It was just about a year ago that I was lamenting over what a terrible running year 2007 was for me, that was until I received a gift that seemed to put the whole year in perspective. I ended 2007 by writing,
I can now look forward to 2008 and all that it holds for me and I look at 2007 a little differently than before. Go out and make 2008 your masterpiece.
Well, check and mate on that one. This year has been a dream for me, from a running perspective. Lots of memorable runs, a couple of half marathons and some great conversations over breakfast with my favourite running buddies helped to make 2008 so memorable.
But even with all the foot-strikes, all the hill climbs, and all the miles, my most memorable moment of 2008 had nothing to do with me. One of the greatest moments of my life took place on a chilly day in May watching my fellow Club members come home from a 13.1 mile journey through the streets of Halifax, an incredible feat for sure. The smiles were wide, the tears were flowing, the emotion was unbridled. It was a day, an experience, a life-changing moment never to be forgotten.
And as we close out 2008, I know many of my heroes from that Halifax finish line have signed-up for their first full marathon in 2009, an experience that won't just change their lives, but rather define them.
We all have so much to look forward to. Raise your bar. Leave your comfort zone. Demand more.
Happy New Year and thanks for the memories!
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Cool Sundays
There's something cool about being in a running club made up of your co-workers and a few of their relatives.
It's cool for two reasons. One being that employees of our workplace have made a commitment to fitness and healthier living, but even more noteworthy is the fact that when we get together on Sunday mornings, we run, encourage, cheer-on, applaud, high-five and hug each other, before sitting down for a little face-to-face over coffee, a moment that never involves discussing our workplace -- we leave all that out, and appropriately so.
Once a week, we take the biggest thing we have in common, our employer, and shove it aside to discuss running memories from the past, goals for the future, Christmas gifts and most recently the correct usage of the terms "ballistic" and "incongruent".
Our Club lets us connect with each other on a level we wouldn't quite get to without the heavy breathing and the odd instance of shin splints. And as much as I love to run, the real highlight of my Sunday is sitting down with these souls and hearing what they have to say. Oh, and the breakfast is usually pretty good too.
It has been another incredible year for our Club. We set many goals and methodically smashed every one of them only to set even loftier ones. So let me say thanks to my running buddies for sticking with it and making Sundays the best day of my week. I live for Sundays and I know some of them do to.
Run for your life.
It's cool for two reasons. One being that employees of our workplace have made a commitment to fitness and healthier living, but even more noteworthy is the fact that when we get together on Sunday mornings, we run, encourage, cheer-on, applaud, high-five and hug each other, before sitting down for a little face-to-face over coffee, a moment that never involves discussing our workplace -- we leave all that out, and appropriately so.
Once a week, we take the biggest thing we have in common, our employer, and shove it aside to discuss running memories from the past, goals for the future, Christmas gifts and most recently the correct usage of the terms "ballistic" and "incongruent".
Our Club lets us connect with each other on a level we wouldn't quite get to without the heavy breathing and the odd instance of shin splints. And as much as I love to run, the real highlight of my Sunday is sitting down with these souls and hearing what they have to say. Oh, and the breakfast is usually pretty good too.
It has been another incredible year for our Club. We set many goals and methodically smashed every one of them only to set even loftier ones. So let me say thanks to my running buddies for sticking with it and making Sundays the best day of my week. I live for Sundays and I know some of them do to.
Run for your life.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
The monster within
John Bingham wrote,
“For many of us, running releases a primal element of ourselves that we didn’t know existed. It seems like once we let that monster out, it wants to take over.”
I couldn’t agree more, and that got me thinking, just what exactly does it mean to be a runner?
When answering this question, some would immediately analyze pace, distance, miles, years, even "seriousness." Not me.
To me a runner is someone, who at some point decided he wanted better, he wanted more. Whether that was a weight-loss goal, a “get healthier” goal, or a just “get-out-of-the-house” goal, he wanted to change his life. Runners are marked by a conquering attitude and a core belief that we can always get better, do more, raise our bars so to speak, and that raising our bars is a worthwhile quest, not just on the streets, but on the road of life as well.
Most runners start out the same way, with the same goal, something like completing a 5-K road race. Once that’s done, the races become more frequent, the distances become greater. And at some point along the way, it becomes clear that there is very little in life that we cannot accomplish, there is no finish line we cannot reach. And the more we run, the more this lesson is taught to us. We see little inclines in the road ahead and remember a time when that was the steepest of hills. Suddenly the most challenging moments in our lives become quite manageable, they become quite “climb-able”.
Being a runner spills over onto those around us. As runners, we become an inspiration the very first day we lace-up our sneakers and head outside. And we all have an “Aunt Betty” who doesn’t quite get it, but she’s proud of us, she’s inspired by us, and when we’re not around, she tells someone, anyone who will listen, about our latest running accomplishment, our latest finish line.
Being a runner means facing it head-on, never backing away. We want more for ourselves, we want to go farther, we want to see just how far we can go. We never quit. Like all of our life experiences, some of our runs leave us wanting more, some humble us, but these leave us wanting more as well. There’s a lesson in each foot-strike. Runners are in-tune -- they learn those lessons, prepare, and overcome. They endure and push through. Running is like life; we prepare for the road ahead, but we turn around sometimes and see how far we’ve come.
Celebrate! We’re runners. We’ve awoken the monster within and let him out.
Run for your life.
“For many of us, running releases a primal element of ourselves that we didn’t know existed. It seems like once we let that monster out, it wants to take over.”
I couldn’t agree more, and that got me thinking, just what exactly does it mean to be a runner?
When answering this question, some would immediately analyze pace, distance, miles, years, even "seriousness." Not me.
To me a runner is someone, who at some point decided he wanted better, he wanted more. Whether that was a weight-loss goal, a “get healthier” goal, or a just “get-out-of-the-house” goal, he wanted to change his life. Runners are marked by a conquering attitude and a core belief that we can always get better, do more, raise our bars so to speak, and that raising our bars is a worthwhile quest, not just on the streets, but on the road of life as well.
Most runners start out the same way, with the same goal, something like completing a 5-K road race. Once that’s done, the races become more frequent, the distances become greater. And at some point along the way, it becomes clear that there is very little in life that we cannot accomplish, there is no finish line we cannot reach. And the more we run, the more this lesson is taught to us. We see little inclines in the road ahead and remember a time when that was the steepest of hills. Suddenly the most challenging moments in our lives become quite manageable, they become quite “climb-able”.
Being a runner spills over onto those around us. As runners, we become an inspiration the very first day we lace-up our sneakers and head outside. And we all have an “Aunt Betty” who doesn’t quite get it, but she’s proud of us, she’s inspired by us, and when we’re not around, she tells someone, anyone who will listen, about our latest running accomplishment, our latest finish line.
Being a runner means facing it head-on, never backing away. We want more for ourselves, we want to go farther, we want to see just how far we can go. We never quit. Like all of our life experiences, some of our runs leave us wanting more, some humble us, but these leave us wanting more as well. There’s a lesson in each foot-strike. Runners are in-tune -- they learn those lessons, prepare, and overcome. They endure and push through. Running is like life; we prepare for the road ahead, but we turn around sometimes and see how far we’ve come.
Celebrate! We’re runners. We’ve awoken the monster within and let him out.
Run for your life.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Born to run
This week, about a dozen cheerful souls took their first few strides (in the rain I might add) along the road to long and rewarding running careers. As is often the case when I talk to new runners, I get asked for some advice or “pearls of wisdom” that might make the experience that much more enjoyable. I went way back, almost two years to the day, in my blog archives, and dug this one up.
I received an email from my oldest sister today announcing that she too has taken up running. She wrote that her reason for doing so is because she was getting tired of being left out of family gatherings that more and more have been revolving around running events.
I think it's terrific that my oldest sister has made this decision and it confirms my belief that running is about so much more than sweating, hard breathing, and pounding the pavement - leave that for the athletes. In our case, it has become a real connection point for our family. Separated by miles, schedules and other commitments, running has become a common thread, keeping us together, and a force gravitating us closer to each other.
My sister asked if there was any advice we could offer her as a newbie to running. I've given it some thought, and here are my best ideas for runners just starting out, in case she happens to read this:
Read John Bingham's "The Courage to Start" and then read "No Need for Speed", also by Bingham;
Start easy - a walk/run approach is best to get your body ready for the new stresses it is about to experience;
Go to a good running store and get fitted for a pair of quality shoes. It's worth spending the money here - you need a comfortable ride;
Before getting started, accept that there will be bad days - forget about them;
Before getting started, accept that there will be outstanding days - remember them always; and,
Enjoy. Take in the sights, celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small they might seem. New runners see great gains in fitness and endurance in a relatively short period of time - keep track of your workouts in a log or online so you can easily look back on how far you have come.
Most importantly, put one foot in front of the other and enjoy every foot-strike.
Run for your life.
I received an email from my oldest sister today announcing that she too has taken up running. She wrote that her reason for doing so is because she was getting tired of being left out of family gatherings that more and more have been revolving around running events.
I think it's terrific that my oldest sister has made this decision and it confirms my belief that running is about so much more than sweating, hard breathing, and pounding the pavement - leave that for the athletes. In our case, it has become a real connection point for our family. Separated by miles, schedules and other commitments, running has become a common thread, keeping us together, and a force gravitating us closer to each other.
My sister asked if there was any advice we could offer her as a newbie to running. I've given it some thought, and here are my best ideas for runners just starting out, in case she happens to read this:
Read John Bingham's "The Courage to Start" and then read "No Need for Speed", also by Bingham;
Start easy - a walk/run approach is best to get your body ready for the new stresses it is about to experience;
Go to a good running store and get fitted for a pair of quality shoes. It's worth spending the money here - you need a comfortable ride;
Before getting started, accept that there will be bad days - forget about them;
Before getting started, accept that there will be outstanding days - remember them always; and,
Enjoy. Take in the sights, celebrate your accomplishments, no matter how small they might seem. New runners see great gains in fitness and endurance in a relatively short period of time - keep track of your workouts in a log or online so you can easily look back on how far you have come.
Most importantly, put one foot in front of the other and enjoy every foot-strike.
Run for your life.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Travel Day
I don't think there is anything I enjoy more than participating in an organized road race, whether in my hometown or somewhere not-so-close to home.
One thing I am not so fond of (read hate) is the physical act of traveling. I'm not so fond of airports, crowds, four dollar coffees, eight dollar sandwiches and airplanes, well actually, I think airplanes are cool and I love the actual flying part, but I'm not so fond of limited leg room, uncomfortable seats and having no control over any aspect of my life for the duration of the flight. And I'm not a germ-a-phobe, but why is it I always end up with a head cold or something a little worse a few days after a flight? Like right now, I'm feeling a tickle in my throat. C'mon immune system, kick in already.
