Tag Archives: training

Tri of Compassion

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It’s time to write this post. I’ve got something to tell you and something to ask of you.

(I’m inspired by Karen over at Ispuddle.com to finally get around to writing this post. She is brilliant and honest and matter of fact. If she can talk about placentas, then I can talk about anything.)

I signed up for a triathlon on July 5. It’s only a week away. I’ve been avoiding it, but I guess I have to start thinking about it now.

Now I know what you’re thinking – “this woman is truly mad” – but it’s only a little one! Laps in pool (not lake) – 20. Bike ride – 19 K. Run – 5 K. Easy peezy!

What’s most important about it is – it’s the Tri of Compassion in support of the Victoria Sexual Assault Centre. Now, I haven’t had personal dealings with the Victoria Sexual Assault Centre, but I do know such centres are very, very important.

And this is very hard for me to talk about – because sexual abuse is so last century and overdone and ho hum not a big deal anymore and why do we have to keep hearing about it anyway? And because yes, I’m a survivor both of childhood sexual abuse and date rape and it was a long time ago and blah blah it doesn’t define me any more. The only way out is through and sometimes ‘through’ is a real bitch, but it beats the alternative (which would be wanton self-destruction – a strategy I tried tentatively to deploy a few times and have now rejected, not without much collateral damage about which I am truly sorry). No need to feel sorry for me or shocked or solicitous. The fact that you’re reading about it on my blog means when I see you I don’t have to endure the awkward pause where you try to find the right thing to say, and I try and decide how to rescue you from your awkwardness. For the record, simply say: “I read your blog. I’m sorry you had to go through that, it must have been difficult” then let it go. Tell a joke. Give a hug, whatever. Life goes on.

Still and all, it took a long time and a lot of therapy for me to get to this place of health and contentment and modest career success. That’s not where a lot of people are. There are some still in the throes of self-blame, hurt, shame, guilt and self destruction. This thing that happened is still the centre of their universe. Sexual assault centres are there to show the way through. They’re not into awkward silences; they listen, share knowledge, share grief and pain, in a safe place.

Oh – details? Hm – tough one. In a nutshell – first from age 6-14 or so there was my stepfather *spit*. Eventually, when we finally got up the nerve to go to the police and go through with the trial when I was in my late 20s (second hardest thing I’ve ever had to do) ee ended up in jail for a couple of years. Second, my first boyfriend at age 16 *spit*. I said no about 10 times but he was on the wrestling team. It was in his parents basement. I was so ashamed, and of course I couldn’t tell my parents or anyone. He’ll rot in a hell of his own making where he belongs, and I’m at peace with that.

So it would really mean a lot to me if you’d go to this link and donate to my Triathlon of Compassion, it is my way of paying it forward.

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Craving strength

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Marathon training starts – gulp – tomorrow morning? How did that sneak up on me? I thought I had another week of slacking off!

My toe isn’t 100% pain free all the time. Not yet. Then again, no one taking on a challenge like a marathon stays completely pain free through training. The whole idea of tackling 42.2 kilometres is to push through boundaries you never thought you could overcome.

In my somewhat hazy state today (I am slightly hungover from too many lemondrop martinis at my friends Jim & Roger’s place last night) I have a vague sense of the monster challenge ahead of me and I’m a little intimidated.

But tomorrow after that first 10K run I’ll feel better. It’s the first 10K of approximately 550-600 kilometres I’ll run over the next 14 weeks in preparation: 600 kms in sun, rain, wind, on rails, hills, and pavement, feeling great and feeling crappy. There will be many weekends this summer where I will do a long run and not bloody much else the rest of the day except lie on the beach, and I’m looking forward to those days.

I’m ready. I can do this!

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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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My left foot

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Is it any wonder I had to stop and ask two Royal Jubilee Hospital staff directions to Nuclear Medicine after trying to follow the Worst Instructions Ever, handed to me at the front desk? –

  • Walk past the Telus telephones to the end of the hallway.
  • Turn right and continue walking.
  • Walk down the hallway.
  • Pass the LAB on the left.
  • NUC MED is on your right.
  • PLEASE CHECK IN.

In fact, you have to walk quite a bit past the pay phones, past a couple of laboratories and such (none of which are marked “LAB”), take a couple of turns and jogs (but essentially staying in the same long hallway), and pass at least two sets of elevators before finding a sign marked – not “NUC MED” as advertised – but “Nuclear Medicine.”

I received the directions two weeks ago when I showed up for my bone scan. They injected me with some inert isotope stuff (to provide contrast for the pictures), sent me away to let it seep into my bones, and I returned two hours later so they could scan the pesky, painful big toe joint on my left foot.

Will I ever be able to wear them again?

Will I ever be able to wear them again?

My doctor revealed the results yesterday. The good news – not a stress fracture, as she had feared. I am fine to run the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon and start training for the Royal Victoria Marathon.

