Tag Archives: Half Marathon

The training is done. It’s all self-talk from here.

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I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

I will run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

….[repeat as needed]…

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Beginning the ascent

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Mystic BeachSeveral times in the past three weeks my mouse has hovered over the “submit” button for another fall marathon.

Each time, a little voice in my head says: “Wait until after your Half Marathon in May. Don’t you want to start climbing again? Remember – you don’t want to climb and train for a marathon at the same time…”

Climbing, hiking, trail running – getting out of the city and off the beaten path. It’s what I long to do, but it means a different level of commitment than training for a road race.

It’s a lifestyle change, is what it is.

Road races are – well – urban, and therefore populated. One of the things I really like about the Vancouver Marathon/Half Marathon is the sheer number of participants and spectators. There is always someone cheering you on, always someone to pass going up to Prospect Point (even for a slow runner like me), always someone holding a sign that says “Run like a Kenyan!” There are entertainment stations with music and dance, and usually the Hash House Harriers with a beer table somewhere along the way.

Climbing/hiking/trail running is more isolated. Wild. A little bit risky. A little – on the edge. It brings you into closer contact with your climbing partner(s). It’s more intimate. There’s no crowd cheering you to the finish line, announcing your name. At best there’s a notation in a guidebook, or a scribble in a summit register, and some scrapes and bruises for bragging rights.

This hit home to me as I scrambled around gearing up this morning for a little 5k hike from China Beach to Mystic Beach and back this afternoon. I located my little Adventure first aid kit, an extra layer, emergency rain gear, fuel, water, map (not that I needed one).

As I rummaged through my gear stowed in my locker downstairs, I heard my physiotherapist’s voice in my head saying: “Your toe joint is healing well, you should be able to start climbing again this spring.”

I want that thrill of going into the back country again. I want to be at a campsite, climbing gear spread out, consulting the guidebook, deciding with my partner what to take (one rope or two? Full rack or save weight and leave a few pieces?). I want to share a beer at the end of the day with friends who have literally held my life in their hands at the end the rope.

It’s time again to begin the ascent.

Photo: Mystic Beach, April 5, 2010, taken by Tori Klassen with iPhone using the Best Camera app.

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Running with children

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Tori_Oliver

Tori with grandson Oliver, 3 days after running the 2009 Royal Victoria Marathon

I love a running group: meeting new people, finding out why they run, what they do besides running, what motivates them. It makes the hours and the effort float by effortlessly. One new running buddy is a woman with two children, aged 6 and 9.

I must admit – at this stage of my life, with a self-sufficient teenager at home and two grown children (including one grandchild) – I couldn’t imagine at first how one trains for a half marathon with little ones. Case in point: my new running friend was going home after our run to prepare for her son’s birthday party and host a family dinner –that same day.

“Whoa – I usually go home and have a nap on Saturdays,” I said.

“Yeah – I’m going to be exhausted,” she said.

In contrast, I went home to have a glass of chocolate milk, a leisurely soak in the tub, eat some lunch, do some errands in the Village, have coffee with friends, make some appetizers and then, later on, shake some martinis a small get-together with some other friends.

I do remember training for a half marathon when my children were that age. It can be done! with a little creativity and trusting that your kids are all the better when their mom takes care of her health. For instance, my kids and their friends loved that I could do cartwheels, especially when they were really little.

Here are some of my tips I shared with my new friend:

• Figure 8′s: while the kids played with each other in the front yard, I ran 800 m figure-8 loops around the two blocks surrounding our house, waving at them as I ran by. Even if it’s a short run it’s better than nothing.

• Candy Cane Park: along the same lines, I found an open play park with a nice loop where I could keep an eye on the kids playing while I ran around, and around, and around. Hey, it gets boring, but you can join the kids afterwards and do stretches and pull-ups on the playground equipment. Note: tracks are really boring for little kids, try to find an open playground instead.

• Cheap child care at rec. centres: take advantage of it! Look around – most of them have some child care times. They’re usually bedlam – but they’re only there for an hour or so, and most of the time the kids have a ball and you can get your workout in.

• Swim or skate lessons: most facilities have a workout area that’s available for you while kids are in their class. Get on that treadmill and work out when they do!

• Bikes: kids on their bikes, you running. Try and keep up, will ya?

• Take them running with you! This usually meant my son – he’d sprint ahead and stop to catch his breath. When I caught him he would sprint ahead again .. and so on. Make a short loop so that when child decides he’s had enough, he can go play with friends while you keep going. (P.S. my son – now age 22 would still be running if he hadn’t torn his ACL playing football last summer.)

• Get Dad (or a friend) in on it to trade off child minding duties. My ex-husband and I liked to run together, but it was a treat because usually we could only go one at a time while the other stayed home to mind the children.

• Get up at an unseemly early hour. I still do this. It’s my “me” time: 5 – 6:30 am.

• The running stroller. Never had one, they were out of our price range – but I always wanted one. Train while pushing your child, and when race time comes you feel so light and free! Actually, I did wear out (very quickly) one cheap stroller when my youngest was about 18 months old. We found out the hard way – I was running down the street and the thing just – disintegrated. Wheels fell off, I’m eating pavement, daughter is laughing, tipped over sideways on the sidewalk. Luckily we weren’t far from home, and I only wounded my pride.

No excuses – just do it. You do have time to take care of your health – if you make it a priority.