And because our flight takes us over water, they decide to give us a special demonstration on the proper use of the life vest, yeah, 'cause that thing's gonna' save my bacon when we drop out of the sky from 30,000 feet. On the one hand, they think we're too stunned to know how to buckle our own seat belts, on the other hand, during your last few minutes of life, they expect we should be able to figure out how to operate our oxygen masks, inflate our life vests and follow the in floor lighting to the nearest exit, before gently swooshing down the giant yellow slide into the cooling waters of the Atlantic Ocean. And I just got a look at the guy sitting next to the emergency exit -- we could be in trouble, he looks a little more stunned than the rest of us; they may have to go over all this a second time for this guy.
And when you live where I live, unless you're flying to Halifax, a trip anywhere else is always more like a transatlantic journey taking the better part of the day to reach your final destination. Here I am, on the second leg of my flight to Hamilton. Upon arrival in Steeltown, I pick up a rental car and head a little further west, well, actually more southwest, for an hour or so, arriving in Niagara Falls at approximately 9:00 PM Newfoundland time; I will have left my house in St. John's a little over nine hours ago...puleeeze!
One thing I've done today is really notice people. It seems we all have somewhere to go, somewhere important to be. People shuffle in and out of airport corridors, cell phones attached to their ears rushing for the gate or the baggage carousel or just the washroom. And while a few faces look familiar to me, most of these people I have never laid eyes on before, and most of them have still never laid eyes on me. Makes you realize how big the world must be; how insignificant our little place on this planet really is, to them at least.
And kind of keeping with the "rushing around" theme, I noticed too that there are an awful lot of people requiring pre-board assistance these days. Now I don't know what their issues may be, but a requirement for this privilege should be at least a noticeable limp or two or three screaming young ones hanging off you. And while contemplating this, a vision popped into my head -- it's September of next year and our Running Club is returning home from completing its first marathon. There we are in the airport and out goes the pre-boarding call. Next thing, twenty or so souls outfitted in red and black jackets let out a collective wince as they attempt to prop themselves up on their feet before limping a slow, penguin-like stride to the gate. Kind of makes me smile.
Take advantage of the privilege, gang. You will have earned it. Just don't forget your life vests.
Run for you life.
One thing I am not so fond of (read hate) is the physical act of traveling. I'm not so fond of airports, crowds, four dollar coffees, eight dollar sandwiches and airplanes, well actually, I think airplanes are cool and I love the actual flying part, but I'm not so fond of limited leg room, uncomfortable seats and having no control over any aspect of my life for the duration of the flight. And I'm not a germ-a-phobe, but why is it I always end up with a head cold or something a little worse a few days after a flight? Like right now, I'm feeling a tickle in my throat. C'mon immune system, kick in already.
And because our flight takes us over water, they decide to give us a special demonstration on the proper use of the life vest, yeah, 'cause that thing's gonna' save my bacon when we drop out of the sky from 30,000 feet. On the one hand, they think we're too stunned to know how to buckle our own seat belts, on the other hand, during your last few minutes of life, they expect we should be able to figure out how to operate our oxygen masks, inflate our life vests and follow the in floor lighting to the nearest exit, before gently swooshing down the giant yellow slide into the cooling waters of the Atlantic Ocean. And I just got a look at the guy sitting next to the emergency exit -- we could be in trouble, he looks a little more stunned than the rest of us; they may have to go over all this a second time for this guy.
And when you live where I live, unless you're flying to Halifax, a trip anywhere else is always more like a transatlantic journey taking the better part of the day to reach your final destination. Here I am, on the second leg of my flight to Hamilton. Upon arrival in Steeltown, I pick up a rental car and head a little further west, well, actually more southwest, for an hour or so, arriving in Niagara Falls at approximately 9:00 PM Newfoundland time; I will have left my house in St. John's a little over nine hours ago...puleeeze!
One thing I've done today is really notice people. It seems we all have somewhere to go, somewhere important to be. People shuffle in and out of airport corridors, cell phones attached to their ears rushing for the gate or the baggage carousel or just the washroom. And while a few faces look familiar to me, most of these people I have never laid eyes on before, and most of them have still never laid eyes on me. Makes you realize how big the world must be; how insignificant our little place on this planet really is, to them at least.
And kind of keeping with the "rushing around" theme, I noticed too that there are an awful lot of people requiring pre-board assistance these days. Now I don't know what their issues may be, but a requirement for this privilege should be at least a noticeable limp or two or three screaming young ones hanging off you. And while contemplating this, a vision popped into my head -- it's September of next year and our Running Club is returning home from completing its first marathon. There we are in the airport and out goes the pre-boarding call. Next thing, twenty or so souls outfitted in red and black jackets let out a collective wince as they attempt to prop themselves up on their feet before limping a slow, penguin-like stride to the gate. Kind of makes me smile.
Take advantage of the privilege, gang. You will have earned it. Just don't forget your life vests.
Run for you life.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Raise the bar
Whomever it was that said a red sky in the morning is bad news, probably wasn't a runner and certainly never saw the sky I saw last Saturday morning.
At times it was like I was running inside of a photograph that was being worked on in some photo editing software and different levels of sepia tones were being experimented with to find what looked best. It was simply spectacular, a great way to end off my training for the Niagara Falls Half Marathon.
As I look back over my training log, all I can say is man, I nailed it. I reached every training goal, ran smart and injury free. I've always tried to instill in our Running Club members that they should talk more openly about how proud of themselves they are. Sometimes, modesty, well, sucks. So let me follow a little of my own advice and get my celebration going a little early.
I've never run better, or stronger. I've never been in such good shape. It's all down to the calorie management and the miles, no doubt, but more than that, it's down to my mind. I have figured out that running and physical fitness in general is not about sweating and panting and achey muscles, it's about having a strong mind, raising your bar, and working hard to clear it. As I read over the comments I wrote in my log, one really stands out to me:
"Best run of my life. Who is this guy?"
There were times, during my longer runs, I didn't know who I was, or where it was coming from. If you want to run faster, you have to run faster, if you want to run longer, you have to run longer. Don't be afraid to ask your body for more -- we're bigger than our bodies and we're as great as our minds will let us be.
So as I head to Niagara Falls this weekend I've laid out three goals for myself -- one that I will be happy with, one that I will be thrilled with, and one that I will be over the moon with. Whatever race day brings me, I will run smart, stick to my plan, finish strong and leave everything on the race course.
I've read that achievement is the result of dedication, hard work and constantly raising the bar. The achievement was the training. This weekend's race is the celebration.
One cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, please! I've earned it.
Run for your life.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Warm souls
I've written in the past about how anywhere, anytime, a run can grab hold of you and warm your soul. After standing at the finish line of a recent 10-K road race, I should expand that to read “anywhere, anytime, a runner can grab hold of you and warm your soul.”
It was just a few days ago that an annual Turkey Tea 10-K took place and a number of our Club members were participating. A challenging twelve-miler the day before in preparation for a Niagara Falls event left me unable to participate, even if I had wanted to. But that's cool, I love to take pictures of my teammates “at work” and help out in any way I can to get them to both the starting and finishing lines.
Krista, our newest member, was first to arrive at the starting area, nervous as usual. She didn't say a whole lot, which for Krista is out of the ordinary, maybe it was the cold weather, maybe it was the panic that had taken over her body. She did comment that there seemed to be a lot of "real runners" at the event. A quick glance around led to my conclusion that skinnier, faster people are what Krista qualifies as real runners. I reassured her that she too was a runner. She told me her goal was to keep the back of the pack in view at all times. I told her not to worry about that, just put one foot in front of the other and run her race.
As the event got underway I moved into position for some starting line shots and then moved further along the race course for some more snaps before heading for the finish line. It was there that the soul warming occurred.
Everyone in our group finished as expected, almost as if scripted. Bruce flew in first--I’ve often wondered if he has wings now I’m sure of it. Judy followed that up with a great race, one of her best in fact. DG was right behind her, talk about picking up the pace. Next it was sisters Heather & Mary, both of whom, on separate occasions, had told me they were struggling emotionally with the race because they had registered for it last year but their mother's passing kept them from participating. I told them I saw it as a wonderful opportunity for the two of them to get together and honour their mother's memory by running it every year--they both finished with smiles on their faces. The Beav and Nan made their way in next, just another finish line, no sweat for them. That left just Krista and the ambulance on the race course.
Most of the other finishers had already gone inside out of the cold for post-race refreshments. I noticed a group of five or six runners heading back out onto the race course; figuring they were running back to the starting area to pickup their cars, I didn't give it a second thought.
A few more minutes passed and no Krista--her "keep the pack in view" goal had escaped her. We stood on the curb and chatted amongst ourselves for a little while longer. Just a few moments later a small group of runners came into view turning down into the finishing chute, all being led by our Club's newest member. I then figured out that those five or six runners had run back out onto the course to encourage, support and run with Krista as she moved closer and closer to the end of the race. And just as they neared the end, those other finishers that had gone inside for post-race refreshments came back outside to cheer as Krista took her last few steps toward the finish line.
It was another running moment that I will never forget. The true spirit of running was captured by those who participated in that 10-K race on that day and I'm glad I could be there to watch it all unfold. Krista was in tears (another ordinary occurrence) with a smile on her face from ear to ear--it was one of her longest runs ever.
One hundred people finished that 10-K event, and every one of them was a "real runner".
Run for your life.
It was just a few days ago that an annual Turkey Tea 10-K took place and a number of our Club members were participating. A challenging twelve-miler the day before in preparation for a Niagara Falls event left me unable to participate, even if I had wanted to. But that's cool, I love to take pictures of my teammates “at work” and help out in any way I can to get them to both the starting and finishing lines.
Krista, our newest member, was first to arrive at the starting area, nervous as usual. She didn't say a whole lot, which for Krista is out of the ordinary, maybe it was the cold weather, maybe it was the panic that had taken over her body. She did comment that there seemed to be a lot of "real runners" at the event. A quick glance around led to my conclusion that skinnier, faster people are what Krista qualifies as real runners. I reassured her that she too was a runner. She told me her goal was to keep the back of the pack in view at all times. I told her not to worry about that, just put one foot in front of the other and run her race.
As the event got underway I moved into position for some starting line shots and then moved further along the race course for some more snaps before heading for the finish line. It was there that the soul warming occurred.
Everyone in our group finished as expected, almost as if scripted. Bruce flew in first--I’ve often wondered if he has wings now I’m sure of it. Judy followed that up with a great race, one of her best in fact. DG was right behind her, talk about picking up the pace. Next it was sisters Heather & Mary, both of whom, on separate occasions, had told me they were struggling emotionally with the race because they had registered for it last year but their mother's passing kept them from participating. I told them I saw it as a wonderful opportunity for the two of them to get together and honour their mother's memory by running it every year--they both finished with smiles on their faces. The Beav and Nan made their way in next, just another finish line, no sweat for them. That left just Krista and the ambulance on the race course.
