Kooks

I had many excuses to not run this morning, and believe me, they ALL went through my head. It's -13C outside! I'm tired! It's bound to be icy! And the biggest one of all...uuuuggghhhh!!!
But I left my excuses in my head where they belonged, layered myself up, and forced myself out the door before any of those excuses reached my legs.
I went back to the good ole Running Room. It was weird being there and knowing hardly anyone once again. But fortunately for me one of my friends showed up and - with the same goal in mind - off we set on our little 5.5k loop.
Our goal was to run a slow, easy, 6.30min/km steady pace. We did get down to 6.30 every once in a while, but for the most part we were quite comfortable going around a 6-6.15 pace. And boy, was it nice to have such a short run!!!
On the end of our loop we came across the crazies running the Hypo Half Marathon. And I went a little crazy myself.
As my friend would later tell me, my pace picked up and I was quite the sight flapping my arms around and cheering in a loud voice for the racers going in the other direction. From my perspective, I noticed my friend lean away from me and pull her hat down a little further over her eyes.

I couldn't see myself, but I imagine I may have looked something like this...

...which would explain why a few racers gave me a startled, "deer-in-headlights" look as they ran by

What can I say? I love cheering for my fellow racers! The morning was quiet and very few people were on the course. I know that for me, having someone cheer me along can make a huge difference in my race. I will go from feeling tired and uncomfortable to proud and happy with just one person who encourages me along.
So yes, I will be that person who flaps her arms and cheers loudly at all the passing racers, thanks. I will always be that person.
After we finished our lovely 5.5k loop, we stayed out a bit to cheer on many other racers as well, numb faced and all.
And the best part was when my friend decided to join in my kookiness and cheer as well. Two cheering kooks are better than one!

The Long Road Back

At the start of the New Year, one of my running friends twisted my ear and dragged me into this fitness challenge. The challenge is relatively straight forward: for 90 days we work out twice a week with a personal trainer at a gym, and there is 'before' and 'after' testing to measure our fitness levels.
I was hesitant to join up, but in the end I thought it would be a good kick-start back into running...or another activity.
You see, I still haven't decided if I identify as a runner any more, now that I've moved back to wintery Canada. I only started running seriously in Australia, where the running community was huge and involved - like a fun family gathering early in the morning.
But since I don't really identify as anything else right now either, it is safe to presume I am still (buried deep, deep down) a runner.

But I digress.

Part of the fitness challenge is a 3k time trial. In the pre-testing I was a "speedy" 18minutes and something. Yikes!

Knowing that I can typically run a 1k interval consistently around 4.45-4.50min (when I'm fit), I made the lofty goal of running my post-challenge 3k time trial in under 14.30minutes. (This equals 4.50min/km for the 3k). And while lifting weights and doing lunges are all fine and dandy, it really isn't going to help me run that 3k any faster unless I actually practice running.

So today I dragged my dad out to the gym bright and early so I could get some intervals in. My goals were ambitious: 4 x 1k intervals (while my dad did his own work-out) then a 3k time trial with my dad conveniently available to help me count the laps. Counting past 5 is not my strong suit when it comes to laps, and this would require counting to 15!

On my first 1k rep, I decided that I really shouldn't have eaten chocolate for breakfast, even if it seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. Time: 5.11min
On my second 1k rep, I thought maybe this wasn't so bad. I can do it! Time: 5.07min (note this is still much slower than the 1k time trial I did about two weeks ago which was 4.50min).
On my third 1k rep, I was exhausted and loathing every lap. Time: 5.23min
On my fourth 1k rep...oh wait. I didn't do a fourth 1k rep! Instead, I met my dad downstairs where he was just finishing up his own workout.

I didn't quite whine. I didn't quite tell him that I didn't want to do the 3k time trial. But with the gleam of self-pity in my eye and the drag in my footsteps, he told me (later) that my reluctance was quite obvious. But when neither of us offered me a reasonable excuse for me to back out of the time trial, off I started far before I wanted to but long after I should have.

