenue, and eventually back to Acacia and home at a fairly strong pace. 50min

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Week of February 28

Sunday         It's a warm, spring-like Sunday afternoon, but the streets are completely deserted when I start my run. The atmosphere is eery: even the wind is silent. I run down the middle of Marier, one of the busiest streets in the neighbourhood, and have the entire stretch to myself. I go up Acacia and feel like I'm the only person in the city. It's the afternoon of the most anticipated hockey game in Canadian history, the Olympic gold medal game between Canada and the US.

I must admit that even though I'm not a hockey fan, I'd love to be watching this game. But I think I've made a good decision going for a run. The weather is so warm that it feels like April; even the sun is shining. The wind is calm. The streets are deserted. It's a bit of running heaven. I'm hoping to do a longer run today to take advantage of the great conditions. I start with lots of hills in Rockcliffe, which is probably not the smartest thing to do. Up Acacia, down Crescent and loop around Cloverdale and Landsdowne, both of which have wicked hills. Up Buena Vista, another hill. One older man is walking on the opposite side of the road and I hear him yell to an oncoming cyclist, "Do you know what the score is?" The kid doesn't. I start the long downhill to Lisgar and get on to Sussex. Just before getting to the National Arts Gallery, I figure I'll try doing the Gatineau loop in reverse.

I discover that the Gatineau loop in reverse is almost an order of magnitude harder than the regular Gatineau loop. And I've already got 40 minutes of hill running done with already tired legs. Crossing Alexandra Bridge is a bit slow, and I get discouraged when I discover that the stretch in Gatineau is a very slight uphill. Cross Portage and the real work begins: a long - at least one kilometre - hill that goes from the middle of the bridge all the way to Parliament Hill and, I swear, gets steeper as it goes. By the time I get to the top I'm barely moving and my legs are threatening to go on strike. It's a long, slow run back home. 1h50min

Monday         My sweetie and I do the first part of this evening's run together. Around 3pm at work I was hit by spring fever: the temperature had climbed to 7 Celsius and the sun was shining. I could barely concentrate. As soon as the sun set the temperature dropped quickly. We ran down Mackay and onto Sussex, and just after DFAIT I was on my own. For a brief moment as I went by the National Arts Gallery and the turn onto the Alexandra Bridge I considered doing the Gatineau loop in reverse. Uh, maybe another day. But by the time I was over in Gatineau my hamstrings were starting to feel very tender, changing my stride so that I was almost tip-toeing to relieve the impact on them. Time to get back to yoga. 1h20

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Week of March 14

Monday         A spell of wet weather is over and I'm out running today. I'm surprised at how good I feel for not having run in such a long time. Well, maybe I feel good because I haven't been out running for a while. I keep it pretty simple, running down to Mackay, then Sussex, over to the National Art Gallery, and the same route back. After a while I don't even notice myself running; I'm just in my head thinking about all sorts of the usual stuff. I sometimes wonder if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Runners speak almost reverentially of running as a form of meditation, and I think it's a bit of the pretentiousness in us that likes to think of being such well-disciplined people when we run. But the fact is that except for the most talented of runners, focusing on running sometimes means we're just thinking about how tired we are, or how hard the physical effort of running really is, or how much time is left until we're done. I like to think of myself as the meditating runner, but my thoughts don't behave that well. And, even worse, I have to say that sometimes my best runs are when I'm not thinking about running at all. This, in the running world, can be heresy. What if I just accept it? What if I admit, right now, that I love running but it sure as heck can be tough sometimes and I'd rather not think about running when I'm running just so I can get through the damn workout? I'm back home at 50 minutes, feeling like I've hardly run at all. 50min

Tuesday         The great weather continues! This evening I'm in my lighter tights and even have a cap on. It feels more like the end of April than it does the middle of March. My run is almost identical to yesterday's: same route, although I go up to the Chateau Laurier instead of the National Arts Gallery; same disconnect between running and thinking. It's nice to know I can do back-to-back runs and not feel too stiff. I've signed up for a half-marathon in Montreal on April 18th, and now, like the obsessive-compulsive person that most triathletes are, I worry that my runs are too short. I should be doing longer distances, going out for at least 80 minutes as I usually do. Where does that come from? I've signed up for a half-marathon, not an Ironman, yet here I am getting myself all worked up into a competitive and edgy, don't-you-dare-fail, mindset. Why can't I just relax and not care about it? At least I wouldn't be disappointed in my time. The way things are going now I can almost guarantee that however I do in Montreal, I won't be happy with myself. Are we born like this? Do we learn it from others? And why exactly do we do it to ourselves in the first place? 50min