Most of the other finishers had already gone inside out of the cold for post-race refreshments. I noticed a group of five or six runners heading back out onto the race course; figuring they were running back to the starting area to pickup their cars, I didn't give it a second thought.
A few more minutes passed and no Krista--her "keep the pack in view" goal had escaped her. We stood on the curb and chatted amongst ourselves for a little while longer. Just a few moments later a small group of runners came into view turning down into the finishing chute, all being led by our Club's newest member. I then figured out that those five or six runners had run back out onto the course to encourage, support and run with Krista as she moved closer and closer to the end of the race. And just as they neared the end, those other finishers that had gone inside for post-race refreshments came back outside to cheer as Krista took her last few steps toward the finish line.
It was another running moment that I will never forget. The true spirit of running was captured by those who participated in that 10-K race on that day and I'm glad I could be there to watch it all unfold. Krista was in tears (another ordinary occurrence) with a smile on her face from ear to ear--it was one of her longest runs ever.
One hundred people finished that 10-K event, and every one of them was a "real runner".
Run for your life.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Stuck in a moment
What a great week it has been. My wife and I figured-out we have reached a combined weight-loss-to-date totaling 202 pounds. We celebrated by running an easy 10-miles and then by me chasing Gloria around a big box store in search of the perfect shoes. Before heading home, we stopped at a local baseball field where we sat and watched 10-year-olds play a few innings on a beautiful Saturday afternoon. It took me back to my t-ball days, boy there was a game I could play. I could knock that ball so far off that tee -- I can still see the numbers on the outfielders backs as they chased down another monster shot.
We were always active kids, my friends and I, not just in organized sports, but on the street as well. I can remember spending my Saturdays playing street hockey from sun-up to sun-down, stopping only long enough every few hours so our mothers could change the wool mittens that were comfortably frozen to our hands. A warm, dry pair, and out we'd go again.
And it's not that we didn't have distractions that could have kept us indoors -- television, video games and computers were available, albeit not quite up to the level they are today, but it always seemed more realistic to pretend to be Darryl Sittler with a hockey stick, rather than a game controller, in my hand.
Since I started running, I've noticed one really sure thing. If not for organized sports, today's children would have no way to engage in physical activity. I've run through all sorts of neighbourhoods at all times of day, and I am always struck by the fact that there are hardly ever any kids out playing on front lawns or in backyards. No games of hide n’ seek, no tag, no double-dutch skipping and certainly no street hockey. Skipping ropes and hockey sticks have been replaced by the video screen, attached either to a television or a computer.
But why the change over the years? It could have something to do with those parents who send their kids out the door with a portable video game console and actually consider that playing outside. Or maybe it’s the school cafeteria that now considers deep fried tasty-tasters a vegetable and then aggressively encourages its students to eat more "vegetables" -- kids can’t run around on deep fried tummies. Or could it be one school board's good-intentioned move to replace vending machines full of sugary soft drinks with water and juices only to be told by the parents' association to reinstate the soda pop? Kids need inspiration, not cop-outs. With moves like these, life expectancy numbers are predicted to fall dramatically in the decades ahead, not because we're destroying our environment, but because we're destroying our children. The future is indeed, bleak.
There was a time, a few years ago as I was heading towards 400 pounds, I didn't see myself living beyond the stated life expectancy for North American males. The way things are now, I may just pull this off.
Seems like a hollow victory though, should it happen.
Run for your life.
We were always active kids, my friends and I, not just in organized sports, but on the street as well. I can remember spending my Saturdays playing street hockey from sun-up to sun-down, stopping only long enough every few hours so our mothers could change the wool mittens that were comfortably frozen to our hands. A warm, dry pair, and out we'd go again.
And it's not that we didn't have distractions that could have kept us indoors -- television, video games and computers were available, albeit not quite up to the level they are today, but it always seemed more realistic to pretend to be Darryl Sittler with a hockey stick, rather than a game controller, in my hand.
Since I started running, I've noticed one really sure thing. If not for organized sports, today's children would have no way to engage in physical activity. I've run through all sorts of neighbourhoods at all times of day, and I am always struck by the fact that there are hardly ever any kids out playing on front lawns or in backyards. No games of hide n’ seek, no tag, no double-dutch skipping and certainly no street hockey. Skipping ropes and hockey sticks have been replaced by the video screen, attached either to a television or a computer.
But why the change over the years? It could have something to do with those parents who send their kids out the door with a portable video game console and actually consider that playing outside. Or maybe it’s the school cafeteria that now considers deep fried tasty-tasters a vegetable and then aggressively encourages its students to eat more "vegetables" -- kids can’t run around on deep fried tummies. Or could it be one school board's good-intentioned move to replace vending machines full of sugary soft drinks with water and juices only to be told by the parents' association to reinstate the soda pop? Kids need inspiration, not cop-outs. With moves like these, life expectancy numbers are predicted to fall dramatically in the decades ahead, not because we're destroying our environment, but because we're destroying our children. The future is indeed, bleak.
There was a time, a few years ago as I was heading towards 400 pounds, I didn't see myself living beyond the stated life expectancy for North American males. The way things are now, I may just pull this off.
Seems like a hollow victory though, should it happen.
Run for your life.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Coming into one's own
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately--early morning runs by one's self are a great breeding ground for thoughts and ideas. I've brought some of these thirty-minute reflections to a friend over the past week or so and they've turned into some wonderful, deeper-than-usual conversations. My friend claims to be a better listener than a contributor, but believe me, she can give it just as good.
Our latest chew was about all of us as individuals and the notion that we never really stop growing into the people we are, we just continue to evolve, shedding layers of the "old us" to allow the "new us" to grow into place. We talked about the idea of a person coming into "her own", a place where she is at peace with herself and who she is--the little things mattering much less than they used to, and grounded by a very strong sense that there is nothing in life she can't do. A place, where as she put it, life is good. As usual, I snuck in a running analogy, she went along with it.
I know runners, a lot of them, and I know many who have changed as people, since they became runners. They're no longer doubters, they're believers, champions and winners, brimming with confidence, weary of cockiness. They're overflowing with empathy, admiring the chosen few and cheering their hearts out for the rest of us. They want so badly to take the struggles away from those that are struggling.
They're no longer spectators, they're high jumpers, setting the bar, only to fire themselves over it and then raise it even higher. They no longer seek inspiration for they themselves are inspirational; they don’t need heros for they themselves are heroic.
They're life-long learners, students of their own bodies and abilities, learning a new lesson with each passing Sunday.
They're regular, every day people who know there is nothing that can't be achieved. There is no distance too far, no hill too steep, no challenge too great. They're dreamers and doers. They no longer need a road map for they themselves create their own pathways.
And when you reach this point, as most runners do, indeed my friend is right, life is good.
Run for your life.
Our latest chew was about all of us as individuals and the notion that we never really stop growing into the people we are, we just continue to evolve, shedding layers of the "old us" to allow the "new us" to grow into place. We talked about the idea of a person coming into "her own", a place where she is at peace with herself and who she is--the little things mattering much less than they used to, and grounded by a very strong sense that there is nothing in life she can't do. A place, where as she put it, life is good. As usual, I snuck in a running analogy, she went along with it.
I know runners, a lot of them, and I know many who have changed as people, since they became runners. They're no longer doubters, they're believers, champions and winners, brimming with confidence, weary of cockiness. They're overflowing with empathy, admiring the chosen few and cheering their hearts out for the rest of us. They want so badly to take the struggles away from those that are struggling.
They're no longer spectators, they're high jumpers, setting the bar, only to fire themselves over it and then raise it even higher. They no longer seek inspiration for they themselves are inspirational; they don’t need heros for they themselves are heroic.
They're life-long learners, students of their own bodies and abilities, learning a new lesson with each passing Sunday.
They're regular, every day people who know there is nothing that can't be achieved. There is no distance too far, no hill too steep, no challenge too great. They're dreamers and doers. They no longer need a road map for they themselves create their own pathways.
And when you reach this point, as most runners do, indeed my friend is right, life is good.
Run for your life.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
Time machine
I took a few steps back in time this week, during an early morning workout. I had always been an early morning runner, but since joining a running club, most of my runs had been moved to the lunch hour. I had grown comfortable running amongst the mid-day traffic, zigzagging through intersections, sharing the road with drivers, some of whom really didn’t want to share the road with me.
As I got going in the pre-dawn darkness, I was struck by the tranquility of the moment; my mind was clear, my iPod was silent and I wasn’t about to ruin things by reaching for the play button. Cars normally zooming past gave way to quiet empty roadways. It was all coming back to me; this, I could get used to.
As I made my way along the sidewalks on this damp, dewy morning, streetlights guided my every step as if someone had left them on just for me. I noticed the moon hanging so low I thought surely I could reach it with enough of a running start and one giant leap. This was a run I was going to remember.
Moments like these make running so great. Anywhere, anytime, a run can grab hold of you and warm your soul. Moments like these make the 5:00 AM wakeup call that much more tolerable.
Run, baby. Run.
As I got going in the pre-dawn darkness, I was struck by the tranquility of the moment; my mind was clear, my iPod was silent and I wasn’t about to ruin things by reaching for the play button. Cars normally zooming past gave way to quiet empty roadways. It was all coming back to me; this, I could get used to.
As I made my way along the sidewalks on this damp, dewy morning, streetlights guided my every step as if someone had left them on just for me. I noticed the moon hanging so low I thought surely I could reach it with enough of a running start and one giant leap. This was a run I was going to remember.
Moments like these make running so great. Anywhere, anytime, a run can grab hold of you and warm your soul. Moments like these make the 5:00 AM wakeup call that much more tolerable.
Run, baby. Run.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Hop-along
A few days ago, our Running Club got together for our once-a-year "Gala" to hand out a few awards to those runners who left extra special impressions on us over the past twelve months of training and racing. I had the privilege, as President of the club, of choosing the recipient of the "President's Award", no easy decision by any means. When it came time to announce the winner on awards night, I declined to read the words that I had written about the winner, opting instead to read aloud a heart-felt email that had been forwarded to me by her sister a few days prior. So let me take this time to talk about this year's recipient of the "President's Award".
First off, we'll refer to the winner simply as "Hop-along", so as not to identify or embarrass her, she's much too modest to pat herself on the back and even more so to let someone else do the patting. From the first day that our Running Club started, "Hop-along" stood out from the group. While the rest of us looked like newbies, a little awkward and apprehensive, she looked like a runner, her form so simple and sweet, she made it look so easy. And as the weeks went by, I came to realize that "Hop-along" loved running, even as much or more than I do - she connects with every foot-strike, she savours every stride.
