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.

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.

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.

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

It was “only” a recovery run – 45 minutes easy. Except – the rain seemed to drive me along. My pace hovered around 6:00/km the entire time (usual recovery pace 6:30/km).

In short: I LOVED IT!

Raindrops stinging my face, windbreaker soaking through within 5 minutes, unavoidable puddles leading to squishy toes. And the sea — I love the ocean when it froths up into the shore. The tide was in, and the foam reached up to the walkway near Clover Point.

It reminded me of the song: Wild is the Wind. I’ll try to embed the Bowie version here:
Bowie does Wild is the Wind – YouTube

I’ve learned a few things along the way. The hard way. In the spirit of “if you can’t be a role model, then serve as a warning” here are the less-than-stellar moments of my running career:

• Starting out too fast. Everyone says they won’t start out too fast, everyone does it. Everyone. At least once. Possibly every race. I don’t – not anymore. I’m joyously starting at the back of the pack, running negative splits (first half slower than the last) and passing people eventually. I still have to resist the urge to surge at the start line though. Having a Garmin GPS-enabled sport watch to tell your pace helps stick with my race strategy, I’m so grateful I got one for Christmas last month!

• Undertraining. You’ve found Hal Higdon’s Half Marathon training plan on the Runner’s World web site? Go for it. Do. Not. Miss. Workouts. Leading up to my first and second Halfs, I only “half”-assed followed the plan I was on. Speed workouts? “Meh, that’s hard, I’ll do it next week.” Mid-week tempo runs? “Oh too bad I didn’t get up early enough, I’ll just do a 40-minute run then get to work.” Come race day I felt it. During my first Half Marathon, my SI joint seized after the first 5K. When people asked me how the run felt, I laughed it off: “Only the last 10 miles were painful.” They needn’t have been.

• Underfueling. During my second Half Marathon, I carried nothing with me. I took some water at the stations, that was it. No gatorade, no energy gels. The first 10-15 K were fine, but the last part of the race was pure hell: I had simply run out of gas. I watched my friends down gummy bears and gels, and refused their offers to share. Then I watched them pull away from me at the 15K mark while I struggled to keep the pace. You simply can’t run for more than 2 hours without refueling along the way.

• Changing your diet the night before a race. The day before I ran a 15K – my first – I decided I needed more fibre in my diet and ate two or three kiwi fruit with rye crackers for a before-bed snack. This was in the days before race directors’ S.O.P. was to rent port-a-potties and place them along the route. The “runner’s trots” threatened that whole race, most of which was through parkways and along a highway (believe me if I’d run past a house I would have knocked on a door and asked to use the bathroom). I actually finished (dead last) – dogged stubborn determination not to be humiliated by a DNF (Did Not Finish) got me there. I must have looked hilarious: running while trying to hold in a bowel movement.

• Wearing brand-new shoe inserts for a 2+ hour run. OK I didn’t do this; my friend did while we were training for the marathon last year. She was excited when she showed up for our Saturday morning run through Vic West, across the Esquimalt Lagoon, up to Royal Roads University, winding our way back again to Spinnakers on the waterfront. “Look at these new inserts, I think they’ll help with my hip pain,” she said. “Um – have you tried them out yet on a shorter run?” I asked. “No, not yet,” she said as she slipped them into her shoes straight out of the package. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We’re running an awfully long way today if they don’t work out.” I said. “I’ll be fine,” she said: famous last words. I saw the blister afterward and I can’t believe she finished the run. Dogged stubborn determination, right?

When the rain comes (3)

Originally uploaded by VeNiVi

My long slow run yesterday was 19 kilometres in 2 hours and 10 minutes. It rained the entire time, by the first five km I was thoroughly soaked. At the 1:40 mark, in the middle of our second 30-minute tempo pick-up, my left hip and calf started to twinge with tightness.

Afterwards I had a bath, ate, went out to get groceries, ate again, and slept for an hour and a half, then cleaned my place and hosted friends for dinner. I finally got the kitchen clean and went to bed at 1 am. In all that time – no hobbling with stiffness. No sore feet. No blisters.

I woke up this morning – a little dehydrated from the wine, but feeling great otherwise. No lactic-acid-drenched legs, feet perfectly fine.

What?? After last week’s run of just over an hour I stiffened up by dinnertime! I must replicate this non-stiffness in the future. What did I do right?

I think I did four things to help my recovery – long hot soak, lots of hot tea, restorative nap and light activity.

When I got home I threw off the soaked clothes and ran a hot bath. My skin was red where my soaked running clothes had touched. The hot water actually felt cold until I started to warm up. My daughter boiled a kettle of water and slowly added it until it was the temperature of a hot tub. Ahhhh. It was hard to get out of there.

Rehydrating is essential – I drank two big mugs of tea.

