Withdrawal

I was starting to feel withdrawal, not having run in a week. I could have slept in for the first Sunday in three months, but I decided to go to the Running Room instead. I wasn't sure if anyone else from our clinic would be there now that they didn't have to be, but there were a few.

No one from my pace group was there, though, and somehow I found myself running 10K with the fast (sub-2:00) group. Overall, this group didn't talk as much as my usual one. For the rest of the fast people, this was their long, slow run--a rest day, really--but I was pushing it, going more than a minute faster per kilometre than I normally do on Sundays. So it was more of a tempo run for me, which was fine; I was motivated to keep up with them.

I did have a chance to think about which races I'd like to do next year, now that the season has come to a close.

Until mid-January or so: Maintenance running, twice a week with the Running Room and at least once a week alone. Maybe a 10K if I can find a good one.

April: Sun Run. If you live in Vancouver and you run, you do the Sun Run.

May: Vancouver International Half-Marathon maybe. This one includes a 200' climb up Prospect Point in Stanley Park that is legendary for its ability for reducing runners fitter than I am to walking.

June: Scotiabank Half-Marathon. It's billed as "Canada's easiest half-marathon" because it's mostly downhill and everyone does it to get a fast time. So I'll do it for sure. Heh.

October: Okanagan Full Marathon. HUGE maybe, for this will depend on what's going on in my life then and whether I have the time to devote to training for a full. It is something I want to do within the next couple of years, and this one would be fun because I'd get to travel to Kelowna and run through wine country. If I don't do the OIM, I'll do the Turkey Trot 10K again.

November: Fall Classic half-marathon again if I don't do the OIM, 10K if I do.

So, at the very least, I think I'll do two 10Ks and two half-marathons.

Other fitness goals include:

1. Training more than three days a week and closer to the five days the Running Room programs tell you to. Maybe include cross-training of some sort, like biking.

2. Trying a yoga class. I've done a DVD at home (MTV yoga, which is as annoying as it sounds) but I want someone to correct my form. I still don't feel like I'm doing downward-facing dog right.

3. Picking up some weights every now and then. I HATE WEIGHTS.

4. Purchasing a Garmin. Now that they're selling overhauled models for $100 less than normal price, it would be dumb not to.

Fall Classic

The half-marathon went really, really well. I ended up beating my goal time of 2:15 (chip time: 2:10:34.3), which is significant because 2:15 was my "best case scenario" goal, with my main goal being just to finish.

I'm not sure I would have finished without S., a woman from my clinic. S. needs a bit of an aside here. She organized a pasta feed the other night entitled "The LBD Dinner," because "Little Black Dress" was her mantra for our long slow runs, since those keep us in the fat-burning zone and there was a LBD at the Gap she had her eye on. She's one of those force-of-nature types who just makes everything more fun.

She and I trained in the same pace group but we all decided not to make any commitments about running the race together so that no one would feel held back or pressured to keep up. But S. and I determined about 2K into the race that we were pretty much in sync, and when I accidentally reset my stopwatch around the 5K mark, I was glad to have her to keep me on schedule.

The course was a double loop and relatively flat, with one low-grade but deceptively difficult hill that I didn't realize was a hill until it was almost over and I couldn't figure out why I was breathing so hard. I commented to S. that I felt like I was moving backward. It was a really weird sensation; I felt like we had slowed down to the point where walking would have been faster. But we made it through the first 10K loop ahead of schedule and in relatively good spirits.

The second loop was a little demoralizing, having to bypass the same scenery and see many of the elite racers already headed back, but there was the advantage of knowing what to expect and how much farther it was going to feel. For the most part I felt strong, but there were a few times when I just really, really wanted to stop. I could imagine the instant relief I would feel and it was so tempting.

It was during these moments that I really had to reflect on why I was doing this in order to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I was glad to have S. with me, even though we were working to hard to say much. Every so often she would tell me to pass people and I did it without question, although I commented later on the likelihood of her having been a drill instructor in a past life.

I sprinted the last few hundred metres, spurred on by an African drumming performance. I crossed the finish line at quite a clip, which is unusual for me because I tend to just stop the second I hit the mat. I felt incredibly light-headed the second I stopped, unlike anything I'd ever experienced while running. S. crossed a few seconds later and we hugged. Someone put a finisher medal over my head. My clinic instructor finished a few minutes later and we set up to cheer the rest of the group in.

