When I run, I am at peace. I am living one breath at a time. I am whole-heartedly aware of every fibre of my being.
It is my communion. It is my solitude. It is everything to me.
When I can’t run, I feel agitated. It makes the winter feel long and bleak. When I am not running, I feel an emptiness. I crave it when I have to step away for a long time.
Running has been my sanity in this crazy world. It has been my serenity. My peace. It is the gentle hand that lifts me up out of the pits of hell; it is the soft voice that tells me I am worthwhile.
Today, my heart is broken. Of all the bad news that flits across the screen each day, this is the first moment that I have ever felt instantly gutted. My soul is crying out for my brothers and sisters whose celebration has been devastated. Tears well up in my eyes uncontrollably every time that I think of our shattered landscape.
Running isn’t political. It isn’t elite; it isn’t polarizing. From the beginning, humans have been born to run. The fact that someone has stolen this innocence has me completely twisted in agony. I want to cry out, to wrap my arms around my running family and weep.
I want to scream and shout, to curse anyone who would steal our peace, our happiness. I want to rail against the darkness, beating my fists against this pain that keeps rising up in my chest.
I’m still alive. Honestly. My mind has just been consumed with dance class wear orders and canning carrots and making pickles. And more class wear orders. And more pickles. And house-breaking the chiweenie. And parenting. And working.
And stuff.
So, what’s new? I’m on quite the motivation kick this week, and feeling great! Monday was sheer chaos, as I had to cancel $6000 worth of dance wear orders, resize them for a different company, and reorder them on a rush.
Yesterday, I canned EIGHT LITRES of dill carrots. All of the were from my garden. Yes, my garden grows carrots, zucchini, and potatoes. Nothing else. All my onions, peas, beets, radishes…nothing but greens. And truthfully, I only got one bowl of potatoes from twelve hills of potatoes, and only 5 small and 2 monster zucchini from six plants.
Yes, that is PURPLE cauliflower, from the St Albert Farmers’ Market!
But I have carrots!
Today is all about getting back on a health kick. I haven’t been running since my 30k at the end of July. I’ve been eating horribly, and if I get a litre of water a day, it’s a miracle. Ugh. I’m back on My Fitness Pal (add me: magzd), tracking and logging my food and activity. I may even start running again!
Then there is the house! I’ve finally narrowed down paint colours for my living room and I am getting rid of my red wall. It’s just too aggressive. I’ll keep my red accents, but it’s getting toned down. I’m also buying us an early Christmas gift as well:
And thanks to my dear Sku, my office is functional and tidy again!! We spent Sunday purging and organizing everything! I finished up on Monday, and it is SO nice to walk past the door without feeling massive anxiety… Yes, there is still a couple of boxes to put away, but as of yesterday, the desk clutter was completely gone!
And I took my long-neglected SCOBY, separated the layers, made a SCOBY hotel, and started brewing kombucha tea again, much to the horror of most of Facebook and Twitter
You can see that, while I’ve been absent from my blog, I haven’t been absent from life! I hope to be posting much more regularly now that dance is in full-swing and life has calmed down. I miss you all – and I have the winner from my 1000th post contest to post too!!
It took me 4 days before I started to feel remotely normal. It messed with my mind, and it messed with my body. It left me feeling anxious and weary about running. I felt like I was coming down with a flu: my joints ached, my head hurt, my skin felt like it was the wrong size for my body. I craved weird foods, and I cried a lot.
I cried a LOT.
I wasn’t post-run sore. I was beaten. I started to feel chest-crushing anxiety when I looked at my training schedule: a mere 9 miles for my next long run, but no running the week after due to my Vegas convention, and then 22 miles the weekend I get back?? Not to mention the increasing mileage each weekday, growing from a few 5k runs to 6-, 7-, and 8-milers.
And the add the mounting obstacles of husbands who work out of town, kids who aren’t going to bed, roads that aren’t jogging-stroller-friendly, injuries that aren’t getting better, other races I want to run, and dance classes that will need to be taught?