I took the first 1k slow, finishing in 6:09 (lap splits averaging at 1.14/200m). I wanted to pick up the pace with each km rather than burning up at the start. My second km split I did in 5:59 (lap splits 1.12/200m). The final lap my mind said burn it but my legs said jog it. I finished the third km split in
5.37km (lap splits 1.05/200m). My total 3k split time came down to 17.45min, or 5.55min/km. Keep in mind that just last October I ran a half marathon at an average pace of 5.52min/km. Hmm. It is going to be a long journey back to fitness!

The Obviously Outstanding Okanagan Half

This was the least fit I've ever been for a half marathon. But on the bright side, one of the healthiest as well!
The day started out great. The weather was warm - much warmer than my nerves initially realized.

Shoe laces double knotted...check! Geared up and ready to go! Or so we thought...

Fortunately amongst all the people crammed into the starting crowd, I spotted my dad holding up the race posters I had made earlier with a friend. So my sis and I squeezed over to him and quickly delayered. For myself, it was a simple matter of unzipping my jacket and passing it over.

While my sister discretely swaps over to cooler layers at the race start, my mom decides this is the optimum time for a photo. Really, Mom? Really?

 Not forgetting the gorgeous scenery at the start line

 And a special statue to commemorate Ogopogo, seen here ready to kick the Loch Ness Monster's butt.

The gun went off and I new just what to do. THIS time... THIS time I would be following my race plan and not jettying it out the window in the first few hundred metres.

My plan was simple and more humble than my normal race plans. But unlike in other races, going in to this one I had no delusions about my level of fitness and didn't even plan to try hit a sub-2hr time. Instead, I thought that maybe, just maybe - with good weather, a flat course, my speedy sister at my side and a strong commitment to those elusive "negative splits" - maybe I could make a PB.

You see, my previous record was June 2011 on the Doomben course, when I ran it in 2.05.28. Doing all my math, that worked out to about 5.55min/km.

Feeling strong and optimistic the first 50m in. Only 21.05km to go!

Thus, my race plan was as follows:
1-11k: Run between a 5.55-6.00min/km pacek. (12k is usually where I burn up and give out...or is that burn out and give up?).
Divide the next part of the course into 2x 5k runs. At each 5k interval, aim to improve the speed by just a little bit.
12-16km: 5.50-5.55min/km
17-21k: 5.45-5.50min/km.

With these times, I would get both my unremmittant A1-Goal of running a PB, and my newly established A2-Goal of running negative splits!

Humble [compared to all my previous half marathon race goals], but doable. I hoped!

And what was my B-Goal, you may ask? That was to run a sub-2h10min.

But remember I wasn't running this alone! However, my sister's goal - running without stopping - was a perfect one for her first half marathon, and super achievable since she could run circles around me at any race any distance any day of the week.

 Still smiling at the 10k mark. I even have the energy to ward off off invisible ninja's with a Ninja-chop wave.

 Even in a cast my mom still came out with clappers to cheer.

Off we went into our second loop (the race did a semi-figure 8, so at least we didn't have to do the same lap twice). The second lap was even prettier than the first, which was a nice bonus.

From the start, my sister had been like a horse going to corral and I had to keep reigning her back in. Some fellow Running Room gals passed us and off she galloped. "Woah, there!" I called out. "We're going a little too fast."
Heather was trusting me to the timing/pacing, so she pulled back. For a time. Until the next person passed us (and we were passed a lot in those first 7k, even though we had deliberately hung back a respectable distance at the starting gate). In the meantime, I had discovered this cool setting with my fancy watch. For years I'd been using this watch and I never knew it had a "lap pace" option.
What's a lap pace option, you ask? Why, it shows you your predicted/expected pace for that lap. And as it so happens, my laps were set to 1km intervals. So instead of watching my GPS go ballistic trying to configure my exact pace at any given time, it would calmly tell me if I were to finish my current km within the target time frame.