It was much more emotional for me to see all of them cross than it was for me to do it myself--that was one of the most surprising parts of the whole experience for me. I feel invested in their success and I know from talking to them what it means to them personally to have done this. There was one woman who had been struggling with serious injuries over the past few weeks and she had to stop halfway through the race today. She was there waiting for us at the finish line, but she was crying openly. It was really hard to see that. No one wanted her to be hard on herself, but you just can't convince someone of that, especially not a runner. I've been there.

I scheduled the day off of work tomorrow so I may go get a massage, get my hair cut, or just sit on my ass because I can't move. But I'm already thinking about when I can start running again and which race to train for next.

Safety in numbers

"Hey baby, you have a big ass, but I like it."

That's what I heard while out on a solo run this evening.

I don't run alone much anymore; I used to run exclusively alone because I hated the pressure of trying to keep up with someone else. Plus I preferred the quiet. I never felt unsafe, not even in the dark or that time in broad daylight when a creepy old guy asked if he could take my picture. (I declined.)

Then I joined the clinic at the Running Room three months ago. I was anxious about not being able to keep up and also just the whole social aspect of it. I don't think I really spoke to anyone until our first long run, and partly only then because we were supposed to use the ability to carry on a conversation to gauge whether we were running at the right speed.

Now my pace group knows about my career aspirations, my really bad dates, my insecurities about my body and my favourite flavour of Carb-BOOM (apple cinnamon). And vice versa. I look forward to seeing them because they're the only people I can talk to ad nauseam about negative splits, goal times, and geeky running purchases like Garmins and Fuel Belts. We've taken up stalking Trevor Linden by running past his house every weekend--we're solid.

But I didn't realize until tonight that I count on them for something else: sheer numbers.

No one yells comments like the above at a group of runners. They say good-natured things, like, "You guys are too perky for this ungodly hour!", or, in response to our alert to one another of "Walker up!", said Walker might respond, "...But I wish I were a runner!"

I wasn't that surprised to hear it, honestly. I was running the loop around a soccer field because it's well lit, there are a lot of people around, and the distance is clearly marked. There was a rowdy group of about 20 guys, in their early 20s, playing at one end. It was Friday; they were probably drinking. I saw one guy walk a little ways off the sidelines, unzip his pants and relieve himself. I averted my eyes and kept running.

As I passed the group, someone made the comment about my ass. He didn't yell, but he said it just loud enough that only I would hear. At least I assume it was for me, though I suppose there is the slim chance it was intended for Mr. Can't-Make-It-to-the-Restroom-50-Metres-Away. The rest of the group heard too; they laughed.

Not that this matters one bit, but I don't have a big ass. I have a lot of large other things, but my posterior isn't one of them. Even if it was, it was completely covered by my running jacket.

But that isn't the point, of course. The comment was meant to humiliate me; to point out the fact that he had numbers and I was alone and powerless; to make me feel inadequate and objectified at the same time. I realized all of this, and I took it in stride--literally, I continued on without pausing or looking back. While doing so, I thought about how disgusting it was that I was practised enough to be able to do that. I'd done it once a few years ago when I was running around a different soccer field and a different group of boys felt the need to comment on my ass every time I ran by them. They had something new prepared for each of the 15 laps I did. (I suppose I could have stopped, but I wanted to see who had more stamina.) Come to think of it, I'm not sure what it is about soccer players and my ass. Really, my ass doesn't merit comment.

When I was out of their sight, I stopped running. I didn't want to because I knew that was letting them get the best of me, but I was angry and upset. I wished I had stopped running when he made the comment, walked over to him, and asked him to repeat it to my face. But I knew I wouldn't have done it, even though there had been lots of other people around. It wasn't my physical well-being I was concerned about.

So it was maybe the worst run I've had in months. I walked the rest of the way home, sprinting only when I got too cold or when I thought about spiting the guy's smug face. I ducked behind a tree on a deserted path because I thought I was going to throw up. I've had a rough week or so, and this incident was the last thing I needed tonight. It doesn't lessen my abilities as a runner or self-esteem, but it just makes me sad that I now associate running alone with being vulnerable.

I'll run again on Sunday, but I'll run with the group.

Turkey Trot

I did the Turkey Trot 10K this morning as sort of a test-run for the half-marathon, since my only competitive race experiences have been at the Sun Run. I'm glad I did it (and skipped my 16K clinic run yesterday to do it) because I figured out some things about my racing strategies (like knowing how to spot old men who will hock loogies into the wind without shoulder-checking).

After the first congested kilometer, I was running two minutes ahead of my goal pace and continued to do negative splits. I went in with low expectations and the understanding that since this wasn't my goal race, I had every right to pull it back a little and just enjoy the experience.