Saturday         Some days I think I'd rather have a heart attack than go for a run. It would seem less painful. I'm having one of those runs, the run where your heart rate has hit its maximum and it's not coming down, no matter how slowly you go. I go up Acacia, around Crescent, along Sandridge and down to the Parkway. Every minute is sheer misery. At the parkway I pick up the path to the Aviation Museum and enjoy the tailwind. I never understand these heart attack runs; they happen once in a while, and I've never been able to figure out what exactly causes them. I'd sure like to find out, since just one heart attack run can really have an impact on my attitude toward running in the weeks after. They're blows to one's self-confidence, and they certainly defy the reasoning that running makes you feel good. The last 20 minutes are better and I'm surprised that I've ended up running 1h20.

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Week of March 29

Monday         Today feels like the first day of a whole new season, simply because of what a whirlwind last week was. I didn't feel good about myself last week: I didn't work out once and ate terribly, and all that affected the pride I usually have in my self-discipline. So this weekend I vowed to get back on track, beginning with a run this evening. The forecast had called for rain all today and tomorrow, but when I stepped out the last cloud was heading off and a sparkling full moon was rising. The city seemed quiet, the air wasn't moving a whole lot, and I didn't see anyone while I was running. I did the basic route out the National Art Gallery and back, feeling pretty good in the first half then suddenly getting tired in the last ten minutes. Hmm, a half-marathon in three weeks! And I'm struggling with nine kilometres. 53min

Thursday         Ah, the eve of a long weekend, and what's promising to be a hot and sunny one, too. How much better does it get? I start tonight's run with the swimmer's stride, since this week I started going to Masters' swim practices again. It takes about five minutes to coax my shoulders down from around my ears to where they usually sit, and my upper back feels rounded for a while. I enjoy a nice tailwind all the way to the Chateau Laurier and, since I'm feeling pretty good, I run up to the crest of Parliament hill, then turn around and come home. It's one of those evenings where the combination of warm weather and long holidays has turned people kinda weird. I see one guy striding in the oddest way down the middle of busy Sussex Drive. Around the Governor General's residence, where I usually make my way up Mackay, I stay on Sussex and go up Lisgar. It's nice to get away from traffic and run in silence. I take the path along Lisgar and listen to my feet crunching on the gravel, something I miss from running the paths in Fredericton. It has surprised me how much I miss those paths and how quiet my runs used to be. It also surprises me that in the 18 months I've been in Ottawa I still miss them this much. 1h05

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Week of April 4

Monday         Wow, what happened to spring? We must have skipped over it and gone straight to summer. The city recorded 29 Celsius on Friday, blowing the previous record out of the water by 11 degrees. The average temperature at this time of the year is....7 Celsius. Needless to say, with those temperatures and a gorgeous sun, I was on my bike, not running. But today I remind myself that there's a half marathon to run in two weeks and maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if I at least saw if I could do the distance. I wear shorts for the first time this year and head off in late afternoon for the Gatineau loop. I can't seem to get focused, however; my head is trying out all sorts of songs, I'm thinking about everything except running, and when I do think about running it's mostly to admit sadly that I'm going pretty slow. But at least I can keep a steady pace. I cross Portage and go down to the trail along the Ottawa River. On my way up to Alexandra Bridge I finally start to feel tired. 1h20

Thursday         Some days it's just not worth running. It takes a lot for me to say that, given that I think getting out and doing something every day is pretty important. But this evening's run is a struggle. It starts out OK. I go down Mackay as usual and turn west on Sussex. Then I start to get stitches. I've been getting a lot of these lately. They seem to be a phase I go through every now and then. I huff and puff as far as the Chateau Laurier, then turn back. 1hr

