Tag Archives: marathon

Digging down for my marathon spirit

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Spirit has fifty times the strength and staying power of brawn and muscle.

Here’s the deal: I’m boarding a plane to Regina this afternoon and I’m running a marathon there on Sunday.

Here’s the catch: I’m limping.

Here’s the story:

I have been feeling fantastic: training went well, taper started a couple weeks ago, I’m feeling strong and well-prepared.

I went for a run Monday night: 10-11 km was all that was on the schedule, including a 5k pick-up at about a half-marathon pace.So I warmed up for 1.5k, ran 3k tempo and slowed it down a bit for 2 k. Then I met up with Scott (the loyal, consistent member of my Running for the Truly Terrified group) and we ran an easy 6 k from there.

Towards the end of the run I noticed my calf was a little stiff. We stretched when we finished, it went away. Then when I got home I iced my feet and had a hot shower – no stiffness. The next day I felt great – nothing hurt or was stiff.

It was rainy though, and I broke out my winter shoes and walked around all day in them. I don’t have a car, I live close to downtown, work, grocery stores, etc. so mostly I walk to where I need to go.

That night though the pain came as I lay in bed: upper calf just below the knee. Ouch. I iced it, then I heated it. The next day: same thing, but I though it’s just those pre-race nerves you get that amplify every little creak and grown in your body. I laughed it off — sort of.

I flew to Vancouver, where I walked from the Helijet terminal to our office downtown, and back at the end of the day. It was a beautiful day, I wouldn’t think to take a cab or shuttle!

Except my leg kept hurting. I started to get worried, but I thought – no problem, I have my pre-race massage booked for Thursday afternoon.

Nicola, my massage therapist, explained as she worked on it, that it’s a little sausage-like muscle right behind the knee that has stiffened up. She tells me if I heat it, and work at it myself, a couple times a day today and tomorrow, I should be OK to run.

As I walked to meet up with some friends last night it was acting up again, hours after Nicola’s magic touch. Discouraged, worried, sore, on the verge of tears, I hailed a cab home, put a warm pack on my knee and commiserated with my daughter.

What if, after all that training, that one little sausage-like muscle keeps me from finishing the race? What if I can’t even run at all? How am I supposed to run if I can’t even walk without a limp?

Well then, I wouldn’t be the first runner felled during a race because of an injury. One wise marathoner told me the true test of my mettle would come the day I had to DNF (“Did Not Finish” – it’s what they list you as if you drop out in the middle of a race). I’ve never done it, not over a number of 10k, four half marathons and one marathon – not finishing is just about the worst thing I could think of doing.

I keep going over my past week wondering what I could have done differently. Did I push the pace too much Monday night? Was it the winter shoes I broke out on Tuesday? Why couldn’t I just wear old runners in the rain and bring other shoes to work? Did I walk too much thinking it would loosen up?

Woulda coulda shoulda – what’s done is done. Even as I write this I realize all is not lost. I will follow Nicola’s instructions. I will be there at the starting line on Sunday. I will probably finish the race – but the dreaded DNF is an option if I’m completely crippled by injury on race day.

It wouldn’t be the end of the world, just another story in my running/life journey.

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Queen City Marathon: how to help a runner

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Queen City Marathon day is one week away – September 12! I have done all the training (including a couple of long runs when I was in Regina over the summer) and I’ve been tapering for two weeks already.

I’m excited to finally be running the full 42.2 km marathon in my *hometown. It will be great to see friends and family on the course to cheer me on – but I have a need for some extra race support. I’m hoping I gather a crew for that day:

1.     Gear/layer shedding.

  • It’s always chilly at the start of the race and I bundle up. At the start line and at the 3 – 4 km mark it would be great to have someone on hand to whom I can hand off my extra layers. Running gear gets expensive and I don’t want to lose it!
  • Likewise – if the weather turns bad – it would be nice to have someone at the 25k mark or so to hand me a dry, warm layer if needed.

2.    Water bottles/gels.

I carry my own water usually, that way I can carry my own electrolyte concoction, plus I can avoid the bottlenecks at the aid stations (I haven’t mastered the art of drinking enough liquid out of those paper cups.) I have four bottle holders on my fuel belt plus a spare set of four. If I can trade empties for full ones with someone at about the 20 km point, have them refilled, and then pick them up again at the 35 km point, that would be ever so wonderful. (Neil Balkwill Centre – 2420 Elphinstone Street is Kilometer 20 and 35 I believe.)