But by the time I hit the last kilometer, I realized I was going to beat my goal time of 1:05 by almost five minutes. It's too bad I didn't realize that a little sooner because I would have pushed myself a little harder so that I could finish in under an hour. As it was, I finished in 1:00:10 minutes--still a personal best for me. I shaved 10 minutes off my Sun Run time from this April (which sounds really impressive but it's difficult to compare my performance in the Turkey Trot, with 1,800 participants to maneuver around, to the Sun Run's 55,000).

One thing I've learned from my clinic training--in particular the tempo runs and seemingly endless hill repeats--is that it's okay to push myself, and that my body can handle it. I read a NYT article recently about how women are generally less competitive in their running and more content to "run easy."

I don't know if I agree with the article's assertions, especially the idea that only older women have the confidence to fully test themselves. I think it's probably more experience than age, which isn't necessarily the same thing. I used to be afraid to go at a pace where I couldn't really carry on a conversation or where I was breathing hard, because I had the idea I was doing something wrong. But I feel like I can trust my body now, and that any momentary panic I have about passing out or feeling like I'm going to throw up will pass. I go in now feeling like an actual runner instead of someone participating in a race. It's a subtle difference but it's given me a lot more confidence.

I'm also starting to take up yoga, mostly because I'm inflexible with poor balance and have no patience for weight training anymore. Wearing Lululemon while running in torrential downpours, I sometimes feel a little too Vancouver for my own good.

Training update

Exactly one month until the half-marathon. 18K clinic run on Sunday. Got soaked through in a torrential downpour last night that lasted only for the duration of our speedwork. Toweled off and felt surprisingly entitled to accompany the group for beer and greasy bar food after. Still trying to get used to the consistency of gels, which I liken to swallowing half a tube of chocolate-flavoured toothpaste. Someone at work told me the other day that I "look like a runner," which doesn't really mean anything, but was sort of cool nonetheless.

Brave new world

I signed up for my first half-marathon today. I wasn't sure about it for awhile, but then I learned that the Running Room a block away from my office is holding a half-marathon clinic that starts 20 minutes after I get off work and is designed specifically for this race. So I pretty much had to sign up for that, too.I was going to train alone, like I have in the past, but I'm sure I could use some pointers and the motivation. Plus, there are absolutely no hills where I live but a very steep one near work/the Running Room. I'm a little scared that I won't be able to keep up with even the slowest pace group and that I'll get discouraged by that but I think I can do it. I expect I will form some sort of bond with the other clinic members, considering the clinic runs from the beginning of August until the beginning of November (the race is on November 18 and it will be COLD and what am I thinking?).

Sun Run 2007

I surprised myself and ran a really good race today! I wasn't trying for any specific time, but I beat last year's time by a lot (I won't know my exact time until tomorrow so I don't want to estimate and be totally off, but no matter what it is, I'm pleased) and ran the entire time without stopping, even on the grueling uphill portions. I probably could have even maintained a faster pace, but I wanted to finish comfortably and with enough energy to sprint the last 500m.

Some things that I think contributed to my success this year (so that I can remember for next year!):

-I found a place where I could wait inside (Pacific Centre mall, heh) until my wave start, which helped a lot because standing in the cold for two hours last year really drained my energy and dulled my enthusiasm.

-I positioned myself farther back in the pack; it was a lot more motivating to be passing lots of people than to be continually passed.

-I kept a steady pace and tried not to be influenced by the people who started out too quick (and who I passed later when they'd started walking). Also, I found people who were running around my pace, followed them for awhile, then made it a goal to pass them.-I took a tip I read somewhere and considered the 7K point the halfway point, instead of the actual 5K halfway point.

-I tapered my training pretty early this time. I hadn't run for a week partly because of a busy schedule and partly because I wanted to give my body a break, so I was really looking forward to getting back at it today.

Looking at these little tricks I used, I think last year's performance was mainly hindered by mental blocks, especially since I think I trained more consistently last year. The only slightly annoying thing was that since I'd signed up for one of the slower speed groups, I had to pass a lot of people who were walking in big groups/lines/with strollers/slowly instead of keeping to the right like you're supposed to. So next year I'm going to try the next fastest group and aim to shave about 10-15 minutes off my time.

Now I'm trying to decide if I should do another 10K or a 5K to improve my time, or look into a half-marathon. Last night I watched this guy on TV run the Médoc Marathon (26 miles with 22 wine tasting stations and an oyster bar in Bordeaux) and that sort of blew my mind, that someone could run a marathon essentially DRUNK. So, anything is possible.