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Week of April 11

Sunday         My sweetie and I are among the hordes of Canadians who are caught up in househunting fever. Our Sundays are spent visiting open houses and trying to squeeze in errands. We're both a bit sleepy but manage to go out for a run anyway. I head for Rockcliffe; the wind is very strong and I figure that any route that is in the open won't be much fun. A short run on the treadmill yesterday (in Kanata, on the way back from an open house!) I had problems with my left hamstring. Today the hamstring does well for the first 30 minutes or so. My pace is as slow and relaxed as I can make it. I'm concentrating a lot on form after watching a great video on Youtube comparing run techniques between Craig Alexander and Chris Lieto at last year's Kona Ironman. The commentator who does the analysis points out the obvious posture difference between the two: Alexander's torso is upright, his chest puffed forward, while Lieto is slouched forward. Through the analysis the commentator keeps coming back to the effect that upright posture has in terms of transferring force forward. It's a very convincing demonstration, and enough to make me rethink a lot of the Chi Running stuff I've been used to. Like most people, I've found Chi Running's principle of running from the core and leaning from the ankles very compelling. but I've certainly never run faster or more effortlessly as a result of leaning. Instead, I've noticed that I tended to run better as my core got stronger. These observations certainly line up with the Alexander/Lieto run analysis: core strength is everything. Throughout my run today I switch from thinking about my legs and instead get my torso up straight. It certainly feels good, and for the first time in a while I don't get stitch. My hamstring has other ideas. It's extremely tight; I walk up a few steep hills but find that things are just as painful when I start running again. Even so, great run. 1h20

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Week of May 2

Sunday         Ok, where have I been? I have run a few times since my last entry. And each run has been the same story: I feel awful, and my left hamstring feels even worse. A week ago I went out for 30 minutes and barely made it back home. I was trudging, and even that was unbearably hard. During runs over 30 minutes, my hamstring complains. Is there nothing going right?
Well, maybe yes. Sometimes it's these bad stretches that get us back into the habits that were good for us but that we've dropped as a result of some lame excuse or another. We happen to live in an older home that was built around the time that insulation was usually not only a newspaper, but a luxury, too. And the house wasn't luxurious by any standard. So the basement, where my sweetie and I have all our workout gear, is freezing on the best of days. Over the winter I've gotten into the habit of avoiding the basement as much as I can, so the result is that I haven't been doing my usual number of yoga workouts. But now that I've got this hamstring problem, I'm motivated to get back into yoga and bring out the foam roller to work on the sore spots. And frustration at the runs in general has meant that I've spent more and more time during my runs thinking about the stuff I used to reflect on when I was running in Fredericton: things like "Touch the Earth" or "looking at the spaces in between."
It's all making a difference. This Friday's run felt like a turning point, a run that left me with something to look forward to. Of course, it's spring, and the world gets to be a pretty amazing place when everything is flowering and the birds are out and you don't need to worry about your eyelashes freezing together. I did the shorter route I used to do a lot last year: down to Beechwood, then north on St Laurent, onto Sandridge, and home via Birch. But this time, since it wasn't quite dark yet, I added the short stretch of gravel path from Sandridge to the Rockcliffe Parkway. I think that's when I noticed that the run was going well, that finally it felt like something more than physical activity. About time! 50min

Saturday         I've got a new pair of shoes today! My previous pair, a Nike Pegasus, was well past due and my hips were beginning to notice. As soon as I start today's run I can feel the difference: the cushioning is firmer (a good thing), and my feet are well supported. I run very gingerly even so; I'm on the edge of a cold and I have to deal with that cold, sweaty feeling you get when you haven't had enough food. The pace is still nice and steady all the way down Mackay. Onto Sussex and toward the Chateau Laurier. The tulip festival started yesterday, so the crowds are out downtown. After running up to the top of Parliament Hill I turn back. I'm feeling quite good, but I don't want to find out halfway through Gatineau that my left hamstring is still healing. Right now it feels great, and it's taken a long time to get to this point. 1h05

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Week of May 9

Tuesday         Maybe it's the new shoes. Maybe it's the excitement of being on the edge of racing season. Whatever it is, it's getting me out the door more often than a few weeks ago. Actually, maybe it's the yoga, which I'm now doing at least four times a week. I could really feel the difference this morning at swim practice, swimming far more easily than I had in ages. Tonight I start a bit fast, trotting down Mackay and seemingly unable to slow down. I don't want to go for too long; it's nice not having hamstring issues and that's the way I want things to stay. I'm just doing my usual route out to the National Art Gallery and back, and even though I'm not in top shape, there's still more consistency to my pace and my mindset than usual. It's the rare feeling of knowing I can keep going at this pace even if I also feel fatigue creeping in. On my way back I get a nice tailwind and my pace picks up. 50min