Those of you who know all this already are probably rolling your eyes. But for me, it was a revelation! I had always been doing mental math in my head ("okay, so I've just run 17minutes 22seconds and my watch says I've hit 3kms. So that would mean that my average pace right now is...which means that I if I maintain this pace I will finish the race in...).

Only this time it was mindless.

But I digress.

Because not long after this sign at 10k...

...we hit this sign at 13.75k...

 

...Okay, I lied. There was no sign at 13.75k. These are just random scenery shots from the starting area of our course.

But 13.75k was memorable for me. Why is that? Simply, it is the point on the race when I got tired.

Just over 1/3 of the course left to go...Visions of a fast PB time on the clock as I crossed the finish line danced around in my mind, fighting with the little demons telling me to stop, rest, catch your breath. And most prominently, you can't do this. Just give up.

My enthusiastic waves to volunteers and supporters became wrist twitches I doubt anyone noticed. My smile turned into a snarl as I sucked in air. Upon previous agreement, Heather kept on talking while I occasionally grunted in response.

One thought stayed strong in my mind, trying to quash the little demon telling me to give up: you are SO CLOSE to that PB! You CAN'T give up now! This is what you have been training for. How grumpy would you be if you gave up SO CLOSE to the finish?

So then I did my inward focussing: I told myself that if I acted like I wasn't going to make it, then I wasn't going to make it. I used every trick I knew how:

>>I mantra'd. Fast arms, fast feet... Steady breath, strong legs...
>>I did mental math. (If I drop down to a 6min pace right now when there are 4k's left to go, what will my finishing time be?). Fear of not making it drove me on.
>>I sang. (Thanks, Shane, for showing me that huffing out a silent version of "Mary Had a Little Lamb" helps me control my breathing.) And let me tell you, Mary had lots of little lambs chasing me on that homeward stretch.

So how did we do, in the end?
1-11k split times (goal 5.55-6.00): 5.55 / 5.56 / 5.56 / 5.53 / 5.56 / 5.53 / 5.55 / 5.56 / 5.57 / 5.51 / 5.53
12-16k split times (goal 5.50-5.55): 5.47 / 5.47 / 5.49 / 5.52 / 5.43
17-21k split times (goal 5.45-5.0): 5.35 / 5.40 / 5.39 / 5.42 / 5.33

Gun time: 2.04.20
Net time: 2.03.36
Average Pace: 5.52min/km
Category Place (Females 20-29): 75/169
Gender Place: 275/693
10k split time: 1.00.06min

To Recap:
Goal 1A = Run a PB (sub 2.05.28) - ACHIEVED. And it's the best kind of PB! It's the PB where the minutes changed. Yes, I could have run a 2.05.02 and been okay-happy with it, but how much more awesome is it that I can say the minute changed. Because now I can cut off the seconds and just say with the cool head-tip/nod, "Yeah, I can run a half marathon in two-oh-three."
Goal 1B = Run negative splits - ACHIEVED.

Proud Sisters

Heather, Me, and my Running Room friend Rachel showing off our medals. I am The Voice of Experience in this crew, as for both Heather and Rachel it was their first half marathon...but hopefully not their last!

Post-race ice bath for the legs in the cold Okanagan waters. Brr!

Walking back to our hotel, Heather and I proudly held up cheering signs for those still running in the marathon. Surprisingly, none of the marathoners took Heather up on her offer, although a few spectators did.

Support Crew

I am one of the lucky ones. The verrryyyy lucky ones.
There is barely a race that I've run without support. Now I'm not talking about the organized volunteers handing out water and making sure I don't make a wrong turn (although that is pretty awesome, too). I'm talking about friends waking up at 4am and indulging my "let's get to the race start an hour and a half before the gun goes off at 6am" pre-race anxiety. I'm talking about friends who stand out in the cold for that hour and a half with me as I bounce around to the washroom, to warm-up, to chat nervously with people I recognize, back to the washroom, etc. And then they stand for another 2+ hours as they wait patiently for me to finish the race. What they do in that time, I don't know. All I know is that when I run those long km's on the back half of a half marathon, the thought of those special people watching for me in the crowd keep me going. And when I come around the corner to the finish line, there they are; cheering and screaming and encouraging me to that finish.

