shoeless coolis

Winter over water

2012-01-15T16:41:00.001-05:00

I was so comfortable living in denial of an impending Ontario winter, but alas (perhaps quite appropriately), on Friday the 13th I was smacked in the face with it. I jogged to the gym in shorts at 5am under a light drizzle, hammered 90min on the elliptical, and innocently stepped back outside, only to be flung sideways by a massive gust of wind and blinded by a pelleting snowstorm. Awesome! I somehow made it to my Southern destination of Starbucks despite jogging at a 45 degree angle, where I anticipated being greeted with incredulous stares at my naked, flushed stems. Instead I was for once treated like a normal human being. What the? The Starbucks employee even asked me – quite nonchalantly - if it was slippery out. Seriously?! Did she actually think I went for a legit run in shorts in -20C and snowing?! I suppose I am beginning to comprehend just how crazy they think I am.

The next day, however, I bundled up in some impressive ninja attire and did 90min along the Lakeshore. It was -25C with the wind chill, but it actually didn’t feel so bad. After this run, however, I got a slew of comments from everyone all along the lines of “I can’t believe you are running in this!” A familiar face from Starbucks, Matthew, introduced himself to me and proceeded to ask me if I had a certain inclination to running in extreme conditions: “I saw you run every day in the summer through some pretty bad heat waves. And it’s like -20C today! You must run marathons.” I have to say Matthew is pretty astute – he recognizes all kinds of crazy when he sees it. And after watching the marathons in Houston this weekend, I agree you have to be a little whacko to keep at this marathon game. As someone very intelligent once said, “running is a very hard thing.”

All weather aside, it feels great to be back running and doing workouts that do not involve the pool. I think I’m actually scarred from all the swimming and pool running I did. I am terrified at the thought of ever entering a pool again! It did nothing to help my injury and is now only associated with feelings of hoplessness, sadness and despair. Perhaps you may think that I am overreacting but I beg to differ! However, I should probably make up a more hardcore story to defend my pool phobia, like almost freezing to death in the ocean or something. Actually, now that I think of it I did have a near-death experience in water before. It was in the South of France when I was about nine years old. I was playing in the water pretty close to shore when a GIGANTIC wave tore through the water and sent me crashing face-first into the rocky ocean floor. It was terrifying. I didn’t know which way was up or down and spent a good minute just getting grinded into the ground (twss). I thought I was going to die. Suddenly I felt a pair of hands grab me and lift me up. It was a French lady who began to scream things at me that I couldn’t understand, so naturally I ran away from her and found my parents, who were up on the beach...probably sipping on Champagne or something (they never were the overprotective type). My terror quickly turned into pride as I began to tell them in grandiose fashion about my battle with the giant wave and struggles to escape the swallowing seas. I showed them my scrapes from rocky encounters and bruising from my initial impact. I described how my life flashed before my eyes and I contemplated giving into the water’s strong arms, but then valiantly fought back and conquered Mother Nature’s force. My parents ooohed and aaaahed as if I were reading from a Jules Verne story, not really believing a word I said. This made me pretty frustrated, so I stomped into the streets of Nice and bought a huge pack of postcards and decided to write my story to absolutely everyone I knew in Canada, including my entire fourth grade class. They would believe me! When I got back to my parents’ blanket they actually showed genuine concern, since the frazzled French lady had come and yelled at them for neglecting me. Ha! Still, I wrote my story on every postcard and sent them out. It got pretty tiring writing the same story thirty times over, so the story got progressively shorter. My old babysitter still laughs recalling the postcard she received reading ‘Hi Paula! I am in Nice, I got hit by a wave and almost drowned. Bye!’ However, I did return to fourth grade a hero and a veteran of the dangerous Mediterranean. That was pretty cool.

So there, now I have a legitimate reason to be afraid of the pool, right? I suppose a pool story would have been better, but this will have to do. After all, I would never just make up a story...

So running-wise I’m putting in about 70k a week with one day off and supplementing with a ton of cross-training. I am actually enjoying my elliptical workouts since it’s the only time I can really push the intensity and get in a tough workout: my jogs are still executed in grandma-like style. I am happy to report, though, that I have graduated from extended laps around my block to legit out-and-back routes! The shin soreness comes and goes so I know I still have to be careful and continue to strengthen it. I’m rocking the 30lb weight dorsi-flexion routine so if that doesn’t eventually get it strong enough, I don’t know what will! Well, I guess I do, but it involves a lot of sharp pins and electricity coarsing through my tendons and muscles, which is much less pleasant than weight-lifting.

Speaking of weight-lifting, I’ve decided to work on my all-over strength, so I am rocking the weights with a bunch of big dudes every other day. I’m getting pretty into it. Need to work on my grunting and dramatic , face-twisting, torturous finishes to the last lifts of each set, but otherwise I think I fit in just perfectly!

Thank God it's over (twss)

2012-01-06T21:22:00.012-05:00

2011. What a year.

The Angels sport their new singlets in 2011! Thanks to the Angel crew for helping me through the year! :)

2011 was a very strange year, as I experienced some of the happiest and saddest times of my life. I am not sure whether to write it off as the worst or best year, so I will instead describe it as one of those rare ‘life altering’ years. I learned more about life – and myself – last year than in all my years combined (won’t mention how many those are). In terms of running, my experience was similar – I had one of the best races of my life and ran the most mileage I ever have, but also went through the most difficult injury I’ve faced to date.

In my first blog of 2011 I wrote a list of goals for the upcoming year. One of them included ‘running my first 100-mile week’. As my buildup for a spring marathon began in January, so did my mileage. I ran my first 100-mile week almost exactly a year ago. What I didn’t acknowledge was that I did it completely outdoors, through snow, slush and cold, in pitch black, either waking up at 5-6am or running late at night. I also did it through a time where I lacked a futon (let alone a bed!) so I was sleeping on a hardwood floor...when I was sleeping at all. I eventually got a futon, I think when I started to get hamstring issues and thought that a soft spot to sleep on might help my recovery. Ya think?! In the moment I did not acknowledge any of these peculiarities, but looking back it was all pretty ridiculous. Perhaps I have just gotten soft after so many months off running?

Morning runs

Wintertime racing and my three Angel rocks.

Another one of my goals was to run a sub-1:18:00 half-marathon after my 1:19:00 half in the fall of 2010. I was dubious as to whether I’d be able to take so much time off my PB since I had already bettered it by 2 ½ minutes in that race. In May I ran the same race as I ran in the fall off yet another 100-mile week, hoping to squeak under 1:19:00. I stopped looking at my watch after a slow 2k and 3k split and still, to this day, have no idea how I ran 1:16:43. To be so far under my goal without realizing it was incomprehensible to me. However, it made me realize what consistent hard work can do in a matter of months. Crossing that line in disbelief was a huge turning point for me in running. I really started to believe that anything was possible.

The Goodlife Half-Marathon

Unfortunately, I was sick, stressed and a general mess in Ottawa a few weeks later, and my goal of running sub-2:48 would not be. And even though I got fitter throughout the summer, hitting up to 140 miles a week and running faster than ever, my shin injury forced me to the sidelines for the entire fall racing season. It was extremely disappointing, but I know that I will come back stronger and more motivated in 2012.

What were my other goals? One strange one was to rekindle my love for ballet and take one class per week. I realized that goal...for about 3 months. I actually really enjoyed the classes but they were pretty expensive and most of the time I wanted to sit on my...futon?... after a hard Saturday morning workout instead of go to a 90min ballet class. It probably didn’t help that I went to the National Ballet School in Toronto and jumped into level III, making the classes *slightly* more challenging than anticipated for someone who hadn’t danced in eight years. I think this year I’ll try and do more running-specific yoga instead, just to keep up my flexibility.

I also wanted to run 3k and 5k PBs somewhere in the midst of my marathon training. I’m not sure how realistic that was but perhaps I didn’t yet know I’d be aiming for both a Spring and Fall marathon. I still intend on bringing my 5k time down and think it will happen naturally as I get stronger and faster in the upcoming years. At one point I’d like to take a season off and focus on short distances again as I did in the summer of 2010. As much as I find it extraordinarily painful, the track is a fun, challenging place to be and a good way to shake things up and get stronger.

Unfortunately, my number one goal of staying healthy was an epic fail. Too bad. I thought I was pretty good about listening to my body but after stringing together resilient week after resilient week all year it was easy to get overconfident. I was probably at the brink of something for a while and it only took one bad decision to push me over the edge. Of course, a ‘bad decision’ being running an entire marathon at faster than planned pace on a sore shin. Yep, maybe just *slightly* over the edge!
I am on the comeback now and it’s never felt so good to work out! I feel like a real athlete again. Even just doing legit elliptical workouts feels amazing. I still get frustrated that I can only run 45-50min at a time at a snail’s pace, but when I think back to a few weeks ago when I would get sore after 30min every other day I realize that things are coming along. I have no race plans as of yet I just want to focus on being completely healthy and enjoy running again.

Thank you coach N for everything! You are my mentor and inspiration.

I must also thank countless vodka martinis for getting me through the year! Glad I didn't keep count, it was a big year for the vodka martini.

So my goals for 2012? There may be some race-specific times depending on what I run, but really, I just want to maintain my health and happiness. No matter what, those will be my top priorities. Fitness and good races will follow.

Happy New Year everyone!

And now...for my Top 11 memories of 2011

11. Becoming a CENTURION runner!

10. Edging Nic at the line of the Grimsby Half-marathon (cost me a hamstring, but still a proud moment ;)

9. Breaking 7:00 on the MPC 2k loop, finally!

8. Breaking my shin in the middle of an epic workout at MPC. Not a great memory, but still, pretty engrained in my head!

7. Running crazy (130-140) mileage at a conference in the shanty village of Lewiston, Maine. My blisters were so bad I burst into tears in the middle of a run. Insane or motivated? Not sure.

6. Sporting a wetsuit on the pool deck of the YMCA...and my condo pool. Glad there is no photo evidence, it was slightly embarrassing.

5. Running a ‘Sporting Life PB’ of 35:43 when I thought I had nothing in me.

4. Running a mournful 3km in memory of Danny Kassap, who will never be forgotten. RIP.

3. Running a 2 ½ minute PB in the Toronto Goodlife Half-marathon in May. WTF?

2. My first run back from 2 ½ month layoff on December 1st, 2011. A blissful 20min jog through the dark downtown streets, so reminiscent of morning runs from the winter previous, and so happy they were mine again.

1. Meeting le blog du Rob in person. He made the most depressing layoff of my career somehow one of the most joyous times of my life. He was there not only for one of my physical turning points but also played a huge role in an emotional change that has made me happier than I’ve been in a long time. Rob, you are an awesome dude and we’ll always be friends. Thank you for legitimately helping turn my life around.

Shoeless Coolis and le Blog du Rob

The Shoeless Shin Saga

2011-12-10T11:13:00.007-05:00

It's been almost three months since I tore up my shin. If you were to graph my emotional, mental and physical status throughout the last twelve weeks, it would probably look like a sine wave. For those of you who don't dig the math metaphors, it has been very...up and down. One could probably make quite a dramatic movie out of it: The Shoeless Shin Saga.

Sine wave

Folks, I have tried pretty much everything. I tried living in the pool for weeks on end. Then I tried giving up the pool and only doing short runs. I tried strengthening and massaging my shin every other day. When it began to hurt more, I tried to go back to the pool. I wore a friggin wetsuit to relieve any stress on my tibia, letting my legs float along the surface effortlessly while the rest of me thrashed through the water like a drowning whale. (Why a whale, you might ask? Oh, because I brilliantly decided to cut the collar off my wetsuit due to painful chafing, thereby allowing a river of water to rush in as soon as I went horizontal. Didn't help much that the wetsuit was already baggy to begin with...though it did make the workout more challenging with an extra twenty pounds to pull.) After a week of being mocked by lifeguards, randoms in the elevator and early-morning security guards on patrol for my ridiculous attire ("Are you wearing a WETSUIT in the POOL?!"; "Isn't the water pretty warm?!"; "What kind of bathing suit is that?"), I said screw it and gave up exercise altogether. Perhaps complete rest for more than a few days was what I needed? To be honest, the first two days were not quite on purpose, since it was a pretty intense weekend of partying that came at the tail-end of a six-day bender. Yes, apparently I thought I was 18 again and that it was Frosh week. I later realized (much later, since it took me a while to be able to form thought processes) that I had spent more time being drunk that weekend than sober. I'm not sure I should be proud of that, but it is still somewhat of a shocking fact. If I had tried to swim those two days I would have definitely run straight into a wall at some point. Or just drowned. I highly doubt the possibility of any other outcome.

'Recovery' drinks (Damn you Milne)

Nevertheless, this kick-started what was probably an *ultimately* healthy five days of complete rest. I didn't mind it much until the last day, when I was in an incredibly foul mood and was thinking negatively about everything. I'm pretty sure that's the day the b/f came to visit me and I not only cursed running but life in general. I also claimed I would never be healed since after five days my shin was the same piece of s*%$ as it was a month ago. Then I drank a bottle of wine, felt better, and woke up with a pounding headache AND a throbbing shin.

Whining and wining

Instead of succumbing to another day of sloth, depression and yet another hangover, however, I said 'eff it,' put my shoes on, and went for a run.

It felt amazing. The fresh, crisp air, the dark and empty but simultaneously comforting downtown streets, the unusual peacefulness of Yonge and Dundas Square at 6am. All the things I used to love about my early morning runs came rushing back to me within minutes. A good thing, since my run lasted a whoppin' 19 of 'em. After a few minutes of fresh, bouncy strides, the heaviness set in my legs, my left hamstring started to get sore, and I became legitimately tired. Oh my. I couldn't believe that a twenty-minute run had taken that much out of me. That used to be half of my warm-ups! I doubled my workout time with stretching and core, and returned to my apartment a new person: my headache was gone, I felt happy, and I was HUNGRY! I hadn't felt that deep, grumbling hunger in so long. I swear there is a specific type of hunger that is only triggered by running, and it makes food taste so good! I am not sure of everything I ate afterwards, but it was a lot, and it all tasted like it came from a buffet on a cruise to the Caribbean. (And if anyone has seen my fridge, it was definitely not food of that quality). Yogurt, honey, bananas, peanut butter, nutella, maple nut granola...I wanted to combine them all into one giant breakfast party in a bowl and devour it all at once. So I did.

Breakfast party in a bowl

The best part, however, was that I didn't feel my shin while I was running. It stiffened up a little afterwards, but wasn't any worse than before. So since then I have been running about 30min every other day and doing elliptical or biking the other days. Some days the shin sucks, sometimes it is OK. I have stopped worrying so much about feeling it all the time. I went to the sports doctor on Wednesday and she basically told me that the tightness I was feeling was scar tissue and lumps and bumps from it healing weird (I think she said something about high heels and vodka being detrimental to healing, but I don't think she was serious), and that I would need ART and acupuncture to straighten it out. I was relieved to hear this and am happy that I can hopefully get back to 100% with some therapy.

Best news? I found an awesome physiotherapist who is intent on curing Shoeless Coolis. He has apparently already been following my blog so I didn't have to explain my frustrations to him. His assessment of the situation is one I am in complete agreement with: the healing has happened. There is no more tear to be found. The other 'stuff' that is going on needs to be straightened out and strengthened. His plan for my shin is to 'kick the #$^% out of it, let it recover, then strengthen the %#$^ out of it, and repeat.' I like this plan. A lot. I have a feeling I will be in a lot of ART and acupuncture-induced pain in the next few weeks, but at least I can keep shuffling along in the early morning darkness and enjoy as many breakfast parties in a bowl as I wish.

Angel Jane

2011-11-24T20:06:00.009-05:00

I've been in Toronto for five years and lived in four different buildings...all within a two kilometre radius. Suffice to say that I am a sucker for convenience. Not only do I like being close to work, but I like living downtown. Living at Yonge & Dundas Square means that practically everything is at my doorstep - the LCBO (I swear that wasn't the deal breaker for my latest move! Ok maybe it was), the Eaton Centre, awesome restaurants like Milestones, Jack Astors and Joeys, les Trois Brasseurs (and other less awesome bars), Goodlife Fitness, a ginormous movie theatre, several grocery stores, Shoppers Drug Mart (the most marvelous place besides the LCBO), one billion food courts, every Bank that exists, Tutti Frutti candy store and last but not least, there are FIVE Starbucks, each no more than two blocks from me. No joke. There is one IN my building, one across the street, one in the movie theatre, one in the mall and one one block east of me...and somehow le Blog du Rob was smart enough to start a bet with me on who could reach Starbucks Gold card status faster. FYI Rob, there is one pitiful, lonesome Starbucks in all of Guelph. And five within two minutes of me. I thought you were a smart dude, but now I'm not so sure. Perhaps this is the real reason you are making so many trips to Toronto?

Anyway, I reached Gold Status four days ago. That's right, I am now officially a Starbucks Gold member! Holler. You may win the odd party le Rob but I beat you to gold sucka! Yea. Not sure what this will really do for me, however, as I never get any of the syrups or flavour shots that I could now get for free. And I don't have a coffee maker for deals on coffee grinds. And I don't stay inside the Starbucks long enough to get a free re-fill. But at least I get a free cuppa joe every two weeks? The important thing, people, is that I am a Gold member, and therefore a superior member of society. That makes me feel pretty cool.

I was not intending on writing this blog about coffee, but somehow my dialogue about the convenience of my condo has brought me to the topic. Downtown condominium living has other quirks and perks, however. Like concierges. They are a unique bunch. They must see a lot of weird stuff since they basically sit at the front desk for 8-12 hours and watch people come in and out - all day or overnight. I would assume the night shifts are pretty boring unless you are working on a weekend, in which you could probably witness some pretty remarkable transformations. Like one night, when I had a lab party and left my place in an innocent collared shirt and black pants with my computer strapped to my back. I got changed at the lab and went to the party in one of my typical risque Jane outfits, which I obviously had to match with a reckless drinking style. The last thing I remember was taking shots to the song 'Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots, shots, shots!' Not surprisingly, it wasn't long before I was passed out in the washroom practically dead. When my labmates found me, I vehemently claimed that the floor was the most comfortable bed there was and that I would be sleeping in the stall that night. The next morning I woke up in my own bed, and was perplexed by how I ended up there. Apparently my labmates carried me home, through the front door and up the elevator, my arms hanging around each of these dudes' necks. Now THAT is classy. I wonder what the concierge thought seeing that come through the door? Who is that, who are they and where is her computer?!

In reality, I got along well with the concierges in my last building and they always said a kind hello when I was leaving or entering the building. The only time they made comments was when I showed up downstairs dressed like I was ready to rob a bank at 5am, waiting to meet the Angels for an early morning run. 'I can't believe you are running in this weather. In the dark. You are nuts!' they would always comment. Once I came down dressed in my usual sexy way and the concierge yelled to me 'It's only -8 today! It's only -8!!! Do you want to leave your neckwarmer here?!' It was pretty funny how excited they were that I would be able to run without coming back frostbitten, as they so often witnessed when I was unable to open any doors or retrieve keys or fobs from my pockets because my hands were completely frozen. Good times.

Now I am living in a new building with new concierges. There are four regulars who each have quite a unique disposition. The first is Frank. Frank is a funny guy. I am not sure where he is from but he has one of the strangest accents I have ever heard. I can hardly ever understand what he is saying. Furthermore, his tone is extremely high pitched such that he actually sounds like a young girl when he speaks. A young girl with a weird European accent...who is in reality a grown, chubby man with thinning hair. Frank has taken a particular interest in my running (and lack thereof). After I had been off running for a few weeks, I came home from work one day and he randomly called out 'Are you going running now? Running in the morning, running at night, you are ALWAYS running!!!' At this point I had to tell him that in fact I was not running at all and I had been injured for the past three weeks. At this point, the second awesome concierge Sam (I will get to him in a moment) jumped up and screamed: 'My angel is INJURED!!! What? What can I do? What happened? WHERE ARE YOU HURT MY ANGEL?!' as if I had just been hit by a car and was about to die. After I appeased Sam's concerns and told them it was just a torn muscle in my shin, Frank sighed 'Oh that's nothing, you'll be fine! A few days, ya?' his voice squeaking with each inflection. 'Hmmmmm' I wondered, 'How is a torn muscle not something to be concerned about?!' I was perplexed by their opposing and wildly inaccurate assessments of my injury, but just rolled with it. 'Errr ya I'm sure it will heal soon. No reason to be too concerned!' 'But I don't understand why you need to run,' Frank continued, 'You are so skinny! You don't need to run. Why do you have to run?' at which point I informed him that I had actually lost weight after I stopped running, another fact that he was incapable to comprehend. 'How is that possible? Jane, you need to eat more! Eat! Eat!' I told them that I likely would gain weight eventually, since I was already developing some pretty legit biceps from all the swimming I was doing. Frank liked hearing this and now every day he asks 'Did you swim today? You must go for your swim!' I am waiting for him to ask me to show him my awesome biceps, but so far no such luck.

Sam is just as much of a hoot as Frank, if not moreso. He is a large, black fellow who always has a giant smile on his face. The first time he spoke to me he declared that I was an Angel and that he saw a heavenly glow around me whenever I entered the building. I am pretty sure that was followed by an awkward silence since I had absolutely no idea how to respond. 'Thank you? 'Same to you?' Nothing I could think of on the spot seemed to make any kind of sense. But then again, his comment didn't either. Every day it's something different: 'You bring happiness to the world with your Angelic face, my Angel,' or 'Ah! I did not smile today because I hadn't seen my Angel yet!' However entertaining his comments are, I am very flattered that I am able to bring him such joy by my mere presence. If anything, he is the one bringing happiness into the lives of others with his warm, open and endearing personality!

What Sam sees?

Still kind of a badass Angel...

One day I went to pick up a package (sent from the awesome peeps at Adidas) and he asked the resident standing next to me if he thought I looked like an Angel too. Another awkward exchange. 'Umm...ok, you are pretty smooth dude,' was all the guy said to Sam. I think Sam was confused by this answer since I am sure he wasn't trying to be smooth at all, and does in fact believe that I am an Angel. He then turned to me and asked why I always received such mysterious parcels in the mail (maybe he thought they were from God?). His direction suddenly switched: 'Do you buy dresses online?' he then asked. I reminded him that I was a runner and that I was actually sponsored by Adidas. 'These are running clothes from Adidas!' I said, 'I don't have to buy them, it's great!' A few days later when I walked by the desk he bellowed 'I can't wait to see you in your winter dresses, my Angel!' I was bewildered by this statement, until I figured that he still believed that I actually ordered dresses online (and more specifically, 'winter dresses' - whatever that entails). I guess he doesn't buy the whole 'serious runner' gig I have going. The other day, he continued on his winter-themed comments, which only seem to get even more indecipherable: 'The winter time makes you look very special, my Angel' he smiled brightly. 'Wear your winter dresses soon!' Then there was the day it rained and I came home soaking wet, looking like a drowned rat (seriously). He immediately jumped from his chair and exclaimed 'My Angel! You look like a Goddess emerging from the ocean today! Have a nice evening!' WTF? If his comments continue on their current path of weirdness, I wonder what kind of things he will be saying in the New Year...

Another one of the concierges, whose name I don't yet know, thinks I am just as innocent (and perhaps Angelic?) as the other two. He is often there late at night and was shocked when I returned home late one night in a party Jane gettup that included a skirt and heels. 'WOW you went OUT TONIGHT!!!! Good for you!' Oh, if only they knew that I didn't need to be congratulated for getting out of the apartment. I laughed at his tone and wondered what these three would do if they saw party Jane in action. Perhaps one day, I will have to invite them out for vodka chez Jane. Though that might shock them into silence, and I am wayyyy too entertained by them on a daily basis to let my cover slide.

What the rest of the world sees. Sigh.

So for now, I live under the guise of Angel Jane, domestically and athletically. But those who really know me know that party Jane and G.I. Jane are the real deal. Just sayin'.

Angel Jane or Satan???

Thinking like a PRO

2011-11-17T22:27:00.007-05:00

I am tired of analyzing the ups-and-downs of my temperamental shin, so instead I am not going to talk about it all and instead reflect on the ups and downs of the last two months of injury. I'm sure most can relate to some of this stuff at some point in their lives...maybe not quite everything...

Cons:

1. I can't run.
Duh. Running is, plain and simple, one of my greatest loves in life and she has been ruthlessly taken from me. *Sigh*. It has been a tough breakup, but I am confident we can re-kindle our relationship...when we are both ready.
2. The lack of endorphins must be replaced by hard drugs.
Running is slightly better for you than hard drugs, so I would list this as a con.
3. I am becoming soft.
I went from grinding out 100-mile weeks in icy -20C conditions to 130-mile weeks in heat and humidity...to being afraid of cold water...to buying a wetsuit to pool run...to stopping exercise altogether in favour of warm mugs of tea on my couch...yep. That's G.I. Jane for ya.
4. I miss my friends!!!
It sucks not seeing the Angels, my favourite group of girls. Though they have made up for this with GI Jane-centred martini nights, it doesn't replace the comraderie of trucking through long runs and workouts together on a daily basis.
5. Depression.
Though I have found a cure for this (see #2), you can't be high all the time.
6. Insomnia.
Yep, can't sleep. Luckily I've found a cure for this one too (see pros #7).
7. Pitiful appetite.
One of the WORST things about not running is not getting the same enjoyment out of food. I've come to the point where I never really crave anything (besides alcohol) and often forget to eat. What the hell? My former loves, peanut butter, bananas and whackloads of candy are now only a faint memory. It is so sad.
8. Muscle atrophy.
Since my appetite has diminished along with my exercise, my muscles are starting to waste away. For a while my injured leg was noticeably smaller than my non-injured leg. That was pretty weird. Now they are equally small and my pants are getting baggier. I want my runners legs back!
9. Chlorine intoxication.
For a while when I was in the pool 3hrs a day, I suffered from some severe chlorine-induced health complications. These included incessant sneezing (co-workers loved this), teary eyes, dry, scaly skin (the worst!), plus my hair was turning into straw regardless of the amount of conditioner I used. And of course the chlorine smell never goes away no matter how much you scrub. EVER. (It's really a turn-on to the opposite sex.)
10. Boredom.
Boredom all around people! Boredom while cross-training (Why does 10min of swimming feel like an hour of running? Brutal), boredom during the hours I waste when I'd normally be running, boredom because I am less focused when I don't run. Maybe I just get bored really easily.

