Tag Archives: Running

Clockblocking: real runners don’t need an explanation

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Just found this site: clockblocking.com. I hadn’t heard the term clock blocking before but as soon as I saw it I knew IMMEDIATELY what it meant. Let me explain via a story.

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.

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How to enjoy a marathon

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I haven’t blogged much about it, but I have been training for the past 4 months for my third marathon: May 1 in Vancouver.

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.

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It’s not about me this year

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Well, sorta kinda it is about me, but it’s really not.

I’ve signed up to be a volunteer pace group leader at a Frontrunners marathon running clinic, starting January 12 and leading up to the 40th BMO Vancouver Marathon May 1, 2011.

I already know from leading indoor spin-type classes at the YMCA that it’s not about me so much as the participants. Certainly it’s a good way to keep on track with my own fitness and to get in the training to complete the race, but at a certain point a fitness leader has to put aside her own goals and tune in to the needs of the group members.

  • You have to show up even when you don’t feel like going that day.
  • You have to know where the heck your run route is, because you’re out in front.
  • You’re out there for 2, 2.5, 3, 3.5 hours, you better make that route interesting, preferably a loop that is do-able in the time frame allowed.
  • You have to adjust on the fly, make sure everyone gets back to the start line, sweep the stragglers if someone’s having a bad day, and be prepared for anything.

As our clinic leader put it this morning, if you’re hell bent on getting a Personal Best this time, don’t be a run leader, be a participant. Runners will sense a pressure to perform, and that leads to overdoing it, overtraining, overuse — injury — and failure to cross the finish line. Maybe not for you, but for them. And the whole idea of these clinics is to get people to the finish line injury-free.

The good news is – helping people achieve their fitness goals is a passion of mine, it keeps me going. It’s why I volunteer at the Y. It’s why I join clinics – because a shared victory is sweeter than a personal one.

Besides, I live to run and I don’t like to run alone all the time.

So if you’re making a resolution to run a marathon in 2011 — sign up for the race, sign up for the clinic. We’ll get you there!

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When did blogging about running become not so fresh and new?

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I had a great hill run this morning. I felt strong and powerful, running in the dark with my headlamp in the light rain. I didn’t charge the hills, just tried to keep a steady pace and keep running over the top of each one.

On my way back down Rockland Avenue I realized that two years ago, when I was just getting back into running, I started blogging again because each new milestone was recorded, each blister documented and celebrated. I was like a child rediscovering a new toy.

I don’t blog so much about my running highlights anymore. I’ll post on Daily Mile and Twitter when I’ve slogged through a rainy one, or finished a grueling long one, but running 40 minutes of continuous hills is no longer blog-worthy.

When did that happen?

The fact is, whenever I have a run like this morning’s I feel renewed, like I got another chance at life. Seriously – it’s THAT GOOD. When I don’t work out I feel like something’s missing, I lose energy and I feel like a slug. So I cherish every day I can get my runners on and hit the streets or the trails.

Never fear, more running words to come.

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Race Report: GoodLife Victoria Marathon 8k, Oct 10, 2010

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Goal: finish the race healthy and pain-free in an hour or so.

I was plagued by phantom popliteum pain all week leading up to the race. (Plus the need to carb-load, even though this is not a long-distance race!–Old habits I guess)

I even considered not racing, but one of my work colleagues, a veteran trail runner, counseled that I probably needed a “FINISH” under my belt for my own peace of mind.

He was SO right.

I met up with some other running gals the day before at an impromptu Marathoners Tweetup and soaked up the great energy. One was running her first marathon: I saw in her the sense of trepidation and excitement I felt exactly a year ago. The other two were running the Half. It was just the fellowship I needed.

I woke up early and walked to the start line, timing it just so I got there, checked my extra gear and made it to the start with 2 minutes to spare. I’m getting this racing logistics thing down to a science!

With over 3,000 runners in the 8k though – I got behind some walkers and slower runners. I kept telling myself “This is OK – you don’t WANT to actually race – you just need to take it easy and finish pain-free.”

So I tried to calm down, keep my pace at 7:00/km or slower, and take in the positive runner energy around me. I feel kinda bad that “positive runner energy” for me meant comparing myself in smugliness to other runners. I have a bad habit of judging other people, especially when I’m nervous about my own performance. For example:

  • Why would you wear a water belt with 16 oz of fluid for a race that will take you at most an hour? I couldn’t believe how many people I saw doing this.
  • Why do they let wheeled walkers on this course, but not baby strollers? (Not that I want either on the course)
  • Why not corral the walkers behind the runners?

I guess I’m just not used to running shorter races with lots of people participating – it was definitely an eye-opener and something to consider if I ever decide to run another 10K.

At any rate, the race was a relief, I felt very little pain in my upper calf, and the most fun part of the day was coming back to the Marythoner’s station to dance and cheer on my run clinic buddies as they came in for the homestretch in the  marathon.

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I’m a Marythoner

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This year I’ve decided to kick my running up a notch by raising cash for the Mount St. Mary’s Hospital foundation. I’m running on the “Marythoners” team for the 8k division of the Victoria Marathon Oct 10.

As you know I run for my health and fitness (although running marathons goes way beyond just keeping healthy, but that’s a topic for another day), but I don’t want it to be all about me. One of my run leaders, Mandy, works at the Mount St. Mary’s foundation and she is passionate about her work and about Mount St. Mary’s.

I know your donation will stay right here in Victoria providing long term care for those who need it most. It will also help me take my running outside myself and into helping my community – that way we all benefit!

Please take a moment right now to pledge me online, then come out and cheer on the Marythoners!

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How to get over a DNF heartbreak: part I

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I came off the Queen City Marathon course at the 15k mark with injury to my left upper calf: the “popper” muscle I call it (popliteus).

I had been for a run last Monday when I developed a tight calf muscle. I wrote about it earlier. I was hoping for the best but knew I might not be able to cross the finish line yesterday.

I was fine until 14.5 k. The pain was a dull roar, a tightness, and I was about 10 sec/km off my pace, which was OK by me. After 50 minutes on the course I was just getting warmed up and starting to enjoy the run. I had re-adjusted my goal and I just wanted to finish in 5 hours or less.

Then, on Assiniboine Avenue right next to the cemetery and across from an Apostolic church, I felt a sharp pain that drew me up into a limp and slowed my pace by about 30 sec/km. Another 500 m and I knew, with 25k to go, I wouldn’t even finish within 5 hours and this could only turn into a miserable death march.

It was really heartbreaking – I have never, ever DNF’d before and it feels like crap. But I made the right decision- I had to stop running or risk a really crippling injury. There’s “fatigue” pain you can run through and then there’s sharp, localized pain that is bad news. Smart runners know the difference. I want to be a healthy runner and I want to run the 8k in Victoria in a month’s time.

So how do you get over a DNF heartbreak? I dunno – you tell me.

I’m still in Saskatchewan for a few days – the bright light of my day is when I visit with my friends, my son, my daughter and her baby. Otherwise I’m still glum, missing my finisher’s medal, feeling incredibly fit and raring to go; except for that damn “popper” muscle in my left leg.

Part II of this series is the post where I get over my DNF heartbreak, then report back on my findings. I’m open to ideas – can any runner out there who has bounced back from a DNF please tell me how you did it?

PS: race course volunteers are saints. Especially Patty and her daughter Becky, who gave me water, a place to sit and cry for a while, and a ride to the 25k mark where my son and his dad were waiting for me with extra water, motivational signs written in Greek (um – my son is a Classics major…) and a flask of Irish whiskey.

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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!

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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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