First The Worst

When I was little, it was very important what order us kids arrived in class. As each person arrived after lunch or recess, it would be announced with relish:
     First the Worst!
     Second the Best!*
     Third the Nerd!
     Fourth the Dork!**
     Fifth the...!

Well, actually after 4th place it got a whole lot less interesting as there was no agreed upon title for anyone arriving after 4th.

Now, most people who have achieved first or seen other people achieve first will hardly think it is the worst position. You won't hear many people complaining, "What's that? You got first place? Isn't that just the worst?" When it comes to goals and awards and personal bests, coming in first is pretty special.

But there are times when it is not so special. There are times when "first the worst" actually holds true. I'm talking about any time you train at a new level. It could be going out for a 15 minute walk after spending six months eating potato chips and cookie dough on the couch. It could be stepping up from a 24k run one week to a 28k run the next week***. Or maybe increasing the weights you're lifting by 10%.
Anyone who has ever stepped out for that first bought of exercise (or "stepped up" from a previous level of exercise) will know that the first time they do it is the worst.

And so while yesterday's run - er 'jog' - was a big challenge for me both mentally and physically, today's run was just that much easier. And I can sigh with relief, because I know first the worst is over for now. And while I still can't necessarily agree with "second the best", at least second is getting better. I may have only had time for a 30 minute jaunt today. But - dare I say it - I'm looking forward to the next run! Because first the worst? It's a thing of the past.

For now.



*Some people argued that it was Second the Golden Weapon, but this never really took off.
**Another version was Fourth the Dwarf. We were not very PC.

Culture Shock

Today marks the first day I ran outside in Calgary. Actually, I went for a run yesterday but it was so cold I lasted less than 10 seconds, so I don't think that really counts.
I piled on the layers and braved the -4C weather. But it was sunny rather than snowing, which made it feel nicer. I wore the gear I reserved for Australia winter running...long, light jacket and long yoga pants. And then I added in a bulky toque and mitts to Canadianize myself. Note to self - I may need more cold weather running gear!

When I last lived in Calgary I was most decidedly NOT a runner. So the only running experience I've really had is in Australia.
Ignoring the weather difference, one thing that really surprised me was the running culture difference. In Brisbane I would make efforts to greet my fellow runners/walkers as we strode past one another. I would say this was met with about a 30-40% chance of having a return greeting, and the occasional deer-in-headlights-are-you-talking-to-me-you-crazy-person look.
Here in Calgary, I would say that 80-90% of my fellow morning exercises offered some combination of a smile, wave, head nod, or friendly greeting as we crossed paths. And no one gave me the deer-in-headlights-are-you-talking-to-me-you-crazy-person look.
I got to a red light at an intersection and stopped to wait...only to have the car stop and wave me ahead of him! Thinking it was some ploy to run me over, I cautiously waved thank you and darted across the street in confusion. Yep, the driver was definitely wanting to forego his green light to make sure that my run wasn't interrupted. Weeeeeeiiiirrrrd. And also kinda wonderful.

I decided to keep my first run short and sweet, aiming for between 30-60min. At the 5min mark I realized I was bored. I missed my social runs!
At the 10min mark I realized something else: I was really, really unfit. I may have the mentality of a runner, but I have the fitness of...dare I admit it?... a jogger.
I turned around just over 15min into the run and I jogged home.
But on the way back a small miracle happened! I crossed paths with a friendly running group. As I saw them, I felt my shoulders lift, my foot turnover increase, and my heart rate pick up in hope. I joined in with them and fired them with questions. Where are you from? What group are you with? When and where do you meet? Can anyone join? What sort of distances/paces do you do?
They happily filled me in on all the details. Helllloooooo, running group! The ice has [sort of] melted, the days are [getting] longer, and I can layer up against the cold. It's time to reunite myself with the social joy of running.