Pros:

1. I am still a healthy, able-bodied human being.
Somehow us runners equate not being able to run to being physically challenged. We can walk fine, exercise fine, and when we get to a certain point we are likely not hurting day-to-day. Yet we complain just as much as if we were strapped to a wheelchair in chronic pain. It doesn't really make any sense (...unless you are a runner). But when injured, it is important to remind ourselves that we should be happy that we are fundamentally healthy, able-bodied individuals and we are pretty lucky not to have any serious problems. So yeah, I am grateful for that!
2. Insomnia.
Ok I realize I listed this under cons, but it can also be a pretty big pro. First of all, I can spend evening hours doing a lot more stuff, like getting extra work done, seeing friends, and of course dancing all night (in the process really helping the shin recover...yea).
3. Relief of pressure.
Even though I run because I love it, like most runners I put a lot of pressure on myself and want to perform my best. Now that I can't, a lot of pressure is relieved and I don't worry about everything that I do. It's nice to take a step back and really relax.
4. More time for work.
Yep, sadly this is a pro. I am trying to finish my degree after all, so it's nice not having to boot it all day so that I can get out and run before 6PM...plus with all my extra energy I am more productive at work...errr unless I'm hungover. On second thought, if you balance out the number of hard workouts in a week with the number of nights I currently spend going out, it probably balances out. Shoot. Scrap that pro.
5. My toe nails are growing back!
Ha! My feet are pretty far from normal, but they are becoming more normal, and have stopped hurting me all the time! That is, until I squeeze them into four-inch heels and go dancing. Then the whole blister issue tends to re-appear.
6. I don't have to worry about stomach problems.
I have a very sensitive stomach and a gluten intolerance, which is made one billion times worse by running. Now that I'm never really eating huge quantities and not jostling my stomach around on a run, I have found I can eat pretty much whatever I want without becoming very ill. I'll admit that drunk Jane doesn't really care about my gluten intolerance, so I've consumed my fair share of chips and nachos as of late. But with far less consequence than normal. It's pretty awesome.
7. I can replace water with vodka.
Need I say more?!

8. Spending less money on food.
Again, this is probably negated by the amount of money I spend on alcohol. Dammit.
9. I am spending time with non-runners and meeting more people.
This is probably a healthy thing. I can finally go out with other friends and understand how they can live the way they do. It's incredible how much more energy you have to do things when you don't spend twenty hours a week running.
10. Yea...meeting more people. Continuation of #9. Though one of them may be a runner, sometimes it takes a non-running scenario and two runners not currently running to realize that they may have more than running in common. Best part of this injury fo sheeze!

Heels for healing part II

2011-11-11T23:55:00.004-05:00

So my shin was pretty painful all of last week even though I stopped running and was either doing nothing or hitting the pool in a wetsuit (i.e. ...nothing). However, as I have already made clear, I was more frustrated at my inability to wear heels than to run, so I wasn’t terribly upset about the situation. Until the weekend, that is. My distress began to mount as the Deadmau5 concert approached and my hopes of being healthy enough to wear my party shoes were quickly fading. How could I NOT wear my silver, glittery heels?! It was an essential component of raver Jane’s getup! For those of you who have never been to a concert like Deadmau5, it is perhaps second only to Halloween on the list of great excuses to wear something ridiculous and fit in at the same time. Since I pretty much always wear ridiculous things, it was a unique chance for me to be completely at ease while doing so.

Party pumps!

So what does the reasonable, disciplined G.I. Jane decide to do? Find a pair of flat glittery shoes? Wear some retro runners? Skip the night of all-night dancing? Of course not! Instead I took a few midday shots of vods and put on my party outfit, glittered stilettos and all. And suddenly my shin felt awesome. We went to my friend’s house for some more non-alcoholic beverages and I raved about how great my leg felt. I clearly have astute friends, however, since they dismissed everything that came out of my mouth and instead insisted that I tape up my shin. Not sure what really happened after that but I woke up with the circulation in my leg cut off and what seemed to be an entire roll of tape around my leg. Suffice to say I did a pretty good job of compressing that sucker. (Or was it not me who taped it? Mauricio? Tim? Argean? Deadmau5?). I also must thank Tim for rudely ripping off my beautiful blonde wig and telling me it looked horrendous. I actually thought it looked pretty good but it would have been way too hot at the concert, so I’m glad it was ruthlessly stolen from me. Tim, you are a true friend.

Moi et Mauricio

Mauricio and Tim. Good friends.

So, the concert. It was awesome. I think we got there *slightly* early (7PM may have been overkill) since we danced for almost 5 hours before the man (mouse?) came on. Sheeshus talk about a climax. That was the biggest buildup I’ve ever experienced (twss). My feet were already blistered and bleeding at that point but my spirits were high since I was winning the party in every way possible. I was outdrinking men (well maybe they weren’t really men, probably couldn’t even use powertools) left right and centre, and it was beautiful. We saw some pretty crazy outfits, not to mention dance moves, but the strangest part of the whole night was this tall awkward dude that kept following me around on the dance floor. I kept thinking he was trying to attack me after he almost punched me in the face about five times. I tried repeatedly to lose him but he always managed to find me and then start to pump his fist like a crazed madman. It was very strange. He then proceeded to tell me that he had been missing out on the electronic music scene because he had taken up the fiddle. Not only that, but he actually NAMED his fiddle Ramus. Who names their instrument?! But more than that, who plays the fiddle?! I was truly puzzled. And why was he telling me this?! Nevertheless, I think the event was an eye-opening one for him in which he realized that the hard beats and high-pitched screams of a computer screen were much more creative than the coordinated strokes of a guitar string by a regular human being. I mean, duh.

Awkward guy and non-awkward girl

It didn’t take long before the intense pain of my bleeding feet overrode the numbing effect of 40% alcohol, however, and I could no longer take another second in my glitzy heels. Naturally, I ripped them off and began marching around the Rogers Centre shoeless. No one gave me a second look, of course, since you can do pretty much anything at a Deadmau5 concert without it seeming weird (except maybe stand still and be sober. That would look awkward). I woke up the next morning on a glitter-stained couch with a pounding headache, black makeup all over my face and extremely dirty feet, but as soon as I got up and stumbled around, I noticed one thing that set this morning apart from those of the last six weeks. My shin! It didn’t hurt! I was incredulous. After an entire day of zero pain, I started to get pretty excited. Perhaps it was REALLY on the mend?

It’s been a week since then, and it is still feeling good. I feel a bit of stiffness when I swim, but no pain at all even on the elliptical. It is pretty awesome. I don’t want to start back before it’s perfect so I’m doing my resistance exercises every other day and gradually building up more strength in the muscle. What’s even better to know is that my native lifestyle seems to have a curative effect on torn shin muscles. Who would have thought?! Avoiding heels for the last six weeks was clearly my biggest mistake, and one that will not be repeated. So if anyone out there is struggling with a nagging injury and doesn’t understand why it won’t heal despite their best efforts, perhaps you should try wearing some high-heels, taking numerous shots of vodka (within a shot-taking competition for best effects), listening to some rave music and spending five to eight hours dancing your ass off until your feet bleed. (Oh, but make sure you tape it up. While drunk.) Worked for me!

Woot is right. Awesome stuff!

Heels for healing

2011-11-03T10:01:00.003-04:00

You may remember me whining about the temperature of the friggin pool. It's seriously awful. Awful getting in, torturous throughout and numbing by the time I'm finished. It got to the point where my days would be filled with dread when a pool run loomed in the evening. Finally I lost it: 'Why am I putting myself through this insanity?! WHY?!' I screamed at my poor pool running partner, Mauricio. He gave me a strange look and told me to stop complaining (I didn't). I think he was confused by how someone who could run 130 miles per week in 40 degree heat with bleeding, blistering feet without thinking twice about it could be whimpering because of some cold H2O. And perhaps he has a point. Nevertheless, that day I reached my limit. I became lost, confused, empty and wretched, not knowing what on earth I should do next. It was really quite sad and exasperating. Kind of like when you've been dumped by someone awesome and you start dating someone much less awesome. It feels good when you finally dump the less awesome person, but then you're alone, and that can suck just as much if not more. So when my physio suggested to start focusing on doing short runs instead of pooling it out in misery, I jumped at the opportunity. And it felt. AAAAAMAZING.

Unfortunately, my shin wasn't quite ready for the runs, and after 4 little joyous spurts (is it just me or does that just sound wrong?) in a week it was feeling worse than before. So last weekend I was advised to stay in the pool and strengthen the muscle until it felt 100%. Once again, a dark cloud of blue frigidness came over me and I shuddered at the thought of my first workout back. Something had to be done. I couldn't continue living this way. I would turn into Mr. Krabs in a Spongebob seaworld again. So, what do I do? Suddenly an absolutely GENIAL thought came over me (happens from time to time): buy a WETSUIT! That was the answer! I'd be cozy and warm and dry for the entire time, heck I could probably stay in there for three hours if I had one of those bad boys on! I jumped and giggled at the thought. Suddenly the world was all flowers, rainbows and sunshine.

So I ventured over to Canadian Tire and found a pretty good deal on a full wetsuit. Last night I decided to try it out. I walked out onto the pool deck and smirked at Mauricio in his little shorts. He outright laughed at me in my ridiculous astronaut attire. Whatever, I would be warm and he would suffer. I knew I wouldn't have the last laugh! We got in the pool and before I even had a chance to start moving, something felt very odd. I paused, and instead of drowning like I normally would, I just bobbed there and floated around. WTF? Apparently the wetsuit was not only a warming device, but a flotation one as well! Now perhaps a normal person would be happy about this, since pool running took virtually no effort. But to me it was an epic fail. I wanted to work HARD in the water, not waste 90min floating around! I decided to give it a shot, however, and tried to make it more difficult my moving my legs as fast as humanly possible. I think I found the answer for G.I. Jane sprint training - I had some legitimate turnover going on, which I have never come close to before. I glided through the water, moving faster than the swimmers beside us. I felt like Jesus just hammering across the surface. I looked over at Mauricio (usually when I lapped him, every couple minutes) who was panting and periodically getting submerged under water due to his sinking frame. 'It's sooooo cold today G.I.' he uttered miserably. I didn't respond. I was not happy. All the glory I had envisioned was usurped from my being. I was ready to give up my spongey suit and suffer through the cold just so I could be working as hard as him. An hour later, he asked 'Are you still warm?' 'Yes,' I answered, 'But I'm also bored. This is too easy!' I thought about continuing until two hours, but figured it would still be a waste of time. So we got out 90min later, him tired and spent, while I felt like I could go and hammer two hours on the elliptical. Dammit!

So the wetsuit idea was not as genial as I had anticipated. Hopefully I will do some triathlons next summer and get some use out of it...errr unless anyone wants to buy a wetsuit from me?

Alright, next time I blog I will not have any shin pain. What is the reason for my renewed determination, you might ask? Well, it has nothing to do with running. There are no races in the immediate future and I am in no rush to start hammering out the miles. But it is holiday season (maybe only in my world, it starts in mid--October) and for me that means party time. And party time entails party outfits which means I get to sport my awesome heel collection. And for anyone who has seen my apartment, they have witnessed this fabulous collection of shoes that lines the entire length of my wall. Black, gold, white, silver, red, strappy, glittery, four inch, six inch, three inch, eff-me boots - I've got them all. And at the moment I can wear none of them. This is very sad. Wearing one of my two pairs of flats is not a la party Jane. So, I am strengthening my shin twice a day and massaging it religiously in order to get it strong enough to withstand some heel action. Somehow I have a feeling that this is what will make me healthy. Go figure!

Heeling power!

Awesome

Motivational running

2011-10-25T11:47:00.006-04:00

First off, in case anyone wants to read more of my Dalai Lama-like words of wisdom, you can follow me on Twitter (see side panel). Between e-mail, Facebook, my blog and Twitter I seem to have accumulated a fair number of distractions in my life. I figure that deep down I don't really want to graduate, since that might dampen my general bitterness and cynicism, which in turn would have quite a negative effect on the humour in my blog. Then I'd lose my blog friends, and then my life would pretty much suck. So pile on the distractions!

I haven't blogged since the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon, which was an incredibly exciting weekend. I have to give a shout-out to Reid Coolsaet and Eric Gillis for their truly inspiring runs. It was thrilling to watch Reid go for the standard so aggressively and run so well given the windy, cold conditions - AND pull off a great race after taking the world's fastest bathroom break! I obviously have a thing or two to learn from him (and Paula Radcliffe) about how to excel at the 'stop-and-go'...is this something I need to train for? I'm sure the city of Toronto would support this. Maybe I should just ask Rob Ford himself: "You wouldn't mind if I ran marathons around the city AND shat all over the streets, would you?" (I am SURE he would appreciate the humor in my comments, given how well he reacted when the actors on This Hour has 22 Minutes tried to play a joke on him. Wow!)

Anyway, although Reid was quite impressive in this feat there were other moments of heroism. With the cameras on him for most of the race, the country missed out on Gillis' extremely gutsy run. Thankfully they did catch his last 300m which were undoubtedly the most exciting steps of the entire race. Seeing him check his watch and realize he had seconds to make it to the line under the Olympic qualifying time almost gave me a heart attack. I have never seen anyone sprint so hard at the end of a marathon. The pained, exasperated expression on his face said it all; he ran those last 100m with everything he had - legs, head, and heart. He flew across that line with 0.7s to spare. Now THAT is inspiration.

Another hero was Fauja Singh, a 100-year-old man who crossed the line in 8:25. It is disappointing that he won't be recognized by The Guiness Book of World Records for oldest man to run a marathon since he doesn't have a birth certificate. I would think there must be a way to genetically determine his age, but perhaps it wouldn't be accurate to the exact year. Nevertheless, perhaps if they could prove he was born within a year or two of 1911, he could get the record? What a shame!

I have to mention Leslie Sexton's exceptional run, besting her time in the half-marathon by two minutes in 1:16:33. When I saw her at Acura in July I asked her what time she'd be aiming for at Scotia. '1:16' she said simply. 'Oh yeah?' I responded with a smirk, 'Any reason for that particular number???' 'Obviously, because I have to beat your time!' she responded. I have to give her props for going out and doing just that on a slower course and on a slower day. Leslie, you can go wayyyyy faster than 1:16 and there are lots of PBs to come for you! Awesome.

Speaking of fast half-marathons (and people not being awarded official records!), congrats to Dayna Pidhoresky for running the fastest half marathon by a female Canadian. EVER. 1:11:46. It's unfortunate that it won't count as a National record because of the 57% displacement between the start and the finish (the limit is 50%) but I have no doubt she can do it again. Even more impressive, she ran that seven days after demolishing the field in Detroit in 1:14! Wow.

A bunch of the Angels raced at Scotia as well - congrats to Kathryn who was 2nd in the 5k (18:33) and to Sasha Gollish, Katie S, Mama K, Jebs, Kap 'N K and V-Cash who ran very well in the half marathon. My Montreal sista Miss Ali-Khan ran an awesome 1:19:44 for a 6min PB in her 2nd half-marathon ever. Not bad for an 800m superstar!

So the good thing about all of these fantastic races is that it gets me pretty motivated. Now all I need is for my body to cooperate with me. So obviously I am dealing with my lingering shin soreness but conducting all kinds of experiments to determine what will actually heal it once and for all. The all-pool approach was decent but I felt that the water resistance and kicking was still using the tibialis muscle too much. Plus I was becoming pretty spongey like SpongeBob. I transitioned to more elliptical, which was fine at first until I hammered out a workout on it with a ridiculous amount of resistance that took the shin back a notch. My short runs haven't seemed to bother it, however...perhaps because it's the only activity where I don't push my limits...so my approach this week is short runs only and minimal cross-training. We'll see how that goes! For now I prefer to talk about other people's running, since mine throws me into the dark depths of depression. On that note, I will go cry in a corner somewhere. Happy running everyone!

MY LEG!!!!!!!!!!

2011-10-12T21:58:00.006-04:00

Well ladies and gents, I used all of my mental power to convince myself that my tibialis injury was simply an excuse for a hardcore pre-marathon taper and that I'd be good to go in a few weeks. Believe it or not, however, the physical reality of tearing a muscle in your shin kind of trumps any kind of positive thinking. Not that I have been Little Miss Sunshine for the past three weeks. In fact, I think I've metamorphosed through every character of Spongebob Squarepants (errr do I admit now that it is one of my favourite shows?). Starting off, of course, slumping around bitterly like Squidward (above), cursing my shin and life in general. After living like the slothful Patrick Star for a few days, however, my shin began to feel a little better and I began to make outrageously naive claims - in true Spongebob form - like 'my tear will heal in three weeks and I'll be able to hammer out 42.2k at Scotia!' These periodic moments of hope were usually usurped by my general Mr. Krab-biness, however, and I'd go back to being irritable and depressed moments later. My co-worker recently admitted to me that he was actually afraid of me (and FOR me) when I didn't exercise. Oh dear. Now that I am back to being OCD-on-exercise Larry the Lobster, I'm feeling much better mentally and physically - and best of all, people are talking to me again! Ha!

So. My stupid shin. Yes, I am convinced it has a brain and is stupid since it refuses to get back to 100% faster than a snail's pace. Not only is it taking its sweet time, it is undecided and waivering at every stage of recovery: one day feeling better, then going back to its pre-existing sore state the next. SO since it is slow and cannot make up its mind I have deemed it STUPID. For those who aren't aware of the diagnosis, it turns out I tore a muscle in my anterior tibialis. Yep, according to my oh-so-sensitive physiotherapist (who is really quite genial) I 'ripped 'er right apart.' Awesome. It is great to know that those stabbing pains during my execution run were really me tearing my muscle in two. Perhaps it is not my shin that is the dumbest part of me...

Speaking of dumb: Patrick Star (pretty much my favourite character. Ever.)

[Looking for Squidward in a crowd of squids]
SpongeBob SquarePants: Are you Squidward?
Squid #1: No.
SpongeBob SquarePants: Are you Squidward?
Squid #2: No.
Patrick: [to a fire hydrant] Are you Squidward?
[silence]
Patrick: It's okay. Take your time.

Anyway, it's been three weeks and it's almost there, but not quite. I can pretty much do anything without pain except for massage the area of the tear. Once the sore spot is gone I should be good to go. In the meantime, I am living in an underwater sea-world much like Spongebob. I wake up, get wet, leave work, get wet again (that's what she said? Sorry Watson that may have been a reach). The worst part of two-a-day pool workouts isn't even the boredom - it's how cold the water is. Seriously, do they HAVE to make pools that frigid?! I'd rather do a 30k long run in -30 than get in the pool and hammer out a 90min pool run every evening. I emerge completely blue and am sure my dry skin is verging on scales at this point, so I pretty much AM morphing into a fish.

Goodtimes.

Even though I won't be racing, I look forward to watching the action this weekend at the SWTM. It is going to be an intensely exciting race for Reid, Eric, Dylan and Rob in the full marathon and I also look forward to seeing Sexton and Cliff go after it in the half. Krista DuChene is making a return to form after her fourth child (!) and my Angel sisters Kap 'N K, Katie S and Mama K are going to tear it up for sure. Good luck to all those racing!

Pretty sure this is what I'll look like when I can run again

For those who don't get the 'LEG!!!' joke, it's a recurring line in Spongebob, by some random sea creature called Fred. He basically yells it out at completely random moments...of which there are a lot in this show...

Roadblock

2011-09-25T21:25:00.007-04:00

It's amazing what one can go through in a week. Last Saturday I could barely walk. Today I'm frustrated I can't flex my foot. Last Sunday I tried to go to the lab - 4 blocks away - and was reduced to a hobbling, sobbing mess halfway there. I contemplated plonking myself down on the pavement in order to finish off my sob-fest to avoid the compounding effect of a stabbing pain in my leg. I'm sure everyone around me thought I had lost a family member or had just gotten fired from my job. Nope, just shin pain. That's when you know you are a nutso runner.

I spent the entire day at work, trying to do my experiments but getting teary-eyed partway through anything. I thought my running days were over. How could I have any hope when I was a complete cripple? I worried that I might have a stress fracture, or perhaps MULTIPLE stress fractures. Heck, maybe my leg was actually broken! I thought about going to the hospital next door and asking for some crutches. At that point I couldn't care less about Chicago or a fall marathon, I just wanted the pain to END. I called Mama K at around 5pm and told her I was DONE. Being the Mama K that she is, she told me to go home, rest, not worry and call the doctor tomorrow. How could she be so logical?!

Going home only made things worse, however, since it meant walking back four blocks and undergoing the same crippling pain all over again. The four IBUprofen I took may have well been sugar pills. So what do I do when I finally get back home? Why, crack open my 'post-marathon' bottle of vodka and say 'screw it!' obviously! This provided temporary relief from my misery...until the fact that I had just consumed several drinks BY MYSELF on a Sunday night actually sunk in, and I became even more depressed. Luckily, a friend called me shortly after and suggested we meet up. Oh boy did that save me from destruction!

The next day was another struggle, though I seemed to be hobbling a little more efficiently. Luckily my supervisor is an MD, and seeing me limp down the hall in agony, he offered to look at my leg. He is quite the personality; he is constantly distracted, always multi-tasking, and projects a comet of energy wherever he goes. He generally bursts into the lab in a discombobulated frenzy a la Cosmo Kramer and proceeds to pepper whoever is there with completely random questions. He is never doing less than five things at once, three of which usually include BBM'ing, meeting with someone and speaking on the phone.

His running commentary during my assessment was quite the spectacle. 'Oh WOW well first of all your shin isn't bruised, it's discoloured - look at the right vs the left, it's a reddish colour, not bruised. And it's swollen, very swollen, take your socks off! Your ankle is even swollen, wow you really beat it up. What did you do? It was acute eh? BAM! After one run, just like that? [Answers phone] 'Hi honey!' [Looks at me] 'It's my daughter, gotta answer for the daughter,' [Continues talking to me, though I am not sure about this for a few sentences] 'Are you taking IBUprofen? Do you take a lot of IBUprofen? That's probably why you have stomach problems...'[I tried to interrupt to tell him I don't take NSAIDS that often in case he was actually talking to me, but it was to no avail]...'Now the part I'm pressing on now is muscle, that seems the most sore, all down the anterior tibialis. But there's a part right on your tibia that's tender too, that's not a good sign..I'll call you back honey' [hangs up phone] I tried to interject to ask if it was possible that I had a stess fracture too. 'Well yes that's a possibility, but there is definitely some soft tissue damage here too. You've either SEVERELY strained your anterior tibialis or you've torn it. Hopefully you don't also have a stress fracture, but could be the case. Regardless, even soft tissue takes time to heal, so no running for you for a while. Your number one priority should be to take care of YOU, THEN your running. Got it? I can hook you up with some great physiotherapists, some awesome ones at St. Mike's, yep so you can't really walk eh? You're kind of hobbling around...how's your lab work going?' At this point he was halfway done writing an e-mail to someone and I began to retreat out the door. I limped off back to the lab, not sure what to make of this 'diagnosis.' My labmate asked me what the consensus was. 'Um...a severe strain, or partial tear of the anterior tibialis. And possible stress fracture.' 'Ouff so you kinda hit all the bases there eh?' Yep, I guess so! Friggin' AWESOME.

I spent the rest of the week feeling sorry for myself and waking up every morning in pain. On the bright side, it got a little less painful each day, to the point that I could actually walk fairly normally on Wednesday and Thursday. What a glorious feeling! My supervisor got me a second opinion at St. Mike's, which unfortunately meant a second vote for a stress fracture, so I got a bonescan on Thursday. When I was told the scan was negative, I jumped so high that I thought for a second I had now actually given myself a stress fracture. Thank GOD!!! At that point, however, I was already fairly certain it was just a bad strain, since the most painful movement was pointing and flexing my foot (and it no longer hurt walking). I tried doing the elliptical for the past few days, which seems ok, but Nic is concerned that any cross-training is still impeding my recovery time. So, for the next 48 hours I am not allowed to exercise at all (again!), which totally sucks mentally. But I agree will likely speed my recovery, and if I still want to hammer a fall marathon, every day counts. Seeing how far I've come in a week, I am confident that this is a minor roadblock, and that Ill be back on the highway in no time.

I will now leave you with an emotional ode to my shin, adapted to the awesome new Usher and David Guetta song, 'WITHOUT YOU'. It is best read along with the song. I.e. it sucks on its own.

WITHOUT [MY SHIN]

I can't win, I can't run
I will never do this marathon
Without you
Without you

I am lost, I am in pain
Will I always be this lame
Without you
Without you

I won't run, I won't fly
I will just sit here and cry
Without you
WIthout you

I must rest, I must fight
All I need is you to be right
Without you
Without you

Oh-oh-oh
Youuuuu
Youuuuu
Youuuuu
Without you
Youuuuu
Youuuuu
Without you

Can't erase, so I'll take blame
It's what you get for being insane
Without you
Without you

I can't quit now, I won't lose sight
No exercise and restless nights
Without you
Without you

I'll be sore, I won't climb
If you're not right I'm paralyzed
Without you
Without you

I can't run
I'm so pined
I lost my sport
I lost my mind
Without you
Without you

Oh-oh-oh
Youuu
Youuuuu
Without you
Youuuuu
Youuuuu
Without you

I am lost
I am in pain
I will never be G.I. Jane
Without you
Without you
Without you

The Execution

2011-09-19T21:55:00.006-04:00

Hmmm so I know I just posted a blog about a death run, but there is a comparably deadly type of run that I actually do willingly every 3-4 weeks called the execution run. I'm not actually trying to kill myself on all my long runs, but running is a pretty risky sport, and sometimes it just can't be avoided...perhaps slightly moreso if you do dumb things like try to run 45k in a foreign town by yourself with no liquids when you're drunk and it's 35 degrees with the humidex. Or dart across busy streets in the pitch black during rush hour in the middle of the winter (or better yet - during an ice storm). But sometimes, your coach tries to kill you instead.

That's right. You thought the execution run was MY idea?! Think again. Nicole even wrote an article about Execution Runs in the Globe and Mail. Check it out. No wonder we're called Angels. She's probably already killed us all and we're training in the cemetery in blissful ignorance. Anyway, as usual I am off on a bizarre tangent. In the article, Nicole describes the execution run as "an awesome but grueling run." True dat. It is awesome - if you get through it. For the most part, it's just grueling. In my experience training with Nicole, every execution run has been slightly different.