3. Finish Line!

  • Chocolate Milk 500 ml — I think my daughter Pocketbuddha has offered, but she will have Oliver with her, so perhaps some help for the mama of a 1-year old is in order? (PS I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW STOKED I AM THAT MY SON, MY DAUGHTER AND MY GRANDSON WILL BE AT THE FINISH LINE CHEERING ME ON!)
  • Red Breast 12-year old Irish Whisky in a flask. My son Aidan has this one taken care of I think – it has become somewhat of a tradition for me to swill some whisky after Halfs and Full Marathons, thanks to my Victoria drinking buddy Tim (@Howlabit on Twitter). By the way – if anyone has any 15-yo Red Breast – talk to me. I’m sure we can work something out :)
  • A warm blanket – those plastic ones they hand out to all racers are OK – but they just don’t do the trick.

4. Après-Finish

I’m getting a really big meal that day, thanks to Margaret Levett who is going to stuff me full of jug-jug, rice ‘n peas, and other Caribbean and British delicacies (including the sorrel. Mmmm the sorrel!).

Of course if people just want to come out and cheer, make me a sign that says “Go Tori” or just yell and scream when I run by, I’m up for that too. It will be a huge help. Did I mention running a marathon is freaking hard? Every little bit of encouragement helps — except don’t say “you’re almost there” until I’ve hit the 39 km mark.

The race web site (http://runqcm.com/marathon/course/maps_narratives_startfinish) has a handy “Spectator Zone” guide for spectators and includes information on the best spots from which to watch (that are easier to get to given the traffic restrictions that day).

—

*Swift Current, SK is technically my hometown, but I lived in Regina for most of my adult life: 18 years.

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Help for a lonely runner?

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My longest run before the marathon is coming up on Saturday. I have to admit I’m a little apprehensive about it, because it will be a 32k solo run — about 3 and a half hours for me; it really sucks to be slow!

A friend is driving me out to Sidney, and I will run the entire length of the Lochside Trail to downtown Victoria. By myself. On a trail I’m not entirely familiar with, since I’ve only run it from the Blue Bridge to Island View Road. I’m hoping that by starting in Sidney, I’ll get the unfamiliar half over with first, while I’m still fresh.

Let’s face it: running for 3+ hours gets boring and it hurts. That’s why I join the clinics at Frontrunners: for the camaraderie and companionship. Other people take the edge off. There’s strength in numbers. Shared pain is more bearable, and actually feels like an accomplishment when it’s finally over.

I’ll be all right, I can do this. After all, I will be running the race solo (however there will be other runners on the course). I ran 2:45 mostly solo while I was visiting Regina a couple of weeks ago; a friend did join me for 5k or so, which definitely helped.

Is there anyone in Greater Victoria who wants to join me for a portion of my run on Saturday – either on foot or on a bike? I would appreciate the companionship and support, even for a little while.

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Homestretch to my second marathon

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Only one more month until the Queen City marathon!

This race is so much different from my first marathon. I’m still deeply committed, training is going well this year (dare I say better than last year?) – but that added sense of excitement and pressure is gone. I already know I can run a marathon – I’ve already achieved 42.2 kms.

This race is about seeing how strong I can be and running 42.2 faster than last time. It’s about having fun on a course in my hometown. For me, marathon running is like golf: if you hit a sweet drive 20% of the time, that one sweet shot after four duds is enough to keep you going back for more.

Looking at all my Halfs and Full marathons the past two years, I only felt really good during the Vancouver Half in 2009 – the Victoria Marathon hurt like hell from the 25km mark and the Oak Bay Half this year was a slog, despite my PB time.

Searching for that perfect race day just keeps me running.

Training is fun too – when I get a day (and it happens more frequently than a nice golf swing actually) where the weather, the company of my running buddies, my mood and my energy levels are optimum I think I’m the luckiest girl on earth. And I couldn’t get those days if I wasn’t training for another marathon.

So I’ll take them as they come!

—

Training this week: recovery week, only 16k long run Saturday.

Next week: 32k long run (about 3.5 hours). After that, the taper starts!

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My second job

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Did I simply forget how tiring it is to train for a full marathon? Or could it be the extra weekly run and two extra boot camp sessions per week that have me begging for mercy?

Take a little from column A, a lot from column B and you have the reason I wake up in an exhausted fog some mornings. This training schedule is like a second job. For instance, here’s this week’s schedule:

  • Monday: morning tempo run 10-11k; evening “recovery” run with the Running for the Truly Terrified group I started.
  • Tuesday: morning spin class at the YMCA where I’m a volunteer; evening boot camp.
  • Wednesday: evening speed workout with Frontrunners marathon clinic.
  • Thursday: evening boot camp.
  • Friday: one-hour hot yoga at noon because lord knows I need to stretch!
  • Saturday: 19k run (long slow distance: pace 6:50/k, a little over 2 hours)
  • Sunday: hike Witty’s lagoon! (I’m really looking forward to that one!)

As luck would have it, my real job is busy but not crazy-busy, and during the summer I haven’t (yet) needed to put in any overtime hours or travel too much. If that were the case though I’d have to give up something – probably a boot camp session.

