tales of a traveling librarian

When you look at most running training programs, from distances of 5K to, well, to whatever, the paces are enough to throw you off. You rarely (except for speed work and a few runs near the very end) train at your goal “race pace.” I had, actually, present tense, have, a lot of trouble with this. How on earth can you wake up on race morning and run farther AND faster than you’ve ever run before? I know. You’re more physically stressed during training, and, after your taper, your muscles are ready to roll. But mentally, I find it tough to swallow. I would much prefer knowing that I can do because I’ve actually done it before. And, since this is only my second marathon and because I was thrown off during training during the last one, I do not actually know if I can run my goal pace. And this is not the kind of mystery I enjoy. I would very much like to read the last page now, so that I know how it all turns out.

My Dad always says, “Trust the plan.” This applies for everything: from work to working out. But the idea, really, is that you obviously can’t know everything, so, you do some research, you think about it, and you throw some trust by way of the professionals. Then, you take a good thoughtful stab at it the first time. And you adapt the second time. And the third. And the fourth. BUT, you definitely don’t adapt halfway through (unless perhaps you sense something drastic going wrong, like injuries, sicknesses, etc.). After all, marathon training isn’t a science, it’s an art. Even if you follow a program to the letter, that doesn’t mean, come race day, the race will run itself for you. It could be a good day or a bad day. It could be too hot or too cold. It’s kind of like poker: you can have a lot of skill, and that will get you to the table, but when it comes right down to it, you better hope you’re lucky, too.

One of my Mom’s friends, an accomplished Marathoner, told me after the Ottawa Marathon 2009, that you need at least three marathons to be call yourself a marathoner: 1) To prove you can do it, 2) To prove it wasn’t a fluke, and 3) To train for and run a good race. I like to think that I’ve internalized this attitude, that each training run is a small step to a marathon and that each marathon is just a piece of a running career. The fails are a little less painful but the wins are still as sweet. I like the idea of a bigger picture. Court is running his first Half Marathon in May and I’ve really been enjoying watching him be so excited. It’s a huge commitment that doesn’t really pay off right away, and sometimes, you forget why you’re doing it. But, I was showing him some of my pace times on different races, and looking at how they’ve improved over the years. And, also, on a particularly tough Race Day, how sometimes they didn’t improve at all. Running is a very fickle master, that is for sure. But, I wouldn’t change it for anything. I would, however, change myself to get rid of the forgetfulness that led to running my long run this past weekend with only one layer of tights. That was a very very cold mistake!

I can already that the second time around is going to be a lot different from the first. For example, when Tracy and I went for our long run on Sunday (only 15K, let’s not get crazy…it was not even technically Day 1 of training!), we were both like, huh, this is EXHAUSTING and remember how bad it gets? Because yes, that is the benefit of having done this all before. The pain is not speculation. It’s remembered. I can’t decide if we are awesome or stupid. Probably the latter. On the upside, I truly am looking forward to getting back into the running swing of things. Christmas this year through us all for a routine loop (thanks eight pound weight gain!) and getting back into some kind of routine, for a planner, seems ideal. I’m not sure that my motivation this year is what it was last year (and my sponsorship sure ain’t), but, we will see what we can do.

And there’s more of us! Last year, Mom and I raised money for Cancer Prevention Now! and we’ll do that again this year…but with more troops! Court (who’s still my ex-boyfriend if you only read this blog but in real life is very much my real boyfriend again…OMG DRAMA), Meg and Scott, and Carolanne are all doing the half marathon while Craig, Tracy and Matt are, like me, doing the full. I am pretty excited to swap running stories. Yes, I said it. I cannot wait to talk about running. I also cannot wait for the Ottawa Race Weekend. Even with all the running, it should be a great time! I am so incredibly proud of all of them for running. Especially the new runner’s. I’m a bit worried, too. Court already keeps a decent pace and part of what makes me happy is knowing that I can run The Loop (7.5K with a hella uphill) faster than they can. What.if.they.get.faster?

I’m going to say it right now though. I’m worried about my hip/ass/leg thing. Is it piriformis pain? Is it an acetabular labrum tear? Is it just lateral hip pain? I have no idea but with all the reading I ‘ve done, I should know. But I don’t. I did one long run (26K) before Christmas and since then…nagging pain. To me, it feels more muscular than joint (my knee was very much sharp joint). Which both reassures me (muscles get better!) and annoys me (muscles nag!). I think CrossFit has been helping as the pain has certainly decreased with what is a total strength overall increase. Here’s to thinking positive! After all, today is only Day 1 of training…there’s four months to go!