Coach Nic executing

I'll never forget the first execution run I did with her, in the cemetery of course, in January of 2010. It was -20, windy, the ground was snow-covered, I had a tender hamstring and had never run more than 30km. So naturally I jumped into a 28k execution, not really knowing what I was getting into. I showed up to practice and heard the girls anxiously chatting about how early they'd awoken to eat their patented pre-race meal and what they brought for fuel. They carried all kinds of bottles, belts, bars and gels and seemed quite distraught over finding the perfect place to lay it all down. I, meanwhile, had bolted out the door straight out of bed, empty-handed, and was jogging around madly trying to keep my singly-layered stems and dollar-store-gloved hands from freezing over. Eventually we gathered around Nic and she addressed our terrified faces with a devilish smile: 'Alright,' she said, 'The rules are: Start out slow. And if you speed up you CAN'T slow down. Finish with 2k HARD - I MUST, MUST, MUST see a pace change!' 'So if we don't 'execute,' I thought, 'then SHE will execute us?!' I began to get nervous. But it was too late for that.

Seconds later we were off, trudging through the snow. I found myself wanting to push the pace almost immediately - 4:20s?! It felt like a jog. I could go faster than that! Nic warned me not to go too soon. After 1 loop (6.5k) at 4:20 pace, Nic released her verbal hold on me and I began to pick up the pace, falling into stride with Lauren King, who was back in Toronto for her winter vacation. The pace dropped immediately to 4:12s and we continued along steadily for another loop. It began to get tougher at this point and I finally began to understand the reasoning behind the whole 'starting off slow' thing. The pace fell again. 4:08. After 3 loops (19.5k) my hamstring started to act up and I decided against executing, for fear that it would literally kill me (or my hamstring). Luckily, Nic didn't punish me, but seeing the other girls flail and gasp for breath in the last 2k of their workout instilled enough fear in me to be deathly nervous for the next one.

Here I am almost two years later with many execution runs under my belt, and I am no longer afraid of them. After this weekend I would actually argue that perhaps I have begun to underestimate just how hard they can be on your body. Funnily enough, my approach hasn't changed much - I still don't take gels, and although I'll usually bring a water bottle, I rarely take more than one or two sips through the entire run. I also continue to dress poorly in the cold weather, meaning I wear shorts until it starts to snow and thin tights in -20C. I suppose the only thing that's changed is that I wear massive lobster mitts because I've gotten frostbite so many times. That'll teach ya.

The plan for the execution run this weekend was to run 16k at an easy pace, then do 3 loops (19.5k) at marathon pace (3:50-3:55) or slightly slower, and execute with 1km hard. I knew I was fit enough to do this workout without too much trouble, but I wanted to nail it since it was my last big run until the marathon. Unfortunately, my shin was pretty sore after my run Thursday night, and even after a day off Friday it felt tight and sore. I had had this kind of fascial pain before that usually went away after a few days, so I wasn't too worried. I decided to do the execution on it and rest up afterwards if it got any worse. Uh-huh. S-M-A-R-T.

I woke up on Saturday and headed out the door at 6:40AM for 16k easy. My legs felt good, but I could feel my shin. I worried a little that it could get worse once I started to run hard, but I'm G.I. (Great Idiot?) Jane, so obvi I ignored it. I met Anne at the cemetery at 8AM to start the marathon-pace portion of the run. We went through 1k in 4:13, making me cringe since I was sure it was at least 4:00/km. My legs got into it soon enough, however, and I finished the first loop with 4:00/3:59/3:48/3:47/3:48 kms and a 3:55/km average. I was happy - my shin, however, was NOT. I felt it throb, especially on the downhills, but of course didn't contemplate stopping - the rest of me felt GREAT (so logical). Donna hopped in for 5k in the second loop, helping me bring down the pace to 3:46s AND take my mind off my leg. When she left me I maintained 3:47s for another loop, still feeling strong. As I climbed the last hill before my 1k execution, I saw the Varsity girls taking off on their tempo run. 'Perfect,' I thought, 'I'll catch 'em on the execution!' I started to hammer and eventually chased them down, crossing the 1k mark in 3:30. I think I threw my hands up dramatically and swore pretty loudly at this point since I failed to get in a sub-3:30 (must have been entertaining as they ran by seconds later), but overall was happy with the run. It only took a few seconds before I knew I had better book it home as my shin began to throb profusely. So, 6k later, I hobbled into Starbucks with 42k in the bag and a 3:04 total clocking, including 20k at 3:49/km average. You'd think I'd be happy. But I wasn't. For the first time, I was executed by the execution run.

The rest of the day, I pretty much sat on my ass and refreshed the bag of ice on my shin. I occasionally got up to take some more IBUprofen or eat a bag of gluten-free chips in moroseful self-pity. It was pretty sad. My Dad, who suffers from arthritis and who currently has a herniated disc, was in town that night and took me out to dinner. It must have been a pretty funny sight: I'm not sure who looked more encumbered climbing up the stairs at The Keg - the 26-year-old light and fit daughter, or the 65-year-old arthritic Dad with a herniated disc. Sometimes I feel like this running thing makes you live in dramatic extremes, where you're either hammering out a 20-miler with youthful jubilance or crawling down the street slower than a senior citizen. Unfortunately, two days later I am still stuck in the latter mode (um it took me 15 minutes to hobble four blocks today. Enough said.), and after a diagnosis of a severely strained and potentially partially torn anterior tibialis muscle, I think I might be here for a while. Strangely, I am not *that* upset about it - it sucks, but I am welcoming a little break from running. There's nothing I can do but rest and hope for the best - if it heals soon, I'll run Chicago - if not, I'll just run a later marathon. No biggie. I know I'm already ready at this point. If anything, I've finally learned to respect the execution - and really understand the reason behind its "intriguing" name!

The Coolis Cripples trying to look happy

Keep going

2011-09-13T16:36:00.009-04:00

The countdown is on: four weeks to go until the Bank of America Chicago Marathon, hellz yes! I just completed another mileage PB for the week of 138 miles. My body has morphed into some kind of super-human running machine, I don't get it. I never thought I'd be able to run this much, but I'm starting to appreciate what the body can adapt to with slow and consistent increases in training. All I hope is that I keep 'er going for another two weeks, until the blissful taper begins!

Keep Going

Last week was one of my best weeks of training - not just because of the numbers, but because I got in two of my highest volume interval workouts as well as a solid overdistance run. On Monday I was advised to take it easy during the workout since I had just done a 50k run two days earlier. Being the obedient little athlete that I am, I went up to Churchill early and decided to do my own 'tempo pace' workout and end it in time to say hello to the girls. I'm sure this is hard to believe, but I ended up doing a little more volume than anticipated. I swapped the planned 400s for a few 3k repeats, which in my backwards way seemed less daunting. In keeping with the backwards theme, my legs only began to feel good AFTER 2x3k, so I tacked on another for 3x3k in 11:20/11:05/10:59. The ladies had already started on their 400s, and I guess I felt left out (or I am just nuts), since I decided to hop in for five of them. I got down to about 76s - perhaps a *little* out of range from tempo pace - then went on to join them for hills (‘hills don't count, right?’ I told myself). Such was the progression to me doing their full workout on top of 3x3k and not taking it easy at all! I ended up running almost 14k of intervals, more than I ever have before. Nice. I am SO good at following directions!

I took it easy for a few days knowing I had a 12x1k w/90s rest workout coming on Thursday morning. My legs felt pretty horrible on Wednesday night, meaning I shuffled pathetically home from the Ninja workout and took rest breaks at every stop light. When I am not dodging traffic, you KNOW I am tired. I am pretty sure I was running 6min/km but refused to look at my watch for confirmation of this depressing fact. On Thursday morning, I was convinced I’d feel the same way, but miraculously the legs came around. Again, I am at a loss for explanations here. I pulled off a solid effort: 3:52/3:40/3:39/3:36/3:35/3:29/3:31/3:27/3:30/3:29/3:30/3:25.

I felt pretty fresh on Saturday for the long run too and got in another over-distance run of 46k, which included 5k tempo (4:07/km) in the last 12k.

Ninjas Jeff and Rachael spreadin' the Energy and the Energizer Night Race!

Speaking of keepin' 'er going, Saturday night was the inaugoral Toronto Energizer Bunny Night Race, an awesome event put on by the Women's Only Series race director Cory Freedman, who is ironically nicknamed the Energizer Bunny for her permanently bouncy stride and contagious enthusiasm. The event was held in Sunnybrook Park at sunset, meaning we raced through darkness wearing headlamps powered by Energizer. I volunteered as a race route guide and had a great time out on the course - the entertainment was unbelievable and included glow-in-the-dark jugglers, hula-hoopers and clowns on stilts. It was so impressive!

Mama K and G.I. J chillin' with the bunny pre-sunset

A shout out to Cory is definitely deserved, who did an absolutely FANTASTIC job organizing this run. I think one of the highlights was the pre-race dance warm-up to Rihanna and Usher and various other awesome pop songs. The pelvic thrusts and hip rotations were a new and exciting addition to my pre-existing warm-up routine (of course it already included leg kicks and booty shakes) and one I think the Angels should definitely adopt. To hell with drills! I apologize for exposing you to more of my god-awful cinematography, but here is a little taste of this epic warm-up. ENJOY.

Note the awesome booty-shake.

SHAKE YOUR BOOTY

The Dartmouth DEATH RUN

2011-09-04T15:27:00.006-04:00

Um so you MAY recall my innocent, off-the-cusp remark about 'attempting...a long run PB of 45km (insert joyous, light-hearted exclamation mark here).' Thankfully I did cap this thought off with an 'Oh dearie.' That would be a much more fitting description of the reality of my initial attempt, henceforth known as the Dartmouth Death Run.

I went to visit my brother in Halifax for his 30th birthday last weekend. The keyword being THIRTIETH BIRTHDAY. Another important word being TRAVELLING TO HALIFAX. Ok those might be more than one word. Anyway, the point is that I forked up half of my graduate student stipend in order to go visit the fool with the only point of my visit being to celebrate with him. I also happened to have a long run scheduled for the day following the party...a 45k long run. Some would call that an ultra-marathon. Pretty awesome eh? So what was I to do? Be a sober, lame party pooper? Or do my sisterly duty and get my brother severely intoxicated? (Obviously, it is impossible to get him drunk without getting just as drunk myself). Clearly, I had no choice.

Happy Birtday Jepray!

I arrived at Porter so early this time around that I had enough time to sit in the lounge area. Imagine that, I've never actually had time to sit in the waiting area! It's a pretty nice place - big, soft chairs, coffee tables, little reading lamps, and best of all - free refreshments! Lounging there does make you feel pretty refined. I made a quick transition from sophisticated to sloppy, however, as I booted it from the airport to the bar to meet my brother. I arrived there and was greeted by him and twenty friends, all of whom I didn't know. So how do you cope with the initial awkwardness of talking to twenty strangers? Why, finish your flask of vodka and then order two martinis at dinner, of course! Yep, obviously I didn't do this...I'm just saying that would have been an easy thing to do, Rrrright. Anyway, after dins we headed to what is now one of the most amazing clubs I have ever been to. EVER. I have no idea what it was called, but we walked in - no lineup - and proceeded to pay a ONE DOLLAR cover charge. I don't think I've ever paid so little to get into a club. I spent a good two minutes staring at the woman in disbelief, waiting for her face to crack into a joking smile. Instead there was just an awkward silence. I was incredulous! In a euphoric frenzy I went straight to the bar and ordered a gazillion shots for everyone (this is how I end up saving money, not sure how I'm always broke), thinking I'd put down a good $100. Well, do you know what 10 shots cost in Hali? $20!!! I'm not kidding. I think I am going to move to Halifax, it is such a wonderful place.

We danced the night away without incident, so of course I had to make up for this on the way home. As usual, I ripped off my heels once we got out of the club (a la Shoeless Coolis, obvi) and insisted on walking barefoot (the first time I did this in Montreal I earned the nickname 'Bitch with no shoes'...from my BEST FRIEND. I think I started yelling at some people who were making fun of me across the street. Whatever, who makes fun of a poor girl without shoes?!.). I was warned against doing this again, so of course I started to stomp around barefoot proudly, promptly 'stubbing' my toe on the concrete. Everyone pretty much ignored my cries (I deserved that), until we got in the car and I lifted my foot up, which was now gushing with blood. Turns out I had actually sliced it open. Nice. When we got home, my brother's girlfriend handed me a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, which I apparently began to pour all over my feet. 'It doesn't hurt at all!" I yelled. Awesome. Unfortunately, three hours later I would wake up with a throbbing toe, a pounding headache and the spins like no other (interpretation: still drunk).

So, what do I do when my alarm goes off and I'm still drunk? Bail on the run? Of course not! 'At least,' I thought, 'I'll run off the hangover!' I got dressed and out the door by 8am, at which point I fully realized I wasn't yet quite hungover. My head was spinning and I was a mess. My plan was to go to Dartmouth, where there is a lake I could run around for up to 30km. I tried for about 20min to find the bridge to get there (in my defense, it was strangely foggy that morning...and it WASN'T just my head!). I finally figured out how to get on the pedestrian sidewalk and into Dartmouth, and after about 45min I started to feel better. My head cleared up, and my legs felt good. My stomach, however, took a turn for the worse. I stopped at a gas station, which made me feel better...for about 20min. Then the cycle began: start 10min. Stop 5min. Start 10min. Stop 5min. It was like failing the Running Room run-walk program. This continued for the next hour, until the stops became even more frequent and I felt increasingly ill. Finally, 2hrs15min into my 'run' I called it. I was done, and I wouldn't run another step. I looked around. I had ducked into some trails by the lake and had absolutely NO IDEA where I was. To make matters worse, it was 30 degrees, sunny and I had no fluids on me. Compound the fact that I had been drinking all night and had consumed exactly zero ounces of water, and you might begin to understand how dehydrated I was. Not to mention starving. So I just started walking. About 45min later, I saw a sign saying 'CAMP SCHUBE'. 'Yes! Civilization!' I yelped. I found the main office and walked in, making the woman at the front jump in horror. I must have looked like a drenched, ghostly, starving, lost wild animal. Her reaction made me question whether I had also forgotten to take last night's makeup off; perhaps I was more raccoon-like than I had thought. I asked if they had anything to drink and she quickly pointed to a fridge at the back. It instantaneously lit up like a heavenly archway. Pepsi? Lemonade? Gatorade? Orange Crush? I salivated at the sight of everything. I wanted one of each. How was I to decide? I settled on several bottles of Pepsi and Lemonade, convinced that I would be able to chug 2L on the spot. I then asked the woman how to get back to Halifax. 'There's a bus stop around the corner,' she began, 'but you have to HURRY! It will be there any minute! You have to run! Now! Go! Goooo!' She became increasingly shrill. I let out a loud belch, thanked her for the pop and lazily made my way out the door, completely ignoring her frantic cues to hussle to the bus stop. I pretty much didn't care at that point - there was no way I was running. Plus I was pretty happy with all my sugary soft drinks, which I had already began to chug furiously. I got to the bus stop and big surprise - no bus in sight. So I decided I would hitch-hike. I figured Nova Scotians were a pretty friendly bunch. So there I stood, one thumb raised into the street and the other hand lifting a bottle of Pepsi to my visage, burping and chugging away. Several cars went by, but no one stopped. I couldn't understand why, but I began to get pretty discouraged. Then, I saw a big truck in the distance - no, not a truck, it was train. No, a train wouldn't be on a road, would it? Wait, could it be a...yes! Yes it was! It was a BUS! HALLELUJAH! The bus was late! I jumped for joy. I hopped on and eventually made it back into Halifax (small town buses seem to like to take a lot of detours...). I got off at a random stop - the right one by complete fluke - and managed to find my brother's place. By this time it was almost 1pm, and my brother and his girlfriend had just woken up. I walked in and they began to shower me with congratulations 'You did it! Wow! We are so impressed you got up and did your big run!!!' At which point I had to explain to them how I was out for 5 hours and only ran for 2 of them...nice. Ashley made everything better with copious amounts of scrambled eggs and sausage, however, and soon enough I felt back to normal. If I accomplished one thing on the Darmouth Death Run, I definitely got rid of all the alcohol in my system! So at least it was good for something?

Theodore Tugboat! (Not really related to anything in this post...)

An essential visit to SWEET JANE'S. Sweet Indeed!

So last weekend being a total FAIL, I pushed the long run to this weekend. I did it yesterday and in comparison to last week, it was about one trillion billion times better. I started out around 4:45-50/km and after 25k brought it down to 4:40s, then 4:30s and finished with 9k or so at 4:20/km for 50km total. The best part was how easy it felt...umm, perhaps because I had such a horrible comparison?! This is why, my friends, training off vodka can help you in the long run (in more ways than one!).

The head-bob battle

2011-08-24T21:51:00.002-04:00

Every day at around 3 or 4 o'clock, it happens. A wave of fatigue rushes over me, my eyelids start to droop, and my head begins to drop. As much as I try and resist it, I can't fight it. I strain to keep my eyes open and my head upright. I blink and shake my head, adjust my posture, hell sometimes even refresh the browser on my computer thinking that I too will be in renewed in the process. This head-bob battle may continue for ten minutes before my head takes an even deeper dive, almost hitting my desk. A few hovering, shallow bobs later, my head is buried face-down in my arms - or on a bad day, lies exposed on the naked, hard, wood. In the past, I have conquered the head-bob battle more than it has conquered me: lately, however, I have succumbed to a pitiful defeat, ending in a deep, peaceful desktop slumber.

The head-bob battle is not new to me, nor I am sure is it new to anyone out there reading this. I wouldn't be surprised if my blog has even induced many a head-bob. If you've been in school as long as I have, however, it may be a little more familiar. I would rarely get through a class without feeling the need for a few minutes of 'blind learning'. In grad school, however, I spend most of my time at the lab bench - that is, on my feet and walking around. It's not often that I find myself closing my eyes and head-bobbing walking to the centrifuge, or pipetting into tubes. But lately, it has been happening pretty much anywhere. All rules thrown out the window. I think I could fall asleep using the ear-shattering sonicator for all I know. This could prove a serious hazard considering where I work, though thankfully mostly to myself, so I won't be sued for negligent induction of cancer on another human being. So it's really OK.

Once, I was beaten by the head-bob and was passed out on a pile of papers on my desk. I guess I had been there for a while, since I was eventually discovered by my supervisor, who came up from behind yelling "Are you DROOLING on that Chris Marshall paper?!" I jolted up, startled and discom-bob-ulated (no pun intended) only to see a large puddle of saliva over my now translucent papers. "Um...it was just so...salivatingly interesting.." I attempted to joke. He stared at me curiously. A pretty awkward silence ensued, at the end of which he asked if I had been drinking the night before. Just in case I wasn't humiliated enough, he - my BOSS - had to point out my napping AND vodka-bingeing tendencies in one go. How wonderful. I felt truly special at this moment (and worthy of a PhD).

At least that time my supervisor already knew me (or should I say 'accepted my uniqueness'). When I first arrived in the lab I had an unfortunate head-bob defeat at one of my first lab meetings. To make matters worse, the post-doc who was presenting was the one I was working under. I knew nothing about her research, making it that much more important that I be paying close attention. I was sick at the time and had taken some VERY drowsy cold medication the night before and so was extremely tired (I am convinced it was still coarsing through my veins the next morning...though it may have also been *slightly* compounded by a 5:30AM workout and a complete lack of understanding of a word the post-doc was saying). Nevertheless, my eyelids soon felt like 5lb bricks crashing down on my face. I had no choice but to surrender to the ensueing head-dive. I hoped that since I was sitting near the back and that the lights were dim no one would notice. Oh, how wrong I was! Afterwards, not only did my supervisor ask me what the hell was wrong with me, but I heard the post-doc ranting in the next room about my insulting behaviour. What a great way to make a good first impression (I seem to be good with these in academic settings...).

So here we are, years later, and my desktop napping has reached its peak (or at least, I HOPE it's at its peak!). Luckily my supervisor is away this week, since I have been beaten by the head-bob at least once a day. However, it doesn't help that I sit in an open-concept office and right next to another professor in my department. I am pretty sure he thinks I am either the laziest person to set foot on the earth or that I am severely anemic. But when the wave comes on, there's nothing I can do. I suppose I deserve this for running 115 mile weeks and waking up at 5:30 every morning, and perhaps this is just a bad week. I have never been one to take real naps (I think I can count on one hand the number of midday naps I've had since highschool). so these intermittent 'time-outs' are quite frustrating. Not just because they interrupt my day, but because I become useless and unmotivated afterwards. The only thing I want to do when I come-to is crawl home and into bed. Instead, I usually have to go run 12 miles. I have yet to bail on an afternoon workout, but I fear that day will come soon. And that day will be an ugly, sad, guilt-laden day my friends.

Luckily, once I get out the door everything seems to feel fine. My workouts over the past two weeks have continued to progress. Last week was a solid 115 miles coming off the 10-miler that included two quality workouts. Thursday was my strongest workout as it included 10km of volume with three hard intervals (two 1k repeats and one 2k repeat) where I finally dipped under 7:00 for the 2k loop (6:58). I have wanted to do that for the past year! On Saturday I got in about 23k of marathon-pace tempo within a 34k run - it felt pretty tough, but I was satisfied with how it went considering how tired my legs felt going into it. This weekend I will be in Halifax visiting my brother for his 30th birthday (wooot!) and I will be attempting a milestone of my own - a long run PB of 45km! Oh dearie. There could be a lot of head-bobbing next week.

Acura 10-meh-ler

2011-08-17T11:06:00.007-04:00

I was stoked to race this weekend at the Acura 10-miler; the CRS put on a great event and recruited a great field to foster some good competition. As far as my performance goes, however, the day turned out to be rather underwhelming. It wasn't an awful race by any means, but it also wasn't a great race. In short: Meh.

A few days before the race my IT began to act up and was sore and throbbing until Saturday night. I decided to race on it anyway, vowing to back off and take 3-4 non-running days afterwards if the race made it any worse. Miraculously, not only did it feel fine in the warm-up, but throughout the race and afterwards. I have clearly found the answer to IT band pain -just go out and HAMMER a 10 mile run. Obviously, not sure why I didn't think of that one before! Nicole has a bit of a different theory - that perhaps it was pre-race nerves. Interpretation: I am actually crazy and made up the throbbing pain in my head. Huh? Good to know she thinks I am a stable person. She admitted to having these sorts of pre-race pains when she was in her prime, but SHE is obviously a whacko! Sheesh, I am completely normal.

So anyway, on the morning of the race, my IT may have felt fine but the rest of my legs most certainly did NOT (and no, I did not make this up in my head either!). They felt heavy and lethargic and completely empty of any pizzazz. How was I supposed to race without any pizzazz? Naturally, I sought it elsewhere. I decked myself out in hot pink and painted my nails malibu barbie, convinced that it was all I needed to feel fresh. I headed out the door on my warm-up, only to be crushed by the heaviness of my glittering legs (ya, I pizzazzed them too). I slogged down to the Distillery and finished my warmup with some slow-mo strides that I'm pretty sure matched my race pace. My head was not in this! 'Oh well,' is all I thought 'I'm just going to run my own race and that's that.'

The gun went off and about a hundred people blew by me as I ran at what I thought was a full-out sprint but what was more like a turkey trot. I fell into stride with a tall lanky guy who proceeded to pepper me with questions and state that he was going to stick with me and aim to run around 60min. I was jealous of his energy and bouncy stride, but am sure that he thought I was a complete bitch as I gave him curt, one-worded answers and then just completely ignored him for the rest of the race (I apologize if he is out there reading this!). If only he knew that a 3:50 first km was me working at maximum capacity! Surprisingly, he did stay with me until about 13k and was actually good company during the long, lonely kilometers along the Leslie Spit.

Starting out slow. Good times.

Though I secretly wanted to dip under 60:00, I quickly threw any time goals out the window when I realized that I was working very hard for a relatively slow pace. I stopped looking at my watch and just ran by feel, trying to push a little harder with every passing kilometer. I began to feel better as the race went on and at halfway (30:35) I peeked at my watch and was convinced I would be able to negative-split by a minute and snag a sub-60 performance. Of course, when you think you can negative-split, you usually run even, and when you think you can run even, you usually slow down (and when you feel like death, you will usually die...HARD). So even though I pushed the intensity in the last 6k, I only marginally increased my pace and ran a mere 10s faster over the second half. I was happy to get under the minute mark (1:00:59.5!) but overall not thrilled with my time. After all, I split 58-something en route to a HM this past spring. It was a fast course, but I had also run 3:45-7s for almost the same distance within a 21k workout two weeks ago, on a more challenging course - so how did this make any sense?!) I do understand, however, that things can change a lot on a given day and under certain conditions, so I'm certainly not going to question my fitness based on this result. And despite my time I was pleased that I was passing peeps in the second half and ended up 5th overall behind Pidhoresky, Asefa, Njeri and Sexton. Going into the race I knew I could run well and be as far back as 7th, so I couldn't really complain about my final placing and a $200 cheque!

Heading into the finish!

Award Ceremony

A bunch of the Angels raced and we all sported our new spunky singlets courtesy of Zensah compression apparel. They were very comfortable and generally awesome because they are pink. I know. A.M.A.Z.I.N.G. We had a number of great performances in the group, including our newbie Gusto placing 8th female in 1:05, and Val in a big PB of 1:09. Good work ladies!

Congrats Gusto, Val and Kap 'N K!

Of course we went out afterwards to celebrate race performances and Mihira's birthday and were all drunk before noon. I'm not sure Mihira was all too thrilled with the vodka shot we made him take minutes after finishing his first beer, but a few minutes later he seemed pretty happy.

Happy Birthday Mihira!

We were also happy to bring along our honorary Angel, Ms. Sexton, who finally admitted to us how much she wanted a pink Angel's racing singlet. I am pretty sure she has been desperate for one for quite some time. Unfortunately, Sexton, eating and drinking with us does not qualify as training, so although you are an honorary Angel, you are not a real one. Brutal, I know, but in order to wear angelic pink you must come to out our practices! Um, ya, so just let us know when you're coming out! ;)

Yeah, we're cool.

Dat's some MAINE MILEAGE girlllll

2011-08-06T14:07:00.009-04:00

Apparently I am a cursed traveller. Perhaps *some* of the events of my Montreal trip were partially my fault, but my latest adventure leaves everyone to blame but myself. I SWEAR.

