I keep reading about people’s running: someone’s training for Boston, or an ultra, or an Ironman, and I think “I want to do all those things, but here I am signed up for a puny little Half Marathon again this spring.”

I can’t get excited training for it. I haven’t been interested in training since my SI joint injury just after the marathon last May. It still doesn’t feel quite right, and I can’t even get excited about running most of the time. I haven’t adjusted to running life in Vancouver very well.

I miss running in Victoria. I miss having kilometres of beautiful coastline within minutes of my home.

I miss having trails an easy 20 minute drive (or less) away.

I miss having a challenging tree-lined hill workout in my own neighbourhood.

I miss having training buddies who run at my training pace.

I miss daylight. Maybe it will get better in spring. Maybe I should bring running gear to work and run the seawall at lunchtime.

I know I need to exercise every day, and I manage to get a few workouts in per week. Maybe that’s enough for now. After all, I just moved. Chris just moved in with me. I just want to sit in my cosy apartment with my fireplace going and have a glass of wine with my new neghbours and friends.

Maybe I should just give myself a break. Lean into it, and see what happens.

This too shall pass.

Photo by robswatski used under Creative Commons license

But then things just kind of went to hell.

I stopped doing my bootcamp class, I went on vacation for a month. I started to get weak. My injuries just don’t heal like they used to. In October, I put in my worst Half Marathon performance ever. Then I moved to Vancouver,

I’ve seen a PT here, but my last “treatment” consisted of showing me exercises that I won’t do every day like I’m supposed to. I can’t pay $70 per session for that.

I’m starting to wonder if my goal of putting in a sub 2-hour half marathon this year is doable. Getting faster means putting in some consistent fast mileage. Consistent fast mileage means injury. Injury means more time and money to PT and massage, neither of which I can afford right now.

So why can’t I be satisfied with a modest 25-30k of running per week at a moderate pace? Why do I have to set an ambitious goal? (Hey – I KNOW I’m slow. For me, 2 hours is an ambitious goal. I’m not you. Deal with it.) Why can’t I sign up for a race without a goal in mind? Why sign up for a race at all?

Well, because the best part about racing is the experience of the day itself: lining up with hundreds, if not thousands, of other runners excited about their performance. Race day is a victory lap, a reward for training, for putting in the miles no one sees. Half the fun is cheering for the other runners on the course, especially team mates you’ve been training with for months.

In racing, my time does not count. I’m just another mid-to-back-of-the-pack runner in a sea of spandex. I’m not even going to place in my age group. Ever.

It’s the journey, not the tape. Hell I won’t even see the tape.

Training hard also takes away from other things I want to do: writing, cooking spending time with my man (who just moved in), maybe even performing slam poetry again.

Someone with ultra-stamina could probably do all that and more. Not me, not any more. I know my energy levels and my priorities.

So, just as I’m reflecting on my priorities for 2012, I’m taking a good hard look at what I really want to accomplish this year, and I’m adjusting accordingly.

I remember a question from a participant at the start of training for my first marathon in 2009: “Will we still be running if the weather is cold, windy and rainy?” to which the run leader replied with a question of her own:

“Will they cancel the race because of rain or wind?”

“Uh – no.”

“Well then, we won’t be calling off any training runs either.”

There’s a sign outside the Mountain Equipment Co-op store in Vancouver that says something like “There’s no bad weather, only bad gear.”

So I’ll be packing dry socks and an extra sweater to change into after tonight’s run, expecting my windbreaker to be soaked through to my bones after tonight’s run. I’ll also be lit up like a Christmas tree with blinking lights front and back. Dark, cold and rainy indeed.

I don’t mind the wind and the rain once I drag my ass out there. If the rain pelts down and the wind tries to knock me over I persevere by envisioning the crossing the finish line with the clock well under my goal time.

I have also been known to laugh in the face of a storm in my own version of Lieutenant Dan from Forrest Gump, shouting: “Is that all you got? C’mon, gimme more!”

After all, I know a hot shower and a dry warm bed await me tonight. It’s all a matter of perspective, passion and perseverance.

BRING IT!!

I am just fine with that – it was my goal in fact, because I am feeling uninjured and wonderful and I have a medal to mark another accomplishment. I know I can go out there undertrained and in the midst of a major life change and finish a challenging distance race with a smile on my face.

That’s huge.

I know my limits and my abilities and I’m so damn thankful that I have my health. Any day above ground is a supreme gift.

Happy Thanksgiving everybody!

I want to wish you a happy thanksgiving, and I also have a request. Admit it, I don’t do this very often, and I promise I won’t do it again for at least another year

I also can’t help but think of the bigger picture during holidays like this. Where are we going to go if or when we can’t run anymore? Or cook for ourselves, or dress ourselves, or go for a walk in the park?