A friend of mine (who is much more motivated than me, as you will note by his regular posting) has a running blog that regularly features local Toronto runner’s and why they run. Recently, he asked if it would be okay if he did a post about me and I said that it would be. Obviously. When do I turn down the opportunity to talk about running? Um, never. Plus, his blog is a regular read of mine and it’s in my own best interests for him to keep on posting.

He posted the article today, so, without further ado, here ya go. More than you’ve ever wanted to know about me and running. Click here.

Thank you, Matt, for the opportunity to express what running means to me.

One of the reasons that I wanted to get here on Saturday night was so that Court and I could have a full day together before he went to work. Oh, no, not so that we could spend it cuddling and making kissy faces but so that he could show me the ropes. See, I have a bit of a hard time doing things for the first time. I am so annoyed by people who “don’t know the rules” of the situation, that I hate being that person. (Although, it helps when I acknowledge that there is a huge gaping gulf between someone who is innocently ignorant and someone who is so self absorbed that they just do not care.)

But, I did not get here on Saturday night. I got here on Sunday afternoon. And Court has to be at work for eight am…so, that leaves me pretty much on my own for the day. I hauled my ass out of bed around the same time he left, thinking it was as good a time as any to run. I was wrong. Although there were a lot of people out and about at seven thirty, they were all casual exercisers. I didn’t really think about this until I was realized that I was going to die if I took a single step more. It is fucking hot in this country at seven thirty am. It is so hot that I could only run five K. A very beautiful 5K, along the water, leading towards the old quarter, but, a very hot, sweaty, disgusting, awful run. Oddly enough though, it feels pretty great now. That I’m back inside and showered.

Now, in my delirium, which is the only state I can proclaim in which the following does not just make me seem like a total idiot, I went to the wrong building. In my defense, we went in through the parking garage last time AND I only left the front doors ONCE and they all look the same! And did you read the above paragraph about the heat? So, I had my key out, and was trying to figure out how to get back into the building. Of course, there was a security guard, but he didn’t seem to want to let me in. Until I realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was that even if he did, I would not find where I lived inside. So, I apologized (one of the only words I know right now) and sheepishly walked up to my actual building. I tried to explain to the guard that it was my first day in Panama, but the best I could come up with was “una dias Panama.” Hopefully he got the point. He seemed much more with it than I did, by that point. Tomorrow, I’ll go much much earlier. And I’ll wear a hat. What am I, some kind of running rookie? So lame.
Now though, I’m back home, mostly unpacked, clean, fed, and remotely connected to my work computer. It’s not being home and being home in the best of combinations.

I like I’m going to like Panama.

You would not believe how many times I’ve written a post summarizing the Marathon only to lose it to Windows Updates or my own stupidity. I even put photos in it. For realz. It was very comprehensive. And I still would like to get it written, and posted. Eventually. But, in the spirit of keeping things current, perhaps, instead, I will write about the race yesterday. Now, don’t go getting all freaked out: it was only a HALF marathon. I had a few simple goals for this race: 1) Finish without pain and 2) Post a better half time than the Ottawa Half in 2008. Technically, those goals were both achieved.

Un-technically, I have never run a tougher race. From the start line, unfortunately, I felt exhausted. Now, it was extremely humid in Toronto yesterday. And I had had a bit of gastrointestinal issues the night before, but, none of these really explain (or excuse) my lack of ability to pull it together on race day. It was like I woke up after a year and just decided that today would be a good day to run 21.1Km. With no training. I can’t explain it. I really can’t. Even during the Ottawa Marathon, where I had an injury, my mind and body did not feel like this. In fact, my time for the half (in Ottawa, while running the full) was only a minute slower than what I posted yesterday (which was 1:57). To say I’m disappointed is an understatement. And if I was going to be in Toronto for the Toronto Marathon on Oct. 17, I would have already submitted my registration. In the marathon, I felt like I gave it my all. With this race…ugh. Just not the same.

Now, I know, this sounds pretty wallow-y. And I promise to get over it. I mean, this is actually part of why I love running. It is so completely unpredictable on race day. I was comparing it to poker yesterday: you can know the rules, you can know the strategy, you can hone up on all the tips and tricks of the game, but when it comes right down to it, if you aren’t lucky enough to get the cards, you are going to lose. And on race day, even if you’ve put in the training, even if you’ve eaten properly and slept well, if you aren’t lucky enough to have it all come together, you are going to lose.