So when a few of my fellow running group friends decided to run the small (capped at 1000) but beautiful (running through Fish Creek Park) Harvest Half Marathon, what else was I to do on a Saturday morning but go and support them?
One of my fellow pace group gals and good friends picked me up with pre-race jitters at 6.15am for a 7.45am race. I know what that feels like! What I didn't expect was the pre-support crew jitters that kept me up at crazy hours the night before. Thoughts of, "What if I sleep in and forget? Did I bring enough warm clothes if it's cold? Should I pack more snacks?" Danced through my head. I guess I had such high standards from my own support crew experiences that I wanted to live up to those.

We wandered around, met up with the others, the gun went off....and....now what? The first person we were expecting to see was planning to cross the finish line at 1h40. So what are two Canadian supporters to do for the next 90minutes while we waited? Go to Tim Horton's of course!
With two of us, the time just flew by and before we knew it we were back at the race start watching people zip in to the finish. It was fun to watch the display of emotions. Some people laughed, some cried, some looked stunned (particularly the poor guy who face-planted 50m from the finish line), and a lot had that grimace of intense focus.

The support crew legacy lives on

There weren't many supporters to this small race, but they were encouraging. And nobody had as cool signs as we did! Another gal was going to come in support but work had called her out of town, so she helped me make up the race signs that we could hold up and cheer people on with. I don't know if anyone actually read the signs or if they were too focussed on the finish. But I do know that watching my friends cross the finish line and being able to cheer their names and congratulate them...that was pretty amazing. That is what the running community is about. It may be a solo sport, but everyone has their own personal cheerleaders in the form of other runners. And whatever the time you ran in, whatever your feelings on the race, we are there to support you, because you matter.

My incredible Australian friends taught me that.

 Only the truth!

Winner

I'd forgotten that feeling of feeling like a winner. It doesn't always mean winning races or even getting a personal best. Sometimes I feel like a winner when I just have a really good workout.

What can I say about tonight except Goal Achieved?

I wasn't setting my expectations high when I started out on our 6k tempo. My legs were still sore from Sunday's long run, and admittedly I had been eating lots of yummy junk food all day, topping it off with a bowl of ice cream right before I went out into the cold windy weather to run.
The goal was negative splits. And I was bound and determined that this time - THIS TIME - I would actually do negative splits!
I set off with some of my favourite gals and we had what I thought was a decent tempo run plan: 5.40 pace the first 3k then 5.30 pace the second 3k.

The first 3k set a not-so-surprising trend: 5.33...5.35...5.37...all a little too fast for the goal plan. The first two k's especially, I was worried. I felt I could maintain this or maintain close to this, but negative splits? That was gonna be tough!

We hit the turn around point and knuckled down for the final 3k.

First k: 5.22. Excellent! I felt it was tough, but I was feeling pretty good.
Second k: 5.15. Whoop! Even faster! I made the mistake of calling out the time to my crew. My sister then suggested, "let's do a negative split on this last km." Huh. I mean, I was feeling okay but going even faster? Yikes.
But then a funny thing happened. I remembered back to all those 1k repeats I did in Australia and how I consistently cracked a sub-5min time. Oh, how much I miss those 1k repeats! No, this isn't sarcastically spoken. They were a kick-ass way for me to learn to self-judge speed and learn that my mind holds me back from what I'm capable of doing. So I listened to that memory and pushed that little bit harder.
Third k: 5.05. And the best part was, I felt really good at the end. Tired? Yep! But definitely I felt I could have kept going a little faster for a little longer...

I wonder, is this what it normally feels like to run a negative split? Is it typical to end on such a high note? Further investigation of using negative splits in my running is warranted to scientifically quantify this feeling to determine if it is a fluke or a trend.

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.