But for "Hop-along", it's been a tough year battling sore knees and a pain-in-the-butt piriformis muscle. We've joked from time-to-time that we're sharing the same injuries, the same struggles, but watching "Hop-along" deal with her setbacks, I came to realize that she simply gets it, while most others don't. I told her a couple of weeks ago that I hope the rest of the group learns a lesson from her and from her approach to running over the past several months. She's smart. She knows when she's hurting and when to pull back - she sees the bigger picture and foregoes short-term gains in favour of a long-term running career - her ego never leads her in the wrong direction. And as frustrating as it has been for "Hop-along" at certain times, you'd never know it unless you sat down with her and asked the right questions, that's just the way she is - she'd rather hear about your successes than talk about her own struggles. She'd rather encourage her teammates than explain her own pain.
But for all her struggles, it was still quite a year of accomplishments, sore butt and all. Just within the last few months, "Hop-along" completed her first half marathon, an 8-K, and most recently her second go at a local 10-miler, and while she may have been a few minutes slower than last year, I couldn't help but notice a smile on her face as she crossed the finish line - a smile as big as her heart, as energetic as her spirit.
So it is with great pride and privilege, that I award this year's "President's Award" to a wonderful human being and a pretty darn good runner. I promise you brighter days and memorable runs are in your future.
Congratulations to someone as sweet as Suga'.
Congratulations to Heather.
First off, we'll refer to the winner simply as "Hop-along", so as not to identify or embarrass her, she's much too modest to pat herself on the back and even more so to let someone else do the patting. From the first day that our Running Club started, "Hop-along" stood out from the group. While the rest of us looked like newbies, a little awkward and apprehensive, she looked like a runner, her form so simple and sweet, she made it look so easy. And as the weeks went by, I came to realize that "Hop-along" loved running, even as much or more than I do - she connects with every foot-strike, she savours every stride.
But for "Hop-along", it's been a tough year battling sore knees and a pain-in-the-butt piriformis muscle. We've joked from time-to-time that we're sharing the same injuries, the same struggles, but watching "Hop-along" deal with her setbacks, I came to realize that she simply gets it, while most others don't. I told her a couple of weeks ago that I hope the rest of the group learns a lesson from her and from her approach to running over the past several months. She's smart. She knows when she's hurting and when to pull back - she sees the bigger picture and foregoes short-term gains in favour of a long-term running career - her ego never leads her in the wrong direction. And as frustrating as it has been for "Hop-along" at certain times, you'd never know it unless you sat down with her and asked the right questions, that's just the way she is - she'd rather hear about your successes than talk about her own struggles. She'd rather encourage her teammates than explain her own pain.
But for all her struggles, it was still quite a year of accomplishments, sore butt and all. Just within the last few months, "Hop-along" completed her first half marathon, an 8-K, and most recently her second go at a local 10-miler, and while she may have been a few minutes slower than last year, I couldn't help but notice a smile on her face as she crossed the finish line - a smile as big as her heart, as energetic as her spirit.
So it is with great pride and privilege, that I award this year's "President's Award" to a wonderful human being and a pretty darn good runner. I promise you brighter days and memorable runs are in your future.
Congratulations to someone as sweet as Suga'.
Congratulations to Heather.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
The sights and sounds of the season
Hard to believe, but here I am, just a few days away from my favourite running event of the year. Adding to the excitement is the imminent arrival of family members coming from different parts of the country to participate in the race and spread some "Christmas cheer", complete with a turkey dinner and all the trimmings. We've figured-out that the latter weeks of July are more like a family Christmas get-together than, well, a December Christmas get-together, without the carols, of course. We simply refer to the next couple of weeks as “Christmas”, we're quite creative, I know.
The July race always seems to mark the end of another running season partly because of the "post-Christmas" blahs that set in when the race is over and everyone has gone home, and partly because the remainder of the year is usually spent running 5's and 10-k's right through to New Year's Eve. This year's a little different what with a half marathon on the docket for October, but aside from that, I’ve been looking back at the year that was since I last ran my favourite July race.
This season didn’t start off so well. In August of last year a rather rude introduction to a piriformis muscle and its refusal to play nice with a sciatic nerve knocked me out of running commission for three months and had me questioning my ability to return to running at all. But I squeezed some lemonade out of that lemon and took advantage of the downtime to set some weight-loss goals, map out a plan for the months that were ahead and look at my running in an entirely different way. Running was no longer an adversary, it became a best friend. From that point up until today, my running has never been stronger. Sure, being lighter has helped but I credit this eight-month surge on a different way of thinking that has helped to strengthen my mind allowing me to challenge my running fears head-on. Consider it training for the brain.
Running for me is no longer about foot-strikes, shortness of breath and profuse sweating, although all three still seem to follow me wherever I run. Rather running has become a moment of pure enjoyment from start to finish, whether a twenty minute jaunt or a two-hour journey. I’m guessing that most runners never reach this state - I can think of just a couple of others I know who have, I can think of many others who have not. The lesson I've learned over the last little while is this:
As in life, when it comes to running, we can control just about every situation based simply on the way we choose to approach it.
If you fear a hill, it will eat you up.
If you loathe the heat, it will melt you.
If you cringe at the distance, it will get longer.
If you set unrealistic goals, you will fail.
So change your approach. Clear your mind, put one foot in front of the other and enjoy every foot-strike; that's running in its purest form and your ability to do so is the gift you've been given.
Merry Christmas. Now pass the salt meat.
The July race always seems to mark the end of another running season partly because of the "post-Christmas" blahs that set in when the race is over and everyone has gone home, and partly because the remainder of the year is usually spent running 5's and 10-k's right through to New Year's Eve. This year's a little different what with a half marathon on the docket for October, but aside from that, I’ve been looking back at the year that was since I last ran my favourite July race.
This season didn’t start off so well. In August of last year a rather rude introduction to a piriformis muscle and its refusal to play nice with a sciatic nerve knocked me out of running commission for three months and had me questioning my ability to return to running at all. But I squeezed some lemonade out of that lemon and took advantage of the downtime to set some weight-loss goals, map out a plan for the months that were ahead and look at my running in an entirely different way. Running was no longer an adversary, it became a best friend. From that point up until today, my running has never been stronger. Sure, being lighter has helped but I credit this eight-month surge on a different way of thinking that has helped to strengthen my mind allowing me to challenge my running fears head-on. Consider it training for the brain.
Running for me is no longer about foot-strikes, shortness of breath and profuse sweating, although all three still seem to follow me wherever I run. Rather running has become a moment of pure enjoyment from start to finish, whether a twenty minute jaunt or a two-hour journey. I’m guessing that most runners never reach this state - I can think of just a couple of others I know who have, I can think of many others who have not. The lesson I've learned over the last little while is this:
As in life, when it comes to running, we can control just about every situation based simply on the way we choose to approach it.
If you fear a hill, it will eat you up.
If you loathe the heat, it will melt you.
If you cringe at the distance, it will get longer.
If you set unrealistic goals, you will fail.
So change your approach. Clear your mind, put one foot in front of the other and enjoy every foot-strike; that's running in its purest form and your ability to do so is the gift you've been given.
Merry Christmas. Now pass the salt meat.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
From dreamers to doers
I've often said, when referring to our Running Club, we're the most out-of-shape bunch of fit people you'd ever want to hang out with. Such a statement no longer has any semblance of truth. This group is a finely-tuned fitness machine.
Until now, our racing goals have always been the same from the fastest to the not-so-fastest runners in our Club:
Finish.
Every race we've entered to this point has been a first-timer at that particular distance; regardless of the outcome, it would always be a personal best for everyone. But, as the days go by, we're getting closer to a return trip to the 10-mile road race that up until a couple of weeks ago, was the greatest running accomplishment for all of us. And with most of us having done this race before, our usual goal of simply finishing is no longer an acceptable challenge.
At a recent Club meeting, I asked members to write down their personal goals for the 10-miler and hand them back to me to be read aloud. Most, if not all of the members who had done this race before, wrote down a specific time goal - a symbolic move from dreamers to doers if there ever was one. But symbolic gestures don't deliver results - effort does, and each member has upped the ante, so to speak, since training began last week with record-paced runs and intense interval sessions that leave no doubt that each person's goal for this year's race is indeed attainable.
And as I head to Lunenburg, Nova Scotia this weekend to participate in the World Heritage Site 5-K for the second time, I too have a stated time goal in mind; that for me represents a monumental shift in my running philosophy. I still believe first and foremost that all of us should enjoy every foot-strike and celebrate every finish line regardless of pace, but at the same time, there's nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, even if it is with one's own self.
My advice to the Club:
Respect the distance.
Train smart.
Go for it, gang.
Until now, our racing goals have always been the same from the fastest to the not-so-fastest runners in our Club:
Finish.
Every race we've entered to this point has been a first-timer at that particular distance; regardless of the outcome, it would always be a personal best for everyone. But, as the days go by, we're getting closer to a return trip to the 10-mile road race that up until a couple of weeks ago, was the greatest running accomplishment for all of us. And with most of us having done this race before, our usual goal of simply finishing is no longer an acceptable challenge.
At a recent Club meeting, I asked members to write down their personal goals for the 10-miler and hand them back to me to be read aloud. Most, if not all of the members who had done this race before, wrote down a specific time goal - a symbolic move from dreamers to doers if there ever was one. But symbolic gestures don't deliver results - effort does, and each member has upped the ante, so to speak, since training began last week with record-paced runs and intense interval sessions that leave no doubt that each person's goal for this year's race is indeed attainable.
And as I head to Lunenburg, Nova Scotia this weekend to participate in the World Heritage Site 5-K for the second time, I too have a stated time goal in mind; that for me represents a monumental shift in my running philosophy. I still believe first and foremost that all of us should enjoy every foot-strike and celebrate every finish line regardless of pace, but at the same time, there's nothing wrong with a little friendly competition, even if it is with one's own self.
My advice to the Club:
Respect the distance.
Train smart.
Go for it, gang.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Facing my demons
Today was a little different. It was my first run since the Blue Nose Half Marathon and my first run without my running club in months. I must say, I missed my running buddies; I prefer to run solo, but I enjoy the camaraderie of starting and finishing with the group and sharing a few stories over a post-run coffee.
I took advantage of my alone time to face one of my demons. I have my very own "Heartbreak Hill". It's about a two hundred foot climb, spread out over a third of a mile or so. I watched my father take it head on a couple of years ago, an awe-inspiring feat for sure. But for me, this hill has prematurely ended many a good run - I simply refer to it as be-atch.
I've actually had nightmares about this two minute ascent. There I was, leading the Boston Marathon with one mile to go (more of a delusion than a nightmare, I know). Course signage advised that a detour was in effect and guess where the detour brought me - right to the base of be-atch, the finish line was at the top. I woke in a cold sweat, it had beaten me again.
