Extremes

In the last two weeks, I've gone from this:



to this:



May all of your dreams come true.

Happy New Year!

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Happy holidays

Next race: Miami: January 25, 2013. Stay tuned for interviews and more. I have been meeting some wonderfully inspiring people.



Peace for the new year and beyond.

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Grief and Twine

Joy and woe are woven fine        
A clothing for the soul divine        
Under every grief and pine        
Runs a joy with silken twine.

Do you think William Blake is onto something about running?

At this time of year, many teachers I know claim to die a slow and mainly meaningless death by paper. Paper cutting, editing, grading, revising and shuffling. I don't mind so much because I can't imagine doing anything else, or rather I can't imagine procrastinating the doing of anything else. In fact, I'm not much good at anything else, except for this reading and writing business...and even then. I've got the twine, for sure, and some of the joy and woe. I say now and forever, long live William Blake's "mind-forg'd manacles", but here's to getting out of that rut.

...and "through the world we safely go", with our bus pass, house keys and whatever gets us from point A to B.

Happy running or whatever it is you do when you're not thinking about it.

Gone bird fishing...

As you can see, I've been working on the visuals here. I could elaborate on the symbolic aspects of birds and wires and flying and taking off and going against the grain and all that. Instead, I'll go literal for the moment.

I'm recasting the imagery.

Maybe this will also make me run faster.

It couldn't hurt.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Fail Better

Dear Mr. Ms. Mme.  I-think-we'll- pass-on-your-poem-this-time-around:

I'll go running anyway.

I will write anyway.

Anyway. Right. Where was I?

Oh yes. I was sitting on the bus across from a nun with a deep cut on her index finger, wondering why on earth I rushed to get to somewhere I didn't have to be.

And, planning my next long run at the same time.

Defiantly indefatigable might be another way of spelling s-t-u-p-i-d.

Pronoun diminished.

Staying Motivated

Training in Montreal between November and March is a less than comfortable enterprise, and I am a pretty good example of this, although I'm not exactly a fairweather runner anymore. I may be slow, and I may not have the so called natural runner physique, but I am determined and persistent. I do admit that I'm kind of getting tired of being at the receiving end of the predictable "at-least-you're-here" mantra shield of disappointment. That said, I don't have any real magic potion to stay motivated. In fact, as I write this, I am avoiding my treadmill training for the day.

E-V-E-N-T-U-A-L-L-Y doesn't have to be never.

Is just getting off of one's butt and out the door really enough? After years of running official races, I am trying to actually speed up. Actual. Speed. This is really hard to do without supervision as I'm discovering. And so I have been training on a track at McGill University here in Montreal with about 20 Elite Athletes. Seriously elite. And, serious. And elite. They are very sweet, and awesome in their physicality and commitment. In fact, my worst fear is that I'm just in their way, but they very generously high five me after a session. In French, we exchange a few "bravo" and "bon travail" comments. For a nano-second, I almost feel like I'm one of them. It's a weirdly good feeling, this almost being part of them feeling, that I wish could last longer. In my most paranoid moments, I think these runners must sense that I'm on fragile ground. Or that I'm oblivious.


All of that whining aside, I've just signed up for The Pacific Road Runners First Half in Vancouver to be held February 10, 2013. I am taking a sabbatical from my college for next term and by the time the race is run, I will have spent several weeks on a solidarity project in Nicaragua, and New Years in Belize. I will have also, hopefully without too much pain, run my actual first half marathon of 2013 in Miami. I am trying to take ten minutes off of my time in each of those races. It may seem self-evident that to run faster, one simply needs to (ahem) run faster. Wish it were that simple.Same goes for staying motivated, I guess.

Until then, I pray to the running mojo deities that I remain injury free.  Happy running...and all saints day too.

Falling Up

Mountain colours and speed work.

I make it look as hard as it is.



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The End

This is me this morning at the 8:30 start of the Montreal RocknRoll Marathon. I ran the half.


With about 26,999 other runners, I relaxed a little about being so slow. The anonymity really helps.



Ironically, of course, your name is on display for all to see, alongside the corral. Mine was 12 because I lied about my estimated finish time of 2:15 when I registered. Let me put this way:  I dream of a 2:15 finish, if only for my feet. My poor, bloodied toe feet. I did see some barefooters out there. I don't know how they handle it.



Still. Quite a view. My normally severe vertigo was redirected somehow.

Better than horizontal.

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Location:Montreal

Back to the Future

When last I wrote, I was in the midst of over-compensation. You know: life's knotted up, gnarly bits doing their thing. Making sideways adventures of straight forward plans. This, I've found is usually my undoing as far as training is concerned.




As it turns out, it is my general state of being. There is such a thing as trying too hard.