Heavy Feet, Heavy Heart

Running is about being who you are on that day. It is honest - more honest than I am, sometimes. I may pretend I never ate that second piece of chocolate cake, but when I start a sprint session there is no way I can hide from the truth!
On Tuesday, my footfall was heavy. I don't mean just any heavy. I mean I felt like a great thundering mammoth that could not pick my feet off the ground. I tried to step lighter, shorten my stride, straighten my posture, control my breathing...but no matter what I tried, my feet continued to feel as if I was lifting weights far greater than I could carry. I pondered over this and tried to attribute it to a cause: I had eaten healthy, rested well, and even taken a light day of training the day before.

It wasn't until halfway through the session that it all connected with me: Heavy feet, heavy heart.
I thought about this for a few laps. I accepted that everything is not well. And I reminded myself that not everything has to be well right now. I embraced my grief and felt no need to pretend it wasn't there.
And do you know what? By the end of the session, my foot fall was much lighter.
And that, my friends, is one of the reasons I run.

On Eagle's Wings

Most of you will know the events of the past few weeks that led to my unexpected running and blogging hiatus. And since I have lately bent the "don't talk about non-running things" on this blog, I am going to bend them a little more. There are days when I feel like I write eloquently on my blog. This is not one of those days. This is just me, my computer, and words from the turmoil inside...

On March 1st of this year, after 33 years of being trapped in a wheelchair, my beloved brother David was lifted up to heaven to fly among the angels. It was very sudden and unexpected, but we were all blessed that we could be with him in the end. It has been devastating for my whole family and all those who knew and loved him.

For the past couple of weeks I didn't run. I didn't even walk. I surrounded myself with happy memories of my brother and tried to release all the bitterness and regret through tears.

 No words can express the joy that you brought to our lives

Flashback family photo - David with his trademark chuckle

Tuesday marked the first day that I returned to the tri club. It was hard. I think every "first" activity is going to be hard. But my tri group has been so supportive and I know it is good for me to get back on my feet.

As you all know by now, some days when I run, my thoughts are filled with mathematical figures..."if I run x split in y distance my speed is z". Or, "I have y distance to run and my speed is z so in w minutes my run will be finito!"
Sometimes my thoughts are filled with sarcastic or witty quips that I can put onto my blog. Not that I remember any of them after my run is over. If I did, you would all be rolling on the floor laughing with every genius word, I promise.
Sometimes I drift off into the space of who-knows-what and let random thoughts trickle past.
But sometimes I have deep reflections on life. Tuesday was one of those nights.

As I ran laps around the giant hamster wheel, I thought about all the "nevers" in David's life. There were a lot! David never stopped giving love, never made high demands of others, never focused on the bad in a situation when he could be laughing and finding the joy, and never stopped showing all of us how to be better people. There are a lot of other things I could add to the list, but you get the idea.
And then there were all the other "nevers" that saddened me... I would never get another picture with him, never get to sing him another song (and David was my absolute #1 [and possibly only] fan when it came to my singing!), and...well I would never get to do a lot of things with him.

After 20min spent trying to get the "perfect family shot" this is the result. David looks like a rap star, but the rest of us...well, you get it.

 Keeping it cool amidst the craziness of his little sisters. Oh, the pain older brothers must put up with!

On Tuesday I ended up really enjoying the run...and even the swim. Pushing hard was a good reminder that I'm still alive...still here. There is so much more joy and laughter in the world to discover. I'm not as good at David at finding it, but I will do my best.

"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night... And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my [sister]. You will want to laugh with me. And you will be laughing as you look up at the sky!"

-Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Thank you, David, for giving me a world and sky filled with joy, love...and laughter.

Cause It Stays Stuck on Me

For the past few weeks in training, I've had a small companion join me in the pool. And this small companion reminds me why I like running WAY MORE than swimming.
What was this little companion, you ask, that made me doubly wish I was back on the track instead of ungracefully swallowing mouthfuls of water as I attempted to breathe?

Yep, floating around under my lane was a lonely little band-aid. But, lonely no more, since I was getting nice and close to it. Every. Lap.
I'm not sure if each week this band-aid has been a different guy or the same guy. I'm not sure which thought is worse - poor vacuuming by the pool staff, or numerous people who think sharing their band-aid with the next swimmer is appropriate pool etiquette.
And did I mention I swallow a lot of water when I swim?
I will take a shoe full of a stranger's gum over a mouth full of someone else's band-aid any day!
How did my running go, you ask? I know this is a blog about running...but I'm still stuck on the floating band-aid. Or rather, should I say it's still stuck on me?