I think one of my biggest errors was throwing in the Moose is Loose. I raced that sucker hard, and then had zero recovery time. I also missed my 15-mile long run two weeks before that because of the extreme heat wave in our area. Add Leith being out of town for the past two weeks, forcing all my weekday runs indoors, and the odds really started to stack against me.
I don’t want to half-ass this marathon. I want to be strong when I go in. I don’t want the mentality of my first marathon to be, “Oh well, at least I finished.” I want it to be like Footstock. I want to stand at the start and know the latest time I’ll finish in. I want to compete with myself, and if I do the full marathon this fall, I won’t be a worthy competitor.
My body can’t take the enormous intensity of back-to-back training this year. If I push it, I’m going to hate it, and I’m going to get hurt.
So, I’m going to pull back. I’m going to keep my endurance up, and run the Rotary Run for Life half marathon here in September, and the Okanagan half marathon in October. I’m going to still enjoy a 4-day weekend in Kelowna, and a scenic race. I’m still going to enjoy my commemorative bottle of wine too
And I’m going to keep running. I love it, and I will protect that love fiercely. I will not allow myself to overtrain and under-love. Next year, I will start the marathon training slow and early. I’ll plan my races earlier so that they fit into my training. I will enjoy the process, and soak in every extra mile.
This year, though? I’m only going to be half-crazy
***
This is part of the Summer Blog Challenge: a month of posting every day! Feel free to join in the fun
I don’t want to. The higher my weekly mileage gets, the harder it gets to motivate myself to just go.
If I could leap out the front door and run, that would be one thing. But the obstacles I’m facing are enough to make me drag my eyeballs from their sockets with rusty spoons. Yes, I am talking about BOREDOM!!
You see, two active 4-year olds and a husband who is out of town mean that my mileage this week (and next week) will be primarily indoors. In my basement, which is not only humid but also dark. The humidity wreaks havoc on our fluorescent lights, and they won’t turn on. I am literally running in the dark, save for the glow of the television. That means I have to watch TV to see. That means I need something moderately entertaining to watch for the duration of my run.
BUT HAVE YOU WATCHED TELEVISION LATELY??
It’s like dumb procreated with dumber. I can barely stomach a thing. And unless it’s PVR’d, I have to endure commercials. So, other than an hour of True Blood and a PVR’d 2-hour (really, 1:30) episode of So You Think You Can Dance, I’m staring at a glowing box for at least 40 minutes, at least 3 times a week. I am literally counting down the miles by the second.
Kill. Me. Now.
It’s enough to drive me to drink. Or at least procrastinate, except that I can’t. I committed to this little thing called the BMO Okanagan Marathon in a few months. 10 weeks, really. And this weekend, I am scheduled to run EIGHTEEN FREAKING MILES. In a row. In one day.
That means I have to keep up with my shorter weekly runs, at the risk of dying of utter boredom. Life was so much easier when my training runs were 30 minutes long. Tonight, I’ll be running anywhere from 60-70 minutes. In the dark.
Someone help me pout it out! These first world problems really suck sometimes.
It’s Day Two of the Whole 30. I hate every living minute of it.
I have never, ever, in my whole life wanted to quit something so quickly.
I hate it. Yes, the food is tasty. Whatever. It’s not satisfying at all. At. All.
My reasons for doing this were varied:
Of course weight loss is always a little bit nice. I haven’t been able to break 135lbs, but I also haven’t been trying.
I like the paleo food lifestyle. We can’t eat gluten-y grains, and we avoid most dairy anyway. This provided some structure, which was much-needed and much-wanted.
I love doing stupid challenges, like my sugar fast. I wanted to see if I could do it.
I wanted to feel better.
But guess what? The Whole 30 is a HUGE, SUDDEN CHANGE, even for someone who eats 90% gluten/dairy-free already. The physical act of cooking and eating the super-strict Whole 30 food isn’t what’s hard. It’s the mental commitment to it.