This short stretch of topography has actually caused me to forego running certain routes in our city in attempt to avoid her merciless attack on my psyche. I even know people in our Running Club that probably wouldn't show up for a Sunday run if they knew be-atch was part of the route.
Today would be different.
I set out for an easy three miler, planning to face my demons after mile two. It was a great morning for a run, it was a great morning to take back part of my city.
As I got closer to my rival, there was my buddy, the sun, shining down on me. I've drawn a lot of inspiration from my bright-eyed friend and I don't mind telling you that I talk to him on a regular basis during long Sunday runs - hey, whatever works, right? He winked at me, I winked back - I wasn't letting him down today.
I made the final left turn and started my climb. I caught myself taking a quick glance towards the top where I'm sure I could see the pearly gates, that's how far away it appeared to be. One foot in front of the other, that's all I had to do.
Half way up I took a quick look at my watch to gauge my pace, I was flying, in relative terms of course. Turns out mile three, which included the hill, was my fastest of the day. Once at the top, I managed a quick little fist pump and then went to work regaining the breath that be-atch had punched out of me. I finished with a slow jog to the finish line. I'm a hill machine.
Now I own you, be-atch.
I took advantage of my alone time to face one of my demons. I have my very own "Heartbreak Hill". It's about a two hundred foot climb, spread out over a third of a mile or so. I watched my father take it head on a couple of years ago, an awe-inspiring feat for sure. But for me, this hill has prematurely ended many a good run - I simply refer to it as be-atch.
I've actually had nightmares about this two minute ascent. There I was, leading the Boston Marathon with one mile to go (more of a delusion than a nightmare, I know). Course signage advised that a detour was in effect and guess where the detour brought me - right to the base of be-atch, the finish line was at the top. I woke in a cold sweat, it had beaten me again.
This short stretch of topography has actually caused me to forego running certain routes in our city in attempt to avoid her merciless attack on my psyche. I even know people in our Running Club that probably wouldn't show up for a Sunday run if they knew be-atch was part of the route.
Today would be different.
I set out for an easy three miler, planning to face my demons after mile two. It was a great morning for a run, it was a great morning to take back part of my city.
As I got closer to my rival, there was my buddy, the sun, shining down on me. I've drawn a lot of inspiration from my bright-eyed friend and I don't mind telling you that I talk to him on a regular basis during long Sunday runs - hey, whatever works, right? He winked at me, I winked back - I wasn't letting him down today.
I made the final left turn and started my climb. I caught myself taking a quick glance towards the top where I'm sure I could see the pearly gates, that's how far away it appeared to be. One foot in front of the other, that's all I had to do.
Half way up I took a quick look at my watch to gauge my pace, I was flying, in relative terms of course. Turns out mile three, which included the hill, was my fastest of the day. Once at the top, I managed a quick little fist pump and then went to work regaining the breath that be-atch had punched out of me. I finished with a slow jog to the finish line. I'm a hill machine.
Now I own you, be-atch.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Nan, The Beav, and The Little Engine That Could
Someday I’ll fly. Someday I’ll soar.
I love it when a plan comes together. Our Running Club’s recent trip to the Blue Nose Half Marathon in Halifax could be summed-up in a single word:
Perfection.
It was an emotional weekend, check that, it was an emotional week beginning with the ups and downs of wondering if we were even going to make it to Halifax. Pea soup-thick fog had grounded most flights for two straight days - we were set to leave on day three - we were worried. Plan B had been devised, but Plan B was not Plan A, and Plan A was what mattered most. In the end, someone or something was shining down on us and we arrived in Halifax right on schedule.
Rain on Saturday caused us to spend most of the afternoon walking through Halifax’s network of sky walks and “sky scrapers” - when you come from where we come from, any building over 6 storeys is considered a sky scraper. We picked up our race kits and headed back to the hotel to freshen-up before our team supper and one last team meeting to prepare for our first ever half marathon.
At our team meeting, we reflected on our training, had a few laughs, talked about Santa Claus, and dedicated our races to people who had left an impact on our lives - we weren’t going to let them down, we were ready.
We met in the lobby on race day, excited about the challenge ahead. Nothing looks better to me than club members in their race colours - they mean business in their blacks and their reds. Isn’t this great?
Just a few moments later, we were in place in the starting coral - just enough time for a last high-five before the gun fired. We were off and running. Just 13.1 miles more to go. Enjoy every foot strike.
It took me about a mile to bring my emotions in check. I spent the first ten minutes choking back tears thinking about my running buddies and how they had prepared for this moment. Every Sunday for the past seventeen weeks, we had pushed our bodies and our minds beyond our comfort zones. This was going to be a great day in all of our lives. If you train, you can do anything.
I arrived at the finish line and met Mary and Chris there - they had finished ahead, well ahead, of me, lighting up the race course in their usual style - and no, thank you, Mary. Also there were Rita and Tony who had just completed a 10-K and Janet who finished her first ever race, a 5-K.
I was happy my race was over; I had struggled for the last two and half miles so the finish line was like an ice cream at the end of desert hike. The thirty minutes that followed watching the rest of the team come home was the proudest moment of my life.
First came Dave. This was his best race ever. Nothing needed to be said.
Then came Heather and a few more tears. As I watched her approach the finish I recalled her struggles with injuries. This was her day. Heather’s love of this sport is so pure that she makes my runs that much better. Thank you Heather. I hugged her and told her that pain is temporary, pride is forever.
Next up were the “four amigos”, one of whom I am married to. Gloria’s running has come a long way - she finishes every run with a smile.
Debbie and Keith were right behind her, they clasped hands and finished together - that was nice to see, even for an unromantic like me. Debbie had been worried that she wasn’t prepared for the distance - her ear-to-ear grin told a different story on this day. They embraced each other, I embraced them.
Ray completed the quartet - our senior runner, the grandfather of the group. Getting Ray to stay within himself has been my biggest challenge to date. Back in January and February after watching him trying to run through countless injuries, I had told others that I didn’t think he would get to the start line.
He showed me.
Ray crossed the line and hugged me and I hugged him back, but we’ll never admit to that. “Ray Lawlor is going to shine today.” Told you so.
Then along came Valerie, Debbie G. and Joan, the little engine that could. Smiles and hugs all around. Joan was in tears, I soon followed her lead. Debbie limped in, determined to finish strong - she did, she’s one tough mother. Valerie finished in usual Valerie style - Paula would be so proud.
Here comes Terry - always smiling - I think it’s genetically programmed into her face. We’ve always respected each other as co-workers, now we love each other as friends. I thank you too, Terry.
Bev arrived in the finishing chute, eyes already tear-filled, this was going to be tough. She crossed and we hugged and we cried - I didn’t want to let go. You did it Beaver. Now go get your medal.
And finally, it was “Nan’s” turn to cross the line. Shirley always stays out behind us to make sure we all find our way home - she bats clean-up for the group. She never missed a step - she’s incredible. Within minutes of arriving and in her most eloquent tone, Shirley announced she would not be doing a full marathon any time soon.
I’m with you Nan.
Let’s savour this one for a while.
I love it when a plan comes together. Our Running Club’s recent trip to the Blue Nose Half Marathon in Halifax could be summed-up in a single word:
Perfection.
It was an emotional weekend, check that, it was an emotional week beginning with the ups and downs of wondering if we were even going to make it to Halifax. Pea soup-thick fog had grounded most flights for two straight days - we were set to leave on day three - we were worried. Plan B had been devised, but Plan B was not Plan A, and Plan A was what mattered most. In the end, someone or something was shining down on us and we arrived in Halifax right on schedule.
Rain on Saturday caused us to spend most of the afternoon walking through Halifax’s network of sky walks and “sky scrapers” - when you come from where we come from, any building over 6 storeys is considered a sky scraper. We picked up our race kits and headed back to the hotel to freshen-up before our team supper and one last team meeting to prepare for our first ever half marathon.
At our team meeting, we reflected on our training, had a few laughs, talked about Santa Claus, and dedicated our races to people who had left an impact on our lives - we weren’t going to let them down, we were ready.
We met in the lobby on race day, excited about the challenge ahead. Nothing looks better to me than club members in their race colours - they mean business in their blacks and their reds. Isn’t this great?
Just a few moments later, we were in place in the starting coral - just enough time for a last high-five before the gun fired. We were off and running. Just 13.1 miles more to go. Enjoy every foot strike.
It took me about a mile to bring my emotions in check. I spent the first ten minutes choking back tears thinking about my running buddies and how they had prepared for this moment. Every Sunday for the past seventeen weeks, we had pushed our bodies and our minds beyond our comfort zones. This was going to be a great day in all of our lives. If you train, you can do anything.
I arrived at the finish line and met Mary and Chris there - they had finished ahead, well ahead, of me, lighting up the race course in their usual style - and no, thank you, Mary. Also there were Rita and Tony who had just completed a 10-K and Janet who finished her first ever race, a 5-K.
I was happy my race was over; I had struggled for the last two and half miles so the finish line was like an ice cream at the end of desert hike. The thirty minutes that followed watching the rest of the team come home was the proudest moment of my life.
First came Dave. This was his best race ever. Nothing needed to be said.
Then came Heather and a few more tears. As I watched her approach the finish I recalled her struggles with injuries. This was her day. Heather’s love of this sport is so pure that she makes my runs that much better. Thank you Heather. I hugged her and told her that pain is temporary, pride is forever.
Next up were the “four amigos”, one of whom I am married to. Gloria’s running has come a long way - she finishes every run with a smile.
Debbie and Keith were right behind her, they clasped hands and finished together - that was nice to see, even for an unromantic like me. Debbie had been worried that she wasn’t prepared for the distance - her ear-to-ear grin told a different story on this day. They embraced each other, I embraced them.
Ray completed the quartet - our senior runner, the grandfather of the group. Getting Ray to stay within himself has been my biggest challenge to date. Back in January and February after watching him trying to run through countless injuries, I had told others that I didn’t think he would get to the start line.
He showed me.
Ray crossed the line and hugged me and I hugged him back, but we’ll never admit to that. “Ray Lawlor is going to shine today.” Told you so.
Then along came Valerie, Debbie G. and Joan, the little engine that could. Smiles and hugs all around. Joan was in tears, I soon followed her lead. Debbie limped in, determined to finish strong - she did, she’s one tough mother. Valerie finished in usual Valerie style - Paula would be so proud.
Here comes Terry - always smiling - I think it’s genetically programmed into her face. We’ve always respected each other as co-workers, now we love each other as friends. I thank you too, Terry.
Bev arrived in the finishing chute, eyes already tear-filled, this was going to be tough. She crossed and we hugged and we cried - I didn’t want to let go. You did it Beaver. Now go get your medal.
And finally, it was “Nan’s” turn to cross the line. Shirley always stays out behind us to make sure we all find our way home - she bats clean-up for the group. She never missed a step - she’s incredible. Within minutes of arriving and in her most eloquent tone, Shirley announced she would not be doing a full marathon any time soon.