Thursday         To show just how dedicated I am to running, I actually manage to do this evening's run just as the first period ends in the Montreal Canadiens - Philadelphia Flyers hockey game. It reminds me of the run earlier this year, in February, when Canada was playing the US at the Olympics and I decided to go for a run. It seems like a constructive way to deal with the suspense. My route is straightforward, the usual trot down Mackay and along Sussex. I'm just trudging along until, near the end of the run, I remember a book I to which I used to refer all the time, Running the Spiritual Path. There was one run in particular, which the author call something like "Touch the Earth", that I still remember. The idea was to think of your feet as patting the surface of the earth in such as way that the earth is a living thing that's receiving all this. I give it a try as I'm heading back up Mackay toward home. I can feel the difference right away: my stride shortens, I run a little taller, and my legs and feet don't feel so heavy. My frame of mind changes, too. Oddly enough, even though this all feels great, I can't seem to sustain it for more than a few minutes at a time. How strange that humans would be like that. There seems to be a lot of comfort in feeling bad. 50min.

Friday         It's a little cooler today. I had wanted to go for a bike ride, which always seems like what I want to do most on Fridays, but by the time we're done groceries it's too late. The best way to haul myself out the door when I don't feel like going is to tell myself I'm only going for a short run, maybe 30 minutes. Within minutes of starting my lungs are burning and I'm winded. How discouraging is that? I run east along Beechwood to St Laurent, struggling in the small incline, getting more discouraged by the minute. Once in a while I "touch the Earth", and over the run the ability to maintain that exercise increases. I turn down Sandridge onto the gravel path, probably my favourite stretch of gravel path in Ottawa. The sun is setting over the field, the wind is calm, and it's a Friday before a long weekend. OK, so maybe my legs aren't co-operating, but it's a pretty great evening for a run. Back up the path, then along Sandridge and back to Beechwood using the smaller roads in Rockcliffe. I seem to be running more fluidly now. 45min.

Saturday         Very humid and grey this afternoon, although the dark clouds end up passing north of the Ottawa River during my run. So it's just humid and sunny. Just before my run I take a few minutes to read an excerpt from Roger Joslin's page. But during the run I end up going back to the same idea I used yesterday: running lightly, and "touching the earth." That seems to be as much as I can handle. I go up Acacia for the first time in weeks. My hamstring has been much better lately, and I had been avoiding hills until it seemed completely healed. It's slow going, but at least I'm not winded. And I'm running with a good posture. It's actually hard not to run upright today: the sun is shining, everything is lush and blooming and fragrant. I'm not moving very fast, but I'm happy that I don't seem too tired. I wind through Rockcliffe, head west on Sussex, and turn around at the National Gallery, retracing my steps home. I like this steadiness. I haven't run like this in a while. 1h20

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Week of May 23

Saturday         I actually have run this week. Nothing unusual, each run half decent. But there seems to be a pattern forming: for every half-decent run I have, I have one absolutely horrible one just after it. Today was absolutely horrible. The first 50 minutes weren't all that bad, and I confess I had done a couple of hard bike workouts on Thursday and Friday, so I was running with tired legs. And I hadn't eaten very much in the past two days. But really. I'm beginning to dread running. I run at half the speed I used to and with twice the effort and pain. Something is just not jiving.

I did the same route I did last week. I was feeling hopeful since last week's run actually went quite well. Things were quiet as I was going up Acacia and I was in my groove along the Rockcliffe Parkway. I ran along Sussex to the Chateau Laurier, swearing at all the people riding bikes on sidewalks. On the way back I started to get lightheaded; by the time I was going by the PM's residence again I was pausing every now and then. A kilometre or two later and I was doing some serious walk-run, which finally became mostly walking with the occasional running. Yep, a half-Ironman in a week. Not so confident about that anymore. 1h20

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Week of May 30

Tuesday         I set out earlier than usual this evening. It rained a lot this morning, then the sun came out and the wind died down. The evening is one of those hot, lush evenings when the sun is shining softly and the earth is steaming. I absolutely love these moments: quintessential summer. I'm set on doing the Gatineau loop today, no matter how rotten my runs have been lately. It seems awful that a loop that used to be a regular route has now become so long and scary. I really struggle in the first 15 minutes of the run. My lungs are burning, my legs are barely turning over. I go down Crichton and Stanley, instead of taking Mackay to Sussex. Going down Mackay seems associated with bad runs. Time to change that. Onto Sussex and across downtown, where I realise that I might not be running fast, but I'm not running badly either. I'm just trotting along, enjoying myself and the view of summer in the city.