Inner Lazy & Too Many Cookies

I'm sad to admit that on Tuesday my Inner Lazy won the battle.
I was sitting at home with my parents after having eaten a ridiculous amount of junk food over the weekend. My stomach was bloated out in front of me and I had the fatigue that comes from eating lots of high-fat food (maybe that's why "fatigue" is full of "fat"?...)
I looked at the clock in dread as it ticked on. My coach wasn't there this week - she'd given us the workout ahead of time. I convinced myself that I was too [lazy/tired/bloated/insert word here] to possibly exercise tonight, and sank my butt deeper into the couch. I promised myself that I would do the exercise another day.
As it happened, that day was today.
And no, I didn't do the exercise. I looked at the program prescribed and decided to do something...something different.
I am surprised to say that I actually miss the 1k+ reps I used to do on Tuesday mornings. Around the track our reps are mostly ~400-600m.
And I didn't really want to do all the pool drills on the list. I wanted to see exactly what it would mean for me to swim the 750m distance that I'll be swimming in the sprint tri.
So I started on the track with 5x 1k reps, which is 5 laps around the track. I allowed myself about a 6min recovery between reps, which I walked.

Rep 1: 4.55
Rep 2: 5.08
Rep 3: 5.18
Rep 4: 5.14
Rep 5: 5.12

Geez, I was all over the place! And I'm sad I couldn't keep to my sub-5min 1k reps that I have been doing the last 1-2 years. My mind said yes, but my body reminded me of all the garbage I'd been eating and warned me to slow down before my half-digested pre-exercise cookies came back up. I can't imagine the gym people would have been thrilled to see that happen, either.

Off to the pool, where I expected it would take me about 45min to complete 750m. Seriously, that's what I thought it would take. Maybe an hour, although I hoped it wouldn't be much more than that. I wanted to get a baseline feel for how long it took me to swim that distance, so I could mark improvement leading up to the race.
I was so exhausted after the track workout I very nearly skipped the pool. But my wonderful Dad who was doing his own training at the same time sweet-talked me into it. So into the pool I jumped, telling myself that if I felt terrible I would cut the workout short.
I didn't go very fast or very hard, and I took lots of breaks at each end of the pool, including breaks to chat with my Dad and exchange grimaces of exhaustion with the guy in the next lane.

Total time for 750m: 21.30min

Hmmm. It appears I'm a much faster swimmer in reality than I am in my mind. Now if only I could say that about my running!

Odd Ducks

In a theoretical world, I always thought a triathlon was in the wrong order. Why not start with the bike, then jump in the water to cool off, and end off with a nice run?
Now I understand why they start with the swim: there is a risk of drowning when exhaustion is reached!

I decided that I had babied myself enough, and it was time to crack down and get in a proper work-out! We were doing 2 laps (~400m+) of a hard run, followed by a 1 lap walk and then 2 laps at a moderate pace.
Previously my focus had been on form. This week I decided I could still focus on form...but I didn't have to take it easy on myself!
My primary focus was on my shoulders. I'm happy to say that my coach noticed a large improvement on my shoulders from last week. And when I periodically checked in on my cadence, I was still right on target. I think I'm getting more used to the shorter stride.
I went through about 5 sets of the work-out and maintained a steady 2.00min time for each of my "hard" 400m sprints. In fact, I was bang on 2.00 every time. Well, with the exception of the first time when I was 2.05.
 Not having run lots of 400m in my life, I'm not sure if that would be a top speed for me, but it was a top speed for me on the night and I didn't fade, so it was satisfying.

Then I jumped into the pool.
Surprisingly, it wasn't a complete disaster. But I could definitely appreciate the importance of getting the swim finished with first. In the pool, we are divided into 3 lanes according to our levels: beginner, intermediate, advanced. I was rather surprised (and a little proud and a little skeptical) when I was moved into the "intermediate" lane. For whatever reason, I seem to be a natural at the odd little swimming drills we do. I guess it makes sense, since I'm good at odd little swimming.