Fortunately, there are always more races. And, despite everything, I’m really liking the half marathon distance. It’s not the distance that gets any of the running glory, but, I like it. I’m not saying that I’ll never run a full marathon again (Panama 2010?) but, for now, I think I’m going to put a few more at this distance under my belt.

**Photos courtesy of Julia, who, once again, sacrificed her own sleep and relaxation to come out and cheer!

At least, after Sunday, I can relax. Because for better or worse, this whole marathon thing will be done with. Will I finish? Maybe. Will I be happy with my time? Maybe. Will I sleep well, finally? Yes. See, I’ve been having marathon stress dreams. I’ve made plans to meet my friend for the start line, and in my dream I couldn’t find her. Sometimes, I get lost on the path. Once, no matter how hard I ran, I couldn’t keep up with the people around me. Obviously, I know it’ll be fine. I know that if I finished in three hours or ten hours, my family would still be cheering for me. I’m trying to really believe that my time doesn’t matter, that what matters is that I can run. That I can run for someone else. That somehow, our family and friends can rally and raise over $2100.00 for a cause close to all of our hearts. That is amazing. The running? Sure, but it’s gravy. Realizing you have awesome people all around you? Yeah, that’s pretty special. If I was a better person, I could wax poetic on that little topic for paragraphs and paragraphs. But I’m not, so I’ll get back to the “me” portion. The running part.

What I’m trying to remember is simply that I love to run. Yesterday, Court and I did a trail run. We planned to just do a light 5K but I think the spirit of the trail caught him, because he urged us on for a total of 8K. It is completely different to be running on trail, even a trail that somehow, rather magically exists in the middle of Toronto. We ran up narrow parts and jumped down even narrower parts, splitting up a bit sometimes to explore. (Perhaps that is why my knee is a bit twingey today? Don’t worry, I’m resting.) It was sunny and green and there were so many places we, obviously, didn’t even get to. That I look forward getting to. And, like another blogger out there who can’t run in her race, commented…that she wished that she was at least healthy enough to give it a go. Well, I am that. I am healthy enough to try. I’ve done the right things, these past six weeks. I’ve rested and cross trained and physio-ed and bought new shoes (which is a whole other story). I’ve talked running with more people than I have fingers (who knew so many people ran? And have an opinion?). I’ve learned a lot about this whole marathon thing and about this whole being injured thing. And this Sunday, oh god, THIS SUNDAY, I’ll put it all out there. And if I run the whole thing, awesome. And I don’t run the whole thing, awesome. Because I know that I damn well tried.

And hey, at least I’ll get to visit with old friends. Have I mentionned how much I’m looking forward to that? Cause I am.

It’s been a hard month for marathon training. Since Around the Bay, I’ve been struggling with pain in my knee. Don’t worry, I’ve been all official about it and went to go see a Sports Medicine Doctor and have been doing physio therapy. Religiously. I’ve also added swimming and yoga/pilates to my work outs routine and brought my running down to 3-4 times a week. But, unfortunately, when I run, and when I hit about 11km in, I get a sharp, shooting pain in my knee. It’s almost instantaneous…fine, fine, fine…BAM. Today, on my first run with my running group in a month, I made it out 15km and then had to TTC it back home. I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t think it was worth powering through a training run when my marathon is around the corner. The marathon that I’m still hoping to run. The marathon that I’ve worked hard for for the last four months. The marathon that I dreamed might get me to Boston.

On the run though, one of the guys, after I explained why I had been out for a few weeks, mentioned his own marathon-ing horror story. He was running his first race last fall, the Scotiabank Waterfront Marathon. He was well well into the race, 41.5 kms or so and was feeling extremely tired. And then, the next thing he knew, he was being helped up by a paramedic, who was asking him if he could walk to the finish. He couldn’t remember his name or the day of the week or where he was and did not make it to the finish. Very understandably. But he said that for the few weeks following, he was so down on himself, depressed, about what happened, about not finishing, about not pushing through. He knew he needed to finish, so he registered for the Toronto Marathon, which took place three weeks after that. Despite advice not to do this from his coach, he powered through and finished that one, but with the side effect of knee pain. He did rest through the winter and is now back training this year with no injuries up to this point. I asked him if he would do it again, and he said no way. The story makes me realize that I’m certainly not the first rookie marathoner to do this. I’ve mentally been ready to run this thing for a while and have forgotten that my body needs to catch up. I was running too much, without the proper cross training and core building. This injury has revolutionized my personal training, not just for this marathon but for me as I continue on as a runner. He got over it: over the severe disappointment and defeat and he bounced back. I’m hoping that I can, too.