Across Gatineau, where I start feeling really good. I think I have a tailwind pushing me along. The great feeling lasts as I go back along Sussex and home. Was it just a matter that I had never run quite long enough before? I just stopped when things were at their worst? It's probably more mundane than that: I was careful about what I ate this evening before my run, leaving out turkey slices, one of my favourite snacks. I have a growing suspicion of turkey slices. They seem to be a common link to poor running performance. Orange juice and pita bread, on the other hand, seem to be awfully effective.

I often wonder when I hear people talk about good runs and bad runs just how much attention they pay to the details. People give up so quickly without any thought to what's going on, any curiosity to pick apart the problem and look at it more closely. I don't know if it's the disappointment that keeps them from looking, or simply that looking is not something they're used to doing and seems so hard. Or they're afraid of what they'll find if they look, that by picking up problems they'll be faced with something even worse: the responsibility to deal with them. I'm sure glad my problem turned out to be nothing more fearful than a turkey slice. 1h20

Thursday         New Hampshire for the annual Mooseman Half! I've been halfway to New Hampshire for weeks now. This is one of my favourite weekends and favourite events of the year. But this is the first year that I'm entering the half-Ironman without having done one three hour bike ride, two hour run, or solid hard swim in....geez, I can't remember.

But first things first. I get to the cottage and it's a glorious afternoon. Thundershowers have just come through and left, so everything is lush and sunny and hot. Perfect for a long run! I absolutely need to do a long run, even this close to the race, just to build some confidence. I leave the cottage on West Shore Road and head northwest to the town of Alexandria. The road goes out into picturesque fields full of wildflowers, with occasional clapboard houses that look like they belong in a New England postcard. All I hear are birds chirping. I'm running very steadily and easily - I know this is going to be a great run. I turn onto North Road toward Alexandria, following the old Mooseman bike course in reverse. The road climbs a little and there's no traffic at all, just a cathedral of trees hanging over the road. I realise just how much I've missed runs like this in Ottawa. I've missed the escape from civilization that runs used to feel like when I did the trails in Fredericton. I missed the quiet. And now that I have these things, I'm finding my run easy and even comfortable.

Alexandria is two homes, a tiny library open one day a week, a church, and a two truck fire department. It takes about a minute to run through it. The fire department is the bottom of a brutal hill I have to walk, and after that it's around onto Cass Mill Roads. Running is still easy, climbing is still easy. I turn around at 52 minutes. It's quite hot and humid, which makes the scenery even more beautiful. I'm getting happier and happier, thrilled at last that I'm back in my running groove. 1h45

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Week of June 6

Sunday: Mooseman Half Ironman         I must have really ticked off the triathlon gods in a previous life. There's nothing I hate more than biking in the rain, and there's nothing I seem to be more cursed with. After surviving IMLP two years ago in record-breaking downpour, I figured I had paid my dues and I'd never have rain again on a course. Today: downpour. It starts as soon as we start swimming, and ends as soon as I cross the finish line. Which I do! Without a meltdown!

I really didn't think I'd get to the start line today, let alone the finish line. I had driven and biked the new course and was absolutely terrified of the hill we had to do not once but twice. I was terrified of another meltdown on the run, terrified of the downhill, and just angry about the rain. So I did what I often do in situations where I'm ambivalent about starting: I promised myself I'd quit right after the swim. All I had to do was just finish the swim. Then I'd hand in my chip and go home.

But what I always forget when I'm about to start a race is that, once I'm on my way, I like racing, even - or maybe because of - its discomfort. I'm sort of counting on that forgetfulness when I make the promise that I'll quit. It's the same trick I use in winter to get myself out the door for a run when it's cold. "I'll just go for 15 minutes, then I'll come back." But once I'm out the door, I realise things aren't that bad and that I really like running. So the gun goes off, I walk as slowly as possible into the water, wait as long as possible to start swimming, and then take it very, very easy until the finish line. I play Enya in my head, smile, and try to swim with the lowest stroke rate I can possibly achieve without sinking. It works. I enjoy how easy it is to swim, and the fact that this year the water is warmer than usual helps a lot. It's nice not to be miserably cold for a change. I swim in an unusually straight line, and maybe that's the reason I end up with a nice 37 minute swim without any effort. I used to bust my gut to get 36 minutes. What was the point?