I was set to go to the exciting town of Lewiston, Maine for a research conference from Sunday to Friday. I arrived at the airport an entire 1hr45min early - PLENTY of time in Coolis land. Apparently, however, in anal airport land it's equivalent to arriving at Porter 20min before your scheduled flight. I ended up waiting in a never-ending customs line for over an hour (at the end of which, the official asked if I was old enough to attend a conference. With my passport in hand. WTF?!). I was left with a mere 30 minutes to get through security and onto my plane. Another lineup later, security demanded I take my shoes off - my 'shoes' being flimsy flip-flops, the only footwear that fails to encumber my painful conglomerate of plantar warts, blisters and missing toenails. I'm not sure exactly what happened to whoever was in line in front of me (and I don't think I really want to know), since the end result was a trail of blooding on the floor leading through the scanner and onto the other side. 'Umm...you want me to walk through this? Barefoot?' I asked timidly. 'YES.' He looked down. 'One second,' He signalled to someone with a tissue to come and wipe up the small pools of blood, as if THAT would properly sanitize the area and eliminate any risk of contracting some contagious disease! (As someone later astutely pointed out, it was far worse for the person behind me, who would undoubtedly emerge from security with bloodstained feet AND a fresh set of plantar warts. Duly noted.) Since I was too scared of the big burly man and too anxious about missing my flight, I hopped around the blood-ridden areas and through the scanner and grabbed my sandals, just as I heard an announcement 'paging passenger COOLIS to flight 3792 with service to Washington, DC, this the final boarding call. Your luggage is subject to removal from the aircraft if you do not show up at the gate in two minutes.' I flew down the escalators, suddenly realizing I had to pee more than I've ever had to in my life. I debated stopping at the washroom, convincing myself that I could be in and out in 45s and still make my flight. Fortunately I decided against it and instead strained to run as fast as I could down the corridor without compromising my bladder control. I got to the gate with seconds to spare, legs crossed like an un-potty-trained puppy, and was ushered down the chute to the aircraft. At this point I continued sprinting down the aisle toward the washroom, carry-on bag in hand. I am sure all the passengers feared I was some crazy terrorist fleeing to the back of the plane to set off a bomb - why else would I continue on with my frantic sprint?! Alas, to everyone's relief (but mostly mine) I soon exited the washroom and settled into my seat, avoiding the curious stares around me. The man sitting beside me turned to me and asked simply 'are you a runner?'. I nodded, and we were off.

Ironically, it didn't really matter that I made this flight, since my next flight was delayed for SIX HOURS in Washington. First, the plane was 30min late. Then, the crew disappeared. How does an airline crew DISAPPEAR? I wondered if it was possible they could get lost in the airport. I pictured them wandering around aimlessly, unable to find their next departure gate. I understand that airports can be large, confusing places, but really, that's like me getting lost in the lab. Do doctors get lost in the hospital? Does Obama get lost in the Whitehouse? The situation didn't seem to make much sense. We were then updated that the crew simply flew somewhere else. Ooohhh I see, so they were so confused they got on the wrong plane? And it took off? Our flight nearly got cancelled, until at 10pm they announced that we'd be getting a new plane and new crew members, 'and we'll see about your luggage.' 'SEE' about our luggage? WHAT? So the crew flew off in our plane, with our luggage? Did they just forget to board the plane? Is this what they were trying to admit to us? I was at a loss at this point. Apparently the woman working at the gate couldn't take the stress of 100 passengers asking her what the hell was going on, so she left too. Awesome. Soon after this, the phone at the gate started ringing. Naturally, some random dude on our flight got up and answered it. 'Gate D14 speaking,' he said a-matter-of-factly. At this point there was a chorus of laughter - at least people were finding some hilarity in the situation. I, meanwhile, had already started to blog about it and had been giggling uncontrollably to myself in the corner for the last two hours (this is what happens while I am writing blogs). They notified us of a futher delay and went back to their initial prediction of a cancelled flight. Then the phone rang again. 'This had better be fantastic news' was the greeting this time around. The man got off the phone and yelled to everyone 'WE'RE MOVING! NEW DEPARTURE GATE, WE'RE GOING TO GATE A PEOPLE!' Well glad we had some responsible patrons that were taking control of the airline communication! Finally - and I mean FINALLY - after we waited another 30min for the last crew member to arrive - we were on our way to Portland. We landed at 1AM and fortunately so did our bags. I ended this amazing trip with a 1-hour cab ride to Lewiston, where I would be staying for the next 5 days.

Bates College campus

Some would say this conference is a pretty big deal. At least, the people attending think they're a big deal. And I guess most of them are. So of course I am rooming next to professors from all over the world who have discovered some critical gene in cancer and who have probably cured one form of the disease or another. And it's my first time meeting them. So what do I do on the first day to impress them? Well, let me tell you! Of course I was running twice a day on this trip, squeezing in 12-milers before and after talks. So I got back from a run, left my room to take a shower, and returned wearing a skimpy towel and unruly hair only to discover that I had forgotten my key and was locked out. I paused and looked around, wondering what my options were. Walk to the security office (one block away) in nothing but a towel, and ask them to let me in? Try and scale the walls of the dormroom and enter via the window? Or ask some random person to call security for me? Just as I was about to leave the building and take my chances being seeing half-nude on the street, one of the professors from the conference turned the corner and jumped at the sight of me. I looked down in embarassment. 'Umm...I got locked out of my room,' I admitted shamefully. She looked at me sternly. 'Well, that's unfortunate! Where on earth were you intending on going in THAT?!' 'Uh. Security?' I responded innocently. 'Let me call the office, and I'll get security down here,' she continued, 'I'm on my way to meet someone, but I'll get someone sent over. What's your name?' I debated giving her a fake name, but realized that wouldn't help me any, so gave her my real identity. 'Are you one of the dancers here?' What? I thought to myself. This is just great. Not only do I come across as a complete idiot, but a hooker as well. That's just awesome. 'Um no I'm with the conference,' I answered, a little more firmly this time. 'REALLY?!' She could not hide her surprise. 'How old are you?!' Once again, I had to convince her that I was actually 10 years older than she thought I was. Luckily, after this she was much friendlier to me, and actually went to security and got them to come back and let me in. So now when my supervisor asks me if I met Adrienne Cox, a speaker at the conference, I can tell him that we actually had quite an intimate encounter, where she saw me half nude and mistook me for an exotic dancer. Nice.

The scientists I normally hang out with. Kinda laid back.

I later found out that it wasn't SO bad - it turns out there was a dance camp going on at the same time as the conference so at all the meals, half the room was filled with flamboyantly-dressed, loud and colourful young dancers and the other half with conservative, quiet and pensive scientists. It was quite an interesting clash of personalities. I actually seemed to fit in better with the dancers and ate a couple meals with them. They were an entertaining bunch. I especially enjoyed the one girl who was told by her instructor to get a new weave. I don't think she liked this idea: Girrrrl, 'I ain't gettin' no Maine weave! Who she tryin' to fool makin' me get some weave in Maine, yo they be messin' with yo hair down here. Girrrrrrl!'

As per usual, I digress. And of course with all the stories I have from this trip, I have neglected anything about my actual training! This week was supposed to be a low-intensity week with no workouts and plain 'ol mileage. I did doubles most days and reached a record mileage over 6 days of 128 miles. Although they were relatively un-intense miles, they weren't easy, as the small town of Lewiston was annoyingly hilly. At least they warned you with clear street names, such as 'Mountain Avenue,' (straight uphill), 'Big Road,' and my personal favourite - a near complete vertical road called 'OLD BLOODY HILL ROAD.' Amen! Why can't Toronto have such honest names? It would make for a much more entertaining tour of the city. Like 'Longest Street' instead of Yonge Street...'Rich Avenue' in place of Yorkville Avenue...um but mainly I'd way rather live on 'Money Road' instead of Bay Street. I mean, who wouldn't?!

So accurate

They also like to point out how big their houses are

Lookin' forward to a down week this week, capped off with the Acura 10-miler. Should be a great race with lotsa speedsters headin' down!

Blistering feet and the blistering heat

2011-07-29T21:26:00.002-04:00

Well, the time has come: mileage has come back and bit me in the ass, just as I predicted (my prophetic skills are quite impressive, I know). I suppose it makes sense that this week has felt the worst, since I'm at the end of a 100+ four-week stint: 100/115/112/115ish (TBD). I am pleased with the numbers and with the fact that I was able to get in some quality workouts in the midst of what's felt like a lot of long, slow miles and some intense heat.

Getting back to my initial point - mileage has bit me in other places than my ass, most prominently my feet. Oh, my poor feet. They look like those of someone who's been living barefoot on the street their whole lives. They are a pretty disgusting sight. Since you obviously want details, I will start with the basics: black toe nails. This is nothing new. Neither are a complete lack of toenails. In fact, having been a ballerina for 13 years, walking around with inflamed, black toenails or missing nails I would consider quite normal. But no, not only are my nails a mess now, but I have plantar warts on the bottom of my feet. I wouldn't normally care *that* much about this, but you see plantar warts can become quite painful, and now they are bothering me a lot (only if something affects my running do I consider it a real problem. That's healthy, right?).

I know you are dying to know more. Well, I am finally getting treatment for my warts, meaning bi-weekly silver nitrate applications by my trusty podiatrist (I'm pretty sure he dislikes me and my feet as much as I like him. We have a great relationship). This has the awesome effect of staining my feet black. So to start to build you a picture of my beautiful feet, it would begin with a few black toenails and one missing toenail. Add in some black sexy spots underneath my toes and heel. My third issue would be the massive blisters I am getting all over my left foot. MAN are they painful. I have one on my pinky toe, one on the outside of my big toe, one between my toes and one on the outside of my heel. Of course they are all big and juicy and relentlessly fill up with gross fluid despite my repeated attempts to squash them. I am pretty sure they must also be infected, since they throb constantly. Especially in the morning. There is no worse feeling in my day than waking up with inflamed, throbbing feet and painstakingly forcing on my running shoes for a 13-mile morning run. The first steps out the door are the worst - I pretty much limp up and down for a few blocks, before I become partially desensitized to the throbbing pain and can push it out of my mind. Coming home and dousing them in hydrogen peroxide may compete for most uncomfortable part of my day, but I still think I enjoy that more than squeezing blistered feet into my running shoes. My fourth issue is some inflammation on the top of my right foot, which has come and gone for the past few months but only gets bad when I do speed workouts. Of course this week, it has decided to plague me after all of my runs so that I walk around like an old lady, trying to avoid stepping the wrong way on one blistered foot and dragging my tight right foot behind. It takes me about 2 full minutes to walk down the hallway to the washroom at work (looking like a total gimp at that) - so the other night I actually used the men's room instead. So much more convenient - though I'm not sure how well this would go over during regular work hours. I don't think the humidity is helping any, as my blisters have been this bad for over a week and I see no sign of them healing. Anyone out there have any useful blister tips? They would be mucho appreciated!

Now that I've sufficiently complained about my lovely pieds, I suppose I should talk about some actual training. I did an easy 38k (3hrs) last Saturday that felt great - I love how the long runs are starting to feel easy now. It was another hot day in which I didn't bring anything to drink with me (classic camel coolis) so of course I ended the run at Starbucks in a complete delirium. I stumbled to the cash, red-faced, hot and wet (twss!) and gasped for TWO venti green tea lemonades and a venti pike place. The cashier looked terrified and I can't really blame her. I must have looked like a wild, starving animal ready to suck the life out of on anything with a hint of moisture. She turned to shout out the order but before she got two words in she turned back and asked: 'TWO green tea lemonades? Venti?!' 'Do I look like I only need ONE?!' I thought to myself impatiently. I nodded and before I was out the door I had chugged one of the drinks entirely and was desperately stabbing at the ice in an effort to extract all the liquid possible. That didn't quite work.

Mondays are my toughest day, since my morning 13-miler is followed by an afternoon workout with the Angels. It doesn't help that most Monday afternoons have hovered around 40 degrees with the humidex. Last Monday it decided to thunderstorm during our morning run, leading to a legitimate flooding of the trails. Initially we poked fun at Chafe (a.k.a. 'softy'), who no-showed due to the thundershowers (but who will run in -20 through icy streets - makes perfect sense). The thunder gods must have been on his side, however, for partway through the run it began to snap, crackle, pop and POUR. I felt like I was running upstream running up the beltline - my feet were wading through ankle-deep water rushing furiously in the opposite direction. It was quite the sight. Of course I cringed at the thought of my blisters chafing even more than they already were, so I decided to avoid this by keeping my feet completely soaked the entire rest of the run. After we got through the trails, I hit every puddle I could coming back downtown. The more my feet started to dry, the more I felt the rub and burn of the blisters. So once again I made a lasting impression on the Starbucks employees when I sloshed through the door, mud-ridden and soaking wet. They must simply love me there!

My legs have never felt more heavy and dead than that afternoon. I barely made it up to Churchill for intervals, and convinced myself that there was no way I could do the workout that night. 'I'll just do strides and come back downtown,' I told myself soothingly. I showed up 5min late because I was running so friggin slowly, and immediately began to complain like a baby to the girls about how tired I was. I think I should stop doing this, since I am sure it must be pretty annoying to have someone self-inflict pain on themselves then incessantly complain about it (and then, as it happens, run a fine workout). Being the beautious, kind group they are, however, they were supportive through my moans and groans and encouraged me to start the workout. Somehow I was able to bust out a solid workout consisting of 6x800m, 4 hill repeats and a hilly 1400m tempo, with times hovering around 2:40 for the 800s. By the 2nd 800m I felt like I had a new set of legs. I am still miffed by how this happens considering how tough my warm-ups have felt! Top that off with circuits at 6:15am Tuesday mornings, and I am generally a completely useless human being for the next 24 hours.

In past weeks things usually turn around by Thursday. Not this week. First off, I slept through my two alarms and woke up 30min before the workout (that is a 30min jog away). I briefly considered skipping it, but quickly slapped myself in the face (self-abuse seems to work well with me), cringed while I crammed my poor feet into my runners and flailed out the door in a fury. I showed up huffing and puffing just as the Angels were about to start the workout, but at least didn't complain about it this time. We started with 2x1k, in which I initally felt like I was in an all-out SPRINT, until I went through in 3:49. I knew it would be a tough day. My 2nd repeat was 3:39, but I was working much harder for that than I should have been. The key interval of the day was 2k hard, at which point I was sufficiently warmed up to tie my PB on the loop of 7:04. I was satisfied considering how heavy my legsI felt, but really wanted to go sub-7:00. We finished the workout off with 1k/3k/2x1k in 3:40/10:52/3:37/3:37. I then got down on my knees and thanked Jesus I didn't have to run again until Saturday.

Speaking of which, tomorrow should be an excellent marathon prep workout - about 20km starting at slower than race pace (4:10/km) and progressing to marathon pace (3:50-3:55) for 14km or so. Hopefully with a rest day in the bag I will be ready to tackle it, perhaps even without a complaint!

MONTREAL!

2011-07-20T15:06:00.009-04:00

What a GREAT weekend. A couple of the Angels and I went to visit coach Nic in Montreal. We flew Porter for the presumed 'ease' and convenience of it - so of course we were met with a ridiculously rushed and stressful experience. It probably didn't help that we showed up to the airport 25min before our flight, fully intending on checking our bags. When the kind check-in lady informed us that there was NO WAY our bags would make it on the plane, we opted to carry them on instead. Of course then the kind woman (really no better way to describe her) asked us whether we had any liquids in our bags. "And yes," she continued, "if you can believe it, we ARE a legitimate airport. You can't carry liquids with you, or check your bags 20 minutes before the plane takes off!" We shamefully realized that if we wanted to make it to Montreal with our bags, we'd have to ditch several bottles of lotion and facewash, which Mama K wasn't too happy about. This didn't really phase me, until I remembered that I had just filled my flask with 8 ounces of Grey Goose. Shat-DAMN! What was I supposed to do now?! I was really in distress now. Mama K tried to convince me to chug the entire thing on the ferry ride over (I think she was in need of some light entertainment at this point), but I figured it probably wasn't a good idea to show up to see Nic for the first time in weeks completely wasted. So I tearfully poured out my flask in the garbage can and we rushed over to security with ten minutes to spare.

Although security duly noted the presence of a flask in my bag, they didn't even check to see if it was full. This kinda made me mad. Then, of course, they made the germophobic Mama K take off her sandals and walk through the metal detector in bare feet. I think this is where the tears started to well up in her eyes. This was followed by a 5 minute search through her purse, at the end of which Mama K uttered a 'OOOOOH CRAP!!!" and pulled out a swiss army knife from some hidden pocket. They looked at her skeptically as she claimed to have forgotten about it being there. Seriously Mama K? Who brings a KNIFE through security?! All jokes aside, they unfortunately confiscated her beloved knife and we got on the plane in a pretty demoralized state. Who would be happy with no vodka or knives?

If you can believe it, the rest of the weekend just kept getting more entertaining. On Saturday we went for a 35k run along the Lachine Canal, which was awesome. It was a beautiful morning and we almost managed to escape the humidity by getting out the door relatively early. The second half got pretty hot, however, so naturally we ran through a children's water park on the way home and soaked ourselves under the sprinklers. This was accompanied with a chorus of euphoric 'oooohs' and 'aaaahs'. I don't think we scared off any children, but we definitely got some peculiar stares from their parents. We attempted a circuit session in the afternoon, meaning I took a 45min nap on Nic's couch while Mama K, Stewie and Nic did Nic's infamous '5lb weights are all you need' routine. I was doubly impressed by Nic, who managed to polish off an ENTIRE bag of Oreos WHILE completing the circuit! I have never witnessed such a feat, it truly was incredibly impressive. Not only did she eat handfuls during the rest breaks, but she even chomped down during the ab exercises! I think I have finally uncovered the secret to her six-pack abs!

Serious circuits

G.I. Jane circuits

On Sunday we met up with my Montreal sista Miss Ali-Khan and we ran up Mount Royal. Frick I had forgotten how hilly Montreal was! But the spectacular view at the top was worth every step!

Mama K the master stretcher

Mount Royal run!

Perhaps only appropriately, our trip ended just as tumultuously as it started off. First, by the fact that we had to wash ourselves in pots after our steamy run since the water on Nic's block was shut off for four hours. When we finally got somewhat clean and packed up our bags, we were ravenous and looked forward to a nice brunch at Eggspectations before heading to the airport. This is when Nic had the brilliant idea to try and find a location that was closer to her place - or the airport - so that we didn't have to go downtown. And as if one brilliant idea wasn't enough, she took it one step further by enlisting the help of her beloved GPS system, 'Karen,' to help us out. 'Des-ti-na-tion is 3.9km a-way.' Karen stated robotically. The problem with machines that talk to you is that they always sound sure of themselves. How were we to know that Karen was a lying and deceitful woman? After following her methodical yet completely false directions for 25 minutes and 'arriv-ing-at-dest-i-na-tion' that turned out to be Billy Bob's Beer House or something of the like, we gave up and stopped at a gas station. According to the gas attendant we were only a couple km away from our Great Eggspectations. So again we set off, our eyes hungrily searching for anything with the words 'EGG' written on it, but to no avail. 15 minutes later we pulled into a strip mall and saw two restaurants: Chinese Big Buffet and Tutti Frutti Dejeuner. We settled on the latter, though I'm still not sure that was the right decision...

We sat down and immediately realized that our waitress was not exactly a happy person. She seemed irritated that we were making an effort to speak French (how could we be so inconsiderate!) and impatiently waited for each of us to complete our orders. When our water finally came, she practically threw the glasses on the table, causing them to splash all over the place. She filled our coffees like she was hosing flower pots, pouring half the pot on the table and not bothering to clean up the resulting brown, watery mess (ouf sorry bad visual). I don't think she was happy that three of the four of us changed something about our order either. Katie wanted egg whites and no cheese. I zapped the gluten out of my meal. No one wanted buttered bread. Oh but we wanted extra peanut butter. Finally, when Katie's omelette came all yolked-up and we pointed this out to her, she exploded into a loud 'OOOOOH FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!'. I could barely contain myself. Did she really just swear at us in English?! Did she not understand the concept of tipping? My amusement was short-lived, however, as I gently opened a container of ketchup that shot out like projectile vomit all over my new white shirt and shorts. I barely had time to react before Nic was keeled over, laughing hysterically. Oh wow. Of course we immediately concluded that the waitress had orchestrated this too and was out to get us in any way possible. Instead of going and washing myself like any normal person would do, however, I ignored the mess and continued on with breakfast, too hungry to care that I looked like a stab victim. It made for some interesting looks at the airport, too - to which I responded with a cold blank stare back.

Ketchup victim

So that pretty much wrapped up our superb weekend in Montreal - wasted vodka, a lost swiss army knife, $50 in lost cosmetics, at least $120 in parking fees and a ketchup-stained new outfit. But in all seriousness, it was an amazing weekend (primarily because we ran 55k and got some excellent coaching advice, including insight into a new way to carbo-load). It also concluded my highest mileage week yet - 115 miles on 6 days. I feel great now, just waiting for it to come back and kick me in the ass.

Bananas for mileage

2011-07-09T11:34:00.003-04:00

My first two weeks of increased mileage have felt good. I've been getting in consistent 12-13 mile morning runs, some on my own and some with the tmp group, who do the same route at 6:15 every morning. They keep the pace easy - the only challenge is hopping the fence in the cemetery without injuring yourself. So far, so good, though I may ask Kap 'N K to incorporate wall jumping into our circuit regime so that I am more apt at them, as I can be pretty uncoordinated early in the morning (or maybe that's just all the time..).

Last week I hit 90 miles on 7 days, this week will be 100 miles on 6. I am experimenting with taking a day off every two weeks instead of every week, as it makes getting in the mileage much easier. That being said, I actually didn't find it very difficult reaching 100 this week. With the big morning runs and two substantial double days, I didn't even have to do much of a long run to round it out. The most painful part of the week was running through my shin injury. And by injury I mean a massive bruise from running straight into a fire hydrant. Yep. Pretty awesome move right there. This was compounded by several other bruises, the source of which (if you can even imagine) is more embarassing than running into a still object. I will therefore not elaborate any further.

I did my first 'tempo-effort' workout on Thursday, 8x1k w/90s rest. We work out at 7AM on Thursdays, so the body is always a little sluggish, as was evidenced from my first km in 3:49. Ouf. I figured my legs were just tired from a heavy three days before, but the rest of the workout progressed pretty well in 3:36/3:40/3:30/3:38/3:29/3:30/3:29. I felt stronger as the workout went on and was happy with the effort considering it was my first workout in a few weeks.

I did a long run this morning - two hours with 30min slightly up-tempo (4:16/km). I didn't want to do anything too exerting, so I just let my legs dictate the pace at which they felt comfortable. It was one of those runs where I felt good and relaxed and never wanted to stop running. The weather was beautiful, the trails were peaceful and my body felt strong. I always try to appreciate these moments and remember how awesome it is to be able to get out and run. There can be so many injuries and setbacks in this sport and runs like these always remind me of the fundamental reason I do it: for the pure love of it. (...and because I can eat as much peanut butter as I want...)

Too elaborate on that point - I may have gotten through 100 miles in 6 days, but in this time I have also ploughed through half a kilogram of peanut butter and 14 bananas (um and possibly a container of vanilla icing, but I probably shouldn't be advocating this as a healthy way of getting in calories...). Some have started to refer to me as the fat monkey. But in all seriousness, I do have a bit of an obsession with bananas. So much so, in fact, that I recently saw this article, entitled 'Bananas could split for good,' (ha!) in which scientists discuss the likely extinction of bananas within a short few years. Apparently, since the bananas we eat lack genetic diversity, they are more susceptible to being wiped out by diseases and pests. This is so terrifying to me that I have started to donate to INIBAP (who knew such an amazing organization existed! Oh wow) in a frantic effort to help them save the beloved edible banana. I, for one, would not be opposed to a GM banana - only if it tasted like the real thing!

I'm looking forward to another solid week of training that will be capped off with a visit to Montreal to visit coach Nic with fellow Angels Mama K and Stewie. Looking forward to getting my *ss whooped on a long run with these speedsters!

Slurpee-ng down the miles

2011-07-04T14:56:00.004-04:00

It's the first week of July and I've officially begun marathon training. I am very excited about this! Of course this means the re-birth of 12 mile morning runs, doubles and long runs: gone are the days of split ends, wet hair, scaly skin and chlorine-induced sneezing attacks! Although that phase of supplemental cross-training was fun, I much prefer gallavanting through the trails in the warm sunshine at daybreak than staring at the bottom of a pool.

Bottom of a pool

Or the Beltline trail?!

I am starting out with about two weeks of easy running, building up the mileage. I was quite comfortable at 70 miles/week for the past month, so will be bringing it up to ~90 miles per week and upping it to 100 miles in late July. I won't be peaking much higher than I did in the winter, but instead would like to be more consistently at 100 miles. I think I managed 3 100 mile weeks in the winter, with most hovering around 90.

The approach will be slightly different this time around. First, I will start with easy running only then progress into a 'tempo' phase for the rest of July. Nothing too intense. Instead of doing straight easy long runs, however, we will be alternating easy with tempo long runs every week. This will give us more chances to familiarize ourselves with marathon pace and make it comfortable come race day. I felt that in the winter I did little running at my actual goal pace - all was either slower or much faster. I will aim for somewhere in the 3:50/km region for these workouts.
Second, we will be doing meatier workouts once a week that will evolve to awesome sets like 3-4x3k, 10x1k and 5x2k. I think we had a few of these workouts planned in the winter but because of snow, we had trouble completing them as planned. Now all we have to deal with is very humid days which are sure to come. Bring on the powerade slurpees!
Third, I won't be doing as much racing. This isn't really because I think it's a bad thing to race leading up to a marathon, but because there just aren't a lot of races I'm keen on doing. I will likely do the Acura 10-miler in August, and perhaps A Midsummer Night's 30k as a long run, then the 10k Champs in September. Voila!
Fourth, Kap 'N K (our beloved circuit leader) is back and this means that I'll have my ass whipped into shape on the circuit scene. Can't say my push-ups have improved much in the 6 months she's been gone and I know I'll have to pay for my laziness. I am looking forward to getting on a better circuit regime, however, both to get stronger and to prevent injuries with all the mileage ahead.
Lastly, I have promised myself that I will practice my nutrition better both before and during long runs, especially tempos. I have had too many 'GI Jane' issues in the past to let this one slide. I will likely subsist on powerade during the run, but have to make sure the timing and quality of my pre-race fueling is something my stomach is used to.