I’m with you Nan.
Let’s savour this one for a while.
Thursday, May 08, 2008
My friend the half marathoner
As I sit here, a little over a week away from the start of the Blue Nose Half Marathon in Halifax, I am reflecting back over the past seventeen weeks of training and thinking how my Running Club buddies have wowed me, yet again. The focus and determination exhibited by each one of our Running Club members has been a great source of inspiration to me and to others who have watched their progress since training started in late January. The latest example of their unwavering focus came last week when, to a man (and a woman), they declined to participate in a local 5-K road race, opting instead to run 8 miles -- talk about taking the road less travelled.
As our trip to Halifax draws nearer, there is a quiet excitement starting to surface around our workplace as we all look forward to the memories in the making and sharing our first half marathon with each other - I for one can't imagine sharing the experience with anyone else. But for all the excitement, I have one running buddy, ah heck, a friend, who I'm a little worried about.
Joan and I have not always been friends, more like workplace acquaintances, but I think she would agree that running together has brought us closer to each other. My concerns with Joan have nothing to do with her ability to complete the half marathon distance - she has conquered every other distance, so this is just another Sunday for her. My fear is that her nervousness about the event is going to take away from what is surely to be a highlight for all of us -- when I ask her what she's nervous about, she says "it's just bla" and gestures as if she's about to vomit. Most runners have a restless night before the big day, but to lose sleep three weeks before the event is something different entirely. So Joan, I am offering a few final words of advice, a sort of last ditch effort to calm you down enough to enjoy a top-ten life moment in the making. A part of me thinks this is akin to offering a shovel full of sand to the desert, but I remain determined to make sure you enjoy this weekend, damn it.
First off, the race distance and your ability to reach the finish line is not open for discussion. You could complete this race in your sleep. I've seen you pull off some amazing runs over the past 16 weeks, this is just another Sunday with your running friends. Take it nice and easy from start to finish. If you're having a tough time at some point, take a walk break - no one will laugh and it won't affect the world running rankings in any way, and it probably won't jeopardize your chances at a gold, silver, or bronze medal. Those standing on the sidewalks will still clap as you pass them, inspired by your courage to start and your tenacity to finish.
Every time you feel a nervous moment coming on, remember you're not alone, we're all there with you. Take solace in the fact you have methodically prepared for this weekend - preparedness equals success. You'll get out of it what you put into it, and you've put in a hell of a lot.
You've run races before, this one is no different. Your racing resume includes 5-k, 8-k and 10 mile races. Soon you'll be adding a half marathon to the list and like I told you before, think about your friends and those you hang out with outside of our Club - how many of them can say they have participated in a half marathon? You're an inspiration to all of them, every time you lace up your running shoes.
Finally, Nova Scotia has some really antiquated Sunday shopping laws, so distractions will be kept to a minimum allowing you to light it up on race day. Leave your credit card in your hotel room, just in case.
My friend JM - the little engine that could.
As our trip to Halifax draws nearer, there is a quiet excitement starting to surface around our workplace as we all look forward to the memories in the making and sharing our first half marathon with each other - I for one can't imagine sharing the experience with anyone else. But for all the excitement, I have one running buddy, ah heck, a friend, who I'm a little worried about.
Joan and I have not always been friends, more like workplace acquaintances, but I think she would agree that running together has brought us closer to each other. My concerns with Joan have nothing to do with her ability to complete the half marathon distance - she has conquered every other distance, so this is just another Sunday for her. My fear is that her nervousness about the event is going to take away from what is surely to be a highlight for all of us -- when I ask her what she's nervous about, she says "it's just bla" and gestures as if she's about to vomit. Most runners have a restless night before the big day, but to lose sleep three weeks before the event is something different entirely. So Joan, I am offering a few final words of advice, a sort of last ditch effort to calm you down enough to enjoy a top-ten life moment in the making. A part of me thinks this is akin to offering a shovel full of sand to the desert, but I remain determined to make sure you enjoy this weekend, damn it.
First off, the race distance and your ability to reach the finish line is not open for discussion. You could complete this race in your sleep. I've seen you pull off some amazing runs over the past 16 weeks, this is just another Sunday with your running friends. Take it nice and easy from start to finish. If you're having a tough time at some point, take a walk break - no one will laugh and it won't affect the world running rankings in any way, and it probably won't jeopardize your chances at a gold, silver, or bronze medal. Those standing on the sidewalks will still clap as you pass them, inspired by your courage to start and your tenacity to finish.
Every time you feel a nervous moment coming on, remember you're not alone, we're all there with you. Take solace in the fact you have methodically prepared for this weekend - preparedness equals success. You'll get out of it what you put into it, and you've put in a hell of a lot.
You've run races before, this one is no different. Your racing resume includes 5-k, 8-k and 10 mile races. Soon you'll be adding a half marathon to the list and like I told you before, think about your friends and those you hang out with outside of our Club - how many of them can say they have participated in a half marathon? You're an inspiration to all of them, every time you lace up your running shoes.
Finally, Nova Scotia has some really antiquated Sunday shopping laws, so distractions will be kept to a minimum allowing you to light it up on race day. Leave your credit card in your hotel room, just in case.
My friend JM - the little engine that could.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Boston bound
I've always had it in my head that Boston is a town I'd like to visit. On top of being home to Super Bowl and World Series champions, the city is also home to some of the best restaurants in North America; sports and food - need I say more? But it isn't the Red Sox or Sal's Pizza that has me in a Boston state of mind, it has more to do with the six consecutive hours I spent earlier this week watching the terrific coverage of the 112th Boston Marathon and the famous 26.2 mile journey from Hopkinton to Boston.
Watching the elite runners consistently pushing the 5 minute per mile barrier for all 26 miles and still having enough left for a sprint down Boylston Street was simply unbelievable. Like any other race I watch or participate in, however, it was the collection of stories that unfolded behind the winners that left me sneaking a swipe over my tear-soaked eyes on more than one occasion.
There was the Lance Armstrong story that ended with him tearing-up the course in just his third marathon since retiring from cycling. Soon after that, 66-year old Dick Hoyt crossed the finish line in a little over three hours all the while pushing his wheelchair-bound son, Rick. Then there was the group of U.S. Army cadets who ran the entire race in full fatigues carrying 50 pound sacks on their backs in memory of their fallen comrade who had been killed a few weeks earlier while on duty in Iraq. And just as that was playing itself out, the camera picked up a determined soul as he crawled the last 50 yards of the race on his hands and knees - I have never seen anything like that before.
It seemed everybody was running for a cause - some for charity, some for family members, some for themselves and some even just for fun. Whatever the reasons, the day spent in front of my television reinforced my belief that running is about so much more than pace and stride - running asks, "can you?" - we provide the answers.
So to the 25,000 runners who provided their own answers and woke up this morning too sore to move, I salute you - undoubtedly your lives have been changed forever by the Boston experience. Who knows, next year I might just be there on the sidelines to cheer you on.
Dinner's on me.
Watching the elite runners consistently pushing the 5 minute per mile barrier for all 26 miles and still having enough left for a sprint down Boylston Street was simply unbelievable. Like any other race I watch or participate in, however, it was the collection of stories that unfolded behind the winners that left me sneaking a swipe over my tear-soaked eyes on more than one occasion.
There was the Lance Armstrong story that ended with him tearing-up the course in just his third marathon since retiring from cycling. Soon after that, 66-year old Dick Hoyt crossed the finish line in a little over three hours all the while pushing his wheelchair-bound son, Rick. Then there was the group of U.S. Army cadets who ran the entire race in full fatigues carrying 50 pound sacks on their backs in memory of their fallen comrade who had been killed a few weeks earlier while on duty in Iraq. And just as that was playing itself out, the camera picked up a determined soul as he crawled the last 50 yards of the race on his hands and knees - I have never seen anything like that before.
It seemed everybody was running for a cause - some for charity, some for family members, some for themselves and some even just for fun. Whatever the reasons, the day spent in front of my television reinforced my belief that running is about so much more than pace and stride - running asks, "can you?" - we provide the answers.
So to the 25,000 runners who provided their own answers and woke up this morning too sore to move, I salute you - undoubtedly your lives have been changed forever by the Boston experience. Who knows, next year I might just be there on the sidelines to cheer you on.
Dinner's on me.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Chronology of the perfect run
Experts will tell you, and I agree wholeheartedly, that all runners, from back-of-the-packers to the elite, should maintain a running log. It's important to keep track of how you felt, how far you ran, what the weather was like and what you ate so you can look for patterns in your performance and determine what factors led to your best runs.
I've reached what I believe is the "runner's high" on only a couple runs so far in my running career, the latest one being just a few days ago. When writing in my training journal about my 8-miler last Sunday, I summed it up this way:
Best run of my life!
My perfect run had nothing to do with pace or distance. My perfect run was made up of the euphoric feelings that overwhelmed me at a number of different points along the route, the feeling that I could keep going and easily run another eight miles and the feeling that I never wanted this run to end (although somewhere deep down, I was quite happy to press the stop button on my watch). Only a few months ago, while needing the assistance of a cane to get around, I doubted if I'd ever run again, so this day ended up being my defiant response to a wonky back that has had me questioning my ability for a year now.
Here's how it unfolded...
6:12 AM
Hmmm, overslept. This can't be good. Better get up, look out the window and decide whether or not we're going. DM doesn't like it when I make the call too late.
6:14 AM
Blue sky and sunshine? Are you kidding me? I must be dreaming, we haven't had a Sunday like this since...I can't remember when we last had a Sunday like this.
6:25 AM
Checked the latest weather forecast and updated the website with the "GO-GO" message. Weather is supposed to hold for most of the day. Hope they're right for a change.
6:30 AM
Have an idea for a new page on my website. Probably shouldn't start this now, but, oh what the heck.
7:51 AM
Geez, where did the time go. Half bagel with peanut butter, get dressed, fill my water bottles and we gotta' move.
8:25 AM
Arrive at our Club's meeting place, most are already there. Must be the sunshine that has everyone so eager. Turn on my iPod and start warming up. I see the sun and walk towards it staring at it through my sunglasses - I can see it smiling at me, this is going to be a great day. Shirley sees me, walks over and questions why I'm all alone. "Just getting into my little space," I reply. Eminem's "Lose Yourself" puts me in the right frame of mind - talk about timing.
8:37 AM
I check my watch and ask the group why we're so late getting things going. Mary apologizes claiming it's her fault. Not totally believing her, I laugh it off to myself all the while thinking her sister Heather is the culprit - doesn't matter though, they both get a free pass with me - two of the good ones for sure. Away we go to start our formal group warm-up.
8:42 AM
Off and running. Here we go. I clap the group on by and tell them to enjoy every moment and then it's my turn to start running. "Nice and slow," I tell myself - that's my mantra for today. The group makes its way up the first street together. Some of us are going too fast - hope they don't pay for it later.