That makes starting the bike a little easier. I don't run to my bike. Today is not a day for rushing. Today I'm just out enjoying one moment at a time. I walk the entire length of transition with my wetsuit dangling over my arm, watching other women trot or run by. I put a long sleeve shirt on, a jacket on, watch a few more women rush by, then walk out with my bike. I achieve a splendid and excessive 4:00 for T1, which must be the slowest of the day.

It's really raining on the bike. Hoards of people pass me as soon as I've started. I really have to get stronger on the bike. The Cervelo isn't helping me today, causing all sorts of problems when the chain is in the middle of the rear cogs. I'm thinking I hit the barrel adjustor yesterday when I cleaned it and pulled the rear derailleur too far over. Now the chain won't stay in gear, or at least the ones I need. This is almost as bad as the downpour: this is a bike you can't trust when you push down hard on the pedal and anticipate the chain jumping into another gear. My bike song today is Lindsey Buckingham's I Am Waiting. I know, I know, another quiet song. Why would I pick something like this for a course that's freaking me out and asking me to use every muscle cell in my body? The song is a cover of a Rolling Stones classic, a very understated piece that simply reminds us that we're sometimes waiting for the worst. But I need the quiet melody to stay calm, and I like using the word "waiting" as I start the big climb: I'm not rushing up this hill, I'm waiting for it to come to me. When I'm waiting, I'm resting. Just like the swim, I go as slowly as possible up the hill. The great part of having seen the hill several times is that I know exactly how I want to approach each section, where are my important landmarks, and just where the worst will be. The hill starts with a very short 7% climb and I know I have to get out of the saddle for that one. Done. A few cyclists passed. A short rest on a gentler grade, then another out-of-the-saddle climb. More resting. I try not to speed up too much when the grade flattens since I want to rest as much as possible. I keep my cadence low, going up section with the least effort possible. When the worst section appears - and by now people are walking up - I'm surprised to find that my heartrate hasn't gone up and I'm not out of breath. Wow, maybe I can make it up the steepest grade! I nearly set my quads on fire doing it, but I haul up to the top without getting off my bike (which I had to do Friday!)

The downhill isn't as bad as I thought it would be. I feel sorry for everyone in a tank top. It's freezing going down, and we go down for a very long way. When we get to the bottom we turn south onto Route 25, which eventually merges with the 3A that takes us back to Bristol. It's pretty much flat, even downhill, with one big climb in the middle. After arguing with the Cervelo about gears, I pick off most of the people who passed me on the downhill. I really wish I lived in a flatter part of the country. I'd do so much better at these races. I try not to think about how awful I am at hilly courses on the second loop, when I'm often the only rider on a stretch of road. I climb the hill again, go a little more aggressively on the downhill, and eat a little on the flat part to Bristol. I end up finishing the course behind a 70 year old man and in front of a 62 year old. Way to go, Helen.

I'm even more bummed out when I get into transition. My hands are frozen and I can't get my running shoes on. Once I get them on, the tabs aren't straight and I can't pinch them to pull them up. I must have stood there for about four minutes, bent over and hauling at my shoes in the pouring rain, wondering why I paid good money and got up at god-awful times in the morning just to do this. Finally I figure I'll just put up with the discomfort. I straighten up and start running for the run course.

Wait a minute, wait a minute! What's going on here? I approach the gate to the run course and I can barely believe it: I can run! Not only that, if I didn't know better, I'd swear I hadn't been out for a bike ride today. Fresh legs! I run up - yes, up - the steep short hill out of the park and onto the road, and take another mile to familiarise myself with the long-lost feeling of running well. I trot up the hills and past the aid stations where I had had Gatorade last year, which had been the start of all the meltdowns. I run in the mud at the turnaround at Mile 3, and run all the way back. I start getting a little stiff at the start of the second loop, feeling the hamstrings getting tighter. Just past the turnaround at the far end of the course, however, the barbershop quartet that comes out every year to sing to runners is there. They see me coming, all step forward at the same time, and take it up a notch, singing "give it all your heart." I start smiling, I mean really smiling. I'm actually going to finish this event with dignity. My smile stays plastered to my face the entire four miles back to the finish. I must be beyond smiling, I must be actually glowing, because runners coming in the opposite direction are all looking at me, and some are even cheering me on. The stretch to the finish line is a terrible, muddy mess. No big sprint home today. Instead, I dodge around puddles and try not to slip or fall on exposed roots. But I finish.