You see, I’m already pushing my brain beyond it’s happy place with my marathon training. I have to run 18 miles this Sunday, and I have some serious mental energy that needs to unblock before then. This year’s training is taking more mental commitment than anything I’ve ever done.
I also have a husband who has been gone since Saturday, and now won’t be home until August 2nd. He was supposed to be home today. Surprise!!
There’s also the timing on top of the mental stress. I am going away for the August long weekend with two celiac kids. I already need to plan for their food, and I don’t know if I want the added stress of bringing my own food too. Plus, it’s kind of imposing and rude to my hostess (even though she’s a beautiful, accommodating soul). The morning after we get back, I leave for 5 days in Las Vegas. I’ll be dancing from 9-5 every day, plus three training runs. I’ll have a tight schedule around meal times, and I’ll be at a hotel the whole time. The hotel is at the edge of town – no time for grocery store trips or anything like that.
That, my friends, is 8 solid days of food stress. On top of travel stress, on top of training stress.
I honestly don’t think I can do this right now. I actually feel anxious about eating. THAT is not healthy. I actually want to CRY. It’s pathetic. I don’t want to run out and get a Blizzard and a bottle of wine. I just don’t want to feel trapped and anxious!
I’m a healthy person! I’m not overweight, and I’m very active. I have no discernible health concerns. This isn’t a do-or-die nutrition situation. But I have to stop and wonder: am I having trouble because of all the other stress it’s causing, or because I really need to do this for my body. Is this just withdrawal/cleanse, and I need to push through it? Or is it just BS and I need to take the warning signs and walk away, try again later?
And it’s not like I’ve been starving. I’ve eaten LOTS – at least 2000kcal each day for the past two days. But I’m forcing it in, and I’m still not getting nearly enough carbohydrates to support my training.
Ugh.
I don’t like quitting, and I quit too often. But it’s not worth the struggle right now. Even if I woke up tomorrow and it was an easy day, it’s not worth it right now.
I can go gluten-free and dairy-free. I can’t do this Whole 30 right now. So while the title of this post is “Wavering“, what it really means is “Quitting“.
I need some breathing room right now. I can’t do food guilt. I need to just eat and train and dance and run that marathon in October!
I’m going to start this off with the biggest disappointment:
Despite the name, there was NO moose anywhere on the race course.
Sadness.
But I did get up bright and early today to run my second half marathon!! It was also my second half marathon in 2012, and my second half marathon in 6 weeks!!
I was a little disappointed in the course. I was expecting a rolling 21.1km of trails. Instead, I got a fairly flat course that was only about half trail. The rest was paved pathway. Not quite the “trail run” I’d been told about… The course volunteers were also less than enthusiastic for the most part, sitting in chairs, not clapping or cheering, barely acknowledging the runners.
But the sun was shining, and it wasn’t yet scorching hot out. Once the initial bottleneck thinned out, I had a really enjoyable 21k! My IT band didn’t bother me until 14k, and it didn’t stop me in my tracks until almost 18k. Even still, I was able to keep a normal gait this time
I also ran the full distance! I took 5 seconds to walk and chug 2oz of water at 4 aid stations, and about 15 seconds when my IT band smacked me at 18k, but that’s it! My pace was awesome too: I varied between 5:30 min/km and 6:30 min/km for an average pace of 6:00 min/km. I was blown away! While my “burst” at Footstock was 5:30, I ran my last kilometer at about 4:15, with energy to spare!
All that speed meant that I knocked nearly FIVE MINUTES off my Footstock time! I finished in 2:05:56 by my Garmin!!
Crazy!
Half marathon #2 is done for 2012! I don’t think I’d do this race again, but it was still a nice morning. There’s no rest for the wicked though: next week’s long run is 18 miles in preparation for Kelowna!
Meanwhile, I have another finisher’s medal to add to my collection:
I run. I love to run. I run a lot, every week. Indoors and outdoors. On treadmills, pavement, ditches, trails…
But that’s just it: I run. I suck at training. Oh man, do I EVER suck at training! I finished my first half-marathon with barely any training. I ran a couple 5k each week, and ran a long run every weekend or two until I hit 20 km. That’s it. No cross-training, no speed work, no hills, no sprints, no fartleks.