After I shopped for the evening’s meal, I crawled back into bed and was blissfully napping until it was time to get up, clean up and start prepping for my dinner – halibut fillets in an orange teriyaki sauce, new steamed potatoes, asparagus, salad, olives, whole-grain baguette. My dear friends brought pie – PIE! for dessert. Yum…

I made sure to drink a big glass of water as I was washing up after they left. I think the fact I didn’t just lay on the couch and watch movies and eat cereal had a lot to do with it – I kept moving — cooking and eating well and laughing with my friends.

It was absolutely lovely to wake up feeling great with supple, not wooden, legs. I felt like a kid I was so happy! Get ready for more dinner parties thrown by yours truly.

TRUTH #1: long runs get you to the finish line. I just love hitting the pavement (or better yet the trail) for hours at a time, especially with running partners. I could run for a couple of hours by myself, but I’d really rather have company!

TRUTH #2: rest days keep you healthy. Oh boy I found this out the hard way a couple of weeks ago when I did 8-workouts in six days, then crashed and burned one Saturday after a long run, spending most of the day in bed.

TRUTH #3: cross-training lets you work while you rest. I cannot run more than 2 or three times a week any more – too hard on my feet. I need spin classes, weights, climbing, biking, etc to keep my heart rate up the rest of the days.

TRUTH #4: pace work is critical to race success. I haven’t done enough of it in the past, so I have either gone out too fast or too slow for a race. We’ll see how much better I judge my pace this year.

TRUTH #5: speed training can help you to a personal best. I’ve tried to do hills and speedwork on my own in the past, and ran into pacing problems: I tried to be TOO speedy. One time I trained for a marathon and had to abandon training because of a knee problem. This time, the Frontrunners group has been an eye-opener – a pleasant one. The hills and tempo runs have been much “easier” than I expected.

TRUTH #6: just plain running is the staple to your program. Like the Zen master says: if you are eating, just eat. If you are running, just run. Or, as a wise friend pointed out to me last week: you are a writer – because you write.

TRUTH #7: weekly distance doesn’t have to be mega distance. I already knew this from my two previous half-marathons. I ran at most three times a week for those races, however I didn’t do enough cross-training then.

TRUTH #8: step back help you step up your training. This is a new one for me too. We’ve been building up to a 1:45 run this Saturday, but the following week is only an hour for the long run.

TRUTH #9: racing builds experience. I’ve run a lot of races, but I’m still so nervous at the starting line I line up at the biffies three times before the starting gun goes!

TRUTH #10: the taper is the time to recover and refuel for peak performance.

TRUTH #11: motivation holds it all together. I think those who know me would agree: this year I am nothing if not motivated! I’ve signed up for the Vancouver Half-Marathon on May 3, and the Royal Victoria Marathon on Oct 11.

ENTRY FEES ARE NON-REFUNDABLE, NON-TRANSFERABLE AND NON-DEFERRABLE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.

By the way – the picture is me with Ravi – an Olympic athlete who competed Beijing last summer. I’ll sheepishly admit I didn’t follow his progress. RBC – an Olympic sponsor, had a traveling exhibition in summer ’07 and I took my kids when they hit Victoria. We had a great time. It was very motivating!

Here is my 10-step evening ritual designed to keep me on my feet.
What you’ll need:

• hot tea,
• your favourite comfy chair and blanket,
• a fluffy towel,
• your favourite TV show (or your mobile device or laptop),
• a basin,
• two trays of ice cubes,
• a watch or timer,
• fortitude.
• Optional: a glass of wine, scotch or tequila.

What you’ll do:

1. Make tea and have it ready next to your comfy chair, blanket and timer.
2. Turn on your favourite TV show. Make sure it’s something absorbing like Battlestar Galactica or Dexter. Alternatively, get out your mobile device or laptop and log in to Twitter.
3. Fill the basin only to about 3-5 centimetres (1 to 1-and-a-half inches) of cold water.
4. Place basin, trays of ice cubes next to comfy chair.
5. Sit with feet bare and blanket over legs. Set stopwatch or timer for about 6 minutes. (You might want to start out with 2 or 3 minutes).
6. Take a deep breath.
7. Plunge feet into cold water.
8. Immediately dump the two trays of ice cubes into the water around your feet. Try not to howl, it will scare your family and pets.
9. Keep breathing! Keep your feet in there! Google your exes, Tweet your pain, fantasize about Michael C. Hall – but stay with it!
10. When your timer goes off, you may gratefully and with much drama take your feet out of the water and wrap them in the towel.
11. Optional: enjoy your wine, scotch or tequila.

Tips:

• Do daily for injury prevention
• To be enjoyed with a regular regimen of stretching and strength training.
• Modification: do this with your legs in the bathtub (and more ice) after a 2+ hour training run or a race. Some races provide ice water barrels to jump in afterwards.

I’m not gonna lie to you, this is painful, but then so is running a marathon with injured feet. Embrace the suck. Besides, it feels so damn good when you take your feet out of that damn ice!

(With thanks to Duane Banman, the massage therapist who urged me to adopt this practice. His lair is otherwise known to marathoners and triathletes in Regina, SK as “Duane’s House of Pain.”)