Someplace like Mount St Mary’s hospital perhaps.

Maybe you and I will be felled by old age, a terrible accident or disease like cancer. Chances are it will be a process, not an event. Many of us will need long term care at some point.

That care does not come cheap. There are people at Mount St Mary’s now who need some extra help. The Cancer Society needs funds to search for a cure.

This year I vowed running was not going to be all about me. Now here it is, two days away from my next race – the Victoria Marathon (I’m running the half – 21.1 km) and I need to put my mouth where the money is. On this Thanksgiving weekend, please think about giving back to the community, and supporting my efforts to make my running about giving back and paying it forward.

My goals are modest:

Raise $200 for Mount St Mary’s hospital in Victoria. Make your donation online here.

Sell some YYJRuns 2012 calendars (in which I appear, running with wild abandon along a trail at the Royal Roads University grounds) to raise funds for cancer research. You can pre-order yours here.

Please visit one or both of those links today and give what you can. A $15 donation to Mount St Mary’s, and a $15 calendar. I’d be thrilled, but more importantly so many others will be able to live a better life. And for that, we can all be grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving, and much love to you and yours.

David and me at the start of the Grouse Grind

David is a Boston-qualified marathon runner (that means he’s fast) who came to Canada as a teenager with the thickest British accent you could imagine (think Coronation Street) and only decades later can we all understand him.

Ok I’m joking. A little.

He is just one of those guys who is interested in everyone, genuinely and without reservation.

We met at Frontrunners in downtown Victoria almost three years ago when I started running again. I believe that’s when David started running for the first time. Now we’re both run leaders and the running friendship has continued.

While David runs, his wife Marion is usually out on a boat. So if David misses a run on a weekend, it’s most likely because he is meeting her at some marina or other around Vancouver Island. I did finally get to meet her at my birthday celebration last February, it was nice to put a face to the name!

Even though he’s so much faster than I, when David invites me to go for a run with him (or hike up Grouse Mountain) he makes sure to stay at the back with me so I don’t feel bad lagging behind. It’s all about fun, fellowship and love of the sport; running is a social activity for David (and for me too). That’s the best kind of sport for me, where is nothing to prove. Unless it’s race day of course.

He always has a warm hug for all his friends. I’m not the most touchy-feely of people, but friends like David are turning me around on that score. It’s really nice to get an authentic embrace from a friend, especially when you live alone.

The greatest thing about being David’s friend is: I can tell him anything and he’ll always have some good advice for me. He’s my straight go-to guy for man-advice (Jim and Roger being my gay go-to guys on that score). I trust his instincts, and his insights have proven to be spot-on so far.

David’s running the Victoria Marathon this October – I’ll be sure to cheer him on along with the rest of the Frontrunners gang, after I finish the Half Marathon division.

It sneaks up on you literally at night. You wake up in the morning with a twinge of heel pain. It goes away after you walk around a bit and you think “Huh. That was nothing.”

Send help immediately.

But then it happens a couple of days later. And another after that. Soon it’s every morning when you get up.

But it feels better when you go for a run, so you don’t think much about it. Except, slowly, it gets worse. Soon, your foot starts hurting after you’ve been sitting at your desk for a couple of hours.

Then, if you still do nothing about it, you’ll end up having foot pain while out for a run. When you get up from bed or from sitting more than an hour you are hobbled. Then you’re in real trouble. Don’t believe me? Read this.

I know all this because I’ve been there, several years ago. It took six months or so to heal completely and get back running: physiotherapy, massage, ice baths for my feet, no-impact cardio (I couldn’t even push off the wall when swimming laps, or do hills during spin class). For a time, my only real workout was daily stretching. It was demoralizing. It sucked.

So, this morning when I got out of bed for the third morning and the niggling little twinge in my left foot was worse, I knew I couldn’t ignore it. Different foot this time, I caught it earlier, and I know what to do. Here’s hoping I won’t have to be off for long. I’m signed up for two half marathons in the next six weeks and I’m determined to finish both of them.

My first massage appointment is tomorrow. Wish me luck…

Photo: Aches and pains by quinn.anya used under Creative Commons license.

Thanks to @FootSourceMD for the link to information about plantar fasciitis.

I upgraded to Mac OS X Lion last week. All was well, until I took my Garmin Forerunner 405: a runner’s watch equipped with GPS and heart rate monitoring technology. After each run I upload the data to my computer, then upload it to my profile on DailyMile. It’s a great way of keeping track of my progress.

After the Lion installation, everything else worked like a charm. I like the updated OS, especially the new dashboard and 4-fingered swipe between full-screen apps.