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Race report: the 5% solution

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First off: I ran a personal best 2:12:24 in the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon yesterday. I am proud of my accomplishment and I can safely say I left it all on the race course – I had nothing left at the finish line. That is as it should be. Running just over 6 minutes per kilometre for 21.1 kilometres isn’t supposed to be easy (unless you normally run twice that fast, but then you’d be way out of my league).

Though I started out strong (and truth be told I ran the entire race strong) I felt a little – off. I can’t really describe the feeling, but it took me just that extra bit of effort to pull off that 2:12 time. I certainly felt better this race than the other 2 half-marathons I’ve completed, but I somehow felt only 95% there the entire time. It think I’ve figured out what I needed 5% more of: rest and electrolytes.

Rest:

Finish line

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Traveling to run a race poses its own challenges, chief of which for me is the fact that I wasn’t snug in my own bed the night before. However, the fact that I was snug in D-man’s bed (a bed I am by now very familiar with) helped. Nevertheless, I started getting nervous a few days before the race, was busy with various engagements (including teaching a 1-hour spin class Thursday morning) and had a couple of relatively sleepless nights going into it.

Electrolytes:

Electrolytes are the chemicals in one’s blood that keep your heart pumping in a regular rhythm and your cells firing to fuel your body and your kidneys functioning normally. They’re what keep your spark plugs firing and your motor running. There are a number of them: potassium, sodium, magnesium being the main ones – that are normally present in a certain ratio to each other in the blood stream. If they get out of whack, you get into trouble. Sweating sheds electrolytes (chiefly sodium) that can cause an imbalance. If you don’t replace the electrolytes during endurance activities you are more prone to heat exhaustion, dizziness, or worse.

For that reason I was stocking my body with electrolytes added to my water a couple of days beforehand. The night before the race – just as with every long training run I’ve done for the past four months – I prepared (or so I thought) 20 oz of water and 20 oz of water+electrolytes in the bottles I carry on my belt. While I run, I alternate between drinking plain water and drinking electrolytes. (During a race, I like to blow by the water stations rather than slowing down to take water or – gag me – sports drinks that could upset my stomach).

During the race, I couldn’t find my electrolytes. Only after I ran the Prospect Point hill (200 m elevation gain over 2 kms or so) did I realize I had only plain water and my energy gels, which gave me fluid, calories and caffeine (my performance-enhancing drug of choice) but not sodium or potassium. I must have become a little distracted at D-man’s handsome physique while I was getting ready the day before! No big deal – I was nowhere near the nasty signs of severe imbalance: fatigue, nausea, dizziness, lack of co-ordination. It just meant that I had to focus that much more and reach into my mental and physical reserves just a touch further than I had planned.

I say no big deal now, but look at that expression on my face as I approached the finish line. Normally, knowing my picture is about to be taken, I look up and smile. Not yesterday!

The  last 5 k, my only aim in life was to Keep. Up. This. Pace. It became the only thing that mattered. I chased my friend and run clinic leader, Rita. After training with her for four months, I knew I had it in me to keep up, so I focused on the back of her head about 25 metres ahead of me and soon everything else faded away: other runners, the crowds lining the streets in downtown Vancouver, the noise they made, the beautiful skyscrapers, the clear gorgeous day. They were all gone, it was like I had tunnel vision. There was only Straight Ahead.

I timed it almost perfectly – about 1 minute before the finish line I started to feel like real hell. Rita slowed down and ran beside me. I managed a smile “Are we doing this together girlfriend?”

“Yep, pour it on and we can beat 2:12,” she said.

“I feel like hell,” I said.

“What is it, your foot?”

“Nope – just all over,” I said, and tried to pick up the pace to cross strong. Man it was tough. I saw some chip-sensing pads before the FINISH banner. “Is this the finish?” I gasped.

vancouver marathon

Race photo by melaniejo

“Nope, just so they can see your name on their screens to announce you’re coming. Let’s go!” said Rita.

That’s when I think I gave a gutteral “grrrraaahawaaaa” which I’ve heard come out of my mouth only four previous times, when I gave birth.

When I crossed the real finish line I really just wanted to stop and throw up (a sensation I recognized from previous speed and hill workouts). Within seconds, I felt Rita’s hand on one elbow and a medic’s hand on the other one. “How do you feel? Are you OK?” someone said.

“I’m feeling pukey.” I said

“Do you want to sit down?” the medic asked.

“No – no, I’d better keep walking. I’ll be all right.” By then – in seconds – pukiness had largely passed.

He was doubtful: “I’ll be fine” are the famous last words of 99% of people before they pass out or toss their cookies. When he saw that I really was probably fine, he handed me over to a junior volunteer medic named Matthew who talked to me for a couple of minutes before ascertaining that I didn’t need babysitting any more. He said he was fighting an injury, that’s why he wasn’t racing, and he congratulated me on my run. I laughed and told him I volunteer at races too when I can’t run them, and I appreciated his committment to the sport.

Then Rita and I lingered at the finish line to greet the other runners in our pack with whom we had started out.

Laughing

D and me on the breakwater, Victoria BC


Later, after a big brunch, two epsom salt baths, and a four-hour nap, D-man made me a huge steak for dinner. I ate the whole thing and told him I’m just crazy about him, and I hope he’ll be my support crew when I run the full marathon in October. He gave me one of his completely disarming big goofy grins and said he’d be delighted.

Life is 100 % wonderful.

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