Scotiabank Half-Marathon

I'm not what you would call a cocky individual. Self-doubt and self-deprecation are a part of my day-to-day life.

However, when it comes to running, I can get a little cocky. I'm not super fast, but I'm tough and willing to push myself even when it might be better to back off. This is how I arrived at the Scotiabank Half-Marathon confident that it would be a walk (well, a run/walk) in the park (well, several parks). I'd run a half already, I had net downhill working in my favour, and I had my Garmin to keep me on pace. I regularly do runs (albeit LSD runs) of 26 km+. Easy.

Well, no, not quite. But let's back-track a bit.

I'm pleased to say I have pre-race prep down to a science. Last night I set out everything I'd need to make breakfast. I pre-measured the oatmeal and set out all the dishes and utensils I'd need. I filled all my water bottles, packed my bag, laid out three possible outfits for different weather conditions. I called to reserve a cab. I made it to bed by 9:30 p.m. (not having slept well the previous week helped, in a way), and was up at 4:30 a.m.

A bit of a digression here: I understand that it's difficult for race organizers to coordinate road closures. But a 7:00 a.m. race start is tricky for someone without a car, as buses to UBC don't run early enough on Sundays to allow for one to make it to the starting line with enough time to psych oneself up mentally, stretch, psych oneself out mentally, pee, check bags, and psych oneself up again. And so it came to pass that I spent $25 + tip on cab fare--a hidden cost of racing.

The first 3 km were uneventful. I was feeling pretty good and my muscles were nice and warm. The elites were already on the way back from the out-and-back. It was neat to actually see them, for once, and observe how they kept turning around to check their positioning.

Kilometres 4 and 5 were slightly more painful because they were uphill and I'd decided to start pushing myself harder, as I was aiming for a finishing time of 2:05. My heart rate was near 180, which I can't sustain for long. I backed off a bit and settled into a steady pace, but I was still painfully aware of every stride and the effort involved.

The large downhill section was fun. I was flying, having taken a one-minute walking break, and was going around 4:20/km. My heart rate monitor still read 178, but I didn't feel like I was overexerting myself, so I viewed it as an opportunity to make up as much time as possible.

A woman pushing her son in a wheelchair flew by. Everyone cheered.

I got frustrated with the poorly paved roadways at Jericho Beach; running over potholes and cracks seems to require more energy expenditure. Then there was some uphill, but mostly, the course was flat, straight and dull. A boring residential street. Past Trevor Linden's house (I think) on the Point Grey Road stretch I'd done so many times in my first clinic. I was sort of over it all at this point, but buoyed by the volunteers who took it upon themselves to shout out each racer's name (on our bibs) as we passed.

Finally, the Burrard Street Bridge. I run this all the time in training and in the Sun Run, and I'd never really understood why people complained about it. It doesn't seem particularly steep...that is, when you haven't already run 18 km. My legs were heavy and it took everything I had to keep picking them up. I'd already taken gel twice, but I was irreparably fatigued. I took an early walk break to prevent myself from walking the entire uphill portion of the bridge. I was still tempted to do it, but realized running this section of the race was, for me, more of an accomplishment than getting a faster overall time, and I made it to the crest--slowly.

Once I was over the bridge, I heard a volunteer promise, "You're almost there! Only 2 km more! And the rest is downhill!", and sped up. At most, I was 12 minutes away from finishing. I thought of it as a 12-minute tempo run and said my mantra ("Be mentally tough") under my breath a few times.

Of course, when you expect to be almost done, the remaining distance seems endless: the running equivalent of the watched-pot effect. I was still enthusiastic, but badly wanted it to be over. I thought a friend of mine who lives in the West End, and imagined how awesome it would be to suddenly hear him call my name and see him on the sidelines. I knew he wouldn't be there, for logistical reasons, but just the thought that he might be watching was enough to keep me going. A strange mental tactic, but one I may use again.

Finally, FINALLY, I hit the mat. I was going at a clip and passing people, but not sprinting all out like I usually do at the end of a race. I viewed this as a sign I'd given the entire race my all. Though there were times I probably could have sped up, I didn't feel as though I'd held back, as I had at some points in the Fall Classic.

My chip time was 2:07:18, two minutes off my goal time of 2:05, but three minutes faster than the Fall Classic, and that was good enough for me, considering I hadn't been consistent with my training over the last couple of months. This taught me I definitely need to be more disciplined in my training for the Royal Victoria Marathon (i.e., run more than 2-3 times a week).

I like the finisher medal (I'm wearing it right now), but I'm not sure why it depicts the Lions Gate Bridge when we didn't go anywhere near it. It looks impressive, I guess.

I stood near the finish line for a bit and watched racers come in, which always gets me feeling all emotionally charged, especially when I see someone who looks especially determined or surprised at his or her accomplishment. And I saw a couple of women from my old Running Room clinic, and we chatted for awhile. Having trained alone and raced alone, it was nice to reconnect with the running community.

I grabbed three cinnamon-raisin mini bagels, a cup of Gatorade, and for the first time ever, a space blanket. I really dislike being conspicuous, as one is when wearing a shiny foil cape emblazoned with a corporate logo, but I dislike being cold even more. I had a bit of a walk and a bus ride home, and I kept it on the whole time, eliciting a lot of stares. I tried to ensure my finisher medal was prominently displayed so I didn't look like a self-imagined superhero.

Waiting for the bus at Main & Keefer (in Chinatown), I felt especially self-conscious among the group of older, shorter Chinese men and women doing their Sunday grocery shopping. A few of them were looking at me quizzically. Finally, one gentleman came up and said, "Excuse me, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do those [space blankets] really work? I've seen them on TV and I always wonder."

"They do! But you have to be relatively warm to begin with, I think."