...Still beats horizontal, though.

For now.




Cheers from the mountain!

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Back to Basics

Hill work.

View.

Intervals.

You know. The four letter part of running.




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Location:Montreal

Running for Life

I haven't NOT posted in this long  since I started blogging several years ago. And yes. That was a double negative. And no. I won't apologize. For better or worse.

I haven't posted mainly because Paul, my husband, life partner, best friend, soul mate, whatever you want to call him, had a heart attack at age 47. Two weeks later, he had triple bypass surgery. One week after this, he's at home, recovering like the maniacal runner he is. Running is saving and has saved his life. We're convinced.
 
Let's put it to you this way.

If you're reading this, you might know that I have a kind of love hate relationship with training. I started this particular blog because I wanted to focus the writing and training on a triathlon I'd signed up for last January. Well, it turned out that the race itself (last June) was a bit of a bust: the bike rental got screwed up and I couldn't do the bike part. I was devastated in the moment, but got over it pretty quickly. I was on holidays. I was in Bali and I was with Paul. Not all bad, of course.

Ten days after I returned from this vacation, Paul wasn't feeling well. In fact, he was feeling so poorly, we cancelled doing the 20k Jazz Tune Up race here in Toronto. This is bad news as we've both run races in less than winning conditions, finishing last in at least one of the races we did together. BUT, being the unqualified nonphysicians we are, we figured that he had some sort of infection, maybe even pleurisy, but only in a worst case scenario. Walking pneumonia...something like that...whatever that is.  A few days later, Paul went to the doctor, who prescribed him some antacids and offhandedly gave him a proper referral to another doctor, saying "You might want to get a stress test or something."

Paul acted on the referral. Jesus.

Turns out that he'd had a heart attack within the previous 7-10 days and didn't know it. He was sent straight from that appointment late one Friday afternoon to the Emergency Room at Toronto Eastern Hospital. He was then moved to St. Michael's Hospital. Within two weeks,  he would have the  bypass procedure, not totally uncommon for someone his age, but pretty surprising to everyone we encountered. First question to him: Do you smoke cigarettes. We saw all kinds of people in the ER and later in the ward and post op who struggle with this addiction. As a former smoker, I understand their predicament. Thankfully, Paul has never smoked. He inherited his heart disease. For the record, the care was excellent and had we been in the U.S. we figure we'd owe about $200,000 for the hospitalization, emergency care, incidentals and oh yeah, the surgery itself. We'd probably have to declare bankruptcy because we don't actually own anything worth even a fraction of this that we could sell to pay a medical bill like that.

Anyway. This is a person who ran his first full marathon on a stress fracture and collapsed about 50 feet from the finish line. Didn't know the pain in his leg was being caused by this. Didn't know that what he thought was sweat was actually the marrow seeping out of his bone subcutaneously. I've heard the story a thousand times, and mercifully, fortunately and miraculously I will get to hear it a thousand more times, mixed in with the "I had a heart attack and didn't know it" story too.

Life is a Beach

I have just had the most amazing carrot ginger drink. I feel like a 1,000,000,000 rupiah, which is not that much truthfully, but still a significant amount by Indonesian standards, of course. Now I will have Gado-Gado, my second favorite Indonesian dish comprised of peanut sauce and some form of vegetable: I have not had two the same.




My first favorite is nasi campur, basically rice and a variety of side dishes, some spicy, not always identifiable.

The congestion of tourists, traffic and gamelan music has been the most consistent soundtrack to the month I have just spent here, in a stupor of various stages of adjustment. I leave in a few hours and in fact the traffic has been almost as oppressive as the various financial fiascos that have accompanied me in the journey. My small world here has been shockingly literal from the traffic to the monkeys to the bouts of illness...which started on the long haul flight between Vancouver and Taipei. I might have already blogged about how the very nice flight attendant brought me a massive plastic shopping bag when I discreetly informed her that I thought I was going to be sick. You should have seen the passengers around me.

This weird trend continued my first night in Bali, which I spent in Ubud. The aesthetically pleasing home stay was a lot less so when I realized my room faced the noise of the very busy Hanoman street.




That noise-filled first night of jet lag and fatigue met with a strong adversary in Paypal which suspended my account because, well I am not really sure why. I have sent PP three emails and have received three form letters in response. I even messaged PP because I thought that the company site had been hacked.


There are bits of beauty everywhere here, even if and despite the irritating constant drone of horn honking and engines. I never tire of this, for example:




I move forward to train some more, replace my lost i.d. and credit cards and even reset some goals. I have a 20k race in Toronto in about a week and a half marathon in Montreal in September. The triathlon was a bit of a bust and that swim saltwatered the life out of me (never again, I say now), but try I did; screw you bike rental.