But, I’m not going to lie: there have been tears shed the past few weeks. I feel so incredibly disappointed with myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve set my mind to something and had something tell me, flat out, ain’t going to happen. I was doing the best that I knew how. I was following a program and I was committed to it. It was something TO DO during a very stressful and unsure time in my life and it was the one thing that helped me feel sane and competent and productive. There is not much that I can do for my Dad right now (other than get him treats from Hasty Market) but, this race made me feel like I was fighting back, too. It made me feel strong and capable. And then my body knocked me on my ass. I suppose this is probably how my Dad and Denise felt, too. You’re chugging along, doing what you know, and then, BOOM, you’re on your butt. Obviously, not the same and not to the same degree, but the feeling of helplessness, of failing, of shame, I suspect some of those emotions are in there for them, as well. I don’t really know what to do with my brain right now and running was a source of sanity and comfort. It was both selfish and giving and it provided a great deal of necessary equilibrium. And now, now I can’t do it. Well, at least, not as well as I could before.

The fact of the matter is that had I gotten in the month of training that I was supposed to this April, I would have tried to qualify for Boston in Ottawa. Now, the new fact is that I will be trying to just simply finish my marathon in Ottawa. I’ve been told that this is fine. Just finishing. And rationally, I know, it is. That no one but me will be disappointed if I finish in 4:00 or 4:30 or 5:00 hours. But, I’m a competitive person. And I’ve been chasing this for a while. And I just feel incredibly frustrated to not be able to do this. I wanted to do this for myself, as a person who formerly would never have dreamed of doing this, and for my Dad, who, I think, is surprised to find out that he has two athletic children. I want this. I want a this marathon so hard…well, so hard that I actually feel a bit depressed about the status of my physicality right now.

But, I’m not one to wallow. Okay, I am, but I like to think I get over it and then I get something done. So, I’ve subbed in swimming twice a week for cross-training and to keep my cardio up. I started out doing sixty laps, then pressed to 80 and now I do 100. On a whim, I checked Ironman distances (what? a girl can dream!) and the swim in 2.4 miles. I’ll just work my way up slowly. I’m doing pilates and yoga once a week each to work on my core strength and flexibility. And I’m still runnning…just, not my long runs. I seem okay, no matter the speed, up to 10K or so. I can still do my tempos and my speed work outs.

This weekend, I’m going to try running multiple times in one day. I don’t think my knee with hurt as much with a break in between and I read somewhere that physiologically the benefits are simliar as long as the runs are done within 24 hours of each other. I will tell myself that and hope for the best. If I can keep my cardio up, and my fitness, I’ve done enough long runs already to carry me through finishing the marathon. I’m just still working on detaching my pride and self-worth from the finish line. That part is still a work in progress. I’m working on being proud of my effort and not just the results. I’m working on being okay with not, this time, exceeding my goals.

I’m having a hard time coming to terms with just how off I feel about this whole thing. I’m trying to re-group. I’m trying to figure out why exactly I’m so down. I’m trying to remind myself that I’m not running this race just for me. I’m running it for my Dad, because he can’t. I’m running it to raise money to prevent Cancer from happening to other people and to their family and friends. I’m running it because I truly believe that we each can give back in our own way and that these ways take a variety of forms. I am just so disappointed that it’s not working out the way I planned. And I know I need to work on that attitude as well.

Of course, I’m running it a little bit for me. For the girl who used to be twice the size I am now and who dreamed of being more physically active and healthy. This is just one step in a long journey, after all. Perhaps the culmination, but, still only one step. After all, there are other marathons (perhaps in South America?) and other ways to raise money and other ways to give back (Just think of how much can be raised if I do an Ironman…since the donation, of course, matches physical output!).

You know, we’re doing pretty damned well this year. I just hope I haven’t disappointed you, since you have donated (and who have truly outdone my wildest expectations) based on the idea that I was running this, with the fact that I might not be able to…but, I know, of course, that you were donating for Dad and for the effort and because of the incredible generosity of your own hearts. If I think about this too much, I just might be touched.

On Saturday, the day before the LONGEST I’D EVER RUN EVER, my Running Room buddy, Tracy, and I drove out to Hamilton to a) pick up our race kits, b) scope out the hills at the end of the route and c) figure out the plan for parking, timing, etc. It was a fantastic day for a drive and both of us remarked on how that day, Saturday NOT SUNDAY, would have been the perfect day to run the 2009 Around the Bay 30K (older than Boston!). We should have made the executive decision to just do it on our own. Who needs aide stations? See, both of us knew, all too well, that the weather forecast for the next day was anything but warm and sunny. Court had been sending me text messages at random times FOR A WEEK with variations on the theme of “snow.” He thinks he’s hilarious.