8:47 AM
OK, five minutes gone, time to settle into my pace - going for eleven minute miles today. A quick look at my watch, yikes, I'm on ten minute pace. "Nice and slow," I tell myself and back off to eleven minute pace.
8:53 AM
My watch beeps to tell me the first mile is done 10:59 pace - like clockwork. Boy I'm glad I've got my sunglasses today. It's the first Sunday in a while that we've needed them for UV and not ice pellet protection.
9:00 AM
"Nice and slow," I tell myself. I see a pickup truck coming towards me with large side mirrors aiming for my skull. "He'll move," I tell myself. Turns out he was a she and no she won't. I step off the side of the road into the ditch to avoid the certain pain of the mirror smacking off my forehead. "Nice," I think to myself.
9:04 AM
Mile two done. 10:54 pace. When I reach the next street I'll take a sip of water.
9:08 AM
Time for water - is it on my left side or is that Gatorade - can't see 'cause my coat is covering my belt. Let's see, I never get this right. I'm thinking right side so I'll go for the left. Damn it, that was the Gatorade, quick switch, couple of sips and back to the running. I think I'll run with the traffic on this street. It's not busy and my legs could use some time running on the opposite slant.
9:15 AM
Mile three behind me, 10:56 pace. I'm on today, everything feels right. Something's gotta' give. Wait, the left side of brain is trying to takeover, c'mon, right side, right side. I think it's safer running with traffic to my back. Seems they swerve to avoid me when they know I can't see them. Could be blog topic. Man it would be cool if you could blog while you're running. Let me think about that, I'm sure there's some way to pull that off.
9:26 AM
Another mile gone at 10:58 pace. I couldn't run this consistently on a treadmill. What a day. Haven't seen many cars. When did all these houses get built. Have to get out more often. Time for some Gatorade. Which side was it again. Man, I have no short-term memory at all. DM would laugh. Even funnier, I pulled the wrong bottle out once again. Quick sip, chase it down with some water and back at it.
9:36 AM
Five miles in, latest one was at 10:56 pace. I'm getting warm. I roll my toque up over my ears and hope my sunglasses don't fall off my head - they weren't cheap but the sales girl who sold them to me was really cool. There's Tim Horton's - do I need the washroom for any reason? Nope. Feeling good all around. Long, gradual downhill coming. Looking forward to that. Wasn't looking forward to getting the crap scared out of me by another runner who caught up to me; at least she turned, smiled and said hello as she passed. I can't help but notice she's in shape - sometimes I wish I was faster.
9:47 AM
Another mile finished, this one at 10:43 pace. Too fast Marky, "Nice and slow," I tell myself again. A final water break. Don't care what I take in now - whatever I pull out of my belt I'm drinking. Can't get this one wrong. I hope the rest of the group remembers to drink something.
9:54 AM
Hmmm, must be dehydrated. That looks like Chris up ahead. He wouldn't be here. What's my name? Where do I live?
9:55 AM
Spoke with Chris and hi-fived him. Feel better now. Not hallucinating.
9:58 AM
Seventh mile complete - 11:05 pace. Too slow Marky. One mile to go, let's pick it up.
10:07 AM
Should be done now. Quick look at the watch, yikes, still need a quarter mile to make 8. Ray's not gonna' like this.
10:09 AM
Last mile completed, fastest one of them all - 10:34 pace. Press the stop button on my watch, turn around and start walking back towards where I thought we would finish. Pump my fist at my side and let out an audible "YES!". That was amazing.
Looking forward to next Sunday.
I've reached what I believe is the "runner's high" on only a couple runs so far in my running career, the latest one being just a few days ago. When writing in my training journal about my 8-miler last Sunday, I summed it up this way:
Best run of my life!
My perfect run had nothing to do with pace or distance. My perfect run was made up of the euphoric feelings that overwhelmed me at a number of different points along the route, the feeling that I could keep going and easily run another eight miles and the feeling that I never wanted this run to end (although somewhere deep down, I was quite happy to press the stop button on my watch). Only a few months ago, while needing the assistance of a cane to get around, I doubted if I'd ever run again, so this day ended up being my defiant response to a wonky back that has had me questioning my ability for a year now.
Here's how it unfolded...
6:12 AM
Hmmm, overslept. This can't be good. Better get up, look out the window and decide whether or not we're going. DM doesn't like it when I make the call too late.
6:14 AM
Blue sky and sunshine? Are you kidding me? I must be dreaming, we haven't had a Sunday like this since...I can't remember when we last had a Sunday like this.
6:25 AM
Checked the latest weather forecast and updated the website with the "GO-GO" message. Weather is supposed to hold for most of the day. Hope they're right for a change.
6:30 AM
Have an idea for a new page on my website. Probably shouldn't start this now, but, oh what the heck.
7:51 AM
Geez, where did the time go. Half bagel with peanut butter, get dressed, fill my water bottles and we gotta' move.
8:25 AM
Arrive at our Club's meeting place, most are already there. Must be the sunshine that has everyone so eager. Turn on my iPod and start warming up. I see the sun and walk towards it staring at it through my sunglasses - I can see it smiling at me, this is going to be a great day. Shirley sees me, walks over and questions why I'm all alone. "Just getting into my little space," I reply. Eminem's "Lose Yourself" puts me in the right frame of mind - talk about timing.
8:37 AM
I check my watch and ask the group why we're so late getting things going. Mary apologizes claiming it's her fault. Not totally believing her, I laugh it off to myself all the while thinking her sister Heather is the culprit - doesn't matter though, they both get a free pass with me - two of the good ones for sure. Away we go to start our formal group warm-up.
8:42 AM
Off and running. Here we go. I clap the group on by and tell them to enjoy every moment and then it's my turn to start running. "Nice and slow," I tell myself - that's my mantra for today. The group makes its way up the first street together. Some of us are going too fast - hope they don't pay for it later.
8:47 AM
OK, five minutes gone, time to settle into my pace - going for eleven minute miles today. A quick look at my watch, yikes, I'm on ten minute pace. "Nice and slow," I tell myself and back off to eleven minute pace.
8:53 AM
My watch beeps to tell me the first mile is done 10:59 pace - like clockwork. Boy I'm glad I've got my sunglasses today. It's the first Sunday in a while that we've needed them for UV and not ice pellet protection.
9:00 AM
"Nice and slow," I tell myself. I see a pickup truck coming towards me with large side mirrors aiming for my skull. "He'll move," I tell myself. Turns out he was a she and no she won't. I step off the side of the road into the ditch to avoid the certain pain of the mirror smacking off my forehead. "Nice," I think to myself.
9:04 AM
Mile two done. 10:54 pace. When I reach the next street I'll take a sip of water.
9:08 AM
Time for water - is it on my left side or is that Gatorade - can't see 'cause my coat is covering my belt. Let's see, I never get this right. I'm thinking right side so I'll go for the left. Damn it, that was the Gatorade, quick switch, couple of sips and back to the running. I think I'll run with the traffic on this street. It's not busy and my legs could use some time running on the opposite slant.
9:15 AM
Mile three behind me, 10:56 pace. I'm on today, everything feels right. Something's gotta' give. Wait, the left side of brain is trying to takeover, c'mon, right side, right side. I think it's safer running with traffic to my back. Seems they swerve to avoid me when they know I can't see them. Could be blog topic. Man it would be cool if you could blog while you're running. Let me think about that, I'm sure there's some way to pull that off.
9:26 AM
Another mile gone at 10:58 pace. I couldn't run this consistently on a treadmill. What a day. Haven't seen many cars. When did all these houses get built. Have to get out more often. Time for some Gatorade. Which side was it again. Man, I have no short-term memory at all. DM would laugh. Even funnier, I pulled the wrong bottle out once again. Quick sip, chase it down with some water and back at it.
9:36 AM
Five miles in, latest one was at 10:56 pace. I'm getting warm. I roll my toque up over my ears and hope my sunglasses don't fall off my head - they weren't cheap but the sales girl who sold them to me was really cool. There's Tim Horton's - do I need the washroom for any reason? Nope. Feeling good all around. Long, gradual downhill coming. Looking forward to that. Wasn't looking forward to getting the crap scared out of me by another runner who caught up to me; at least she turned, smiled and said hello as she passed. I can't help but notice she's in shape - sometimes I wish I was faster.
9:47 AM
Another mile finished, this one at 10:43 pace. Too fast Marky, "Nice and slow," I tell myself again. A final water break. Don't care what I take in now - whatever I pull out of my belt I'm drinking. Can't get this one wrong. I hope the rest of the group remembers to drink something.
9:54 AM
Hmmm, must be dehydrated. That looks like Chris up ahead. He wouldn't be here. What's my name? Where do I live?
9:55 AM
Spoke with Chris and hi-fived him. Feel better now. Not hallucinating.
9:58 AM
Seventh mile complete - 11:05 pace. Too slow Marky. One mile to go, let's pick it up.
10:07 AM
Should be done now. Quick look at the watch, yikes, still need a quarter mile to make 8. Ray's not gonna' like this.
10:09 AM
Last mile completed, fastest one of them all - 10:34 pace. Press the stop button on my watch, turn around and start walking back towards where I thought we would finish. Pump my fist at my side and let out an audible "YES!". That was amazing.
Looking forward to next Sunday.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Where x equals y
As I creep closer to the ripe old age of forty, there are a few things, where running is concerned, that I can shout from the rooftops with great certainty.
First, like fine furniture of the same era, I creek and crack with just the slightest of movements compared to just a few years ago; a condition that seems to worsen in colder temperatures for both the furniture and me.
Second, and along the same lines as my first point, I am no longer indifferent to running in cold weather - I much prefer bodily warmth and dryness before, during, and after a run.
Third, and along the same lines as my second point, I am without question turning into a fair-weather runner; this wouldn't be such a big deal if I lived in a fair-weather region, but I don't, so as my tolerance for running in rain, sleet, snow, drizzle and some of the other stuff my hometown throws at me diminishes, the chances that I skip a run or two will no doubt increase in the years ahead.
Finally, and completely separate from my first three points, being a member of a running club made up of your co-workers brings you closer, a lot closer, to them.
Lately I've been thinking about our club and the way we interact with each other and how our relationships have changed since we all decided to strip down to our skivvies and pound the pavement together. I am a hundred times more in tune with everyone in the club and I have had general, every day conversations about life's little moments and other obscure topics with most members that I would never have with "just a co-worker"; in the past, our conversations would have been limited to financial statements, purchase orders and company policies.
And it's not just that I am getting to know these people better, I feel an almost sibling-like attachment to them and I've found that their health and well-being matters more to me than ever before. When club members get sidelined with injuries, illnesses, or other personal matters, I hope, with great sincerity, that they are able to recover quickly because without them, the group is missing a part of its sum, x doesn't equal y, there's no yin to our yang, our feng is without shui.