I'm psyched to get into heavy training mode, partly because I've never trained for a marathon in the summer and LOVE summer running. Last summer the track was fun, but I hated doing wimpy 50min runs every day. Not to mention trying to bust out some fast stuff in the 40 degree afternoon heat. And obviously, because there is nothing quite like an ice cold slurpee after a summer long run!

Adi-da-bomb

2011-06-25T23:57:00.005-04:00

I've got to give a huge, awesome, adoring shout-out to the Adidas team, for sending me so much great loot and for making so much amazing gear! I've always been a fan of their retro designs but it seems like they swag is getting flashier AND more functional with each season.

The adi-zero racing flats I've been wearing this season are perfect, not only because they are hot pink, but because they are super light and fast. I'm pretty sure the reason I didn't dip under 1:19:00 in the fall was because I was lacking these snazzy sneakers. I'm also loving their Supernova Glide training shoes, which are relatively light and packed with cushion...errr and they *may* also be pink too (but come in all sorts of colours!).

Hawt pink

I got some sweet 3/4 tights made from their signature CLIMACOOL material that are super light and breathable. They feel like they're made from soft wind-breaker material and mesh, but hug the body like spandex. And props to them for designing pockets that are functional - I can fit an entire credit card in them, keys, AND they zip up! Imagine that?! You rock Adidas!

So I'm pretty energetic these days, not just because I'm buzzing from the new gear, but because I've been running some speedy workouts and doing a little less mileage. I'm liking the change. Perhaps too much. Do I REALLY have to begin a marathon buildup in one week?

My workouts haven't exceed 5km in volume over the past month, and I haven't done any intervals longer than 1k. It's been a mesh of 200s, 400s, 800s and 1000m repeats. I've set PBs in three (except, of course, the 200m - I don't think I will ever be capable of a full-out sprint!), making me think I should really run a 5k. Instead, however, I came home to Vancouver for a week and I'm going to run a half-marathon. Classic Coolis!

With Nic away in Montreal for the next 12 months (only 10 months now! Not that I'm counting or anything..;) the Angels have continued to rock on. I always seem to have someone on my heels pushing me to run faster. Ruth has been on fire, and pushed me to a 2:33 800m last week, and a 74s 400m repeat the week previous. When I don't have someone around to challenge me, I imagine Nicole running behind me and think how much harder I'd be going if she was, and it totally does the trick. That's how much fear she can instill in us - the mere THOUGHT of her being on my heels kicks in my fight-or-flight responses. I ran a 3:13 km repeat using this approach, so safe to say things should continue to progress without her physical presence at all of our workouts :).

Chillin' with some Angels

It's really nice to be back in Vancouver and it reminds me how stupid I was to ever leave this place. Running along Jericho, the sun gleaming behind the blue ocean and majestic mountains, is irreplaceable. Should make the race tomorrow that much more enjoyable! Woot-woot!

Running along Jericho

DOMS

2011-06-12T12:35:00.001-04:00

Dnf Onset Marathon Sadness?

So with the big marathon in the bag, June was meant to be a recovery, 'fun' month before beginning another buildup in July. Unfortunately I didn't quite get the marathon in the bag, unless you were to say I bagged it? So perhaps in that sense, I did ultimately combine some kind of bag and a marathon. Success? I'm not so sure.

I am not one to dwell on disappointments. But every now and again I think back on how much I did over the winter in preparation of this one day in May, how much I looked forward to it and how ready I was to knock it dead, and I get really ANNOYED. Some days, thinking about race day was the only thing that got me out the door. Especially when it was 4:30am, -20C, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and I was supposed to run 32km. I know I still gained a lot of fitness, strength, and ran some PBs - and really, that IS what this is about - getting stronger in the long run (no pun intended ;) - but regardless, it would have been nice to perform well for the goal race.

Of course since race day amounted to nothing, I equated it with having done absolutely nothing and was convinced my legs would be fresh and chipper afterwards. So naturally on Monday I headed out for a 12 mile run and was pretty irritated when I found that my legs felt like two massive bricks. How could this be??? I had been running 10s slower than my goal pace, I stopped numerous times, and I got 3/4 of the way?! I was not pleased with myself. Tuesday was even worse - I made it a measly 10km in absolute god-awful pain before I had to crawl the rest of the way home. Wednesday was pretty much the same, with an added bonus of puking after my morning workout. Fan-freakin'-tastic. I don't think my innards were quite right the entire week afterwards. On Thursday I had the brilliant idea of trying a workout, which actually didn't go terribly; however, running back downtown was pure torture. My legs hurt so much I thought I had actually bruised them. So all in all, a bad day turned into a bad week.

This has left me realizing that although I may be mad and frustrated having had a bad day in Ottawa, my body still needs a break. I did do a long buildup with some big races in there, and despite having a couple weeks easy due to my glumy, I do need to recharge both mentally and physically. So I'm backing off, taking days off when I want and working out when I feel like it. So far this has meant workouts once a week with my mileage hovering around 60-70 miles.

I have been trying to focus on work, fun (and vodka) this month, but even for me this is hard after a running a disappointing race. Rather, I have thrown myself into designing a stupendous, fool-proof fall marathon training program that I am set to start in July. I have planned out races, dreamt of consistent 100-mile weeks and thought up key marathon-pace workouts that I have already conquered ten times over in my head. Katie, Kat and perhaps Jebs will be running the Scotiabank Toronto Marathon, and I am debating between Scotia and Chicago, so we will have a good group out for big workouts and long runs.

Ok, so since my life isn't supposed to be all running right now. I should try and tell some other stories about normal life I suppose? A la Watson perhaps? Well I do have a few. Ever had those days when you feel like doing a good deed and you fail miserably? Today, for example, riding the elevator (who doesn't have great elevator stories?!). Stopped on the third floor to let a child and his parents in, fresh from the pool. As they entered I heard the mother say 'you can press number 30 now, okay?' And me, noticing they how encumbered they were by towels and bags and general wetness (twss), I thought 'Oh! I'll press it for them! So nice of me!' So there I go and hit number 30, 'Wham!' it lights up a bright brilliant red. As I turn back with a big, satisfied smile on my face, I see the tears begin to well up in the poor child's eyes. He looked like I had ripped his favourite toy from his hands and stomped on it repeatedly. I suddenly realized that he had probably been anticipating pushing that button like I look forward to getting bubble wrap in packages at work: waiting weeks on end just to get hold of that plastic and pop it for all it's worth (twss). Nothing as satisfying. And I ruined that moment for him. He didn't even get near that button. What's worse - I had to rub it in his face with my big bubbly smile. His parents weren't too impressed either, and tried to comfort him by saying 'Next time you can do it, don't worry,' before he burst into outright wails of sadness. I tried to help, by suggesting he press other buttons - as long as they were on the floors above where I was getting off. This got me some more dirty looks from the parents. Should I have said he could press any buttons he wished? But what if we then stopped on every floor? I seemed to be digging myself a deeper and deeper hole. Thankfully my stop came and I darted out the door faster than I would off the start line of a track race. Wait, that still might not be very fast...

Ok, so another story? How about last Friday when I went to Pravda Vodka Bar with the Angels? That was pretty sweet. They have over 70 different types of vodkas and they make a mean martini. And you can get olive platters. PLATTERS. Ahhhmazing. I also learned that vodka is paired well with pickles. Good thing I love pickles (twss). I think the funniest part of this evening was the next morning. I am still not sure how I got home or...onto my floor...well I guess I can imagine the latter incident, but I woke up at 9am sprawled on some hardwood, with Mama K comatose on the couch. I immediately cursed at her 'S^&* Mama K, we were supposed to meet Jebs at 9am for a long run!'. I heard a grunt. I looked at my phone and had five texts from Jebs, asking where we were. Luckily she runs with her BB, so we were able to meet up with her 40min later when we finally got our butts in gear (i.e. got up. and got dressed.) This is where Mama K's distress was very apparent. She couldn't stay within five meters of us no matter how much we slowed down. Every block or so we'd hear a moan or a grumble of words, until we hit the big 3k mark and she exclaimed she had to turn around. She walked back downtown in the rain. Pretty awesome Mama K! I somehow made it through another 22k or so and felt great for the first time all week, for reasons beyond my comprehension. Basically what I learned from this night was that vodka is a great fuel source, and I should be drinking it more often.

That is all. Hopefully next week I'll have something more meaningful to report!

'GI' Jane hits Ottawa

2011-05-30T15:31:00.004-04:00

And for the first time I’m not referring to the military sense of the word.

First off, I have to say that I have a newfound respect for Paula Radcliffe. She was already my idol, but yesterday I had the wonderful opportunity to truly appreciate her prowress. She gives absolutely everything she has in order to reach her goals, whether that means running through injury, sickness - or stopping in the middle of the London marathon, in front of 500 000 spectators, to take a crap in the middle of the road. On national television.

London 2005 - Paula shows no shame

Not that that happened to me - exactly. I may have not experienced her degree of 'exposure' or embarassment, but it was enough to initiate some pretty strong feelings of the sort. And unlike her, I did not get back up and hammer my way home for the win. So she's got a few degrees of toughness on me (if that wasn't obvious already!). Furthermore, I didn’t stop in the middle of the road: I was diligent enough to retreat to someone's lawn (though still in front of the race course...and spectators) and help fertilize the soil of the supportive Ottawanarians (did I just invent another word?). Thoughtful, right?

Perhaps I should go back to the beginning, though I can imagine everyone can guess what hit the fan. Everything leading up to Ottawa seemed to go smoothly. I tapered well, I was in a good mindset and I felt ready to conquer the distance. On race morning, however, I was not feeling very well and this made me extremely anxious. Of course I was up at 3AM unable to sleep so this means I was pacing around the hotel, then the downtown streets of Ottawa, for a good three hours before the race, trying to clear my system and get things in order. Unfortunately I wasn't too successful. So, I went into the race not knowing how my stomach would hold up but hoping for the best.

The conditions were not too bad - no wind, rain was holding off - but it was muggy and hot. Within the first couple km I knew I wouldn't have a breakthrough day. I went out in 4:12 or so and for the next 15k worked harder than I should have been to maintain 4:00/km. My legs felt flat, but I got into a groove and figured I could still run a PB. As per my race plan, I took swigs of gatorade at every station. I also miraculously managed to find AND snag my bottles at the elite water tables, something that I had failed at miserably last year, managing to get my hands on one of seven of them. However, the race quickly became a battle between staying hydrated versus my mounting gastrointestinal distress with each swig from a bottle (and NO, it's not because I filled them with vodka! Those were only my after-party bottles! On second thought...they could have very well been misplaced...). Anyway, at about 22k, I realized I would have to stop. I was extremely uncomfortable and searched madly for a port-o-potty. I saw nothing. I tried to push onwards, but it only got worse, and by about 25km I had to stop - ANYWHERE.I was ready to pull a Paula Radcliffe and go in the middle of the road. All my dignity flew out the window and (I'll spare you the details here) suffice to say that some spectators along the course may have some entertaining stories to tell their friends that night.

I thought things might get better after this, and they did for about a minute, before I had to make a second stop in a more secluded area (I basically just ran into the woods this time, nice). And when I was back in the mix at 29k, I began to get stabbing stomach pains that made me run hunched over like an old woman. And thus, a new G.I. Jane was born, this one much slower. I had lost enough time at this point to make me cringe and I realized that if this continued, I wouldn't be able to continue to run let alone set a PB. So I stumbled to the side of the road and had a good cry before Nic AZ and Jeff found me, slapped me across the face and told me to stop being such a baby.

Ok, perhaps they weren't THAT brutal (but really, how do you think Nic has made me run fast? Bedtime stories and cups of hot cocoa?!) but they did smack some sense into me and wrote it off as a bad day.'This is the world of marathoning sista, next one's yours!' Nic would later say. Now that I'm a little less upset I am grateful that I'm healthy and still fit and I realize that there will be other races. And since it wasn't a fast day anyway, I can't be too distraught over what could have been.

So that was that. Crappy day all around! Unfortunately my parents had flown in from Vancouver who never see me run so that was a pretty sad way of premiering my 'marathoning talents' to them, whatever those are. At this point I'm not sure that they exist! Two things are for sure - I am not deviating from my normal eating (as herbivorous as it may be!) pre-race, and Ottawa will not be my third marathon! It is a great event and race weekend, but I think it's time to try my luck somewhere else.

I can be strong, out on this lonely run

2011-05-26T20:29:00.004-04:00

Well, the taper has set in. I've run every other day this week: Mon/Weds/Fri, 15k/8k/6k. That's it. My legs are feeling light, the excitement is escalating and my life has become an extended pre-race dance party (what else would you do with all this pent up energy?!). I'm ready to RUN! Lady Gaga is playing host to most of my moves, so I thought it appropriate to share her most relevant pre-race pump up jam to get ya'll psyched for the big race. Works for me!

The marathon can be a lonely run. But I WILL be strong!

We can be strong
We can be strong
Out on this lonely run
On the road to love

We can be strong
We can be strong
Follow that unicorn
On the road to love

Run, run with her t-
Run, with-
Run, run with her top down
Baby she flies
Run, run with the fury of a
Saint in her eyes

Run, run, ha cha cha cha
Baby she goes
With blonde hair and a gun
Smokin' under her toes

Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Ride, ride, pony, ride, ride
Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Ride, ride, pony, tonight

We can be strong
We can be strong
Out on this lonely run
On the road to love

We can be strong
We can be strong
Follow that unicorn
On the road to love

I'm on the roa-oa-oa-oad
I'm on the road to love
I'm on the roa-oa-oa-oad
I'm on the road to love

She's just a CANADIAN
Ridin' a dream
And she's got rainbow syrup
In her heart that she bleeds
She don't care if your papers
Or your love is the law
She's a free soul burning roads
With a flag in her bra

Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Ride, ride, pony, ride, ride
Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Whoa ooh oh oh oh
Ride, ride, pony, tonight

We can be strong
We can be strong
Out on this lonely run
On the road to love
We can be strong
Follow that unicorn
On the road to love

I'm on the roa-oa-oa-oad
I'm on the road to love
I'm on the roa-oa-oa-oad
I'm on the road to love

Get your hot rods ready to rumble
'Cause were gonna fall in love tonight
Get your hot rods ready to rumble
'Cause we're gonna drink until we die

Get your hot rods ready to rumble
'Cause were gonna fall in love tonight
Get your hot rods ready to rumble
'Cause we're gonna drink until we die

Below is a video of my finish at Ottawa last year. I vow to finish strong enough such that I can outkick someone running DIRECTLY BESIDE ME. Oh wowie.

Running stupid

2011-05-21T13:52:00.015-04:00

First off, I will start with the stats: I ran the Goodlife half marathon last weekend and won in 1:16:43. My previous personal best was set on the same course, 6 months ago, off a great taper, in 1:19:00. Before that, my PB was 1:21:45. 5 minutes in just over 6 months? On tired legs? Let the questioning begin! It's been six days and I'm still not sure I have an answer.

On Saturday night I tossed and turned and hardly slept a wink (rule #1 to a great race?!). It was pretty frustrating and I ended up getting out of bed for good at 3:45AM. After a heavy dose of Usher and Lady Gaga and some Zoolander dance moves (yep - this is now rule #2 - pre-race dance party: essential), I headed over to the Marriott to catch the shuttle bus. I did a light warm-up, strides, and met Nic at the start line for a few words of advice.
"All I have to say, is every second counts!" Nic said. [Translation: you had BETTER break 1:19:00!]
"This is very true!" I agreed. And that was that. I did one more stride and lined up on the start line. I had seen Lucy Smith just as the race was about to start and wondered if she would take the lead or was in shape to run a fast race. I settled in behind her for the first km, which we went through in 3:47. I had planned to go out in 3:40-45 but I didn't want to get too excited too soon, so I tried to pick it up on slightly. Unfortunately, the next km was 3:50 or so, so I passed Lucy at this point and tried to pick things up a little more. I felt strong but by no means fresh, so I just decided to stop looking at my watch and focus on running a hard, steady effort.

Early on: gloved and capped (let the striptease begin)

The first 10km included several good downhills, which I tried to take advantage of, as well as some uphills, where I put in as little effort as I could. I approached the 10km mark near St. Clair and looked at my watch: 36:20. WTF? I had scribbled some splits on my hand in my usual thrifty way and my 10k goal was 37:10. Ya. At this point I realized that I would either blow up and die or perhaps run a big PB. I was working, so I really didn't know what would happen. Once again, I resolved to not look at my watch anymore regardless of how fast or slow I was running, since it was only making me anxious. My new mantra? Run blind - or more blunty - run stupid. I didn't want to be a slave to the watch, and slow down because the time seemed too fast. I was feeling strong.

It was very motivating to have such a big support crew down Yonge street that included friends on their bikes, some of the angels, and even people from my work. I loved hearing Dedi yell "JANE! YOU ARE NUMBER ONE! YOU ARE THE WINNER!' at about 5k. I knew I didn't have the win in the bag yet but it definitely made me push a little harder to gain more ground on Lucy since I had no idea how far back she was.

Striptease #1: Gloves. OFF.

Heading down Rosedale Valley Road

Once we got to the base of Rosedale Valley Road I was approaching 16k and starting to work pretty hard. The course flattens out at this point and to make matters worse, there was a strong headwind from here all the way to the finish. Luckily, I was about 50m behind Hugo Reyes, who was running the race as a training run and who signaled for me to tuck in behind him. I kept alternating between running behind him and veering out to the side in order to push the pace even harder. I felt strong and wanted to run as hard as I could, but every time I did this I immediately regretted it. The wind was much too powerful for me to fight on my own. I hadn't looked at my watch at all and I thought I was probably going to run somewhere in the low 1:18s or possibly sub-1:18. I heard Nic's voice in my head yelling 'Every second counts!' and hoped that if I was close to 1:18, I'd be able to dip under this time. Then Hugo interrupted my thoughts: 'Stay behind me for 3k, then go - you can go 1:16.' 'Huh?' I exclaimed in bewilderment. He had to be wrong. There was no way I was going to run 1:16! Was he crazy? Or just really bad at math?! I pretty much just ignored his comment (I literally just didn't believe him) and kept running.

Thanks Hugo!

Once we turned up University, the wind got even worse. I fought for every second in those last 2 kilometers. Hugo was beginning to gap me as I was beginning to tire, and the wind was sneaking in. I saw AZ on the sidelines screaming her butt off: "GO G.I. JANE!!! You look awesome!' Then I saw Mauricio from my lab, who did a double take when he saw me then yelled 'You are f*&^#ing KILLING this! Holy &%$&!' I had to laugh at that one. That's when I really got it together and realized I had 1500m to make this race the best it could be. I buckled down and went for it. I glanced at my watch at 20k and all I saw was 1:12:xx, and for the first time realized Hugo was right: I could run 1:16. I couldn't believe it. In a dramatic wave of emotion, I threw off my hat (the practicality of this move in the last 800m in lost on me, especially since I really liked that hat and didn't want to lose it) and made my way around Queen's Park circle. When I saw the clock I was overcome with joy, and I crossed the line well under the mark this time, in 1:16:43.

Striptease #2 - sans cap

Finish. Unfortunately striptease stops here.

The first person I saw was Jebs, who seemed even more shocked than I was. 'What the?' is all she could say. 'I know! What just happened?' was all I could respond. Before I knew it, an awesome dude came bursting to the sideline, waving my hat frantically in his hands. 'I've got your hat! I've got your hat!' I thanked him for running my hat all the way to the finish and then continued down the finishing chute. One of the volunteers - a kind older woman - seemed unusually overjoyed to see me and asked for a photo. I obliged, then invited her to be in a photo with me. When she passed her camera to someone to take the photo of us, she began to tell everyone around her that she was my grandmother. It was the cutest thing ever!

I went home for some food and a shower before returning to watch the marathoners come in. I stayed in a delirium pretty much the whole day. It was really exciting to see Mama K come through in a 2min30s PB in 3:00:32, good for 3rd place. She looked so fresh! Val also ran a HUGE PB (20min!), running a solid 3:15. Jebs won the 5k and Anne ran a solid race for her first ever half-marathon. Overall, it was an exceptional day for the angels, and I think we made coach pretty proud.

Mama K at the finish

Vodka, candy, large-ass medal: what more could you ask for?!

Post-race brunch

A proud coach and a grateful athlete.

Despite the big run I had, I know that I have more in me. My legs are looking forward to a real taper, and I am jonesin' to race over the big 42.2. This is what I've trained for, this is what I'm peaking for, and this is where I will have my best performance. I am confident in that. I cannot WAIT to step on the line in Ottawa with the support of Nic, the angels, and my parents, who are flying in from Vancouver! Let the goodtimes begin!

Angels brunch

Downhill from here

2011-05-14T20:56:00.007-04:00

I am sitting at home, staring out into the grey, misty, wet streets on this lovely Saturday evening. *Sigh* the beauty that is Toronto! Tomorrow morning I'll be running the Goodlife Toronto half-marathon - the same race I ran in the fall and clocked a painstaking 1:19:00.00. Ideally I'd like to go under 1:19:00, so I'm hoping the weather gods cooperate with me and hold off on torrential rain - ESPECIALLY winds. I am so scarred from the winds in Montreal I'm not sure I'll be able to cope with a headwind anymore - should I be blown to the side of Yonge street, I fear I would subsequently crawl under a bench and cry pitifully until I was saved. Oh how soft I am becoming!

The past few weeks have been quite heavy but have left me feeling strong and prepared for Ottawa. The week of Sporting Life was 88 miles; any other week I am sure I would have tacked on another 2 miles to appease the OCD in me, but I felt absolutely dreadful in the days leading up to the race and was thankful just to get through that morning and end the week. The Saturday previous I did my longest run so far (40km), in which I ran SO fast that I was stopped by the cops. Uh-huh. I followed that with an up-tempo 30k run on Tuesday in a torrential downpour of a morning. I wasn't intending on making it a tempo run, until I was partway through and couldn't stand being out in the cold and wet for so long, so did two loops of the cemetery (13k) starting at 4:20/km and bringing it down to 4:02/km. I felt great the rest of the day, so being the smart little starlet that I am, I decided to go for another run of about 9km and follow that up with 30min of strength work. Beautiful. On Wednesday I went to supervise the Ninja group and my legs felt so tired I didn't think I'd make the jog up the hill to the cemetery. I contemplated stopping for walk breaks and tried to justify the legitimacy of 10-and-1s...on a warm-up. The stop-and-go-running that night did nothing to help my aching quads and on Thursday I felt just as bad. I cut the workout short, hoping and praying that I'd feel about a thousand times better for the race on Sunday. Yep, as you all know, this did not happen, and I woke up on Sunday with tired and heavy legs and a sore IT band.

Executing a perfect push-up during circuits. Kap 'N K would be proud!

Who knew Brecher was a high jumper?

I knew SL would be a tough race from the start but I still wanted to dip under 36:00 if I could. The gun went off, and as usual everyone was off like bullets, running their first kilometer about 30s faster than they would the entire rest of the race. So although I thought I was going out relatively hard, I wasn't surprised to see about a hundred people fly by me, including several small children and some hefty teenagers. When we got to the 1k marker, however, I was shocked to see a 3:35 on my watch - 2s SLOWER than my goal race pace! At that moment I really began to worry. Perhaps these people around me really were going out at the appropriate pace, and I was just running horribly slowly. What worried me more is that my legs didn't feel fresh at all, so I knew my pace was more likely to get slower than faster. Images of myself returning to my 40:00 10k days began to flash through my head; I convinced myself that I was suddenly anemic and overtrained, and I contemplated dropping out. However, I got to 2km in just over 7 minutes, which appeased my sense of anxiety and despair somewhat, but I knew I was going to have to push pretty hard in order to come close to 36:00.

Looking much more calm than I felt!

I kept trucking along, gradually reeling the start-gun-sprinters in and gaining more strength and confidence as I went. At around 10:30 on my watch, I looked for a 3km mark but there was nothing in sight. I feared that I was slowing down so I kept pushing harder - again looking around at 14:00-14:30 and seeing no indication of how far I had run. I told myself to relax and forget about the km markers, just run as hard as I could. Turns out most of the km markers were either hidden or not put up, so I had no idea of my pace the entire run. I just kept convincing myself that I was running 36:30 pace and that I had to go harder. At about 7km (I remember the turn from last year) I started to hurt pretty badly but saw a few women in front of me. I made it my mission to hunt them down and maintain what speed I had going. Luckily, they were slowing down so I was able to pass them within the next few minutes, which was encouraging. I tried to maintain an effortless appearance as I 'sailed by' them but this was severely compromised by my wobbling legs that kept buckling underneath me. Images of myself collapsing to the ground before the finish line was even in sight began to haunt my thoughts - how embarassing that would be! Could I pretend I misjudged the distance and thought we were almost done? Would I make pitiful excuses to the concerned medics that would flock around me?...like that I did a long run on TUESDAY? Tuesday, for heaven's sake! Who can't recover in five days? What kind of runner was I? That was no G.I. Jane way to act! Suddenly, in the midst of my self-depricating rant of a monologue, I saw an unfamiliar object in the distance - could it be? No! Impossible! Was it really a kilometer marker? My heart went from racing to thumping and jumping. I looked at my watch: 32:25. 9km. Crap. My heart thumped into a pit. This was not good. I had to run a 3:34 in order to break 36:00. The way my legs were burning, I couldn't fathom doing this. Still, I didn't let up. If I ran a 3:40 I could still tie my PB. I pushed with everything I had and let all proper running etiquette fly out the window; I let the snot run from my nose, the wheezing be heard from my burning lungs, and I allowed my legs to overstride like there was no tomorrow. I imagined Nic behind me, cursing at me to increase my turnover and stop overstriding so terribly: 'That's NOT how you run fast!' I cursed her back: 'It's the only way it's going to happen today dammit!' Once again, my crackbrained thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the finishing straightaway. Tears of joy came to my eyes, which soon turned into bubbly sobs as I saw the clock read 35:10. I was less than 200m away, and finally knew that a sub-36:00 would be mine. The only kilometer marker I saw must have been off! I crossed the line 17s under and wobbled over to the sidelines, rudely dismissing the girl offering me a bottle of water so that I could lean on the fence and gasp for my life. Oh wow.