However, when I got back from my first run and turned on my laptop, the ANT agent (software contained on a stick that detects my Forerunner wirelessly and uploads the data) could not activate.

So I searched the forums, found nothing, and finally send a note to Garmin support. This was the reply:

Dear Tori Klassen,

Thank you for contacting Garmin International.

I will be more than happy to assist you in this issue today.

Recent operating updates can affect programs; since Lion OS X is a new update, customers have been encountering some issues at this time with the Ant Agent software and we are sorry to hear that this is occurring.

Please note that our engineers are aware of this issue and are currently working on correcting the issue; we appreciate your patience during this time and understanding.

Have a great day and thank you for being a Garmin customer.

Tragedy! Now I have to manually enter my workout into Daily Mile, then delete the data manually from the Garmin so I can use it again for the next run. Gone (for now) are the lap-by-lap analysis, the mapping, the elevation gained and lost …

Wait, what was I using all that data for anyway? I can’t even run a Half Marathon in less than two hours.

Who exactly am I fooling that I really NEED all this data?

I think I can wait patiently for the software update from Garmin. No panic required.

(I do wish Garmin would update their support page though. It would save them some emails from frustrated customers.)

Last fall I was recovering from injury and entered my first race after regaining my running form: a popular local 8k. I had run the marathon at that same event the year before, so I had no idea the popularity of the 8k event. I was planning to run a conservative race and come in not much under 50 minutes. I just wanted to run healthy without any calf/IT-band/foot issues, so I’d know I was OK to start training again.

So – I seeded myself at what I thought was about 3/4 of the way back. Gun goes off – and we start running. Wow – these people are slow! I thought, but I tried to remain positive: at least they’re out here, giving it a good try, yada yada. I weaved in and out of a few strollers (GRRR! Please start at the back if you have a running stroller! I don’t care how fast you are) but was trying NOT to pass people because I wasn’t really out there to race, you know?

Until I met up with the walkers. You’re walking? Really? Four of you, all abreast hey? Chatting to each other. Uh huh. Then why were you not at the VERY BACK of the start line? Sheesh?!?!? There were a couple of patches of walkers to dodge in that first 2k.

I passed them but continued hold back my pace, trying just to be happy to be running again.

And there he was.

Another walker.

No — I mean an old guy with a WALKER. As in – a device that assists one in walking when one is in danger of falling over otherwise.

I KNOW RIGHT??????

There were just no words. None at all, after that.

I did finish in 50 minutes and kept on training. I’m completely healthy and next week I’m at the start line of my third marathon. I’m pretty sure assisted walking devices won’t be the list of clock blocking that will happen. I’m pretty sure I will probably clock-block someone during the race too.

My apologies in advance.

My first marathon was a triumphant 4:42:24 finish. My second attempt ended at the 15k mark with an injury to one of my upper calf muscles.

I’ve been ambivalent about running this marathon. Training is hard, it takes over your life. I haven’t been out in the evening in weeks. My friends are starting to wonder if there’s something wrong with me. Not only that, but I signed up to be a run leader for a spring marathon, not realizing my group would consist of exactly four people: me, two fellow run leaders, one of whom is not signed up for a race and who hasn’t completed a run more than 2 hours, another who injured her ankle hiking and had to drop out of marathon training, and our sole clinic participant who was in Hawaii for all of February and missed several crucial build-up runs.

But still, I slogged through my training, being sidelined by nagging injuries (that were caught early and treatable) only a couple of times. The whole time I’ve been plagued by doubt: do I really WANT to do this? Previously, the training was the most fun part of marathon training. Not so this time.

Of course, yes I do want to finish this marathon. I’ve worked so hard for this. I know the feeling of accomplishment after crossing that finish line and getting a medal is incomparable.

I think my problem is: I’m no longer a newbie. I know how hard it is. I’m under no illusions as to how much work it takes to cross the finish line after 42.2k. I’m under no illusions that race day might not be my day to have a good run. After last fall’s sudden, unexpected injury (it happened in the last week before the race) I know that any-freaking-thing can happen to derail my race plan.

I finished Saturday’s 3:30 run confident that I am ready to run Vancouver. Now taper starts. I’ve been doing everything I can to get into the right headspace to finish strong. I visualize the race each morning, including my triumphant finish. I listen to my marathon music mix, including Phoenix’s “Love Like a Sunset.” I imagine Chris (who’s flying in from New Brunswick the week before) waiting for me in the family area with his camera, a big hug and kiss to my sweaty, salty face.

I know that no matter what happens in the next 20 days, I will take whatever comes, knowing that life happens, the running gods sometimes have a sick sense of humour and I’ve done all I can to get me that medal.

If it’s true that the race is simply the victory lap after all the training, then I’m prepared to just enjoy the day.

• BMO Vancouver Marathon