Location:Kuta Bali Indonesia

Vacation

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Location:Jalan Raya Jungut Batu,Nusapenida,Indonesia

Moving Forward

I didn't walk away.






Not completely, though I had to talk through every possibility with Paul so that I could feel good about whatever I ended up choosing. Stupid bike.

I did not complete a triathlon, but chose the one event that haunted me the most in the six months of training: the 500 m open water swim in Jimbaran Bay.

I will never do it again, so this helped me deal with the incredible disappointment of the bike debacle here. The poor woman at this end who was in charge of the rentals seemed more devastated than I was. The bike was even too big for Paul, and so were two others proposed to us at 5:30 this morning.

So, I swam. And, man, that is totally hard. I stopped twice en route and couldn't see where I was going. I did the back stroke, front crawl, float and dog paddle. I love the dog paddle. It saved my ass today. Another plus was the bathing suit I agonized over and purchased last January. The one piece wrestler suit was not out of place here at all. Swimming is not for weaklings, not that I ever thought that, but wow. All the stuff I learned about breathing and form and all of that evaporated the nanosecond my toes touched water.

I finished second to last of the yellow-capped sprint tri crew in less than 30 minutes, my fastest time ever for that distance! Oh the irony.

The person who finished first in the 1500 m event was done in just under 22 minutes, a result which in itself knocked the breath out of me.

Now, I will enjoy the rest of our Bali and Lombok vacation with Paul. We leave for the Gili Islands and Paul's scuba diving expedition tomorrow.



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Location:Jimbaran

Size Matters

I could write this in the form of a letter, but I would not know how. Really.

It is 3:05 a.m. and the race starts at 7:30 a.m. The transition area opens at 5:00.

Paul, my husband arrived yesterday. I get better and longer holidays than he does, and so I opted to travel here a little before the race event. All was clockwork beautiful. In fact, right now, Paul has melatonined himself into an unconscious, though evidently blissful state. I sit here anxious and sleepless. All was going according to plan. I know, the word itself is an invitation to the universe to muck things up.

...which it did.


The organizers of the bike rental thought they were doing me a favour when they offered to deliver the bike and helmet to my hotel. Wrong. Unfortunately, the delivery people didn't arrive when they said they would and so I wasn't here to receive the stuff. I was at the race site picking up all the things you need for a triathlon, such as bibs and safety pins, entry bracelets, bathing caps and coupons. I would have known immediately that there was trouble had I been here when the cursed equipment arrived. Also, I missed the bike blessing ceremony on Friday which might have given my performance an advantage of some kind.

Simply, the bike is good for someone about a foot taller than I am, someone over six feet in height. Me, I'm not a tall person and I am very particular about bikes, particular in that I actually need to be able to touch the ground with my feet. You know that feeling you had as a kid when your mom or dad or older sibling sat you on their huge, giant grown up bike? Maybe you've done this with your own child. That is what this bike is like when I try to use it. I actually need to be physically supported. Plus, it doesn't have proper pedals or traps or anything that a regular running shoe might rest on to set the thing in motion. Aesthetically, it works, but then everything in Bali is pleasing in this way. More or less. Man, I have a headache.

So, there are a few options:

Swim, and not do the cycle part and then run.
See if Paul can do the bike portion.
Switch bikes because lowering the seat is a joke in this.
Walk away from the whole thing.

Votes?

Expletive to the 100th exponent.


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Location:Jalan Sanggar Agung,Kuta,Indonesia

Personify This

Dear Credit, Debit and Health Cards,

Look, I am really sorry that I didn't take care of you well enough not to lose you. If it's any consolation, I am really suffering the consequences. There are a few when this happens many thousands of miles from home. Also, believe me when I say that I am really mad at myself now. I feel guilty and drunk with the self loathing that you know I have felt before and that I will probably have again. I really didn't mean to let you out of my sight. And, now, I am paying for it. Please don't enjoy that too much.

We had such good times together, especially you, Health Card. You were practically brand new. Why just last month I had to present you to the nice man at the Hotel Dieu hospital in Montreal for blood tests. Who could forget the crazy antics when we had to return the following week for the poop test? I know. I won't remind you. It is nice knowing that we have some secrets, though. We will have more, I am sure, though hopefully not soon.

And you, Credit card. It is just as well that we part ways, though that latest pay pal stunt is still making both of us a little sick, isn't it? Rememer the time that you got hacked on Skype? Good times. Do not worry about a thing. When I get home, pay pal and everyone else will hear about our breakup. I promise that your short life will not have been in vain. I could never fit my signature properly on your back anyway, so it's all for the best. Yes. I will let all of your friends know that our relationship status has changed. Yes, even iTunes.