Perhaps a better reflection of how I felt

Luckily, after this experience, I had it easy until Thursday. Still, I really didn't start to feel better until...Thursday. I had a decent workout (2k/4x1k) and almost managed to break my 1k PB (a sad 3:18 on our loop), but almost puked up curried tofu along the way. NEVER, and I mean NEVER, eat spicy tofu the night before an important workout. My stomach was in turmoil the entire day. On Saturday, Katie (a.k.a. Stewie...don't ask), Nic and I ran a 3:20 marathon. Yep, wasn't quite the plan, but of course when we plan a 40k easy run, we can't just meet our goals, we MUST surpass them! I was intending on running about 3:20 to hit 40k, but we were running quite a bit faster than the prescribed 5:00/km and covered at least 42k if not 43k in the process. I think Nic is permanently hurt from this ridiculous run, but I actually felt ok the next few days and so did the full workout on Monday, which consisted of 2 sets of (2x800m w/90s rest, 4x400m w/60s rest), then 2x800m. I wasn't expecting a lot going into the workout but it turned out to be a solid effort, with all but one 800 in 2:40 or under and 400s in 78-79. It actually felt good to do some quicker stuff for once! Of course, now going into the Goodlife half, my insanity has once again caught up with me and my legs have been suffering since Wednesday. That being said, I do feel better than I did before SL, so I am hoping for a solid run - and hopefully a PB - in the morning! After all, it's all downhill from here - tomorrow - and until Ottawa!

Celebrating a life

2011-05-03T11:36:00.005-04:00

"My legs are super tired, it's been a big week."

"You are in shape, and if you want to run fast, you will."

Those were my last words from Danny Kassap, expressed just minutes before the gun went off at the Sporting Life 10k on Sunday. They perfectly encapsulated the kind of positive and encouraging person he was. I learned from him that if you want to run fast, you - above all else - must believe that you can; work and train like you are the slowest, but believe that you are the best. He emulated this in his grueling and unforgiving training regime and ambitious goals, such as making the Olympic team for the marathon. If it were not for his tragic heart attack at the Berlin Marathon in 2008, I have no doubt he would have been able to achieve this goal and gone on to make Canada extremely proud.

Not that he hasn't already. In his relatively short time in Canada, Danny has affected and inspired the lives of countless runners. Before even being close to attaining his ultimate goal, he was already a hero to many after coming out of nowhere to win the Toronto Waterfront Marathon in 2004. This, three years after being separated from his family in the Congo, fleeing to Canada and working at a fish and chip shop to make ends meet. But this isn't why Danny's spirit is so engrained within our hearts - it was his sunny, energetic disposition, his benevolent heart, his youthful optimism and his passion for life - and above all running - that made him so memorable. His pure love of running meant he could identify with any level of athlete, whether you were an elite competitor or a recreational jogger. He was just as enthused about advising someone doing their first 5k as he was about learning to race the best in the world in the marathon. This is what made Danny such a special human being, and such a vibrant part of the running community.

Danny winning the Waterfront Marathon in 2004

If I know anyone with a truly genuine joie-de-vivre and generous heart, it would without a doubt be Danny. He had so little, but was willing to share everything. Whether it was personally delivering a pair of Nike Zoom milers to my husband - free of charge - so that he could race on fresh spikes, or making sure the Commerce Court Running Room always had a pair of size 10 Gel Cumulus' for 'Big Foot Coolis' over here, he continually went out of his way for the betterment of others. Not only that, but he did it in the most joyous way, as if he were doing himself a favour in the process. Given what he has had to endure in his life, I have always been incredulous of - and admired - his imperviously happy disposition. And it was infectious; when you were around Danny, it was impossible not to be in good spirits. I can't remember a single conversation with Danny where I wasn't smiling and laughing.

After Danny suffered a heart attack in 2008, his running would change forever. He was advised by doctors that he shouldn't train too hard and would not be able to attain the same level of running as he had in the past. This didn't stop Danny. Danny continued to do what he loved, and in many ways lived for; he continued to prance along the beltline in what seemed like effortless 5-minute miles, to come to road races and share in the fun and competition, and above all smile to every runner he came across. It didn't matter if he was unable to finish a race, if he ran slower than he had in the past, or was merely jogging by - he looked just as happy as he ever had. And he never once complained. It was obvious: he loved to run, and was grateful for every minute he could, no matter what the pace or outcome. Danny exemplified some of the most reverent of human attributes; kindness, determination, compassion, selflessness, modesty and unwaivering enthusiasm. Every time I run down the beltline trail in Toronto, I will remember his long stride and even wider smile and be reminded never to take the simple joy of running for granted.

With tired legs and an aching body on Sunday, I took Danny's advice, and believed I could run a personal best. I pushed all the excuses out of my head, and simply focused on running hard. I knew I would have to dig deep to make the legs go that day, and I did. The last 3k was a struggle but I kept telling myself to push harder and to catch the two women in front of me. When my pace began to slow, I surged, until I had passed them both and my legs were wobbling. I crossed the line in 35:43, 22s faster than last year and 4th overall. I was very happy with my time and placing given how I had been feeling that day and the days leading up to Sporting Life. As usual, the course was a treat, and I look forward to running it again next year on fresher legs - and now, with Danny's spirit in my heart.

Running into trouble

2011-04-26T22:36:00.002-04:00

You may recall one of my posts from December, entitled 'Getting JANED,' in which I described my extraordinary ability to dart across busy streets and always emerge unscathed. I have been known to traverse roads, bridges and highways in ninja-like fashion, dodging cars so narrowly that getting 'JANED' - or 'almost hit' - has become my trademark. In the last four months, my feline-like reflexes have improved even further, having faced sleet and snow-covered roads throughout the winter and still managing to dodge cars, bikes and even wild animals (okay, they may only have been pigeons and dogs, but in Toronto that's considered wild). I would say I am becoming somewhat of a world talent in what I would call 'cautiously risky speed street crossing' and take pride in the fact that I never have to stop my watch during a 12-mile run through the streets of downtown Toronto.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, this weekend it happened: my risky street-crossing tendencies finally got me into trouble. Before you jump to any foolish conclusions, I will state that NO, I did not get hit. Obviously this would never happen. And although it may have appeared to be a close-call, in my opinion it wasn't close at all - in fact, it was one of my less risky moves that day. It just happened to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

On Saturday I meet 2Kats (Katie and Kat) for a 40k run beginning at 6:30AM. I was in no mood to dilly-dally, as my family was visiting from out of town and I had to meet them for breakfast at 10:30AM. We ran at an easy pace to Mount Pleasant Cemetery, down the Moore Park Ravine, around the cemetery some more, down the Beltline twice, through Cedarvale, past Churchill, until we had gone through every park possible in mid-town Toronto. When we finally headed back downtown we were already three hours into the run and our legs were tightening up with every pause at a stoplight. We wanted to get home, and FAST. Naturally, when I came to a red light and saw a GAPING HOLE before the next car was to come through, I dashed through it. I made it to the sidewalk without a glitch (with ample time to spare, of course) and slowed my pace so that the 2Kat's could catch up (they have some work to do in the world of traffic dodging). The next thing I know, I hear sirens wailing and a cop car pull up beside me. I kept running, thinking there was no way their stern glares were directed at me...until they roll down the window and start yelling at me to stop. Uh-oh. I stop my watch and walk over to the car and nonchalantly say hello. Perhaps they just want to chat? Unfortunately not. 'What are you thinking?' they asked incredulously. 'You were nearly hit by that car!' 'Umm…(I breathe an inaudible 'Not really' under my breath, then look up at them and respond) 'Sorry! I guess I wasn't paying attention.' Now THAT'S a great answer, I think to myself. Perhaps I should also tell them that I don't pay attention while driving, either? 'Well I know you are timing your run, but you've got to stop for the lights, or you are going to get hit. It's no joke.' 'Okay, I'm sorry,' I continue, realizing I had better start to say something that would initiate some kind of sympathy from these men. They said something about the possibility of writing me a ticket, so I continued to apologize and luckily they decided to let me run free. Perhaps I should have told them that I was delirious from running for three hours, but considering how seriously they seem to take 'reckless running', they might deem that on par with drinking and driving and actually have written me a ticket. Distance runners ARE a threat to society, I have to say...

I'm not sure what lesson I learned being stopped by the cops on a long run: that the Toronto police don't have much to do on the Saturday morning of a long weekend? Or that I should respect the rules of the road? I doubt that the latter option will stick, especially since I dodged another four cars after the incident, on the same run. Oops.

The rest of my week was pretty tame in comparison to this ultra bad-ass experience. I had a solid workout on Thursday night, consisting of 8x1k w/90s rest. Our newest Angel, Katie Snowden - who, at the young age of 25, has run 13 marathons and has a smokin' PB of 2:46 - is a great addition to the group and was a great workout partner that night. We started off at 3:43 and brought it down with each km: 3:37/3:34/3:31/3:29/3:27/3:24/3:22. I felt a little flat going into the workout, probably from the Montreal half and a semi-workout I did the night before (helping out another group...I don't normally do hard days back-to-back), but felt stronger as the workout went on. Hopefully this means I am getting into good marathon shape! After Saturday's monster run my mileage was up to 91 - I will not be doing any more than this in the final four weeks of my marathon build. Next up is the Sporting Life 10k. I have run this race three times and always have so much fun - how can you not when you're running downhill for 10k?! I just hope I don't get pulled over by the cops...

Gone with the wind

2011-04-20T21:34:00.008-04:00

I looked forward to my trip to Montreal very much. Being the staunchly proud ex-McGiller that I am, I jump at the chance to go back to my old stomping ground and relive the old days. This past weekend was no different – that is, if you call abstaining from martini consumption, 9:45pm bedtime and battling wind, cold and more wind for 21km equivalent to BYOWs, Peel Pub pitchers, table dancing at Buona Notte and 3am chow mein. Yes. My weekend in Montreal was not quite the bombastic experience I would usually have. (I think it was just the lack of Peel Pub? Where did that place go anyway?)

I made a series of mistakes this weekend that were horrible race prep and that I vow never to make again. #1: Uttering the words ‘The conditions [for the race] can’t POSSIBLY be worse than last year, that’s for SURE!’ to a co-worker as I was leaving work on Friday (to which he prophetically responded ‘Well it’s always possible!’). #2: Checking the weather obsessively all week (noting rainy and cold conditions projected for Sunday), memorizing the hourly forecast (that predicted 40km/h winds picking up at 10AM) and being so overcome with denial that I STILL didn’t believe the conditions would be bad. #3: Deciding that since the hammy felt good (and since I was overlord of the Weather Network), I would race it and try to dip under 1:20:00, such that 3:45/km was the only thing on my mind for the first half of the race (where I still had some ounce of hope that this might happen). These three things, my friends, made the harsh reality of le Banque Scotia 21k de Montreal that much worse. Oh my, sheperd’s pie.

I am wondering if I even need to describe the conditions. Before the appropriate adjectives even began to form in my head (during the race, all I could do was whimper pitifully or curse madly at Mother Nature) I received messages commenting on how awful they heard the conditions were. Apparently I didn’t need to explain my 1:22 to anyone. Fine by me – after the race all I wanted to do was wipe it from my mind and never think about it again (and curl up in a ball in the corner of Starbucks and double fist a grande pike place and a hot chocolate with whipped cream…which I may have done afterwards…MAY).

Pre-race dins at Weinstein

I felt good going into the race. My hammy was a little sore on Friday but I knew it was because I had had 10 straight days of running and was just feeling a little fatigued. After a day off Saturday, I felt fresh and ready to rock. This feeling was dampened when I walked straight into the door at Weinstein & Gavino’s, causing extreme pain to radiate down my hip throughout dinner. Luckily, even though it is still painful to the touch, it doesn’t affect my running (the only indicator of a real injury). The next morning we got a bus to the race start and although it was raining, the wind didn’t seem so bad. Once I started my warm-up, however, I realized that it would be no joke. In fact, it would be a rather large annoyance that would proceed to ruin my entire race, and better yet my entire day. Awesome. Naturally I stuck to my race plan of going out in 3:45-3:50 and trying to stay with a pack so as to have people to duck behind during the windy bits (says the girl who sticks out of a pack like a giraffe). This pretty much fell apart instantaneously. In the first 5k my splits were anywhere from 3:38 to 4:03, making me appreciate the power of the windy parts and simultaneously wonder if the km markers were at all accurate. Things got strung out pretty quickly and of course I found myself loping behind a guy who must have been 5 foot 2 and weighed 90 pounds, as he did absolutely nothing to shield the wind. I gradually started to reel people in from there on out but never found a group of guys to stick with. I went through 10k in just over 38mins, and seeing that this was bang on 1:20:00 pace I knew that there was no way I was going to run my goal pace: the winds were only getting worse.

At about 11k, I began to fear for my life. We were running into a formidable headwind that must have been 80km/h (really, I have no idea what it was, but it was STRONG). I literally could not run in a straight line – not because I had cleverly stashed my emergency flask in my ‘fuel belt’ and was calling it a day (kind of wish I did that) – but because I apparently have the resisting strength of a leaf. I blame Kap ‘N K for not being at circuit training for the past four months. I could not, for the very literal LIFE OF ME, fight the Easternly gusts that pushed me toward the looming water of the basin. I imagined myself falling in and getting swept away by the stormy current, going backwards in time and having to get out and run the whole stretch all over again. When I finally did reach the other end of the basin (I think 3km took me 13 minutes and change. Nice.), I was nearly carried straight into the steel pipes of the bleachers by a sudden change in wind direction. Just in case I wasn’t completely demoralized already, Mother Nature just had to remind me once more of the power she had over my little body. I had had enough. I thought things would improve from 15k to the finish, but it was on-again, off-again heavy winds up until my very last slow kilometre.

I ended up finishing in 1:22:11 and was 9th overall (7th Canadian). I was loosely aiming to be in the top 10, so I’m happy with how I finished. I was also happy that I was able to push myself quite hard without feeling glumy in either of my legs (just gloom in my heart). Jebs and Mama K battled it out like true Angels finishing 17th and 21st, respectively.

Happy to be done!

I ended up getting in 21 miles for the day and have recovered surprisingly well. I felt no soreness or fatigue later that day or Monday, and had a chipper 13-miler on Monday. On Thursday I am scheduled for 8x1k w/90s rest, followed by an ultra-long run on Saturday morning (23-24 miles). I’m hoping to get in 85-90 miles for the week as the following week I will be racing the Sporting Life 10k. I am hoping that for the first time in 6 months, I have a race void of snow, extraordinary wind and/or rain, though apparently that’s too much for G.I. Jane to ask these days!

Pleasant conditions for the cooldown (of course)

There is a post-race interview of me (below) courtesy of John LoFranco. He did a great job with all the interviews and I encourage you all to visit www.montrealendurance.com and check them out.

Wham-BAM thank you MA’M!

2011-04-09T12:23:00.002-04:00

I have to say, I’ve been feeling pretty tapered the past few weeks. I’ve tried to explain to Nic the discrepancy I feel between my fitness and overall muscle and ligament strength, the former being far greater than the latter – I’m not sure she’s understood, until this week. I’ve been squatting, lunging, squeezing and resisting in order to minimize this difference and get my body strong enough to withstand the torture I’d like to pound into it on the roads. That, as well as develop some sexy, rockin’ buns-o-steel. I feel a lot stronger but still somewhat impeded in workouts, in fear that if I push too hard, something will give. My easy runs have creeped down to the 4:30 range because my legs feel so fresh. I constantly want to throw in some tempo on off-days but am reminded by the simple twinge of a hamstring that this is a bad idea. Oh, the frustration.

On Thursday I went to practice feeling my usual tapered, jumpy self. I ran up to the cemetery and clocked one of my km’s at 4:34. Easyyyy I told myself –save it for the workout! It was a big one: 3k/3x1k/2k. I figured since I was on the comeback that I’d only do 60-80% of the workout, however, so I wasn’t too concerned. I was in for a surprise. For the first interval, Nic prescribed a 3:50 pace for most (slightly faster than half-marathon pace) and told me to go along with everyone else. 200m into the interval, it was clear there was no way I was doing that. We started on 3:40 pace and went through 1k in 3:38-9. At this point Nic turned to me and said, ‘Oooh boy, you’re gonna feel that in a km or so!’ I shrugged it off and kept the pace going – I felt awesome and like I wasn’t working hard at all. We went through 2k in 7:17 and still I felt totally relaxed. So obviously then I decide to hammer the last k in 3:31, gap Nicole and cross the line (well really, it’s a garbage can) in 10:49. 5s PB on that loop. I apologized to Nic for disregarding her instructions and she giggled mischievously: “You DO know what the rest of the workout is, don’t you?! We’ll see how that goes!” ‘Bring it,’ I thought to myself. For the 3x1k, we decided to a med/tempo/med-hard effort. I felt strong on the first one and figured we’d go under 3:30 but surprised myself again when we went through in 3:23. The rest of the workout was 3:36/3:19 (tied for best time on that loop) and 7:04 – another loop PB for the 2k (but only by 1s). I have to say I was very pleased after the workout as it gave me confidence that my feeling of being fit wasn’t all in my head, and that I haven’t lost anything in the past few weeks. If anything, I think my setback may have made me a little stronger.

Nic is convinced that the pool is contaminated with some kind of performance-enhancing drug. This would make sense if chlorine is an undiscovered wonder-chemical, since it is undoubtedly coarsing through my veins each day and causing me to go into periodic sneezing fits. People at my work think I either have horrible allergies, a terrible cold that lasts for weeks on end, or am severely depressed because of my permanent watery eyes. How do I explain that it is actually self-induced torture cause by my excessive pool time each day, totalling to about 8 or 9 hours a week? And do I stop when I am plagued by allergic reactions or eye infiltrations caused by serious chlorine overdose? Of course not! At least, though, I can say that it may be paying off.

My hammies still aren't 100% and I look forward to the day where I can run and race on two good legs. Imagine that. For the time being, I am hoping that my fitness continues to progress with all my cross-training and relative decrease in mileage and that one day - ONE DAY, all pain goes AWAY! I still intend on tempo-ing Montreal next weekend, and I'm looking forward to it!

Glumy Sunday

2011-04-03T21:59:00.006-04:00

I have to admit, I may have slightly exagerated the severity of my downtime in my last post. Although I was absent from workouts for two weeks, I was only off running for a total of four days and it was only 10 days or so before I was up to 50-60min a day. The glute issue is not completely resolved as some days it's sore and/or tight and other days it feels perfect - I am just trying to keep up with my strengthening exercises and lots of stretching. I got up to 90min last weekend, and this past week was back at workouts. Monday's workout went well as I felt extremely tapered from the cutback in running. I did two thirds of the workout, which consisted of 4x380m hill repeats and a 1.4k uphill tempo. I kept everything at tempo effort and was pleased that my glute and hamstrings felt fine the next day. On Thursday, I did the full workout of 6x1k where again I remained conservative throughout. I progressed downwards in 3:39/3:34/3:33/3:31/3:33/3:30 and felt really strong. The next day, however, I felt some twinges in my hamstring, reminding me that the underlying issue for my pain is not completely resolved.

It seems as though piriformis syndrome - sciatica - random twinging leg pain - glute/hamstring problems - whatever you want to call it (a pain in the ass? ;) - wins the prize for most common injury in our running group. Funnily enough, we have all adopted our own name for it, and have spent months, if not years, addressing our individual problems as though they were distinct from one another, when I think they are all quite related. For the sake of simplicity, I will henceforth be calling this 'glute-hamstring' nuisance GLUMY (pronounced gloo-mee) - appropriate in all respects.

So why does Glumy plague almost half of the angels? There must be some explanation. Well, I went Googling in search of some answers, and sure enough it turns out that it affects women six times more than men. Unfortunately, there isn't a consensus on why this is the case. Some experts say that women are 'under-muscled' in the gluteal area - others think that the anatomic variation of the female pelvis is to blame - and other studies have shown that women have a greater 'Q angle,' meaning that their legs angle in more, resulting in a stretched piriformis muscle. Interestingly, many pregnant women develop piriformis syndrome, likely because the pelvis becomes stretched and flexed during pregnancy. Furthermore, the hormone relaxin that is produced during pregnancy causes the pelvis to stretch and sacroiliac joint to open, which together wreak havoc on the piriformis.

Runners are at high risk of developing piriformis syndrome. According to Dr. Stephen Perle from the University of Bridgepoint, 'almost every long-distance runner has piriformis syndrome to some degree.' He attributes this to distance runners repeatedly doing the same motion in a single plane. We neglect strengthening the muscles required to move in other directions and this results in comparatively weak internal and external rotators. The piriformis is the muscle that controls these movements. Some of the exercises I've been instructed to do are squats and lunges in different planes (medial and lateral rotations) - not just forward and backward. I have also been working on abduction and adduction exercises for my glutes. I am hoping this ultimately alleviates the problem, though I should probably also be getting regular massages to relieve adhesions in the connective tissue that may be impinging on nerves and tissues in the area.

So of course on Friday night I go out to dinner with two fellow Glumy sufferers, Mama K and Dr. Z. We are dressed to impress so naturally fail to recognize each other at the door. It seems I can only spot them if they are red, hot and sweaty (get your mind out of the gutter). It's only until Mama K waves frantically and yells 'G.I. J!!!!' five times that I realize that the foxy, wavy-maned beauty sitting by herself is my friend (henceforth the hot Mama K). Once we sit down we share our Glumy status updates, and I admit mine was bugging me a little after the workout Thursday. Before I could even finish my sentence, hot Mama K whips out a green tennis ball from her chique Gucci purse and hands it over to me. 'Sit on it during dinner. It'll cure ya.' she says. I nod and take the ball in silence, somewhat stunned - first by the fact that she fit a green tennis ball in that purse (who would have known?), second by how prepared she was no matter what the scenario. Does she bring tennis balls to clubs and bars as well? I nonchalantly stuffed the old tennis ball under my dress and rolled around on it for the next hour, sporadically belting out 'oohs' and 'aaahs' when I hit a trigger point. I think the waiter was surprised by how much we were enjoying our meals.

The next morning I did my first 'real' long run and it felt great (must've been hot mama's balls). I felt Glumy for a portion of it, but it went away for the last 75min so I finished on quite a happy (not a glumy) note. I ran for 2hrs10min (about 27k) and it felt like a total breeze. It's frustrating in a way because I feel like my current fitness far exceeds how strong my body is. I don't want to push too hard for fear of hurting myself or over-exerting my weak glute. I am hoping that in the coming weeks the issue completely goes away. It's gotten much better and it can take a lot more running and beating up than it ever has, but it's still not perfect.

Next week I'll be continuing to build up and hopefully be strong enough for a 20-miler on the weekend. The plan is to revert to one interval workout and one long run per week until Glumy goes away for good. I may do one run with some tempo thrown in, but coach and I would rather play it safe until we are confident that I am 100%. Since I've missed a few long runs, I will have to get in at least 20 miles the weekend of the Montreal half. That means I'd do 10k before the race and tempo the race with a hard last 3k. Too bad I can't race it full out - but ya gotta keep your eye on the big sucker - especially when it's a marathon.

Shout-outs to Ali D (2nd in the 5k!), Ruth, Jebs and Amanda who ran in the Spring Run-Off on the weekend representing the Angels. Leslie Sexton also had a great race, coming in 3rd to Pidhoresky and Tallen. Congrats ladies!

p.s. Speaking of hot Mama K, she will be appearing in the next issue of iRUN so keep your eyes open for her! She can be easy to miss if you've only seen her sweating and grunting through a workout like I have ;).

If you are going through hell

2011-03-23T21:30:00.006-04:00

Keep going.

I hate to be a downer this week, but hey – can’t always be on top. Can’t always be near the top, either. Sometimes we have to be at the absolute rock bottom, further entrenched in the ground than you ever thought you could be, in order to get stronger. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.

Recall: Ottawa Marathon 2010
Going through hell. And continuing.

Ok, so things aren’t really that bad. I apologize to those out there who have real problems. I blame the tone of this post to the lack of endorphins I am getting from slashing my running to one third of its normal amount. My hamstring issue that arose at the Grimsby half-marathon last month (where I outkicked Nic, in case you forgot – I know she hasn’t ;) has turned out to be more of a nuisance than I thought. Now that I think of it, I am sure it was my ferocious sprint in the last snow-covered 200m that did it. In which case, it is essentially Nic’s fault for trying to outdo me. The fact that I continued on with another 100-mile week, including a 43km day on Thursday, intervals Saturday and pace-bunnying the Chilly half on Sunday, had absolutely nothing to do with it. Obviously. Aaaahhhh, and to think I was beginning to believe I was getting old and wise!

So here I am, two weeks after I decided to treat this thing seriously, spending hours in the pool and minutes on the dry, clear roads, running. Is this what I get for busting out 90-100 mile weeks through this bitch of a winter in January and February? Now I am forced to run 30 miles in the wonderful spring temperatures in March? I can’t help but be extremely bitter!

I enjoyed reading Rob Watson’s latest blog, creatively titled “#25” (see my blog list for a link), and agreed with his simple take on injuries: “Injuries are a part of this sport, gotta roll with the punches.” There’s no point dwelling on an injury – best be taking some rest, getting your tail cross-training and be positive about your comeback. Such is the attitude I am trying to adopt.

Apparently the pain in my right hamstring is caused by a weakness in my gluteus medius. Since this is the third time I have been told I have a weak glute med, I am starting to believe that it’s true. Dammit. I thought I was superwoman. What kind of superwoman has a weak ass? My physio gave me a plethora of exercises for my glutes, hamstrings, and core that I am supposed to do on a daily basis. She said I could continue to run, but after a few days of easy treadmill runs that still caused me discomfort, I didn’t see the point of it. I couldn’t do workouts or long runs, so I felt that I was only prolonging the recovery process without doing anything productive. At that point I decided to take three full days off, meaning no running, no cross-training, no NOTHING. These kinds of days are very tough for most distance runners I know…so imagine how difficult they were for me: Madame OCD.

The first day wasn’t so bad – it allowed me to go to my Sunday Book Club meeting at two in the afternoon and get considerably inebriated off of three stiff martinis (thanks Kitz). For once I was able to contribute to the discussion without having read a single word of the novel, Portnoy’s Complaint. From what I remember, I had some creative insight into the book – shedding light on why Portnoy was so infatuated with monkeys, and explaining why monkeys were such an important theme (I’m not sure how Wikipedia missed this). At this point Brecher began furiously flipping through every page of the book, trying desperately to figure out how he could have missed such a critical point. But as usual, I digress. My second day off was a little tougher, though the fact that I was hungover helped curb the urge to go run 13 miles. The third day, however, was the worst – I itched to go running or do some kind of exercise. I stared down every runner I walked by on my way to work with horrific envy, wondering how it was possible that they had no pain in their hamstring. Absolutely unfair!