Thursday         I'm absolutely wiped out today. I've actually been wiped out for a few days, but today I feel like I'm moving in slow motion through water. What's especially weird is that my sense of time is completely off. My head thinks it's late in the day when it's actually quite early, but I don't move ahead with the clock. I'm stuck in one time and hours pass without me realising it. Very strange. One thing I've noticed over the years, however, is that I run very well when I'm tired. My best runs have been when I'm most tired. Sure enough, I have a fantastic run this evening. I'm a little slow at first as I go down Mackay; my legs are fine, but they just don't want to turn over quickly. Halfway down Sussex on my way to Gatineau I clue in that I'm having a pretty good run. I just feel so steady. As I'm going by Parliament Hill the song "Climb Every Mountain" from the movie The Sound of Music suddenly pops into my head. I have no idea why; it's not like Parliament Hill is anything more than a gentle incline. Down to the bridge and into Gatineau. The best part comes when I turn onto the Alexandra Bridge and climb the short and very steep grade onto the bridge. It's usually a bit of a struggle and I normally climb it on my toes, then get to the top and take a minute or so to recover. Tonight I'm halfway way up before I realise I'm halfway up. It gets even better when I reach Sussex and I pick up some speed. All this time my mind is whirring - it's finally woken up and is making up for lost time - trying to figure out why, why my running is suddenly back. I had turkey slices for lunch today. Three of them! I'm sleepy and recovering from a hard half-Ironman. What's going on? I need to know so that I can have more runs like this, otherwise I'm not training, I'm just guessing. 1h15

Friday         I did a short but unexpectedly hard bike ride yesterday, which means my legs are a little sluggish when I start my run this afternoon. The skies clear out as I'm running, making the day not only sunny but humid as well. I'm in a quieter sort of mood so I plan a run through Rockcliffe. Up Acacia, admiring everyone's gardens, to the Parkway and west on the path. At the roundabout I head back but this time on the path that runs through Rockcliffe Park itself. There's a wedding at the pavilion and it's just ended: I hear the applause as I'm running by and the piper leading out the newly married couple. Wow, in two weeks that's going to be my sweetie and me.

Back on the path along the parkway, and up Acacia again - geez, it seems so effortless compared to a few weeks ago, then down through the Rockeries. Now I'm really getting excited about running. Everything is so quiet and so perfect, one of those Runners World photo moments that just keeps going and going. I speed up a little even though I'm only halfway through my run. The trail is just too perfect to waste. I have no idea where this speed comes from, why I'm not getting tired, why my breathing hasn't even changed, but for now I won't ask too many questions. I'll just enjoy this. 1h40

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Week of June 13

Thursday         Every once in a while, usually when it happens to be a warm or hot day, you get one of these weird days. It might be that there's a full moon lurking in the sky, or something got in the water, or there's a Batman-like chemical in the air making everyone behave oddly. Today is one of those days. I do the Gatineau loop and experience weirdness at every corner: people refusing to move over on the sidewalk to let me go by, people screaming obscenities at each other, people fighting. It's a strange and not very pleasant run, even with the good weather and even after my legs have warmed up, which took well over 40 minutes to happen. On the way home I turn off Sussex and go up Stanley on the path. I find myself picking up speed. I turn up Coupal and do a few short sprints, something that seems to help on following runs when my legs remember what it's like to run with a higher turnover. 1h15

Saturday         The forecast for the afternoon is very gloomy, so out I go just around lunchtime for my run. I go south on the trail that runs along the Rideau River, figuring that I'll enjoy the strong tailwind on the way back. Running into the wind, not something I really like to do, isn't all that bad today. My legs are still really tired but I'm not running as slowly as I thought I'd be. And just before the trail goes under the 417, I get attacked by the red-winged blackbird that everyone in Ottawa is talking about. It apparently has a thing against people with white caps.

I'm thinking of a great video I saw on TED.com, Viktor Frankl speaking about how we should view people. It's interesting that Frankl's book, Man's Search for Meaning is one of the most popular books of all time and frequently cited as one of the most inspirational, but the way we view and manage people in businesses and organisations run completely against his belief. In other words, we look at people and tell them immediately what they are supposed to improve, where they're weak, how they can develop. Not once have I ever heard someone at work say that a person had a great talent for something so they should focus on that.

