Stages of a Long Run

Stage 1. Anticipation
Anticipation generally includes the following:
-getting all running gear organized (nothing worse than showing up and realizing you forgot to bring the right fuel/clothes!)
-checking the weather forecast
-eating the right dinner and breakfast. Or for the super keen, super nervous, or super gastro-sensitive, eating carefully for two or even three days before the event
-checking the alarm is set for the right time and maybe even a back-up alarm as required
-getting to bed early the night before
-ensuring your watch or other appropriate technology is charged and ready
-being as lazy as possible the day before to store up energy for the long run (this may just be my thing)
For me, this stage typically starts the night before and goes right up until I start running the next morning. Others may have anticipation starting earlier in the week.

Stage 2. Small Talk
As the run starts, you settle in with the person next to you and small talk starts up. This either takes the form of introduction for someone you haven't met before, or catching up on the week with familiar faces. You might jostle for places a bit as you settle in. At this stage, your focus is on keeping it slow. No sense sprinting from the start line, after all!
This stage occurs for the first part of the run. It usually doesn't occur past the first few km's unless you are in a group where you are constantly running next to someone new.

Stage 3. Solving the World's Problems and Other Important Conversations
The small talk gets old as the pavement pounds under your feet. Within a few km's you've exhausted talk about the weather and job descriptions and are ready to Solve the World's Problems. Yes, many an interesting debate of worldly affairs has been had on a run. Like any normal conversation, you start off with something mundane - "I'm planning on going to Banff/Gold Coast/other location this weekend" and launches into a spirited discussion about the merits of "yam fries are way better than regular fries" before winding onwards to remarks of "do you know what would really solve our infrastructure problem?..." Yes, this is the time to discuss every niggling problem, be it personal or politics.
This stage occurs in the middle km's. It goes until well under half the distance is left, although one person or group can bounce between Stage 3 and Stage 4 during the run.

Stage 4. How Much Farther?
At some point in the run you really start to feel it. Exhaustion has set in, legs are aching, blisters may be forming, and you just want to be DONE. This is when conversation staggers. You might talk about upcoming races or running goals. This is also the time when you start thinking about After. Yes, the beautiful After that you couldn't let yourself think about before the run. But now as the km's tick upwards you start to imagine what you are going to do when you finish. Hot showers, a cup of coffee, breakfast, sleep...all those beautiful thoughts whisper through your mind. You try to shake it off, because there is still a ways to go yet. But the delicious After thoughts begin to distract you from the conversations you so thoroughly enjoyed just a few minutes ago.
Stage 4 usually occurs when you are close-but-not-too-close to the finish line. Depending on the distance and energy levels, you can bounce between Stage 3 and Stage 4 during the run.

Stage 5. Intense Focus 
You don't even pretend to hold conversation. Heavy breathing permeates the group, interrupted by brief comments of "my legs feel like lead / I can't wait until we're done / I have the worst chafing right now" and so on. But mostly, there is silence. It's really hard to get through Now, so much easier to focus on After and just keep one foot in front of the other.
This stage occurs in the final part of the run, whether the last few km's or the last quarter.

Stage 6. The Stretch of Smugness
You slow your legs and click the "stop" button on your watch. Finished. The word tastes sweet in your mouth. High fives and smug smiles are shared. You walk aimlessly around the finish area, partially to slow your heart rate and breath, partially because you're stunned by this revelation. Finished. Group stretches are filled with the excited chatter about how "exhausted but great" you feel. Whether you felt great or terrible in the run, it can't change the truth of I DID IT.
This stage occurs immediately after the run from the time you stop running until the time you leave the group/finish stretching.

Stage 7. The Bragging
The long run may be finished but by golly it isn't over! Everyone - from friends, to co-workers, to random strangers - deserve to hear about your accomplishment. "Boy am I stiff! I just ran 20k yesterday." "Beautiful day today! And yesterday, too. I ran 20k yesterday and it was so nice out the whole time." "Of course I can finish that report for you right away. I ran 20k on the weekend so everything feels easy in comparison."
Who am I kidding? This stage has no endurance. Milk this puppy for as long as you possibly can. "How funny! Your story about yam fries reminds me of when I used to run 20k's on the weekend. What? When was that? Oh, not since the '90s, but anyway..."



And how far did I run, you ask? Oh, why of course I will tell you! And my co-workers. And my friends. And anyone else I can possibly tell for as long as I can get away with it.

Total Distance: 20.0k
Total Time: 2h 10min

Time-Honoured Ritual

"Wow, you look really sick!"

Those were pretty much the first words out of one of my friend's mouth when I showed up to clinic. It's good to know that we believe in honesty above all else. 

She quickly tried to back-track. "No, no. It's just that your eyes look really glazed over." I wondered briefly if I was still wearing my work-face. There has been a lot of sitting at the computer the last couple of days.

Today we had a hilly 5k tempo. My legs were still feeling it from last night's long run, my voice was still hoarse, and a lingering cough nagged at me.

When my friend asked me to pace her at a 5.10, I just laughed the high-pitched whinny laugh of someone who still has laryngitis. Then coughed. Then whinny-laughed a bit more.

I was feeling good the first km as we jaunted up the hill. I enjoyed the view of the city as we ran along the bluff. Around halfway into the mark, I started to lag behind my group. At first I resisted. Keep up, girl. You've got this!

And then I went into the stage of acceptance. Focus on effort, not speed. Let the others do their own pace...you focus on yours.

One of the guys noticed I was behind but failed to notice my "I'm alright. You keep going your pace and let me do my thing back here and really you don't have to check on me I'm not lost there are lots of people around so I don't feel unsafe and I'm not injured or in trouble so I'll see you at the end when we all stretch together" hand gesture. Really, there is such a gesture.