I feel actual remorse for you Interac bank card. We have been through a lot, too much. I gave up bank books for you way back when, and you have been nothing but helpful. I have been a terrible girlfriend too, haven't I? I thought you wanted to be used. Please forgive me. I even rearranged my bill payments for you. Oh well. We will have good times again. Remember all those machines? That can't be good for you. Take a break.

No. You are not easy to replace, but I have to do it.

It's me not you.

Yes. I will always remember you, of course.

... A little less to carry for tomorrow's event, I know. I know. Jayzus.




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Location:Jimbaran, Bali

Blessed

As I write, it is 4:45 a.m. June 21st, 2012 which, I guess, makes this the longest day of the year and the first day of summer. These two facts are the bread to my sandwich of fear and self-doubt. I woke up worrying about the bike rental for the sprint-tri event: will it be a jalopy? Will it be too big? Will I need to fix the seat? How am I going to do that? Up to now, I have focused my anxiety on the swimming part of the event. It hadn't occurred to me that the biking part might also be my undoing. Plus, the traffic runs on opposite sides of the street here which results in a few tourist casualties, I'm sure.
And the swimming. Lord, the swimming.
When I began this blog six months ago, I think I confessed that I had finished last in a few events. I think I also confessed that I have always had a kind of hope for athletic success that would result from all of this hard work and training, that at worst, I would have my "Breaking Away" moment. I am back to thinking that I will come in last or not finish, or not even start. I have to do a lot of self talk to return to the origins of wanting to do the event in the first place. I will complete the event. Repeat. Ego out of flow. It is not the result that matters in an event which hasn't happened yet, right?




I am a reasonably fit person, mainly from running this eclectic array of races, as you can see. At a boot camp class last year, I was asked by a young woman, maybe 25 years my junior, "Ma'am, are you okay?" The word "ma'am" in itself is an affront. The idea that I would have come across in the class as not okay was more offensive to me. I guess from appearance (read: greying hair) I might be what some people think is polite to call ma'am. It is true that I was a little out of breath and trailed the group during our running segments. In combination with the ma'am, though, this concern really rubbed me the wrong way. This is a nice way of putting it. Ego again?
Yesterday, here in Lovina, Bali, a young girl named Ari was trying to sell me some bracelets on the beach. She is 12 and will probably never leave this place, but she asked me my name and how old I was as if we were peers, a seasoned beach vendor, Ari is at 12. She didn't expect that my answer would be 100. I did not, however, feel patronized in her sweet inquisition. I am so blessed and fortunate to be here in the first place and Ari reminded me of this.




This project has gone from the challenge of signing up and finding swimwear to an all out assault on my confidence at times. I am still in the middle of it, and I suppose just finishing the event is reward enough. This comes from a person who no longer buys lottery tickets because I am genuinely disappointed when I don't win.

Maybe I am not the non competitive person I thought I was.

Happy summer.

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Location:Lovina, Bali

Lovina Flow

I had one of the most incredible runs of my life today. This must be what runners call the "high" and I can see why it would be addictive. Chemically, this five minutes of joy must have been the result of a perfect storm of endorphins, serotonin, hormones and actually running downhill. The soundtrack was the Inception theme in a deep house trance d.j. mix in the middle of some weird podcast of dance music I downloaded.

I am having one severe bad hair day after another here, but man that run was awesomely epic.

I cried. There was no effort. It was flow and now I know.

Holy shit. Unfortunately, I will be missing the bike blessing ceremony this Friday in Jimbaran. Paul arrives on Saturday and Sunday is the big day.

According to Mr. Angsoka, the owner of my hotel here in Lovina, Kalibukbuk village, today the Balinese are celebrating iron. I might have missed something in the conversation, but there did seem to be an increased number of offerings while I was out and about.


That run, though. Wow.

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Location:Kalibukbuk Village, Bali

Monkey Run

Jet lag kills brain cells, that or mine were already pretty damaged to think that I'd actually do a triathlon scott free. The lack of Scott freedom part has to do with not swimming at all for the few weeks leading up to the race in Jimbaran. As you know, I have a lot of fear about getting physically assaulted and drowning, though uncharacteristically, I am not too worried about finishing that part of the event. But still.

I am in Ubud, Bali for another few hours and in today's morning run, this is what I saw:




I love Monkey Forest Road and didn't expect it to be so literal. At 6:00 a.m. before the tour buses arrive, many dozens of monkeys crisscross the street. I must do research on Monkeys.

Today, Though, I head north to Lovina, in part because at heart I am a beach bum and initially was very attracted to this place because of its name. There have probably been dumber reasons for visiting a place, right?