The not-so-good news: it’s arthritis, probably caused by mechanical imbalances in my physiology, combined with wear and tear from years of running, hiking, climbing and my love of high heels. I thought about this for a day and got kinda depressed.

Fractured bones heal. Joint damage is permanent, as far as I can tell. I’m going to have to manage this pain for the rest of my life.

So far my Google search has turned up next to nothing. Runner’s World Online has a couple of articles about how running does not cause arthritis (well, all things being equal, and on the whole, probably not – runners are on the whole healthier. But biomechanical imbalances are another ball-o-wax). There are a whole bunch of web sites just itching to take my money for some supplement or other. Um – no thanks. I’m sticking to science-based medicine thank you very much.

I’m breaking in new orthotics as I write. I’m on another course of anti-inflammatories. That’s all I got – for now. I see Sue the Physiotherapist on Tuesday, who has already cleared me to run the race on May 3. After that – well – it’s not going to stop me from running. Not yet.

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Sport sponsorship for the rest of us?

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Here’s an idea – please tell me if it’s been done before: why don’t more sports companies sponsor individual run-of-the-mill non-elite average athletes?

I don’t mean picking someone with talent and paying them to do their sport full-time, with a phalanx of coaches, physiotherapists and sport psychologists.

I mean picking somebody who is passionate and committed – but otherwise ordinary – and providing them with more resources to achieve their goals in return for some participation in a marketing campaign.

For instance: a completely average weekend warrior, consistent 10a or 10b climber with a job and a mortgage and maybe a coupla kids – gets a rope and some pieces of pro and some shoes and a new harness and the marketing campaign (including broadcast, print, social and earned media) follows them on their way to their objective for the year – whether it’s sending a 10c lead in Joshua Tree or a multi-day technical scramble in the Rockies.

Another example: a mid- or back-of-the-pack runner gets shoes, gear, entry fees, clinics paid for the duration of the contract in return for their story and for the occasional shill for the manufacturer.

This would be different from your run-of-the-mill “send us your story and we’ll draw from a hat” contest – it would be a complete sponsorship with pretty much all that entails – contracts and all. Not that I really know all that sponsorship of this type entails, I’m just blue-skying here.

The selling hook is not that these athletes will ever be able to set a world record at the Kona Ironman, or bag a first ascent of and epic climb – or even that they would qualify for Boston Marathon. The selling proposition is the sport equivalent of the Joe-the-Plumber phenomenon without the politics.

The selling hook is – these people are you and I. They have family and jobs and set modest (to some) stretch goals. They get blisters and they give up parties on nights before long runs and they sometimes leave their families to train, then are too tired to haul out the BBQ when they get home. They know they’ll never be Lynn Hill or Lori Bowden (and I’m not for a moment suggesting sports companies should not sponsor these athletes!) – but they are inspiring nevertheless.

The little guys can sell sports gear too you know.

04.12.09

Photo by zingersb

And just in case anyone at Mammut, FiveTen, Sugoi, New Balance, Patagonia, Mountain Hard Wear, Kelty, or Lululemon is really interested in this idea, I’m – er – available – ahem! Just email me here.

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Best. Run. Ever.

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Shadow Runners

Originally uploaded by thelastminute

Good Friday 2009 – on the training schedule was a 2:10 run including a 45-minute pickup at race pace. Because of my not-quite-healed foot injury, I decided to take it slow with no pick-ups, just 20 kms of running easy.

Everyone else in our running group had the same idea; so we set off from Frontrunners on the clear morning to run the Galloping Goose Trail for an hour and five minutes, and then turn back.

With the pressure of speed off, the good weather, the right fuel and hydration, we all relaxed into the run. It was 2 hours of talking, laughing, sharing stories – it was perfect. Everyone had a good run – even slightly hung over C., who is young and resilient and thus can fake it really well.

I’ve never felt so good on a run that long! My foot felt fine (besides the blisters, of which I’ve already written), my SI joint was perfectly OK (that would be my ass/tailbone radiating down my left leg for those who don’t know), I did not start getting tight after an hour and a half like I usually do.

At breakfast afterwards – at Floyd’s in downtown Victoria the camaraderie continued. If you’re REALLY hungry but can stand in line for a few minutes – that’s the place you want to be – plates are HUGE. I had the “lumberjack” which includes every breakfast food imaginable: pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon, and hashbrowns. I had fruit instead of hashbrowns.

I’ve decided to get a fabric-paint pen and have all my new running buddies sign my Frontrunner’s shirt.

Even if for some reason I couldn’t run the race on May 3, I will know I’ve reached my true running goal already.

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Don't switch shoes. Ever

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I’m going to spare you any pictures for this post, which starts with a whiney and complaining rant.

I CAN’T BELIEVE I’M GETTING SO MANY BLISTERS! I’VE NEVER HAD BLISTERS WHILE RUNNING BEFORE!