We've been challenged, big time, since we started our half marathon training in January, x hasn't equalled y very often. Most of us have been struck down with illness or injury at some point over the past few months, and during the few brief periods when that wasn't plaguing us, the weather has provided a further slap to the group's face. But I'm a great believer that tenaciousness and commitment win out over everything. Stick with it and you'll be rewarded. And that will make crossing the finish line in Halifax that much more special for all of us.
I just hope the weather's warm.
First, like fine furniture of the same era, I creek and crack with just the slightest of movements compared to just a few years ago; a condition that seems to worsen in colder temperatures for both the furniture and me.
Second, and along the same lines as my first point, I am no longer indifferent to running in cold weather - I much prefer bodily warmth and dryness before, during, and after a run.
Third, and along the same lines as my second point, I am without question turning into a fair-weather runner; this wouldn't be such a big deal if I lived in a fair-weather region, but I don't, so as my tolerance for running in rain, sleet, snow, drizzle and some of the other stuff my hometown throws at me diminishes, the chances that I skip a run or two will no doubt increase in the years ahead.
Finally, and completely separate from my first three points, being a member of a running club made up of your co-workers brings you closer, a lot closer, to them.
Lately I've been thinking about our club and the way we interact with each other and how our relationships have changed since we all decided to strip down to our skivvies and pound the pavement together. I am a hundred times more in tune with everyone in the club and I have had general, every day conversations about life's little moments and other obscure topics with most members that I would never have with "just a co-worker"; in the past, our conversations would have been limited to financial statements, purchase orders and company policies.
And it's not just that I am getting to know these people better, I feel an almost sibling-like attachment to them and I've found that their health and well-being matters more to me than ever before. When club members get sidelined with injuries, illnesses, or other personal matters, I hope, with great sincerity, that they are able to recover quickly because without them, the group is missing a part of its sum, x doesn't equal y, there's no yin to our yang, our feng is without shui.
We've been challenged, big time, since we started our half marathon training in January, x hasn't equalled y very often. Most of us have been struck down with illness or injury at some point over the past few months, and during the few brief periods when that wasn't plaguing us, the weather has provided a further slap to the group's face. But I'm a great believer that tenaciousness and commitment win out over everything. Stick with it and you'll be rewarded. And that will make crossing the finish line in Halifax that much more special for all of us.
I just hope the weather's warm.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Six more weeks?
I've never been much of a Winter-time runner, in fact, I always used to take the months from December to March, off completely from running. Lately though, I've been enjoying some cold-weather runs so much so, I'm kind of glad Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow.
And while the thought of a longer, colder Winter has at least one of my fellow Running Club members rolling her eyes, I'll state my case for why cold-weather running is as great, if not better, than its summer-time equivalent.
First, I like being able to dress for the cold - as the temperature drops, the number of layers increase until I'm comfortable - if I warm-up, I can take something off. Not true for fair-weather running - as the temperature rises, we run out of things to take off and are then tortured by the heat for the rest of our run only to finish resembling something between steamed broccoli and a cooked lobster.
Second, when you reach back to take a swig from your water bottle in February, your thirst is met with a cold and satisfying treat. In August, the water that has been nearing the boiling point since you started running thirty minutes ago, mixes with your sweaty lips producing warm swamp water, at best - now that's refreshing, not.
But what I find most appealing about Winter running is it's kind of our way of fighting back against the weather gods who seem determined, at times, to keep us in doors. Even after metres of snow, inches of freezing rain and more gale-force winds than Old Man Winter himself thought he could ever muster, we head out for our regular Sunday run. You can huff and puff, but you'll never blow a runner down.
I could go on, but in all honesty, while I'm loving running this Winter, I too look forward to the day I can run once again in shorts and a tee. Maybe it's easiest to say that I just love running.
Now Jill, you can stop rolling your eyes - oh and dress warmly.
And while the thought of a longer, colder Winter has at least one of my fellow Running Club members rolling her eyes, I'll state my case for why cold-weather running is as great, if not better, than its summer-time equivalent.
First, I like being able to dress for the cold - as the temperature drops, the number of layers increase until I'm comfortable - if I warm-up, I can take something off. Not true for fair-weather running - as the temperature rises, we run out of things to take off and are then tortured by the heat for the rest of our run only to finish resembling something between steamed broccoli and a cooked lobster.
Second, when you reach back to take a swig from your water bottle in February, your thirst is met with a cold and satisfying treat. In August, the water that has been nearing the boiling point since you started running thirty minutes ago, mixes with your sweaty lips producing warm swamp water, at best - now that's refreshing, not.
But what I find most appealing about Winter running is it's kind of our way of fighting back against the weather gods who seem determined, at times, to keep us in doors. Even after metres of snow, inches of freezing rain and more gale-force winds than Old Man Winter himself thought he could ever muster, we head out for our regular Sunday run. You can huff and puff, but you'll never blow a runner down.
I could go on, but in all honesty, while I'm loving running this Winter, I too look forward to the day I can run once again in shorts and a tee. Maybe it's easiest to say that I just love running.
Now Jill, you can stop rolling your eyes - oh and dress warmly.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
The best laid plans
What a great time of year.
There's a buzz among Club members - nothing like setting a goal and laying out a plan to get the running juices flowing again. Just a few nights ago, I was practically gitty while packing my bag with my running gear in anticipation of the start of another training session; that and the fact that I hadn't run in a month and was eager to see how things were going with my body, from an injury point-of-view.
If you know me, you know I'm passionate about running, but passion alone doesn't get you to the starting line, discipline does. This will be my fourth attempt at training for a half marathon, the first three cut short by injuries of one form or another. I think I've done everything right this time and in a blog not so long ago, I made a commitment to being smart and getting in shape to start training for the May event. Let's review the checklist:
I've done my part, now its up to the running gods. Nobody knows how the future will unfold, all we can do is take it one foot-strike at a time. But boy it's great to able to take those foot-strikes again.
Destination: Halifax.
There's a buzz among Club members - nothing like setting a goal and laying out a plan to get the running juices flowing again. Just a few nights ago, I was practically gitty while packing my bag with my running gear in anticipation of the start of another training session; that and the fact that I hadn't run in a month and was eager to see how things were going with my body, from an injury point-of-view.
If you know me, you know I'm passionate about running, but passion alone doesn't get you to the starting line, discipline does. This will be my fourth attempt at training for a half marathon, the first three cut short by injuries of one form or another. I think I've done everything right this time and in a blog not so long ago, I made a commitment to being smart and getting in shape to start training for the May event. Let's review the checklist:
Take it slow. I will get back to form by taking it slow, never wimping out, but never overdoing it.
Check. Stopped running for a month to nurse an injured calf muscle; even gave up playing hockey, this is serious.
Lose weight. I will lose 30 pounds between now and the Halifax Half in May 2008. I will accomplish this by eating smart and exercising smarter. A smaller gut means less stress on my wonky lower back.
Check. Twenty-two pounds gone, eight more to go. Actually going to go for forty, so, eighteen more to go.
Have fun. I will enjoy every foot-strike while I am able, because I know how lousy it feels to watch from the sidelines, or worse, stare at the ceiling.
Check. This is never a problem but my usual feelings of euphoria have been intensified by being able to get back out with the group.
I've done my part, now its up to the running gods. Nobody knows how the future will unfold, all we can do is take it one foot-strike at a time. But boy it's great to able to take those foot-strikes again.
Destination: Halifax.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Cut down, not out
It’s that time of year again.
Health clubs are alive with the sounds of grunts and groans from New Year’s Resolutioners, determined to stick with it and lose weight this time. Notice the emphasis on “this time”. It has been well documented that eighty-five percent of diets fail. Actually, diets don’t fail, people do, but why?
Believe me, I have experience with weight issues, both gains and losses, and in my “expert” opinion, most people fail to lose weight for at least one of the following reasons:
- The weight-loss goal is too aggressive.
- The weight-loss plan calls for a radical change in lifestyle.
- The weight-loss plan does not include physical activity.
Structuring a plan that defends against these pitfalls will increase your chances of losing the weight, and more importantly, keeping it off.
I want a quick fix
As human beings, we want it now and we don’t want to have to wait for it. I know a lot of people who have set out to lose 25, 30 or 50 pounds only to fall off the diet wagon when progress seems too slow and in their minds, no longer worth the effort. If twenty-five pounds is the goal, take a longer-term view and aim for a half-pound to a pound of weight loss each week. A plan that is structured to allow you to meet your weekly goals will be more successful than one that calls for a 2 to 3 pound loss each week. Make your goals attainable.
I’ll just join a gym
We’re busy people – most of our waking hours are committed to our jobs and we like to use our remaining free time to relax with family or perhaps a hobby. I don’t know many people who lift weights either as a profession or as a hobby; there are such people, I just don’t know them. That said, taking the little bit of enjoyable free time we have and sacrificing it for arm curls and squats is a recipe for failure. I’m not slamming gyms or weightlifting for that matter, quite the opposite, but this type of activity needs to complement your plan, not form the basis of it. There’s a reason why gyms are over-full in January, and looking for new members in March.
Pass the remote
To put it bluntly, I was a big frigger’ – 351 pounds at my best and the day I decided I had to lose weight (a little slow on the up-take heh?) I just needed a plan, a way to get there. When I began my weight-loss journey, no-carb diets were at their peak. It seemed everyone you talked to was on the 'Atkins' plan, some with good results, most with no results. The no-carb approach wasn't going to work for me. Let me be frank - I don't believe in the Atkin's diet, I don't believe in the South Beach diet, I don't believe in the Slim Fast diet. The formula for losing weight hasn't changed since the Flintstones lived in Bedrock - you have to burn off more than you consume. As a society, we went nuts in the nineties looking at fat content on labels and trying to reduce as much as possible from what we ate; today, we're carb crazy trying to do the same. Both of these approaches, and many more, appeal to us because we think we can lose weight while remaining on the couch with our thumbs on the remote. The problem with this approach is the minute you stray from one of these plans, the weight begins to pile back on with a vengeance. How many diet shakes can you consume for breakfast and lunch before you begin to start hating meal times? Hear me - you want to lose weight? You have to get your butt out of the chair and get your legs in motion. If you only added a little activity to your daily routine and kept eating the same way you always do, you would lose weight (or at least slow your weight-gain), slowly, surely and safely.
I must admit, I have an ulterior motive for writing this article. A few people have come to me with a keen interest in counting calories, getting active and losing weight; this is in support of them. We can get there, together, if we’re smart and patient. The math hasn’t changed:
More calories burned than consumed = Weight loss
Knowing this formula will keep you more aware of what you’re eating and what you’re burning off.
Everything in moderation – just be sure to count it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