When I travel, it does take a few days for me to balance the rhythm of cultural differences. I tend to talk too much and laugh too easily when I am nervous, and as I find my place here, I have been doing quite a bit of both so far. Oh well. Still feeling astonished and blessed and (miraculously) injury free, though I did fall down on that Monkey Forest street and have had numerous close calls with the "sidewalks" here. In fact, I witnessed a terrible motorcycle collision yesterday, its sound jarring and disturbing. Two young women walked away perfectly fine.

All the best. Six days to go.

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Location:Ubud

Budding in Ubud

It took 36 hours to get here from Toronto. Each leg of the journey was a kind of blessing and now the technology of capturing the moment is causing trouble.




I'm all ears and eyes and awkward sidewalk adjusting limbs here. It's the middle of the night. I am going out for a run this morning even if it kills me. One of the flights, the 13 hour one between Vancouver and Taipei almost did as I was super ill. Very bad. When I informed the lovely flight attendant that I thought I was going to "be sick", she returned in minutes with a fairly large China Airlines plastic shopping bag. Not as discrete as I'd hoped.
I won't go into details.
It's, of course, comical now because it all got much worse before it got better, which it did... in time.
Someone I know from Montreal and haven't seen in years was on the same two flights to Bali. He's on his honeymoon. His wife works as an meteorology analyst for the aviation industry and this seemed like a good luck charm for onward travel.
In the Taipei airport:




See you later.
Ubud is absolutely stunning. My first gado gado was awesome too.
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Location:Jalan Hanoman,Ubud,Indonesia

Getting There

It's the middle of the night. I am in the Vancouver airport after narrowly averting disaster. My flight from Toronto to Vancouver was delayed because a couple and their "two" year old were ejected from the flight. I feel lucky to have managed to run across this huge airport to check in for the 13 hour flight to Teipei. At some point tomorrow (a concept that involves three tomorrows) I will get to Ubud, Bali, the first town on the itinerary.
The run to the gate here in Vancouver is likely to be the only training I'll have for a few days.
Love the taper...




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Running in Traffic

Before I got to this:


I had to cross this:



A little bit of vertigo enhanced the experience.

I leave for Bali next week and the training continues in its way. Since arriving in Toronto, the swimming has vanished.

Here's hoping that thinking is at least as good as doing.



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Countdown

I have been having worried feelings about the training. On the one hand, it's same old same old, putting one foot, or arm (as the case may be) in front of the other. On the other hand, the tri begins with hundreds of people kicking me in the head as their competitive selves hurl forward.

That's a lot of body parts.

I still haven't decided on an outfit, though I did get a race belt and apparently the bike and helmet I've rented will be delivered to the Jimbaran accommodation.

Truth is, I don't see myself doing this kind of race again.

Unless...



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My luck

... has been incredible, though doesn't replace training. I don't own a bicycle.

Confessions:

1. Today is my 4th anniversary of quitting cigarettes.

2. I have only quit the one time.

3. I smoked for 30 years.
 

Around the corner...

Change, temptation, hope: find them in the ordinary and the extraordinary taste of salt enhanced 70% bitter chocolate.

The training continues, though the reality of potentially drowning in open water surfaces and resurfaces. I don't like my local pool and have been travelling across town to another site that shall remain nameless so as to prevent traffic jams of folks heading out there to swim in near perfect indoor conditions: competition size, practically private lane swimming. Haven't I become the swimming diva...an irony of olympic proportions given my utter lack of skill and endurance. Still, though, how is it that the newbie is the only one observing proper pool etiquette?

Also, for the record, I'm paying an outrageous amount of $$ to rent a bicycle and helmet for the bike segment of the triathlon. No doubt, this is equivalent to a local Indonesian's monthly salary and I hate getting hosed like that. I'm happy to contribute to the local economy, but not in this particularly odious, foreign-run way. I'm sure the locals aren't seeing the $70 U.S. it has cost me to have a bicycle and helmet for two hours. Anyway. I continue to train past this and understand my absolute privilege in being able to participate in the first place.

In the meantime, thankfully I've remained injury-free. I've moved apartments, finished a second job and submitted the final grades for my day job...almost.

Departure for Indonesia: three weeks. Ready or not.

Cheers.

Soundtrack Pace

This was the last song of today's run, and perhaps I should show more restraint in sharing it.

My taste in running music usually runs a little less mainstream (arguably) and a little more house, i.e. faster, louder & less lyrical. What do you listen to?

The overall training continues, but I can't seem to do split shifts on this. By the end of the day, I'm too tired and unmotivated. I work at 8:00 most days and just can't get up at 4:30 to run before teaching. I make it out most days doing some combo of running, cycling and/or swimming, and this will have to do for now. And since I'm never in contention to win and/or become professional, it's all good. The miracle, thus far,  really comes down to how my body from the waist down really hasn't had to deal with any major injuries or strains recently, considering that I'm not endowed with what anyone would call a runner's physique. I wish.