Hee hee hee…fartlek.
I didn’t follow a plan. I counted weeks, and back-engineered the mileage. And I ran a solid 21.1km with only one walk break in 2 hours and 10 minutes.
Now I’m training for my first full marathon, and damn! It’s really hard to be lazy about this kind of mileage! I’m trying to stick to a “training plan”, but it’s really cramping my style… I don’t like being told when to run and how long for, and how to run. I just like to run.
It’s driving me crazy! And it’s creating guilt: it’s edging towards +31degrees today, and I am supposed to run 15 miles. That’s 24 kilometres! I was supposed to get up at 6:30am, but that didn’t happen, thanks to being sick on Friday/Saturday, eating/drinking too little, and being up too late with my kids. Now I’ve missed my window of (intelligent, weather-appropriate) opportunity. It’s already +24. Now what? Do I split it into 2 hour-long treadmill runs in the cool quiet of my basement? Do I hydrate myself to high heaven and set out on the glaring pavement? Ugh.
Then there’s the whole question of fuelling and hydration. I take a 4oz gel bottle of water on my long runs. I don’t drink; I only take it to keep my mouth wet. I drink a LOT of water the night before, and a litre in the morning before I go, but I just can’t get on the drink-while-you-run bandwagon. I don’t eat on my long runs either. I eat well the day before (part of the reason today’s run got sidetracked…I was sick for two days), and I eat well after. I don’t get hungry, and up until now, my energy has stayed consistent. So why eat and drink if I don’t need it?
Sigh. All the runners of the world are glaring at me right now. Reckless child…
I just don’t get the psychology of training. It sucks. I just want to run, when I want to run. Is that too much to ask? I don’t want to feel panicked about missing a long run, or worried that I’ll screw up my training schedule if I bump it to tomorrow. I don’t want to consider carbs and protein and gels and recovery drinks. I just want to eat pancakes, go for a run, come home, and have lunch.
I registered for the BMO Okanagan Marathon this October. This fall, I will be running 42.2km through the Okanagan Valley.
Crazy.
I made sure to opt-in for the bottle of souvenir wine with my registration. I’m pretty sure it will be the best $20 I’ve ever spent!! We are also turning this into a 4-day holiday so that Leith and I have plenty of time to stock up on other local wines before we head home It will be our first no-kids holiday in 3 years!! I’m so excited for the beauty of Kelowna in the fall…
Let this be a warning to all of you: don’t ever finish a half marathon. You’ll be sucked in to the thrill, and then you’ll find yourself clicking “confirm” on race registration upon race registration. You’ll be filling in the calendar with your insane training schedule, and praying that nothing happens to your angel of pain physiotherapist between now and race day.
You’ll buy new shoes:
new Vibram Komodos – so pretty!
You’ll actually contemplate hiring a babysitter so that you can get your long runs in if Leith is out of town…!
I spent the weekend in Cochrane with one of my dearest, longest-known friends: Suzi, also known to me as just Sku. I am home after a long, rainy drive, and my heart is full and happy from so much goodness!
The main reason for visiting this weekend was to participate in the Footstock half marathon on Saturday morning. I knew that I was ready, but that didn’t stop me from having incredible pre-race jitters!! I took 2 melatonin tablets before bed and still tossed and turned all night, listening to the rain and thunder outside.
I woke up to a cold, dreary day. The ground was soggy and the wind was howling. Suzi and I bundled up into my car, cranked the heated seats on, and drove to town! And before I knew it…I was off!
The pack mentality was hard to shake. I knew what my goals were: keep a 6:30 km/min pace or faster, walk one minute every 5 km, and finish under 2:15. The energy swept me away from the starting line and I had to fight to keep from pacing with the crowd. I held back, knowing that I would be better off in the long run
Six beautiful kilometres along the Bow River, and then the hill from hell that Melinda had warned me about. Even knowing, I was completely unprepared for the monster that lay ahead of me. Head down, one foot in front of the other, don’t walk. And when I wanted to walk, I didn’t, because I was going to OWN THIS DAMN HILL! At the top, it curved to the right…and then KEPT GOING UP. Oh god.