Well, on the bright side, it didn’t snow. But, there was, shall we say, a bit o’water. Basically, it was pouring. Not like, a gentle spring shower. That kind of rain might even be refreshing around km 20 or so. No. This was a hard, cold, unrelenting downpour. We were soaked by the time we got to the starting line (and starting a race in wet shoes is no fun at all). We were soaked the first ten k, and the second, and, (you guessed it!) we were soaked well into the third. In one giant cosmic running joke, the sun peaked through the clouds just as I was about to prepare the ascent to kilometre 26.

Now, if you’ve run Around the Bay, you will know the ascent I’m talking about. You can see it coming for about half a kilometre, just snaking it’s way up the hill, as you run down a downhill. You can see the brightly coloured runner’s in front of you. And you’re well aware that every step you’re taking down (every blissful recovery filled step) right now is just one step up you’ll have to climb up in about two minutes. I’d heard stories about the hills on this course but I had not heard about THIS specific hill. It’s right at the tail end of a four km section of hills. It’s made harder by being so far into race. And running hills when your legs aren’t fresh…well. That’s a special kind of torture.

Fortunately, I have several excellent running examples in my family and I drew on all of them right about then. (It was that or cry.) I thought of Aunt Denise, who loved this run (although family rumour has it that it made Uncle Randy cry…I told you it was a big hill!). I thought of how she would have never given up, no matter the rain or the cold. Hell, she probably would have been helping coaching someone up those hills, but, let’s face, I ain’t that good. I am, however, midly masochistic, since part of me smiled when that damned spiteful sun came out just as I was about to begin that hill. I turned to the guy running next to me, and said, “I did not see that coming.” He kept his gaze straight ahead and said, “I love this part.” It wasn’t Aunt Denise running next to me and it wasn’t Aunt Denise who said the words…but I like to think something must have been channeling her spirit at that moment to bring that phrase out of that strangers mouth. Because, in all honesty, at that moment,  she/he was right. I loved the hill, I loved the pain, I loved the challenge, and I loved being alive and healthy enough to do it. Running makes me appreciate the things that I take for granted. And that is a truly great gift. Of course, to the guy, I just muttered, “You suck.” And then I tried to beat him up the hill.

Despite wet feet and frozen hands (I couldn’t even open my gel/goo! No amount of blowing on them helped!), despite a chafing shirt and a bloody lip, despite exhaustion and pain by the end, I had an amazing, maybe even fantastic, run. The ipod still worked, the GPS kept counting the kilometres and I managed to find myself finishing gob smack in the middle of my “dream finish” time (2:30) and my “happy with” finish time (2:45). I’m not sure that I’ve ever experienced a happier feeling than running into Copps Coliseum at 2:39 (2:38 chip time!). Of course, immediately after finishing, I wracked my brain with how I could have finished eight minutes earlier (thus earning the coveted silver class of finisher’s medal), while collecting my banana and juice box and breakfast pitas.

You know what felt good? Seeing the look on my parent’s faces, and my brother and his girlfriend, and Court (and Marina too, but I think she was more interested in Mishka)…well, those were priceless. They certainly suggested that I had done just fine in their eyes and I was so happy that they all came out to watch. And I knew that while, of course, there was room for improvement, there was also a lot of room for just being proud of myself. I heard one spectator say, around km 22, to the person next to them, “I can’t believe how fast these people are running, I wouldn’t be able to do it.” And I smiled (although, it turns out that, due to said bloody lip, it was probably not the friendly gesture I intended) because there was a time that I would have said that as well. I would have said that there was no way I could run 5K, 10K, 21.1 K…that there was absolutely no way I could run 30K. And I’m feeling good that it turns out that I can. And now, sitting with extremely sore hamstrings and quads at my computer desk in Flash Class, I’m tempted to think that there is no way I could run 42K. But, if I’m going to learn from my own running lessons that hard work pays off, that commitment and practice pay off, that most of all, determination pays off…then, maybe I can run 42K. So, my plan for the next two months: run like hell!

I had planned on writing a wee bit more on this. But, as usual, time and circumstances got away from me. This was the first of the scary distance runs…29kms. But, fortunately, it fell on the first day that it was actually warm and sunny. I’m worrying myself because not going out on Saturday night and getting up on Sunday to do things like this is actually feeling pretty normal.