A friend recently suggested that the internal script of not calling myself a runner might have to do with my consistent lacklustre results. Maybe I'll have to commit to something. She's a pretty smart person too.

This week, though, Paul and I had great fun registering for the ING Miami Half Marathon coming up in January 2013.

Lots to do between now and then.

Happy training.

New Perspectives

Chasing Rainbows...

There is nothing quite like a sports cliché.

*putting the miles in
*getting your face wet
*taking it to the limit
*hitting the wall

Whatever.

As in training, I seem to get all of these things mixed up. Last week, for instance, my husband and I travelled for a three day weekend to Los Angeles for the Hollywood Half Marathon. I trained religiously as I always do, or as I always think I do. Something happened there, though, that forced me to examine how I do what I do. This added self-consciousness is signature for me, and practically ruined grad school and most of whatever it is that I've attempted to write over the years.

However, training requires this, I'm learning. What you think you do, versus what you actually do  seems to create a mysterious gap that manifests itself in the middle of a competition. You hit the wall. You get injured. You experience pain in new places. You don't have a very nice time, in other words.

I trained and trained for that race. And basically died there. I'm not really a sports person, but it does also seem to me that there needs to be a post game/post competition analysis and so in (after)thought,  I had a kind of Joycean epiphany, hopeless as it is, that I'd never be able to improve. It wasn't so much a conscious aha moment, but rather an overwhelming sinking feeling: you are running up the wrong hill with this training regime. I called a professional. I mean I got in touch with an old highschool friend who is basically a world-class athlete. I don't give up that easily.

A Sign on the "Walk" during the "Run"

I haven't had such a brutal finish or recovery in years. My legs ached and ached, during the race itself. And, with a two-mile uphill finish up Cahuenga hill, you'll forgive me for saying that the darn thing turned into a walkathon and that I actually felt anger. As I flew down that same hill two hours earlier, I knew exactly what was coming. Yet in a classic Breaking Away "I-am-as-good-as-the-best-without-knowing-it-talent," I really wanted to be the one to charge up and over in a moment of absolutely stunning personal victory. This did not happen. There was nothing left in me and my shame grew as finisher after finisher approached from the other direction, casually running (still!) down this same hill with their star medal in full shining glory. I had (at least) another 30 excruciating, humiliating and painful (double blistered baby toe) minutes to go. I could barely walk. I had trained for months and months. I have a blog! What the hell?

Anyway. I am persistent, though that might be the wrong word. It occurs to me that I could have a contest for a better one word description of this type of behavior.  I will dig myself out of this apparent training and perceptual rut, starting today. No bricking for the moment and I will try to train twice a day for shorter duration. I have another half (the Scotiabank Montreal) in two weeks and I will report my progress. It might be that I'm training for two very different types of events (half and sprint tri), but I'm not sure. Muscle confusion or just straight up confusion.  Remember: I am not a runner. This is what I tell myself all of the time.

* Also, got a really nice running belt, which is awesome. No more safety pins. Definitely a new beginning there.

Bricked

This little story requires a bit of a soundtrack.

A funny thing happened on the way to the pool today, especially if by "on the way" I mean two months of worrying about swimwear and appearance and getting kicked in the head and drowning. None of this has happened, of course, except maybe the worrying. The open water start for the Bali Sprint Marathon is another thing, but that's at the end of June and I have lots of anxiety time between now and then.

I wore my new freaky past-the-knee swimskin thing to the pool today for the first time. But, before I did this, I tried it on for a friend over my clothes last night. Within two minutes of prancing around in this very tight suit over my jeans and dress (you had to be there), the door bell rang...as if on cue.  I wasn't exactly ready for my "close-up" so to speak.

The person at the door was very gracious.

Me, I peeled the suit off along with a little (just a tiny bit) of my dignity. I figured if I can live through this humiliation, why not wear the darn thing at the pool. So, I did. So there. I lived to tell the tale and no one even noticed.

So much for self-absorption.

Let the bricking continue: before the 20 minute swim today, I ran for 50 minutes. I wore the skin-tight-swimming-thing under my running stuff -- felt like a girdle, though not terrible. I can live with that.

And this sign would be a relief to anyone, don't you think?

Happy training or whatever.

The Ides of March

Pre-spring training

This is what I ran past in Toronto today.

Let it spring.

I went swimming earlier this week at the Archie Dillon Sportsplex in Timmins, ON, my hometown.  I haven't lived there in decades, but during this visit to Timmins,  I reconnected with an old friend whose story and athletic abilities truly inspire. Thank you very much, Laurie.