What I do when I can't run. Note sorrowful, self-pitying gaze.

I began to run last Wednesday and I’ve slowly increased my runs from 30min to 65min. My right side still feels weaker, but I’m not experiencing any pain and I have no discomfort when I walk. I’ve been doing so many strength exercises that I will surely have the rock-hard buns of a superwoman come May. Every day my glutes and hammies feel stronger, so I am hoping to resume workouts and long runs next week. Regardless, at the moment I am supplementing my running with about 90min of swimming every day. I do love swimming so at least I am enjoying the cross-training I’m doing to some extent.

Soon to be MINE!

Obviously, this means no Around The Bay for me, which is too bad because I was really looking forward to racing. The next race on my schedule is the Montreal Half-Marathon, also the site of the National Championships. I hope that I am strong and fit enough to make it there ready to race hard.

The Coolis Bunny at Chilly

2011-03-08T20:51:00.018-05:00

First of all I have to give a shout-out to the Adidas team for the awesome loot they sent me last week. I’m not sure who could be more excited about getting a pair of hot pink training flats and another pair of flashy racing flats other than me. They are amazing! I have suspicions they were in fact designed specifically for me since they also have well-ribbed undersoles to minimize slippage. Since I seem to have the balance and coordination of a two-year old, this helped me greatly in the Chilly Half this weekend, where I didn’t slip ONCE! (Though I have tripped over myself walking on carpets in these flats at least three times...that’s beside the point...)

Snazziest racing flats EVER

Wish I could wear this outside right now...

So, after all the complaining I did about last week’s snowy race in Grimsby, what do I decide to do this weekend? Why, to go to Burlington and do it all over again, obviously! You’d think my science background would foster a more logical thought process in me, however, I have once again proved myself to be at odds with normalcy.

I went there to be the 1:30:00 pace bunny for the Chilly Half. The original pace bunny couldn’t make it so I offered to hop in for him (no pun intended). Not sure if it was the smartest idea considering my hammy still didn’t feel 100%, but hey, there’s a reason they call me G.I. Jane. Luckily, it was all worth it because I got to wear the awesome pink bunny ears that I have always dreamt of wearing.

The Coolis Bunny

Jebs, Coolis Bunny and Kitty-Kat

I was determined to run metronome 4:15s throughout the entire race and cross the line in exactly 1:30:00 (perhaps this is where the method in my thinking is more apparent?!). As most people would anticipate, this did not happen. First, I realized (much to my utter shock and dismay) that I am NOT a human metronome, and cannot run 21x1k in 4:15 with 0s rest in the flawless manner I had dreamt about. This was apparent in the first two kilometres, where I split a yo-yo 4:31 and 3:57 (but it’s only the average that counts, right?). Second, as is the case in many road races, the kilometre markers are not the greatest measure of the exact distance traveled. Imagine that. I heard Garmins going off all around me 50 meters before some markers and several meters after others in the first 10km, leading me to suspect that they were slightly off. That being said, for the first half I wavered between 4:11-4:20 and crossed the 10k mark in 42:35, only 4 seconds ahead of pace. The second half was more consistent as I got into a groove and held 4:13-4:17s, leading me to believe that the markers in the latter portion of the course were pretty good. I crossed the line in 1:30:04 (so close!) and I have to admit that - though I tried not to - I had to pick it up a bit in the last 100m to be within 5s of my goal time: http://www.sportstats.ca/display-results.php?lang=eng&racecode=47645 (Coolis Bunny a.k.a. Robert Welsh).

Kitty Kat and Bunny Coolis stayin' warm at the start

In my dreams of the perfect pace bunny experience, I pictured a group of runners flocking around me the entire way who had never broke 1:30:00, and who all would, of course, thanks to me and my incredible pacing. I imagined chatting to them throughout the race and instructing them not to pick it up until later, thereby enforcing on them the best possible finish. I pictured the runners gracefully moving ahead of me as I cheered them on a la Stevenson in the last 2k (EXECUTION! GO! NOWWWW!) and crossing the line triumphantly in 1:29:59 or faster. The crowds would scream in excitement, the runners would fall to their knees, tears of joy streaming down their faces, getting up only to smother Bugs Bunny Coolis in hugs, thanking me profusely for making the BIGGEST dream in their lives a reality. I would receive thank you letters in the mail from them and their families, telling me how much I had changed their lives forever. Oh, the glory that would be mine!

Unfortunately, it wasn’t so glorious. One man found me in the first 500m of the race and asked if I intended on running a negative-split. I chuckled a little at his question, but when I realized he was quite serious, I explained to him that I would run 1:30:00 pace for the entire distance so that at any point in time racers would know whether they were on track for 1:30:00. I would not, I continued, run 4:30/km for the first half and 4:00/km for the second half (like so many amateur pace bunnies do, only to make very tough the race for anyone trying to follow their lead!). Of course, shortly after we went through the 1k mark in 4:31, then the 2k mark in 3:57, and the man stopped asking me any futher questions. At that point I also decided that I had better shut my mouth.

Solo Bunny

About 5k into the race a group of men was starting to form around me and someone shouted from the sidelines ‘Look at the little bunny girl!’ I’m sure this was a great ego boost for them. I asked the guy beside me if he was intending on breaking 1:30:00. ‘Me? I break 1:30 already. Long time ago.’ ‘Oh,’ I said tentatively, ‘So you are ready to do it again?’ He continued ‘Today, my coach say: No break 1:30:00. No try. Too snow. But you so pretty, so I try!’ Oh lord, I thought to myself. His coach tells him to not even try, and here he is 7km in going for it and there’s no one to blame but myself. Awesome. I hoped that he was in better shape than his coach thought and that he’d succeed in his last minute race strategy change (uh-huh). He kept asking me if we were on the right pace but I couldn’t discern whether this was because he felt good or was already struggling. He then suddenly changed the topic: ‘I see you last weekend. You look strong.’ ‘Huh?’ I asked confusedly...had I just discovered a stalker? I wondered worriedly. ‘In Grimsby. You win, ya?’ ‘Oooohh,’ I realized he must have been at my race last weekend. It turns out he was working the water station at 18k and saw Nic and I duking it out in the last few kilometres. ‘I see you with other girl, I knew you were number one. You so pretty.’ I had to laugh at his completely nonsensical remark, but agreed that it was obvious I’d win ;). ‘Yeah, the other girl had no chance,’ I admitted. ‘I was way ahead of her by the end.’

About 10km into the race, in mid-conversation, my friend suddenly turned to me and said: ‘Uh-oh. My achilles wake up. Bye-bye.’ And proceeded to hobble off to the side of the road. I immediately wondered if I had made him go so hard as to injure himself. I thought pace bunnies were supposed to help people in the race, not injure them or slow them down?! Perhaps I have some learning to do! Of course I was forced to continue on, making me feel even worse not being able to stop and help him. I saw him at 13k after the turnaround, at which point he was coming in the opposite direction, hobbling pathetically but clearly trying to finish the race on one achilles. Oh lord.

The rest of the race was pretty bland - most of the people around me either dropped back or pulled ahead, never to be seen again. Only one guy stayed with me, but he finished behind me and broke 1:30:00 in the most anti-climactic manner – by his chip time. He had started a good 20s late so although my heart sunk when he crossed the line in 1:30:09, his chip time was actually a triumphant 1:29:50. He kindly found me afterwards to tell me how grateful he was to have me there, which did lift my spirits considering that my day wasn’t filled with all the dramatic heroism I had hoped for.

Rob Welsh crossing the line?

That being said, overall it was a great experience and I got a lot of cheers along the way. Everything from ‘The bunny is right on time!’ (I think I heard that about 5 times, made me feel pretty good ;), to ‘That’s a hot bunny!’ ‘Good job bunny!’ ‘What a YOUNG looking bunny!’ ‘It’s the fast bunny!’ ‘The bunny is a girl!’ ‘Go Bugs Bunny!’ right up to the end when I crossed the line and the announcer enthusiastically ushered me in as ‘The 1:30:00 bunny is right on, here comes Rob We…’ (his voice trailed off at this point as he realized I was not in fact the man Rob Welsh that I was filling in for). It’s too bad they didn’t correct the mistake, as I would have won my age category had my name been in the results! Oh well, can’t be greedy all the time ;).

The Mizuno girls

Chillin' in Chilly

Jebs and Kitty-K ran well for such a cold and sloppy day, coming 2nd and 4th, respectively (1:25 and 1:26) and Amanda ran a one-minute PB in 1:36. It was another great day for the Angels! Afterwards my hamstring was pretty sore, so I’m takin’ er easy for a few days and seeing physio before I continue on with my 100-mile weeks. Next up is Around The Bay, where I may be faced with my coach/nemesis once again. This time, I vow to beat her fair and square!

Bunny Coolis and Doggy Jefferson

Coolis - 1, Stevenson - 0

2011-02-28T12:56:00.007-05:00

Naturally, the count starts in 2011.

Well, apparently I have not been freed from the evil grips of lord AO (http://janecoolis.blogspot.com/2010/11/oh-lord-ao-overdeity-of-forgotten.html). Perhaps as a curse for having berated him so badly in November, I will forever be faced with a sentence of torrential weather and horrid footing such that even the most flat and fast road race will be transformed into a trek through the North Pole. Such was the case this morning, when Val, Nic and I set out to the wonderful, quaint town of Grimsby, for what we thought would be a pleasant 21k run down road and main streets. Instead, we were met with slush, snow, wind and ice and spent the last 12k fighting for sub-4:00 km’s. Oh the joy.

At 7AM, I walked up to meet Val at Starbucks, noting the fresh layer of snow coating the sidewalks. I thought to myself – perhaps too complacently – how great it was that we would have entire roads to ourselves that morning to run on, unimpeded by the snow. Oh, how wrong I was. Val spoke strangely prophetically when I met her (perhaps momentarily possessed by the Lord AO?): “This snow is going to make for a brutal race!” “What do you mean?” I questioned, “The race IS on the roads, after all – they will be cleared, no?” “Oh really?” she responded (somewhat) innocently “I thought this race was small, and that we’d be running on the sidewalks!” I couldn’t help but chuckle (or maybe it was more like burst out in hysterical laughter, I can’t quite remember...) at her comment, having never, EVER having to run on the sidewalk in a road race. “Not sure what kind of races you’ve done, Val, but they normally aren’t held on sidewalks.” I think I was too demeaning in my comments, however, as karma came back to kick me really, really hard in the ass...or perhaps should I say both my hamstrings.

Nic picked us up and we arrived in Grimsby just in time to get in 20min warm up and decide on racing attire. Despite the snow, we were blessed with what felt like unusually balmy weather for this time of year (it hovered around zero degrees – in short, wintertime SUMMERTIME). I am delighted to announce that it was my FIRST day in half-tights in 2011! Juxtaposed with my feather-weight ASICS hyperspeed racing flats, light long-sleeve and sweatband in lieu of tuque, I felt strangely light and zippy. I asked Nic what the plan was. Although we had vaguely discussed 3:50/km as a target pace, she suddenly decided that she would be much better off running 4:00/km for – not just 1 – or 2 – km, but 5km, and picking up the pace every 5km onward. Given that Nic is a classic GOHAHI racer (go-out-hard-and-hold-it...obvi), I was baffled by her new race strategy. “Why on EARTH would you do such a thing?!” I exclaimed in horror. She explained that in every half she has done in the past year, she has positive-split and was tired of it. “But still...4:00/km? Don’t you think that’s a *little* conservative?” I continued. The image of her behind me, hunting me down in the latter half of the race was absolutely terrifying. I prayed and hoped that her legs were simply not capable of running a 4:00 km in a race, such that I would not be running it scared like Forrest Gump.

We amassed near the start line and I noticed that the first few hundred meters were on hard-packed snow. Hmmmm. This made for some awesome, backward-flailing strides. I figured it was because we were on a side street and that the roads would clear up once we turned onto the main roads. Thankfully, this was the case – at least initially.

First kilometer of clear road!

I went through the first km in 3:46 feeling very comfortable and already Nic was nowhere to be heard. I began to think that she may follow her ridiculous ‘4:00/km for the first 5k’ race tactic. 2k and 3k were 3:50 and 3:47; nevertheless, I soon heard the hard pitter-patter of Nic’s quick stride as she pulled up beside me. “Well that lasted long,” I chuckled, somewhat relieved that I wouldn’t be hunted down like a wild animal after all. We continued on clocking consistent 3:45-50s (4k – 3:45, 5k – 3:48, 6k – 3:48, 7k – 3:47, 8k – 3:47) and I was surprised by how easy it felt. By 8k, I was convinced we’d be able to go around 1:20:00 no problem. Then at 9k, after pulling out a 3:40, we were faced with a 1.5km snowy stretch through some desolate fields. I remembered this from last year, so ‘knowing’ it was the only real snowy part, I was motivated to power through it and regain my pace from 11k on. At this point I pulled ahead of Nic and did gain some ground on her through this ‘cross-country’ section. It actually was startlingly reminiscent of Nationals XC in Guelph, as the ground was slippery, undulating and uneven. It felt long so I was ever-so-thankful when we finally popped out on the road again and I could get back into a rhythm. Perhaps I would leave Nic behind for good?

Nic suffers in the background

Yeah, right. My rhythm did not last long. The second half of the course was filled with several turns into small neighbourhoods, whose inhabitants were motivated enough to wake up early, create elaborate and creative signs for us (one even advertising free lap dances for runners, at which point the lead biker almost gave up his job to take these ladies up on their offer), but not keen enough to get up and shovel or salt their roads (soooo rude of them!). All jokes aside, every turn – which seemed to occur in 300m intervals - we were met with a unkempt side street filled with slush, ice and snow and horrible footing. I almost slipped several times and came to a near standstill going around several tight turns and saw Nic right in front of me doing the same (I secretly hoped she’d go over and I’d gain 30s on her...umm...kidding...?). My hamstring tightened up considerably and I began to wonder if I would finish the race without more (not-so-mysterious) bruises and possibly a leg injury. After we clocked a 4:17 km through a particularly bad stretch, I decided to stop looking at my watch. It was all too depressing. Aerobically I still felt great, which made the slipping and sliding that much more frustrating.

Balancing act

At 18k we were met with clear roads once again and we began to pick up the pace. Nic began to growl at me in her usual climactic manner. “3k! EXECUTION! EXECUTION TIME!!!! GO GO GO! Common’, get these guys ahead! They’re dying!” I looked ahead at a guy hunched over, barely running in a straight line and realized that his form was so saddening that it would be an utter failure of a day if I did not pass him. So pick it up I did, overcoming him and another guy ahead. Nic and I were neck-and-neck for the last 2km, in which I am sure she could have gained 30s on me had she not been more focused on me digging deeper and yelling at me to take ‘FASTER steps!’. ‘Yes, faster steps, speed up, quicker turnover, I get it, I am running too slowly for you!’ I thought to myself. Part of me wanted to tell her to go ahead, but before I knew it we were in the last 500m and all I could do was turn off my brain and give everything I had to try and outsprint her. Unfortunately, all blood was drained entirely from my brain, as I completely forgot to leap-split across the finish to secure my victory, and instead we broke the tape together and had to wait around for an hour before we knew who got the win. During this time, Nic stormed away from the finish in furious anger at my possibly edging her at the line. I think that later she was also spotted crying pitifully in the corner of the gymnasium, wondering how on earth her own athlete could challenge her in such a formidable way. At the awards ceremony, when it was unveiled that I had indeed beaten here by a mere 0.2 seconds (!), she REFUSED to shake my hand and jumped from the stage, nearly meeting her demise.

Perhaps I am exaggerating slightly, nonetheless I think I have proved that I am faster than Nicole Stevenson, since I beat her 7 years after she was in her best form, in a mid-winter race after logging twice as many miles as her, while she barked at me from behind. Clearly, I beat her fair and square! Our official times were 1:21:35.0 and 1:21:35.2 – not bad for this course on a day like today, but well off what I think we both could have run on real asphalt. Not to make excuses or anything (I haven’t provided ANY in this recap at all, I know). Val had an extraordinarily impressive race, running 1:32:55 for a 5-MINUTE personal best! Unbelievable. This is a testament to how much she has improved in the past year since joining the Angels, and bodes extremely well for the rest of the season. She will undoubtedly shave off several more minutes in better conditions!

We left with some great loot, including some spectacular ‘Roll Up the Rim to Win’ t-shirts (yes, t-shirts! Nic’s new favourite shirt), free coffee, a $2 gift card to Tim Hortons (who knew they made $2 gift cards?!), a MEDAL (joy), a hat and oh yes, a personal cheque for $250. Can’t complain there! The race organizers were great and the whole event was really fun; however, I vow to be back next year only if there is no snow...hopefully Jerry can arrange that?

Nic is a huge fan of roll-up-the-rim-to-win

Next up is a full week of training including a 20-miler on Thursday, Saturday intervals and ending with me being the 1:30:00 pace bunny for the Chilly Half Marathon in Burlington on Sunday. I am looking forward to doing this, as several Angels will be racing so it’s a great excuse to go down and cheer them on. Never been a pace bunny before, but I do hope I get to wear some pink bunny ears (these are the kinds of things I look forward to). And seeing how much everyone enjoyed and appreciated my last running video, I am thinking I should bring my camera with me for some footage on course. I know you all can’t WAIT to see it!

Shoeless Coolis Project

2011-02-21T16:11:00.001-05:00

100

2011-02-21T15:32:00.010-05:00

No, I did not get swallowed by a snowstorm, succumb to a mileage-induced coma, or [finally] get hit by a car, though I won’t deny the very real possibility of these things occurring. I am deeply sorry for leaving you in the dark for so long – I can’t imagine how lonely, boring and utterly empty the last two weeks have been for my readers. I know you have all been sitting anxiously at your computers, fiddling, worrying ,waiting, and wondering about shoeless coolis: what was her mileage this week? Did she clothe herself before her long run? Did she get tripped by Megan Lynch? Did she do any push-ups? Real ones? Did she finally get hit by a car? Or slip on ice? How long can she hold the plank position now? Oh the burning desire you must have to know the answers to these important questions!

Well, first things first: I ran 100 miles this week. Yes, I did it. 100 miles, 6 days, 8 runs later I am alive and typing at my computer on an enormous sugar high from eating an entire bag of licorice for having accomplished such a feat. I actually wasn’t intending on hitting 100 just yet but on Thursday I realized I’d hit 98 with my regular Friday and Saturday runs so at that point, could there really be anything done to stop me? Besides the possibility of getting hit by a car from running downtown for 2 hours every day? I think not.

A desolate morning run

So...my workouts were nothing spectacular but I suppose that’s to be expected in the thick of the miles. Last Saturday we did a challenging workout in the cemetery consisting of 8x1k w/90s rest and 2x500m w/90s rest. I went into the workout with my legs feeling heavy and tired and expecting to try and just get through 6k of intervals. I surprised myself by instead working through 9k in wind and mediocre footing, feeling stronger throughout in 3:43/3:41/3:38/3:41/3:36/3:43/3:29/3:41/1:39/1:42 (every other km is slower because we reversed directions and were going into the wind). I was happy with the effort, but I have to say after having gone into the workout feeling zonked, I was doubly so afterwards. Let’s just say I’m glad I’m one of the tallest ones in my ballet class so that the teacher didn’t notice me barely leaving the ground during the jumps. I remember also feeling my eyes close several times while standing up, which is never a good sign. Perhaps not surprisingly, I didn’t feel recovered by Monday’s workout, which turned out not to be an issue since Forest hill was transformed into a skating rink that night. This, of course, led to another crazy coach interval session, where we ran random sections of road, slowing at stop signs and accelerating when the road was clear and basically coming to a standstill whenever we made a tight turn. Good times. My favourite interval was the last one, where Nic turned to us and said: ‘Run NORTH. Slow down at the intersections though. And then accelerate. Everyone ready?’ I think a few of us knew we were missing some crucial detail of the interval, though perhaps not everyone could grasp what it was, since I was the only one to ask just how far we were supposed to go! Nic sighed and hummed as if I were asking her an incredibly loaded question. ‘Ummm...go...until....hmmm...you get tired.’ ‘Well, Nic,’ I responded, ‘for some of us (i.e. the relentless slow-twitch marathoners of the group) that would mean a lot longer than others...’ Still, her instructions did not change, so we set out on a potentially never-ending interval up the icy Russel Hill road. Fortunately for my tired legs, 600m in Nic yelled ‘STOPPPPPPP!!!!’ at the top of her lungs and we all haphazardly slowed to a jog. This was perhaps one of the strangest workouts we had done, which led me to conclude that it had really been a while since I had updated my blog. The only explanation I could find for the oddity of the workout was that Nic was purposely trying to provide me with blog-worthy material.

Beautiful scenery

The rest of the week was spent logging slow and long miles, many of which were alone and in the dark. On Friday I brought my camera along to give my friends a taste of what I do for two hours each morning. Unfortunately I am a completely hopeless videographer, my clip looking more like an excerpt from Blair Witch Project than a peaceful morning run. I am not sure why I am including it in this post – perhaps because I am simply at a loss of exciting things in my life, and this is a somewhat accurate reflection of it right now? Oh dear. This is really quite sad. If you are somehow bored enough to watch an entire 2 minutes of unsteady filming of a desolate road in the dark, you may observe that two vehicles *seem* to come dangerously close to me (as evidenced by the blinding bright lights coming directly into the camera), though I profess that they were actually quite far away from me. That, and the fact that I am fearless since I am able to dodge them in ninja-like fashion, of course.

We were blessed with a wave of warm weather on Thursday and Friday so for once it was warm for our long run and I didn’t have to worry about inappropriate dress! Aaaah the awesomeness of it all. Apparently it usually takes me 30min to put my winter gear on (and not even fully at that!), as I was ready to head out at 4:45 instead of the usual 5:15. So what do I do in this circumstance? Have a much needed 30min powernap? Of course not! (What a waste of time!) So obviously I head out before 5 and get in 5k before I meet Val and finish off 30k by 7:15. I felt like superwoman until about 9AM, at which point I almost face-planted into my lab bench, potentially contaminating my cancer cells (and maybe more concernedly getting cancer cells on my face...). It was nothing that litres of Gatorade couldn’t cure, however, and by my afternoon run I was feeling much more chipper.

The sun is rising!

By Saturday the fatigue was setting in pretty hard, but knowing I only had 14.5 miles to do before hitting 100, I was motivated. The workout was 2k fartlek/2x1k/2k/2x500/1k fartlek. I actually felt pretty good and was at 3:30/3:29 for the km repeats, but that quickly sucked the life out of my legs and I struggled through the second 2k repeat. As I completed my cooldown I wondered how I’d feel having done 100 miles. Would I suddenly fall over and slip into a coma? Would I have to nap all day? Would I wake up sore and unable to walk? I couldn’t believe the lack of acute effects the week had, except for becoming severely intoxicated off of one martini (and I can’t really complain about that). Suffice to say that I celebrated my big week on Saturday night with a shamefully small amount of vodka that was somehow enough to keep me dancing all night. I had such a good time that I somehow missed getting kicked/beaten/punched in the leg, as I woke up the next morning with a giant, GIANT bruise on my leg.

Mystery bruise?!

I still am at a loss to explain how it got there. I would like to say that I got it from running 100 miles (that would be pretty hard core) but unfortunately I am pretty sure it wasn’t there before heading out on Saturday. Dammit.

Post-100 mile fuel

Next week I will be bringing down the miles a bit in preparation for the big coach-coolis showdown in Grimsby. Nic and I are both running the half-marathon, where I have bets on leap-splitting over the finish line and edging her gracefully, thereby proving that my ballet training is useful for marathoning. You just wait!

Celebrating

**Note: I am currently unable to upload my awesome Blair Witch video (I think it just contains too much greatness for the internet to handle) but will be working constantly until I am able to post it.**

Alive at 96

2011-02-03T16:41:00.003-05:00

No, I am not talking about my grandmother.

96 miles, 6 days and I’m feelin’ pretty good. I have abandoned all attempts to figure out when I will feel the effects of my higher mileage weeks. Judging by my latest patterns, I wouldn’t be surprised if this week’s lethargy hit me at the end of February, or the first week of March. Go figure. Although it was a lifetime mileage PB, there are a few reasons why it may have been easier on the bod than some of my 90 mile weeks: (1) I ran on the treadmill three times (shame), (2) only ran 26k for my ‘long’ run (double shame) and (3) there was little snow this week (BLISS). If you add up my total time running, it’s about the same as last week, but I covered 5 more miles due to the lack of snowshoeing involved. Pretty awesome. Since my LR dipped down a bit, I upped my morning runs to 13 miles and added on 2 miles to my doubles, and voila – 96. Those are some nice numbers. Almost as sexy as 69. Okay time to change the subject.

On Monday we did our classic hill repeats up Glen Edyth, where I was ordered by coach to give everyone a head start before chasing them up the hill. I wasn’t very happy about this initially, since the first two repeats didn’t feel easy, but it was interesting to see how much harder I could push when I did this. We ended 6 hills with 3x800m up an even larger hill, through slush and snow, at which point Nic started to royally kick my ass. She stayed on my heels until 100-200m to go and left me in the dust every time. It is really not fair that I have absolutely no fast-twitch muscles. Nevertheless, it turned out to be a great workout as I got a pretty hard effort in on a snowy night that wasn’t so conducive to interval training!

On Thursday, I met Val for our usual long run, though I was only running 5k more than my easy days so I didn’t treat it as much of a long one. I was getting a lot more sleep this week and went to bed at 9 on Wednesday, so for once getting up at 4:30 felt like a breeze. I waited in the lobby for Val and asked the concierge what the temperature was. ‘It’s -4C right now...’ he said sleepily. ‘Seriously? Wow! It’s like summertime!!!’ I exclaimed (perhaps wayyyy too jubilantly). He looked up at me sceptically and mumbled something about me being completely nuts. I am pretty used to this so I continued on jabbering about the balmy weather while stripping off my hat, neck warmer and extra gloves and asking him to hang onto them (don’ worry...undergarments: ON.). I bounced out the door with Val and we ran down to Queen street to pick up Jebs. Jenn ‘the responsible one’ Eberman is always appropriately dressed for the dark and/or wintertime weather and carries enough calories with her to optimally re-fuel from her run, wherever she might end up (in case there should be an impromptu bonk, a wrong turn or a mileage miscalculation – she would STILL get her recovery foods in a timely manner!). On this morning, she, perhaps not surprisingly, told us to watch out for her nifty blue lights that would be flashing from her jacket. We jogged along slowly and suddenly Val screamed ‘I see her! JENN!!!’ but as I looked around there was no Jenn to be seen. ‘There! There!’ Val screamed and pointed. ‘Aaaaah, yes!’ I said as I saw a light in the distance. However, as we approached this blue flashing light we eventually realized it was a police car that had stopped to arrest someone. This took us way too long to figure out (I think I said ‘where is she?’ as an older man was being cuffed...). Nevertheless, we did somehow end up finding her, though it was a good 10min later and it was more like she found us...details, details! The rest of the run went by relatively incident-free (imagine that) and was actually quite enjoyable due to the spring-like weather that day.