He slowed down to run with me. Because that's the kind of people runners are. And of course, then we went through the time-honoured ritual of me encouraging him to run his own pace and not to worry about me, and him insisting he would rather run a little bit easier and keep the lagging runner company. Whatever the country, this is what runners do.

And then...then I bit my tongue as I realized exactly what I had become. Excuses Girl.

Now, I'm not talking about all the excuses I make for not going on a run. I've always been that girl, as anyone who has read my blog will know. Fair-weather runner is a name I wear with pride, after all. No, I'm talking about a decent runner who is working hard and doing her best but feeling like it's not good enough compared to other runners. I mean really, the only one I should be comparing to is myself, but comparing to others is just way to easy and tempting sometimes.

Oh, how I tried not to become That Person. It's easy to become That Person when you remember a time when you were fitter and faster (and even then, I could never be too fit or too fast!). And yes, there have been many a time when I've been fitter and faster. But there have been even more times when I've been unfit and unfast. So right now - today - I am as fit as I can be for the effort I've put into it. No excuses necessary.

I almost forgot. After my friend joined me - when I was all set to throw in the towel - I was suddenly more interested in our conversation and less in my pace. And you know what? We even picked up the pace in the end. And I felt pretty great.

But I Have REALLY GOOD Excuses This Time

Running has happened. So have LOTS of excuses of why I couldn't run.
First, there was a niggling knee. Better to rest than risk further injury, right?
Then, there was the snow storm. No one does summer snow storm like Calgary. Who wants to run in a snow storm?

 Snow? Ice? Falling trees? Downed power lines? Psshhh! It just makes the run all the more interesting...**

 ...Said me never. I stayed home, thanks. I drank hot tea and smiled because I still had electricity.

Okay, lots of Calgarians grabbed extra layers and braved the elements to keep up their training. I still consider myself more of a Brisbanite when it comes to "good running weather". Give me hot and humid over ice and falling trees any day.
Then, because it's Calgary after all, the weather turns back to hot and glorious with the snap of ones fingers and...I get a COLD. Ugh.

So I spent last week feeling miserable for myself, sniffling and hacking and shivering in the hot summer sun. I cancelled my long run on Sunday. While I was on the mend, I wasn't quite back in the "let's run for 2 hours" energy mode .

Monday came along and my sister let me know that she was running. In the early evening, that is.
And for once, I was more than keen to go for an evening run. I'm sure it had everything to do with
a) guilt over missing two 18k runs in a row!
b) impending half marathon. I should at least do a little training before the event!
c) freaking out over Australian taxes (Thank goodness that in just a few more weeks, I will only have one tax year to give me headaches rather than two.)

Still, by 7k my energy had run out. We opted to do a figure 8 around our houses to hit maximum pretty park with fall leaves (most of the paths have now been cleared of dangerous dangling tree limbs and fallen debris. Points to the city for hopping on the clean-up bandwagon) and also to minimize distance from home. Just in case.
I did end up turning back early on the last loop as my shin started to give me an alarming pain. But fortunately after a couple minutes of walking it eased back.
So we didn't quite do 18k. It was more like 17k. But that is at least 10k more than I might otherwise have done today, so I'm A-OK with that.

**Thanks for letting me steal your photo, Bill! The other two are courtesy of google.

Falling Apart

I've been blessed in my running life to be a person who doesn't experience many chronic injuries. Acute injuries, sure (I've been on crutches 5 times in my life! All of those times were from spraining an ankle while playing sports/exercising). But rarely chronic.
So on yesterday's long run, I was very disappointed when I started off the run with a twinge in my knee. I'd gone hiking the day before in beautiful Drumheller, and I know I did something to my knee when sliding down the steep paths in my sandals, since by the end of the day it definitely hurt going down stairs.
But anyway, about that running.
I started my 16k long run 7.30am and my friend happened to be starting at that time as well. (Most half marathoners start at 8.30am). So we wound our way along the river, having a great conversation. By 4k my knee had definitely moved from "twinge" to "sore". But it wasn't that sore, and I knew it would hold out for the run.
At 6k my friend suggested we turn around early, then just add an extra add-on at the end with whatever distance we had left. This would have been a great opportunity to say, "yes, please!" and do so. The benefit being that if my knee started getting worse, I could simply cut the run short.
But I didn't want to. I had never run that route before and was really, really curious to see what was around the corner. And the next corner. And the one after that. And...you get the idea.
So we didn't turn around until 8k. And the logical part of my mind was mockingly singing to me, you're gonna regret this! And the irrational part of my mind was sticking it's tongue out at the logical part and saying, nya nya. No I'm not!
The best part of long runs is the company I keep, and I had a stellar conversation with my friend. So the time back felt really fast.
With two kms to go, I suggested to my friend that she speed up to feel what race pace might feel like on tired legs. I told her I wasn't going to go much (if any) faster, because I wanted to look after my knee. Off she went, and I picked up my own pace a little bit more. I couldn't help it. I have a bit of a competitive streak and I was morbidly curious to see how far I could push my stupid knee.
At 15.7k as I was coming near the finish, my ankle (same leg as my sore knee), started to twinge, and I could feel it about to give out. Yikes!
I quickly slowed down to more of a recovery pace. My ankle continued to wibble and wobble but got no worse, so I eased myself through the last 300m of the run.
I'm writing this the next day, and while my ankle is fine, my knee is definitely on the sore side. We'll see what the week brings, but I may need to take a bit of rest before I run some more. Now that I'm not running, the logical part of my brain is reminding me that my body is too precious to push it to the point of falling apart.