Of course, I have a lot to learn in the next few months, and oh gawd my sore neck. Hours and hours and weeks and months are ahead of me in the pool and on the road, all in service of not getting my head kicked. I'm nervous about that open water start of the Bali Sprint Tri...though we'll be heading to Los Angeles for the Hollywood Half Marathon April 7. Let the taper (almost) begin. And begin again.

 But, swans? What a bonus.

When in doubt...

Register for a race:

Montreal Half Marathon

This race is coming up April 29 and it's good for a few reasons:

a) it doesn't start at 6:00 a.m.
b) it's local!
c) it's a great procrastination device.

Also, I miss Gil Scott Heron:

All the best.

Commitment

...a morning run full of surprises like this one:

Winter on Mount Royal: Montreal February 28, 2012

The Proof is in the Footing

...or footwear.

The truth is I haven’t been having the best time in the life outside of training for the Bali Sprint Triathlon or Hollywood Half or any other imminent race that I haven't signed up for yet. Then again, is there really life outside of these events? I’m not even sure what that means. What I do know is that I’ve never called myself a runner and I still don’t.  So,  I am in a perpetually ironic state, though this is nothing new. 

Robyn, thank you for getting me up and down some pretty treacherous times. And hills.

For now, I focus on the gear and the right gear will see me through. I’ve got my sights set on a race belt.  Also, I think I bricked. That’s the term, I’ve heard, for training two events back to back. I’m doing this in full force, though indoors in this chilly Celsius Canadian winter.  Cycling and treadmilling  one after the other at least four times a week. Swimming will start this week. I just can’t bear to be in the water in winter. It’s deeply psychological. Montreal: where folks really know how to form a queue for a bus.  Incredible.

And happy shroves, too.

Also, I joined a little Facebook running group called #IWouldRun500Miles -- I'm "Mary Shelley" and please don't ask. I don't care about identifying myself fully on this blog, but can't do this on Facebook for some reason. Anyway, the group is growing and is currently at 95 members.  I'm running the back of the pack there too. So what. Why don't you join us?

Bermuda Dreaming

Bermuda Challenge Bling 2012

I haven't given up on the blog yet. The training continues, though the winter has really settled its sorry self into the daily grind here in Montreal. I've been doing gym rat activities such as cycling, though STILL haven't gone swimming. There is some serious denial going on there, but it will happen. It will.

A few weeks ago, Paul and I visited Bermuda and signed up for this crazy three race event. We'd originally become interested after meeting Jamal Hart at the Race Expo for the Scotiabank Marathon in Toronto. At the time, we didn't know he actually worked for Bermuda's Department of Tourism. He was wonderfully inspiring at the expo and so we looked for him once we'd arrived in Bermuda. If you've been to Bermuda, you know that this is entirely possible. It's the only place I've been in the world where the public transportation is a national service.

A bus stop that we loved.

I began my conversation with Jamal by asking how he came to be the Sports Marketing Coordinator for the Bermuda.

I am a former middle distance runner who has represented Bermuda in track & field, X-country and road races overseas.
My PB in the half marathon is 1:13 and 33 minutes for the 10K

My love of Sports and Tourism has always been a part of me, so the position of Sports Marketing Coordinator was a natural fit for which I look to build upon.

What was your favorite moment of the weekend?

 

The Daily Paper's Weekend Supplement

For me the whole weekend experience was fabulous, as I got to meet so many runners from around the world. Most special was seeing persons whom I had spoken personally to at overseas expos such as the Scotia Bank Marathon and the Goodlife Fitness Toronto Marathon, about coming to Bermuda for our race.

Any advice to athletes?

Always follow your dreams and remember that if you think it you can achieve it.

       

How has the response to the Bermuda Triangle Challenge been? What's the feedback?

The Bermuda Triangle Challenge continues to grow each year and we had a record number of 400 participants this year.

Everyone that I spoke to truly enjoyed the challenge and most said that it kept them “honest” and will come back and do it again.

I am looking forward to helping to grow the event and to introduce people to my beautiful Island of Bermuda. 


*I'm looking forward to being in the sunshine again, running the Hollywood Half on Easter Weekend, but (many) miles to go before ...

One of Bermuda's Gorgeous Beaches

Until next time.

Running Stories

 It is easier to read about running than it is to actually run, isn't it? It is certainly much easier to run if you are avoiding swimming.

Getting to the point of any kind of committed training involves a series of decisions. Lately, I've been saying to Paul that his training mainly consists of the races themselves as there is not too much going on for him in the way of hitting the pavement in between these organized events.  And, of all people, he should know better as he BROKE HIS LEG and collapsed 50 feet from the finish line of his first marathon about ten years ago.