“Blisters are a common problem with athletes wearing in new shoes as well as athletes or walkers who take part in exceptionally long events such as marathons or long hill walks. Blisters do not need to be a part of sporting life and can be prevented.” - from SportsInjuryClinic.net

This morning, during the otherwise Best Run Ever (slow but energetic and social 20K along Galloping Goose, after which we refueled at Floyd’s Diner and Jeff won his breakfast) I developed more nasty little buggers on my little toes – ouch! Just after the ones on my big and second toe healed up, which was just after the ones on the other foot healed up – and so on… you get the idea. I’m getting a little sick of the whole thing and I’m going through blister pads like crazy.

Then again, I’ve never trained this hard before.

On the other hand, I’ve run two half marathons previously and did train for them – in the heat of summer – and nary a blister – in my New Balance shoes. I wore New Balance for years with virtually no blister troubles.

The current spate of foot inflammation and blistering seemed to start just after I switched back to Saucony after the years of NB. I’m three weeks out from race time: do I have time to break in a new pair of shoes? My experience with New Balance tells me yes, I could probably put in enough miles to make the Vancouver Half Marathon in New Balance.

Sorry Saucony, I think I’m switching back.

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Runners make great employees

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I found this gem on the internet via Cameron Herold. It’s from a blog called BrandBuilder:

One thing I’ve found over the years is that many of the folks I train with (and race against) are for the most part as devoted to their jobs (if not more) as they are to running or cycling or triathlon. Unlike participation in say, golf or softball or basketball – no offense to club/league sports – the type of determination, discipline and emotional focus that comes with training day in, day out for extremely challenging endurance events (often by yourself) tends to bleed over into people’s 9-5’s.

As I sit here drinking my coffee, nursing a blister (no it wasn’t from running, it was from hiking along the beach yesterday in very old, ill-fitting hikers) that I noticed after my 6 am run, I realize — o crap, I gotta get to work! :-)

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Marathoner's Torture Series #3 – 3 lame – and 4 great – sacrifices of a marathon runner

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Marathon training is consistent, disciplined and only for the truly motivated, or bat s**t crazy. I haven’t decided which camp I’m in. Here are some lame and not-so-lame things marathon runners give up in their quest for the finisher’s medal:

✘ A social life. Who can stay up past ten when they do five or more hard workouts a week lasting an hour or more each? Parents of small children beg off parties at midnight, laughing about how they magically turn back into moms and dads at the stroke of 12. Marathoners start yawning at 9 pm. “I just hate to go, but I’ve got a 15 K with two 5 K -pace pick-ups tomorrow morning,” while their orphaned friends say “huh” and pour another drink. Speaking of drink –

✘ Fine wine and spirits. They’re dehydrating. More than one and you’re headachy and your run the next day sucks (if you’re a lightweight like me that is). They contain too much sugar and your body needs good calories. Stay away if you know what’s “good” for you dammit! Speaking of which —

✘ Feeling full. Crikey! Are all marathoners hungry all the time? I once worked with an economist who was an ultra-triathlete. That means he did two or three Ironman-distance triathlons – back-to-back, all at once. Now that’s definitely in the category of bats**t crazy. If anyone brought any food – be it donuts, cookies, rice cakes, carob-coated seaweed clusters, thawed out frozen hamburger patties that had been sitting in the freezer too long and microwaved to soggy goodness, I mean anything – he’d literally leap over his desk and be first in line. I’m not that bad. I bring 3 healthy mini-meals to work every day, otherwise every two hours I’d be heading to Timmy’s across the street for a crueler. Which leads me to —

✔ Excess weight. This only works if you watch your nutrition. There are many marathon runners of all shapes and sizes. I lost that extra ten pounds I’ve put on in the last three years by dedicating myself to bootcamp-style workouts with Megan for twelve weeks and sticking to good eating habits – that was mostly before I started training for the marathon.

✔ New friends! People are still flocking to sign up for training clinics at shoe stores everywhere. There is a huge community of runners out there who train together, socialize together and travel together to various races across the world. I did a Google search for “running tourism” and came up with over 10 pages of entries: I found a recent Canadian article on the subject.

✔ Feeling bloated, crappy and blah People who exercise regularly have more energy, better sex lives, yada yada. You’ve all heard it before, and it’s true – to a point. After a run that lasts more than 1.5 hours, I’m a write-off the rest of the day. Naps are my friend! Otherwise, I have fewer bouts of vague achies and sickies than I did as a less active person. That’s also due to another great loss –

✔ Stress. This is true to a point as well. While exercise makes you stronger, more relaxed, lowers blood pressure and helps get rid of the bad stress hormones plaguing your bloodstream – once the mileage piles up, the reverse can happen to a marathon runner. Or, as my massage therapist  (Duane of Duane’s House of Pain infamy) once quipped:

“Once you cross the 15-or-20 mile a week threshold, you’re not running for your health anymore, you’re putting extra stress on your body you have to deal with.”

And with that, I must go ice my feet …

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11 truths of marathon training

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I can’t take credit for this list. Rita (our group leader) just sent them to everyone in our Frontrunners training group. I’ve included my own comments though.

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 burnedravi-tori-victory 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!

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