"Me, I prefer these." He pulled out a pair of gloves and smiled. "Are you a runner?"

"Yes, I just finished a race."

"Good for you. Congratulations."

That nice little exchange was the topper to a good race. Vancouver is a good city in which to be a runner.

Personal best (of the non-Sapphic variety)

I posted a personal best 10K time of 57:35 at yesterday's Vancouver Sun Run. I did a 1:00:10 at the Turkey Trot last October and a 1:11:52 at the 2007 Sun Run, down from 1:17:20 in 2006, so I'm pretty thrilled, even though I've probably now done as much Dramatic!Improvement as I can. (I credit almost all of this, by the way, to joining the half-marathon clinic last year and doing all my running outside.)

This despite the fact that so many of the 59,000+ participants seemed to have underestimated their finishing times and had seeded themselves in sections far beyond their abilities. I was running in the group that expected to finish in 59 to 69 minutes, and I estimate that 75% of this group was walking after the second kilometre--which is fine, except you won't finish in that time frame when you're walking. Meaning you're blocking the way of everyone else who wants to run and meet that goal time, especially when you don't keep to the right, as almost none of the walkers did. Don't even get me on started on the ones walking at the extreme left--eight abreast like the cast of Melrose Place--talking on their cell phones, drinking coffee, and getting annoyed with anyone who tried to go in between them.

Next year I'll sign up for the 50 to 58 minute group. Although I'm not sure it will make a difference in terms of avoiding annoying walkers who LIE, at least I'll get to start sooner. Under ideal conditions (which I don't consider the Sun Run to be), I think I could do 10K in 55:00 or even better. The distance actually felt really easy, even the uphill portions; it was over sooner than I wanted, which affirms for me that I'm more of a long-distance runner. I'm really looking forward to doing my next half-marathon in June and setting a new personal best for that distance.

I'm also enjoying my runners' yoga class. It's not as intense as a regular hatha yoga class, but we do some challenging poses and I sweat (a lot). I don't think I'm any more flexible yet; however, I have become better at breathing (as opposed to holding my breath) and being present. Last week, my instructor said, "Focus--don't think about what you're going to have for dinner tonight," at the exact moment I was in downward-facing dog and thinking about whether I should have defrosted a chicken breast that morning. So he had my number.

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.

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.

Sun Run 2006

Well! The race went pretty well today.

The starting gates: As there was a record 50,700 people taking part, the wave start was insane and our division didn't get started until about an hour after the first one. They actually had each group herded into a pen with gates and when they removed them to move us up a few hundred metres, they had everyone link arms and walk slowly so no one would get trampled. Having strangers pressed up against me for that long while I was unable to move, I was glad that agoraphobia is not on my list of neuroses. I noted that by the time we got started, the winner of the race had already finished, stood around for photo ops, jogged home, showered, eaten lunch, and gone to sleep. I don't know how it humanly possible to run 10K in under 30 minutes, but someday I would like to actually see it happen. Finally, we crossed the start line.

All running and no water makes me something something: The weather was actually too nice; it was very sunny and hot. I hadn't really done a lot of training in those conditions, so I was thrown off a bit by that, as I was by the lack of water. There were about 4 or 5 water stations along the route, but by the time I reached the first one, the volunteers had already run out of cups and were using whatever they could find--including plastic gloves--and issuing apologies.

Since I started further back in the pack than in previous years, I don't know if they usually run out, but seeing as there were still thousandsof people behind me, it didn't seem right and I was actually really exasperated. I had elected not to carry a water bottle of my own since the information package assured us there were lots of water stations. However, a lack of cups makes drinking said water extremely difficult, and stopping to put my head under the water cooler spigot was not really an option. So I basically had no hydration throughout the whole race and due to the heat, I was sweating like a mofo.

Hitting the wall: I made it through the first 5 km more or less okay, and even managed to jog up halfway of the really steep hill leading up to the Burrard Bridge. I hit my stride going across the bridge and for a couple more kilometres, but then the heat and lack of water really started to get to me and I had to alternate running with brief walking breaks. I was sort of disappointed about that because in training, I'd been able to sustain running for the whole distance, and I thought if anything being in race mode would improve that. But a lot of people in my division were walking, so I think that made me feel like it was okay if I did, too. I did pick out people who ran at a similar pace and tried to hover around them without acting like a creepy stalker. I lost track of the first lady I "ran with," but somehow at the very end, she turned up right in front of me again and it was funny how glad I felt to see this total stranger.

Bringing it home: With the finish line in sight, I ramped up my speed. I was passing lots of people and I don't think I've run that fast since elementary school track meets. Having the crowd cheering us on the sidelines made me feel like I was Steve Prefontaine or something, so I pushed myself to the limit.

I actually forgot to time myself but as the race uses timing chips, my "official time" will appear in the newspaper tomorrow for all to see. I think I actually did end up taking around 75 to 80 minutes, which is sort of disappointing because my training had indicated I was capable of getting closer to the hour mark--the walking breaks added up. But I'm trying to be okay with that and keep in mind the different conditions I was operating under and the fact that the race is just one day and doesn't negate the 3+ months of training I did. I guess it's not that unreasonable to feel a bit disappointed when I know I could have done better, but I would really like to be able to be proud of what I do accomplish. It would help me a lot in life, I know.

Next up: My friend Y. is talking about training for a half-marathon, which would be about double the distance we did today. That has been a goal of mine for awhile, but I think I might register for another 10K first and try to improve my time a bit, first. Or maybe even a 5K so I could really focus on speed. I want to keep up my level of fitness, if I can, because in the past when I've trained for the Sun Run I've slacked off after the fact and basically reverted to pre-training ability, so I think the best thing would be to have another race in mind. But I think I'll give myself a few days to recover, first.