As a matter of fact, come August (when my mileage starts climbing again) I will drop one of the boot camps per week, and during taper I won’t weight train at all.

The perennial question for runners is: what are you running from?

Good question. The harder answer (given the fact that marathon training is actually hard on the body) is I have no idea. I can’t think of what I’m avoiding in life by working out so much, I can’t think of anything “chasing” me that would cause me to run away.

The easy answer is: I simply love this, I love running, working out, getting strong, staying youthful, staying healthy; and I love doing it with other people, helping them achieve their fitness goals at the same time I’m achieving mine.

What other possible answer could there be?

Photo: Tori running the Royal Victoria Marathon October 2009 by Bill Broughton

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Of Toenails and Teenage Wisdom

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Hey there – my latest blog post for Life As A Human is up:

“Can you tell I’m missing a toenail?” I asked M. the other day. For some reason I consult with my daughter on matters of fashion and appearance, probably because at age 16, she is at a stage of her life where she is inordinately focused on such things. Sometimes I appreciate her keen eye.

Please read the rest here. And Stumble it, Digg it, Tweet it, etc. And leave a comment. And send me chocolate (or gin).

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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 through time

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Last post I fibbed just a little – by omission. I neglected to state my goal for running this year:

In 2010 I will run a Half Marathon in 2 hours or less.

Gulp.

My PB for that race is 2:12:24.

In 2003 I did the Queen City Half Marathon in 2:20:21; and in 2005 in 2:16:16

Don says I can do it, and I don’t think he’s just saying that because it’s His Duty As A Good Boyfriend to say things like that. He says it based on my performance at the Run Through Time on New Year’s Eve – a 5 K “fun run” at UVic.
Race day at RVM 2009I ran it in 28:04, which I think was a PB for me but I can only find results online for one other 5K I’ve done – the rest I did before the days if the interwebs and timing chips.

Apparently I ran the 34th Annual YMCA Regina Buffalothon 5K in 2005 in 29:17. I don’t remember running it at all, probably because I was training for the Half Marathon that year, or perhaps because I was crazy in love: earlier that month I had visited Victoria and decided I wanted to move here.

In any event, I decided on Dec 31 not to treat the race as a “fun run” but as a test/training run. I wanted to see how well I would do giving it some effort. Don did run it just for fun, having done his real workout earlier that day, so he stayed behind in he pack to run it with me.

I did better than I thought. I went out with my Garmin at the ready, but after a couple of kilometres I stopped looking at it and asked Don to keep us at a 5:45 per kilometre pace. I started out back of the pack and slow – about a 6:15 pace to start. I like to pass people at the beginning and I like to do negative splits (first half slower than the second, finishing strong).

The race is two laps around a circular drive at the University of Victoria. At the second lap I started to pick up speed and there it was again: the focus, the tunnel vision I get when I’m working hard and I’ve got the finish line in sight. I passed a whole lotta people. That’s when I asked Don to keep us on my goal pace.

About 1 K before the finish I made the mistake of asking him what pace we were on. I was working hard.

“I shouldn’t tell you,” he said.

“Tell me!” I gasped.

“4:31.” he said.

“Holy crap!” I said, still gasping.

“It’s OK – you’re doing fine. Breathe deeply. Don’t slow down your breathing, just fill up your lungs, use your diaphragm.”

I did back off that pace for the last couple of hundred metres. Don explained that I was probably running at my lactate threshold pace – a pace close to which most serious runners run every race.

“Even marathons?” I said.

“Yes, I’m running that way every marathon,” (he’s done 18 of them). “That’s why you do speed work, to get yourself used to going the distance at pace. You could have run the entire 5K at about a 5-minute pace, you just didn’t know it.”

Later we went out to celebrate New Year’s Eve, but I was so tired I had trouble staying up to ring in 2010. That’s life as a runner!

Last night we played around with paces and race distances on a handy calculator on the Prairie Inn Harriers web site. To run a 2-hour Half Marathon means holding a pace of 5:41 per kilometre for 21.1 kilometres.

Gulp.

I can do it.

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Indelicacies

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I don’t abandon runs that often. When I do it’s for one of two reasons: illness or injury. After this morning I’m adding #3 to my list — plumbing problems. (Content warning: ladies’ bits discussed further …)

out outhouse by Rusty Boxcar

Out Outhouse by Rusty Boxcar

Especially if she has given birth to four babies (as have I), there comes a time in every woman runner’s life when either her period starts/gets unexpectedly heavy or she really has to go pee while running. At that point she has a choice to make:

  1. Find a bathroom. Usually not a big deal in an urban setting. I have had no problems running sweaty into a coffee shop, hotel lobby, hospital, airport (in Regina SK), restaurant, church or – on one occasion – just went to a house and knocked on the door. The pit stop is also a good opportunity to refill water bottles on a long (2+ hour) run. It makes for good conversations: “How far you running?” “Oh – about 25 kilometres today,” “REALLY? That’s a long way…” (looks of incomprehension, respect, incredulity, etc.).
  2. Bushes. I am a veteran find-a-tree kinda gal from years of camping, mountain climbing, hiking and trail running. Not so easy in an urban setting. This morning, well before dawn, I set out to write for an hour or so before running around Beacon Hill Park, then up and down the hill a couple of times and back home before getting ready for work. Problem is, my shift to an earlier routine had me drinking a cup of strong coffee at my computer before my run. Bad idea. I don’t usually drink caffeine before I run, I eat it in the form of Carb Boom gels. If I have to run later in the day when I’m well-hydrated I make at least three trips to the biffy before starting out.
    So this morning, two blocks away from home, realizing I just had to go – again – I turned back to my place to take care of business.
    Crap no keys. I’d have to phone or knock and wake up my daughter to get back in. Cruel thing to do to a teenager at 6:15 am. So third option …
  3. Run anyway. This worked for me in the Vancouver Half Marathon this year, but I hadn’t had a cup, because my pre-race routine is sacrosanct and it does not include coffee. Years ago I ran a 10-mile race and came in last because of – er – “plumbing discomfort” – and afterwards one of the veteran runners said to me “Just let it go a little at a time during a race – no one really cares and all the best runners do it.”
    This morning I wasn’t racing, and pushing through didn’t work. I eyed the dark bushes around Beacon Hill Park and convinced myself I really did not want to disturb some homeless person sleeping, or have someone stumble upon me, squatting and vulnerable, in the deserted pre-dawn hours in a big nearly-empty park. So this morning I chose option 4:
  4. Walk home, wake up daughter to be let in and be crabby for about an hour until hitting the [Reset] button for the day.

Oh well. They can’t all be good runs, and I will live to run Beacon Hill another day, well-hydrated and well-plumbed.

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Marathoner's Torture Series: Race Day

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I finished the Royal Victoria Marathon yesterday with a chip time of 4:42:35.

It was unlike anything I’d ever done before. Uncharacteristically my legs stiffened up at the 25 k point, something they never did during long training runs. Until then I was on track for a 4:30 finish. After that, it was just pain.

And so it goes with racing. It wasn’t the worst I’ve felt during a race, but I certainly could have felt better. It was a humbling lesson in allowing myself to sink into the moment, as painful as it was. I was able to just let it be. The pain, the gorgeous day, my lovely daughter giving me fresh water bottles at 13 and 34 k. It was what is was, and it was good.

My baby daughter Sarah, the one who died in my arms, the one for whom I was running yesterday, was with me the last 2 or 3 k, pushing me along. I was quite emotional – grateful, sad, happy it was over, immensely proud of myself for coming such a long way. I found a kick I didn’t think was there in the last 800 metres. I can’t describe the feeling of seeing the finish line, it was just as I’d visualized. I was in tears.

The technical lesson learned was that I may have gone out too quickly. My team mates were doing 6:00/k at first, and my plan was to start out at 6:25/k. so I dropped back after 8 k. Too late maybe, perhaps contributing to the leg pain later.

My soul lesson was one I learned the evening before the race when I met Michael Lebowitz and we shared some of our writing with each other. I was privileged to read an as-yet-unpublished piece of his that really inspired me. Before I headed out the door I wrote a Twitter post paraphrasing part of it and scheduled it to go out as I was finishing the race:

“It’s not about the pain, or the training, or my pace. I’m letting it be. It’s about who I am in this moment.”

I dug deep into that wisdom when my legs were screaming at me.

I am very grateful for some other moments during the race:

  • A warm hug for a dear one, on Dallas Road at about the 10K mark. I felt those arms around me for miles and miles.
  • Bill Broughton, who was there every few kilometres taking pictures.
  • Suzy – running partner from the Vancouver Half Marathon this past May, urging me on just as I entered the Inner Harbour to the finish.
  • Tim, Cathy and my dear daughter Mary who were at the finish line cheering me on.
  • A secret swig from Tim’s flask to wash down my finish line bagel!
  • Superman. I beat Superman!
  • I also passed a clown and a guy in a lime green costume.
  • The excitement of the start line with my running group.
  • The exhilaration of seeing a sea of runners all around me filling up the downtown streets.
  • The gang from Frontrunners cheering everyone on.
  • The amazing volunteers without whom we could not race.
  • Martin from Los Angeles (who I ran with for about 1 k) who loves Victoria so much he wants to move here.

And of course, I am grateful to Caroline and Randy who fed us the most sumptuous Thanksgiving dinner later that day. I piled my plate high and ate the entire thing, then had two desserts. What a perfect way to celebrate 42.2!

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