When Paul talks about running, I know what he's saying. It's symbolic and literal with all that subcutaneous liquid seeping into or out of the bone marrow just before he fell. Guts or ego (or something else) prevented him from pulling out of the race sooner.

When Haruki Murakami talks about running, he's articulating drive, force and commitment. The ebb and flow. Something of that is in Paul's continued running. After two operations and "the boot", cane and limp and full recovery (more or less), he runs with a massive hockey stick shaped scar that goes from his knee to his ankle and enough screws to set off a metal detector. Paul also told me that he was so close to the finish line when he did collapse that he heard the announcer over the loudspeaker state that "There appears to be a woman down on the course." The emergency workers placed Paul's chipped shoe on the finish line so that he could complete the race and get a time.

In our three event, Bermuda Triangle Challenge, Paul placed 264th and I 265th out of 331 participants. Our total time for the one mile, 10K and Half-Marathon was under 4 hours. Just. But still -- we were very happy with the results, and I will be donating $50 to a charity -- send in suggestions.

Stay tuned for a mini interview with one of the organizers of Bermuda Race Weekend. 

Some cross-training in the works and I still haven't gone swimming yet.

Out the Window

This is the view above the clouds and rain on our flight from Toronto to Bermuda.  Thirty minutes or so after this was taken, the plane went through a bit of turbulence and there was lightning, rain and stereotype. You know...something like that famous Twilight Zone episode and the Bermuda Triangle and all that. Really. Even our taxi driver mentioned it.  Plus, it was the eve of Friday the 13th.

 Louise Mallard in The Story of an Hour looked out her bedroom window and saw rich new possibilities. Me,  I want to throw it all out that window: all the negativity, worry and anxiety.  In yesterday's local paper, The Royal Gazette, there was a 12 page supplement on Bermuda Race Weekend and all of the participants were named.

Tonight, we will run a one mile invitational, tomorrow a 10k and then, if we are lucky, a half marathon on Sunday. I've tweeted it before, and I'll tweet it again: if I don't finish last, I will donate $50 to a charity; if I am last, I'll donate $100 (probably World Wildlife Foundation, though I will take suggestions).  No one loses.

Signs and Symbols

The bathing suit has arrived. It was left on the porch unceremoniously and was in a much smaller package than I imagined.

Its arrival reminded me of a worry I had many years ago when I was preparing to live in Japan as an English teacher. I had heard that it was a cash society and I knew that the first few days there would be busy with meeting colleagues and getting settled and all of those kinds of things, not to mention the jetlag and nervousness and all of that. So, I wanted to be sure that at least I had some of that cash on hand, especially if the society was based on it, as I had been told. I went to the bank a few days before departing Montreal and ordered something like 150,000 Yen which seemed like an enormous amount to me. I couldn't really imagine how much that money was worth, even though at the time I had paid about $1,000 Canadian for it. The bigger issue was how I was going to carry that around with me AND what kind of wallet I was going to use with such a huge wad of dough. As I recall, I was very preoccupied with the details surrounding the money: how much money,  researching the money, getting the money, carrying the money, the value of the money, what I could get with that money,  even just having the money period. I understand now that the money (even the word itself) and its being researched, coddled and carried were distractions from what was really going on. At this time, too, I was in the early stages of becoming a fairweather runner, but was not terribly concerned with gear and the like.

I was leaving Montreal and all of my friends whom I adore and I'd ended a four year long (very problematic) distance relationship, though remained deluded (for many months to come) that we'd get back together (somehow) in Japan. A lot of that relationship was bracketed, now that I think of it. I'd also spent a year or was it two (?) trying to write a thesis on a postcolonial autobiography by Sara Suleri called Meatless Days. I never completed the thesis, but did learn all about rice. This whole Japan thing was a both an adventure and failure. Anyway, I was a bit of a wreck and the Japanese cash and its carrying were welcome respite. I was very excited and even felt a little bit important when I was called at home by someone at the bank to tell me that I could pick up the cash. I nearly collapsed in embarrassment when the teller handed me the slimmest envelope of currency I'd ever seen. My paper phone bill used to be thicker. 

I will have to develop a little courage to wear this suit in the pool because the truth is I look like a bit of a circus clown in it. I'm not a tall person and so the bottom half goes past my knees. Also,  it's fortuitous that I am flexible because I had to do some pretty kooky moves to get my self into the thing. They don't call it a skin for nothing. I think I am beginning to understand what is behind the bathing suit anxiety and it's not just my large ass. Let the training begin. Finally. For Real. Yes.

Spin Cycle class today. Paul and I leave for Bermuda on Thursday and technically we are on our "taper" for the half marathon we are supposed to run on Sunday, preceded by a 10 K and a one mile invitational. I will let you know what happens.