And then…I crested the top and headed 3 kilometres down a dirt road that had been magically transformed into a mud pit. The wind beat down on me, and I could barely see through the rain drops dripping off my eyelashes. I was soaked and cold, and just like *that* – the turn around. Halfway done!! I hadn’t even paused to walk!
I passed the 12km line, and all of a sudden my right IT-band started screaming at me out of the blue. I’d had no pain until then, although I’d been expecting it. I promised myself to walk if it started hurting worse. A couple hundred metres later, it did. I have never stopped moving SO suddenly. It hurt.
I swore under my breath as I walked it out, trying to stretch and lengthen my stride without stopping. I tried to talk myself up. I had just over 9km left in my run…I could do this. I had to do this. I was NOT letting some nagging stupid injury foil my great plan!!
So I ran.
And as I ran, I played with my gait until I found a strode that minimized the pain and let me keep going. I vowed to adapt as necessary, but for the next 9 continuous (no walking – woo!), I ran with an imaginary Skip-It on my right ankle:
Yup. I can’t WAIT to go to physio on Wednesday!! Pleeeeease don’t kill me, Laurie??
But surprisingly, even though I swung my right leg out for 9km, it didn’t hurt. And post-race? My knees were tender if I sat for too long, but not stiff and definitely not painful! And today? I’m not the least bit sore, tired, or stiff!
I screamed down the hill of death, and into the river valley. I was on track for my pace, and the wind was at my back. My energy was high, and I was flying. I broke out of the trail at 18km, and a song came on my iPod.
And suddenly, 3km from my goal, I had a lump in my throat the size of Texas and was fighting back tears. I was completely emotionally overwhelmed by the magnitude of the day and overcome with gratitude for everything and everyone who got me to that point. I was also profoundly proud of myself and my body for making it happen.
Yes, I was bawling on a dirt path while I ran.
And then the finish line was in sight. I bucked up my pace to a beautiful 5:30km/min for the last kilometre. I saw my dear Sku at the finish line, camera in hand. I heard my name on the loudspeaker…
It’s something I’ve wanted to try for a long time. Heck, we live out in the country so it’s not like I’d get that many stares as I pace through the backroads.
But there are rocks, and glass, and occasionally there’s dog poop. Gross.
So tonight, in the seclusion of my cool basement, I took the plunge.
I went running naked.
You see, this is what I usually wear when I run:
I love my Vibrams, as evidenced by how lovingly well-worn they are I’ve been running in them for a year now, and they have single-handedly (footedly?) changed the way I run. I feel like I’m flying when I wear them. I’ve tried “regular” minimalist shoes, but my gait changes immediately and I don’t like the results.
I love my Vibrams.
But for the past few days, I’ve been engrossed in Chris McDougall’s Born To Run. If you are a runner, you should read it. If you want to be a runner, you should read it. If you’re an injured runner, you should read it. If you hate running and don’t “get it”, you should read it.
So, needless to say, I’ve been reading it. And while McDougall is preaching to the choir, I was intrigued and inspired to try something: running naked. So tonight, I threw off the (minimalist) shackles of my Vibrams, climbed atop my beautiful treadmill shoeless, and ran like this:
Barefoot.
Nary a shoe, let alone a sock.
And it was GLORIOUS!
It was soft and connected. My body felt amazingly light, even compared to my Vibrams. Nothing ached or hurt. A couple of muscles across my ankles woke up, but they didn’t hurt.
And when I went to stretch post-run? Nothing was tight. Not my quads, not my hamstrings, not my calves. Not my regularly-tight IT-bands or gluts.
Nothing.
So from this day forward, there is a rule in this house: no shoes on the treadmill. Maybe, one day, I’ll even venture out onto the road.