I've got great arguments being sorted and built in my head, and next thing I know I'm passing Bank Street and the sky is looking very dark. I turn around and pick up the tailwind home....just as the rain starts coming down. The upside to the rain, which soon turns into a downpour, is that it clears out the trail pretty good. I have the whole thing to myself, a rarity on this particular trail. I go under the 417 and spot the blackbird sitting in a tree, but it leaves me alone. A few minutes later, after I'm completely soaked and my shoes are squishing at every step, the rain stops. In fact, it stops completely for the day. Yes, that's right, it rained only when I was out running. When it comes to rain, I have the worst luck. 1h30

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Week of June 20

Saturday         We're married! Yep, after many years and lots of adventures, my sweetie and I are getting married today! I am now Mrs. Sweetie. When we were first putting together a schedule for this day, the first thing we put down wasn't the time of the wedding ceremony, it was the time we would go running together. At 5:30am I crawl out of bed at McGee's Inn, where both families are staying while they're in Ottawa for the wedding, and shuffle to the common room to meet me sweetie for a run. The day is starting out with great news: the gloomy forecast has cleared up, replaced with a sunny one for the afternoon.

Our run is pretty simple. We're running from Sandy Hill over to Vanier and home to check on the cats. The city is deserted as we go down the gorgeous Daly Avenue, lined with stately homes and huge trees. I'm a little stiff but too happy to really notice. I'm glad we have this way of starting our big day together. Our first date was a run: way back in January 2002 (click here and check out the first Sunday of the year. The "runner"" is my sweetie.) Over the years running has become the thing that defines us: we plan travel around it, we make sure we fit it in every New Year's Eve, we share running stuff, and we identify ourselves to other couples as a running couple. I couldn't imagine our wedding day not making room for running.

The two of us at 6am on our wedding day, at McGee's Inn just before our run:

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Week of July 18

Thursday         My sweetie and I surface from the chaos of moving to a new house in a new neighbourhood and this evening I finally find the time and energy to run. We have moved to Kanata, just west of Ottawa, and what seems like another country when you compare it to Vanier, the gritty eastside neighbourhood we had lived in for the past two years. Unlike Vanier, Kanata is solidly middle class and suburban, devoid of drug addicts walking the streets in a daze and mounds of trash lining the streets. But one thing Kanata does share with Vanier is a lack of right angles. Not one street is straight, nothing comes out where you think it will, and it's all very disorienting. Our new house borders a lovely little path, which is where I start my run. I go by a school and through another park and find myself on Katimavik Avenue. I run for a ways until I turn onto Chimo Drive. It's nice to run through quiet, wooded neighbourhoods and listen to birds and crickets. I know I'll miss being next to spectacular neighbourhoods like Rockcliffe and New Edinburgh. The gardens, the quiet, the trees. I'd almost say I'll miss the hills, but it looks like Katimavik, the part of Kanata we've moved to, has quite a hill itself. I climb for the longest time, then go down and suddenly find myself back on Katimavik Avenue. Back toward McCurdy Drive, which is also a hill. A very long hill. I'm gasping by the time I find my way back home. 50 min.

Saturday         It's late afternoon and I decide to try a new direction for today's run. Instead of heading west, I go east and straight down Young Street to Hazeldean Road. We're not far from a Running Room and we see runners going by our house all the time, many going up and down Young Street since it's pretty good for hill repeats. It's certainly nice to start a run on a downhill: you get the feeling that you're going to have a great run and that your legs are bouncy and full of energy. I cross Hazeldean, then the very small Seabrooke Park, and onto Seabrooke and down toward Terry Fox. Terry Fox is a wide boulevard with a gorgeous field on the south side, and an even nicer path about 30 metres from the road and parallel to it. I'm feeling surprisingly good, and the sight of the field boosts me even more. After about a kilometre I see someone crossing the street and going straight south. Hm, does this mean there's more path? Indeed it does: the path veers south and cuts through cornfields, and within moments I'm running on a wide, crush-gravel trail that I've missed so much, going through fields with nothing but the sound of birds and crickets. Woohoo! How I've missed this. The path stretches to Stittsville and eventually borders Abbott Road. I turn back after 30 minutes of running, go through the fields again, then make the disheartening discovery that it's uphill for three kilometres all the way back home. At least three kilometres, and the hill gets steeper as I get closer to home. Great training for the run course at Timberman. 1h

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Last updated on July 26 2010 by Helen Rooney