Saturday’s workout was 4x2k with 3 minutes rest. I was hoping to stay somewhere near coach during this workout but I quickly realized this wouldn’t be happening. Damn Nic and her blood-doping, tapering ways! She commented on having run about half as much as me so far that week and beamed about how fresh she felt. I wasn’t too far behind on the first interval (about 4-5s back in 7:25ish), but even by our second ‘moderate’ effort she was 15s ahead. Dammit. The third interval was the hardest of the bunch, where we were instructed to negative split by 10s no matter what. The obvious approach to conquering this interval would have been to take it easy in the first km and hammer the 2nd. I was feeling feisty, however, and wanted to make it a truly hard interval, so I went out in 3:40 (as I had in each of the other intervals) and did my best to hammer the second half (which I had been running 5-6s slower in 3:45/6...this loop is tough to negative-split on). Nic stayed with me to 1k, then left me in the dust with a 3:24 2nd kilometre as I struggled home in a 3:34. I was satisfied with my effort but was more awed by Nic’s prowess than anything else. The last 2k was another moderate effort, which I ran in 7:25 again. I was happy about how consistent I was [7:27/7:25/7:14/7:25-6] and by the fact that I was able to negative split...though not by 10s, at least by something! Furthermore, it being the end of my biggest mileage week yet, I was happy to end on a strong note.

And now...for my down week! Oh the joy. Though down weeks are clearly a time for your body to rest and recuperate, it is also a time to mentally recharge. I love the peace of mind of knowing I don’t HAVE to do anything I don’t want to and the lack of pressure on mileage or workouts. This week will end with a marathon-style workout in which I will do 25-26k starting easy and ending under marathon pace. I hope I have good news to report!

Feelin' the (COLD) burn

2011-01-22T15:45:00.003-05:00

It’s Saturday. Noon. I’m sitting on the couch and all I can think is: I don’t want to get up. For a very, very long time. I’d actually like to go to sleep; unfortunately, a 90min ballet class lingers in the distance and I’m afraid that if I succumbed to my tiredness, I might not make it.

However, I can take comfort in the fact that my week of running is done. 91 miles, 6 days. Although it’s tough getting in all those miles in less than a week, I am beginning to cherish my days off in an increasingly reverent manner. It’s my chance to get 55+ hours of recovery that I know my body needs, so in that sense it’s worth it. This past week was my third consecutive week at 90-ish miles (87.5, 89.5, 91) and my first week where I’ve felt some longer-term fatigue. That being said, it also encompassed my longest run yet (32km) and two meaty workouts, so it is probably a combination of accumulated mileage and increased quality of runs that is setting in. Not to mention the blasphemous weather that is this January. It snowed sporadically through the week, making my ‘easy’ runs on Wednesday and Friday much harder efforts than I would have liked.

I learned quite a bit about wintertime running this week. I learned on Wednesday that I prefer running through thick snow than on sheets of ice. I learned on Friday that I prefer running on cleared roads and dodging cars in my ninja-like fashion than running on sidewalks with uneven footing. I learned today that I prefer running in -20C and succumbing to frostbite than trudging through fresh snow. So at least I can decide if I really need to suffer through a 12-mile treadmill run on any given day in a fairly systematic manner: EXTREME COLD > RISKING LIFE ON CLEARED STREETS INSTEAD OF SNOWY SIDEWALKS > FRESH SNOW > ICE. I draw the treadmill line between fresh snow and ice. I’ve come to learn that if there is a CHANCE that I will fall, then I will (apparently I am NOT the graceful ballerina I thought myself to be), and to be frank, I risk broken limbs falling on ice, so I figure that’s something I should take seriously. I also basically start to walk, or slide, over anything that looks like ice, making a 90min run easily take 120min. This wasted time and effort, combined with the possibility of career-ending injury, makes for a treadmill run in my books.

On Monday night I retreated to the treadmill for a hill workout. I had done a big treadmill workout two days earlier (45’ progressive warm-up followed by 3x15’ @ 10.0mph [3:43/km]/10.2mph [3:39/km]/10.5mph [3:33/km]) so my legs were still feeling a bit tired. It was both the longest set of intervals and fastest pace I had ever done on the treadmill and though it felt very comfortable at the time, my legs were pretty dead afterwards. I promised myself I’d take it easier on Monday, but not surprisingly I worked harder than I wanted, doing 4 sets of: [30s fat/90s 3.5% incline/90s 4.0% incline/30s flat] all at 9-9.3mph, followed by some more 90s hill sprints and a 5min flat tempo. By the end of the workout my quads were burning pretty bad, and I cursed myself for going so hard. (But of course I was secretly satisfied.)

On Tuesday I thought for a moment that winter was coming to a joyous, glorious end. The temperature swung from -25 with wind chill to +3-4 and all the snow started to melt. My easy run was for once easy. I suppose the good thing about running through snow is that it makes running on cleared paths feel like a breeze. However, by nighttime the temperature dipped again and I woke up on Wednesday in a winter iceland, literally having to walk across Queen’s Park because it had turned into a pretty awesome skating rink. My 12 mile loop that once took me 90min to do took me 1:45 or something ridiculous, so I swore to myself that next time I would have the good sense to turn around and hit the TM.

Luckily, all of our Thursday morning long runs have turned out to be relatively snow and ice-free. Of course, since I can’t seem to do any kind of run without some added handicap or challenge, we have started these runs at 5:15AM because SOME PEOPLE (you know who you are!) have to be at work by 8:30AM. This has proved to handicap me in ways I would not have anticipated. Take last Thursday, for example, when I met Val half-asleep at my building and spent the first 10 minutes of our run trying to figure out why I felt so ‘off’. It finally dawned on me that I had completely forgotten to put on any kind of undergarments, top or bottom, which I impulsively blurted out loud, causing Val to burst into hysterical, cackling laughter (I seem to have this effect on her)...before she eventually proceeded to tell me that this story would in no way remain confidential. How thoughtful! Fortunately for me, I was able to continue along quite happily and without much discomfort. I am not sure if I am happy or sad about this, but on the day I would say I was quite grateful.

This week was much more successful as I managed to fully dress myself before heading out (note how high my standards have gotten these days). I also ran 2k longer for a total of 2hrs40min (20-ish miles), and picked up the pace in the last 45min to somewhere south of 5:00/km, which in this weather seems to be something to be proud of. I doubled that day, making my daily total about 24 miles, the last 4 of which I ran with Nic, in what seemed like a spastic adventure race through snow and icy paths in Forest Hill. I’m not sure why she chose to zig-zag all over the place, but all I could do was follow her blindly and trust that we would emerge somewhere close to home. Thankfully we did, though I still awoke on Friday morning with two very tired legs (it was the 4 miles obviously that did it...).

I capped off the week with a 3k/1k/2k/1k workout in the cemetery this morning. Even though the footing still wasn’t great, it went fairly well as we were able to get in a hard effort and run sub-4:00/km, which we haven’t been able to do there in a while [11:30/3:35/7:40(long?)/3:45(?)]. My legs were burning by the end, making me crave my Sunday rest even more. I know that it’s normal I feel this way considering all the mileage I’ve been doing, but I am still contemplating moving up my down week, so that I would have a bit of a break after this week, which is supposed to hover around 95 miles. If you do not hear from me in seven days, you can safely assume that I have succumbed to a mileage-induced coma and am unable to wake up.

Snow Angels

2011-01-11T14:01:00.002-05:00

This past week marks my first official week of marathon training. The plan was to maintain at 80 miles, throwing in a slightly longer run than normal (26k) and a longer interval workout. I ended up covering 87 miles in 6 days without the second longer workout with relative ease, which has made me realize how tangible running 90-100 miles/week is. That being said, I don’t want to jump up too quickly so I will likely maintain at 85-90 for the next couple of weeks.

On Monday night the roads were clear so we did a number of loops around Forest Hill, totalling 6k of hard effort [1.5k flat/3.5k hilly/200m flat/3x300m hill in 5:07 (3:30/km)/13:08 (3:47/km)/38 (3:10/km)/68-72 (3:46-4:00/km)]. I spent the entire workout trying to chase down Nic, which was virtually impossible. This is obviously normal, but bugged me more than usual since I was feeling really strong but could never close the gap between us. She looked very aggressive and peppy, and afterwards admitted she had been taking mega iron pills and extra rest for the last two weeks because she had been feeling tired. So I don’t feel so bad knowing she was basically cheating and blood doping in order to beat me.

Our circuit workout was a challenge despite missing our one-and-only Kap ‘N K, who has gone to Oxford for 6 months. I want to say that I miss her, but the fact that she is sending us weekly workouts to do on our own that are evil and torturous has squashed any sense of regret from me. Especially when they consist of 100 push-ups and back-to-back push-ups and dips, frog jumps, burpies and 2 minute wall sits. I thought I might be able to slack off a little without her there to critique my form, but Jay has apparently take it upon himself to play the role of drill sergeant and has made any laziness virtually impossible. I suppose this will ultimately lead me to accomplish my goal of completing 25 full push-ups in succession by the end of 2011, but I still opt to complain about it.

I did my long run Thursday and it went by surprisingly quickly. I met up with a number of the angels at 6AM, which definitely tested my wake-up time limits. Waking up at 5 and leaving the house before 6AM is officially nutty in Coolis-land (strange where I seem to draw my limits...) though I was happy to get in 16 miles before 8AM. The run felt easy, though I suspect I was half-asleep for at least half of it so perhaps I wasn’t quite conscious of the time going by. I ended up doubling that day too for a daily total of 20 miles, which on top of my 12+9 double on Tuesday brought me to 65 miles in four days. I was feeling great, but in the back of my mind knew it could come back to haunt me, so I was a little nervous about conquering the big 3k/2k/2x1k/2x500m workout planned for Saturday.

On Friday night, however, we were blessed with a massive downpour of snow that continued through Saturday. I woke up on Saturday morning in a complete winter wonderland but was naive and juvenile enough to think it would be fun to try and run through it. By the time I arrived at the cemetery, however, I felt like I had aged ten years and scaled Mount Everest. I was bitter and tired and not at all amused by the snow. Furthermore, even though the cemetery is one of the first places in Toronto that is cleared, snow was still piling up quickly. We amassed at McInnes Rock and chuckled at each other’s snow-covered eyelashes and Andrea’s bright red cheeks. Jacquie’s eyelashes apparently actually froze to one another causing her to run blind, which she acknowledged added an interesting extra little challenge to the workout. We discussed swapping a run workout with an ‘alternative circuit workout’ of snow angel-making, but when coach arrived she informed us that a tempo run would replace the dreaded 8k of intervals. I have to say I was relieved, and my youthful giddiness renewed. We started our tempo run and cringed (well actually I think I laughed) when we got to 1k in 4:30. Oh wow. Several of the snow angels began to sign off at 3-4k, while Nic and I continued trudging along to complete a full loop. At one point, one arm of our path was masked by a field of uncleared, fresh, three-foot deep snow. Apparently I was the only one who recognized it as our route as Nic continued along the alternate arm without hesitation. ‘Ummm where are you going?’ I asked her quizzically. She quickly swerved left and joined me on the uncleared route. I began to mutter something about wanting snow shoes or a treadmill and she exclaimed ‘This is perfect! You never know what can happen in a marathon!’. At this point I had to turn my head and really question her sanity. Don’t get me wrong, I know that dealing with unanticipated circumstances can have benefits you are not immediately aware of; however, I had trouble accepting that wading through piles of heavy snow could somehow occur on race day in a spring marathon, nevermind even in something slightly more tangible like a cross-country race. Being void of an intelligent answer to her comment, I instead burst into hysterical laughter. She followed suit (either because she realized she made no sense, or is in fact actually crazy) and soon we were both in hysterics, causing our brisk 4:10s to slow to an even more pathetic pace. We finished the loop in good spirits, however, and were happy to get in a harder effort on such a miserable day for running.

I was relieved that I wouldn’t have to try and run uphill with my feet slipping under me on my cooldown and instead could enjoy the downhill home. I was clearly too complacent in my thoughts as five minutes into our jog I slipped on the road and went flying onto my side, thankfully travelling far enough on the snow to reach the sidewalk by the time I came to a standstill (sitstill?). I was shocked and confused when Val helped me up and kindly brushed me off, however, as this was contrary to past circumstance met with my one-and-only nemesis, Megan Lynch. I am sure that if Megan were there I may have met my demise, possibly by being redirected into oncoming traffic mid-air. So thank you Val!

My week was capped off with a 90-minute ballet class, led by a flamboyant ex-dancer who nonchalantly dropped one-liners of his past pas-de-deux with Celia Franca and close exchanges with Karen Kain, all the while laughing and flipping his delicate hands back and forth. He is a great and very well-liked instructor and the other dancers seemed equally welcoming, so I was thrilled with my first class. Although my balance and flexibility was definitely suffering, I was surprised by how quickly the movements came back to me. By the end of the class, my fluidity and technique was already much improved from my first shaky plie. I can’t say I wasn’t sore on Sunday, but I’m hoping it will get better each week.

2011

2011-01-06T15:24:00.004-05:00

2010 was a good year for shoeless coolis. I will spare you the sappy details and give you the stats, though I will say that being part of Nic’s Angels has been a major turning point in my running. I couldn’t be happier in my current environment. I look forward to continued progress in 2011 as I set my sights on my second marathon in the spring (race TBD). I will try to be as entertaining as possible as I take my readers through my 4-month marathon buildup and hope that 90 mile weeks and 35k long runs don’t usurp the creativity from my tired brain.

2010 Stats:
Total miles run: 3175
Average miles/week (subtracting two scheduled rest weeks): 63.5...with rest weeks: 61.5
Races run: 16 (12 road, 2 track, 2 cross-country)
Wins: 5
PBs: 7 (5k, 5 miles, 10k, 10 miles, ½ marathon, 30k and marathon)
National Championships: 4 (1/2 marathon, marathon, 5000m and cross-country)

Top 10 moments of 2010
(DRUM ROLL PLEASE)

10. Finally achieving real push-up status. This has been 26 years in the making. (Thank you Kap ‘N K!)
9. In October: helping Beth to a sub-10:00 3k time trial at the cemetery, leading to a 500 and 1k PB in the same practice.
8. Long runs with Jebs and Dr. Z in -20C. Torturous but irreplaceable.
7. Winning the Not Since Moses 10k in Five Islands, Nova Scotia. The most fun I’ve ever had in a race!
6. Running ATB with fellow blondes Jebs and Dr. Z, pushing each other the entire way, finishing 8-9-10; and thus, Nic’s Angels are born. ;)
5. Running Sporting Life after a winter of 'blah' mileage and finally feeling the wheels beginning to turn, running 30s faster than my PB on that course 3 years ago.
4. Running a 71s 400m in practice...sadly, yes, this is a PB!
3. Finishing my first marathon in Ottawa and telling Nic at the finish line “I am never going to do that again.” Uh-huh. The most painful experience of my life (soon to be repeated).
2. Breaking 18:00 for 5000m for the first time in an INTENSE time trial with Nic, Joe and Trevor – crossing the line in 17:59.
1. Breaking 1:20:00 for the half marathon at The Goodlife.

11 Goals for 2011!

1. Stay injury free!
2. Run sub-2:48 for the marathon.
3. Do 25 real push-ups in a row. This may be my biggest challenge.
4. Run a sub-1:18:00 half-marathon.
5. Run my first 100-mile week!
6. Get regular massage therapy...and see the physio when I need it. I am incredibely neglectful of this.
7. Re-kindle my dancing days and take one ballet class per week. This should be an interesting form of cross-training...
8. Run sub-17:30 for 5k.
9. Take my friggin vitamin D supplements.
10. Finish in the top 20 at Nationals XC in Vancouver!!!
11. Break 10:00 in the 3000m (yes this is a random one, but something that’s bugged me for years).

The Stevenson Olympics [a.k.a. Boozing Day 10-miler]

2010-12-29T15:45:00.009-05:00

First question: who races on Boozing Day? Really? After all - at least where I come from – Boxing Day is supposed to be a day of sloth and lazy self-indulgence. Perhaps because, as a child, my mother insisted on planting herself on the couch the entire day, getting through all of her Christmas reading in one go, and my father, bitter over the absence of leftovers (since my aunt and uncle host Christmas dinner), would cook another turkey dinner for the four of us. This progressed into us going up to our cottage to celebrate Boxing Day, where the opportunity to do any kind of physical activity was further impeded. Of course, Boxing Day is also a big night for house parties and club-goers, and is thus usually capped off with keggers and shots. Not exactly a day of detox.

This year, I stayed in the T. for Christmas. Nic was obviously extremely excited that I would be training with her over the holidays, and e-mailed me a good two months ago telling me about a ‘huge’ road race on Boxing Day, perhaps, she admitted, more famously known as the Stevenson Olympics. Justifiably, she has run it about 10 times and has been declared champion no less than 8 of those. This, compounded by the fact that it’s on her home turf (I think we even run by the McDonald’s she used to work at? Awesome.). In all honesty though, I thought it would be a great way to shake off the Christmas-time laziness. Of course it was, although on Boxing Day morning I was convinced it was the worst decision I had ever made in my life.

This brings me to my next question: who doesn’t drink on Christmas? Really? In my family I normally play the role of bartender (surprise, surprise), so the thought of a dry Christmas actually made me cry a bit inside. This of course being because I normally don’t drink before races (surprise again? I don’t know). On Christmas morning I thought I might be able to get through the day with water, but by 11AM I was offered several vodka-OJs by my father-in-law. Wow. I managed to decline his offer, but again, a few hours later there were more offerings and my discipline wavered. I began to rationalize my decision, figuring if I drank early enough I could be sober by 8PM, get a good night’s sleep and be ready to rock in the morning. Uh-huh.

So my next question is: who races after being sick with the flu for a week? Though I only had one day of extreme nausea, my body felt weak, I was stuffed up and my head pounded for most of the week. Still, it was the Stevenson Olympics! How could I miss it?!

So Nic picked me up in the morning and we drove down to the Hammer with AZ. I must have seemed especially lethargic, as Nic wasn’t sure if I was awake yet and AZ kept asking how hungover I was. In reality, it wasn’t really the hangover but more the -15 degree weather and hilly course description that left my motivation waning. Once we got to the course, however, I started to get a little more excited. This is most likely attributed to the fact that we got some awesome race gear, including two long-sleeved shirts decorated with white snowmen and some sweet snowman mitts on top of it. They were so exciting we couldn’t restrain our jazz hands from waving.

Jazz hands

We got in a solid three mile warm-up and my legs felt pretty good, though I was warned not to go out too hard since the second half of the course is very hilly. I think Megan said something like ‘If you are hurting at all at 5 miles, you are done. OVER.’ Alrighty then! The gun went off and I trotted along pleasantly, going through 1 mile in just under 6:30. Hmmmmm...was I being too conservative? I picked it up for the next few miles, but it was a constant battle against gusting winds and windy turns along the bike path route. At 3 miles I let it be known that I wasn’t having fun and let out some sort of loud groan that heralded some snickers from those around me. At this point all kinds of negative thoughts were going through my head; I thought about tempo-ing the race, dropping out of the race, jogging the race, pretty much anything but trying my hardest. I reached the 5-mile mark in 31:38 and suddenly realized that I was feeling pretty good. I was approaching the first hill, and to my surprise it looked much less daunting than I had anticipated. I powered up it and started to pick up the pace. At the top I knew I had a mile or two before the second, more challenging hill, so I used this time and my relatively ‘fresh’ legs to gain some ground on those ahead of me. I saw a woman about 200m ahead who had passed me at 2 miles and decided to try and catch her by the second hill. I thought if I could stay close to her up the hill, I’d have a good chance of passing her on the recovery afterwards. I gradually reeled her in and by the base of the hill I was right on her heels. She didn’t like this much and put in a surge up the initial incline. I followed. I stayed close to her all the way to the very steep peak of the hill, where I think everyone including me was hardly moving forward. Next question: what kind of race has a hill like that? It seemed needlessly torturous, but I thought of the inspirational Saint Ralph and how valiantly some little kid fought up this very same hill. If he could do it there’s no way I couldn’t! At that point I heard someone yell ‘Go Rebecca! You got her!’ and I realized I was probably behind Rebecca Stallwood, who I knew was in the race. My resolve to pass her became even stronger. At the same time, a small old man at the top of the hill announced that we had just completed the last hill of the course, which flooded me with happiness and joy and renewed aggression. I wanted to bear-hug him and chase Stallwood simultaneously, but alas, I couldn’t do both, so I chose to bear-hunt Stallwood down instead. Again when I tried to pass her she surged forward, this time looking less comfortable and breathing heavily. I thought to myself, just sprint by her! You can afford a surge yourself at this point...so surge I did – and that was the end of her. I hammered on the downhill and someone from the sidelines yelled ‘4th place woman!’, at which point I saw another ponytail in the distance. We were approaching mile 9, so I knew I had to act quickly to lock in a 3rd place; thankfully I was already gaining on her. As I got closer I put in another surge and passed her, all the while wondering how fast our last mile would be if she were to resist it as Stallwood had. However, she didn’t respond and I continued along maintaining my pace and building a lead on her. The finish came up surprisingly quickly and I crossed the line in 3rd place in a time of 1:03:10. Not a time to write home about, but I was happy with how I raced it and having negative split the course with a hilly second half. Not to mention that I was able to snatch 3rd place and win myself some more Christmas loot!

Post-race and HAPPY

Megan won in an awesome time of 57:22 and Nic was 2nd in 1:01:26 all the while battling tummy troubles. So does this mean I can say I have an Olympic Bronze, Nic?

Olympic Medallists

Camps a Champ in 3rd!

So much for lazy Boozing Day. Though I can’t say I didn’t finish off the day in proper form in this respect!

Getting JANED

2010-12-14T13:06:00.005-05:00

Those people who have had the pleasure of running with me know that it comes at a risk – and oftentimes – a price. You see, I hate stopping at traffic lights and avoid it at all costs, even if it means risking my life. Being the BC native that I am, I have become accustomed to darting across streets, bridges and even highways without consequence. In fact, cars often slow down to let pedestrians cross even if the driver has the right-of-way. Why, you might ask? Because BC’ers are relaxed, happy, kind, patient and attentive, of course! In Halifax, where my brother lives, kindness from strangers takes on a whole new level. Drivers will literally hit the brakes if they see anyone within 100m out for a jog and will proceed to roll down their windows, wave excitedly and yell “Hello! How are you?!” The first time this happened to me I was so utterly confused that I looked down to make sure I was fully dressed, since I thought that this unsolicited attention might have risen by some accident like forgetting to put on clothes, or my shorts falling off. Fortunately this was not the case, and I continued through Point Pleasant Park receiving a cheerful hello from every jogger and walker that passed by.

So here I am in Toronto, land of busy streets and angry, impatient drivers, and what do I change about my street crossing tendencies? Nothing, obviously. Does it matter that it’s pitch black and that I am in my ninja attire, in all black with the only bright spots being the whites of my eyes? Or that it’s rush hour? Or that it’s blizzarding and slizzarding? Or that perhaps I DON’T have the right-of-way? Naw. Admittedly, I am prone to being ‘almost hit’ by cars, HOWEVER, I have never actually BEEN hit. This is a critical distinction, and I take it as a sign that I am cautiously risky. This is FAR different than being a reckless, ignorant, aggressive street-crosser. I am acutely aware of my surroundings (unlike the IPOD shufflers that litter the streets and can’t make out a fire truck from a dog barking) and take measured risks, calculating in milliseconds the likelihood of myself quickly making it across the street unscathed. I would go so far as to describe my feline-like agility and prophetic intuition as somewhat of a talent, or perhaps like a mysterious sixth sense. The problem is when the feline reflexes of my running partners isn’t quite as poised and ready to pounce at the switch of a light, or passing of a car, as mine are; and as a result I am pretty sure anyone that’s run with me has almost been hit by oncoming traffic. For that I am truly sorry (but not completely at fault).

Although I haven’t been hit, I have had some bad experiences. Take last winter, for example, when I went out for a run in the midst of a snowstorm at about 7 at night (smart). I ran around Queen’s Park for 45 minutes, as I was unsure of when I might suddenly want to bail from the run and go home. Well, when I had my fill of the QP, bail I did. As per usual I darted across the street perpendicular to oncoming traffic, though I trust I would have made it across with plenty of time to spare, had I not slipped on the road (blizzard’s fault) and gone crashing down on my side. All I remember is shooting pain and blinding lights coming at me from what seemed to be way too close to my head. I dragged myself to the curb just as a car whizzed by, barely missing my foot. I was in complete shock, but of course sprung up immediately, started my watch (which I had stopped mid-fall, like any normal person would do) and began running home. Apparently the fall and near-death experience did take the G.I. Jane out of me, however, as a mere ten seconds later I began bawling like a two-year-old, crying for my mommy. When I got home I called Jeff, who thought that my whole family had died in a plane crash. “No, I fell! I have a bruise!” I stammered while sobbing uncontrollably. I think the nickname ‘Baby J’ crossed his mind at this point, but when he got home and saw the massive welts on my hip, knee and elbow, I think he reconsidered.

Unfortunately, my impatience is not restricted to running. The other week, I was walking with my friend Mauricio from work to Ryerson, which are about 4 blocks apart. In this time, we were almost hit no less than three times. I think he was impressed at my ability to come so close to getting hit with such prompt succession. On our way back, I started to cross the street when a thunderous crash sounded from my right and an elderly woman on a motorized wheelchair came flying out onto the street in front of me. I jumped back and looked around in bewilderment, trying to figure out what had just happened. ‘What was that?!’ I found it hard to believe a senior citizen had indeed just shot out from the sidewalk at 50km/h and nearly run me over. I looked back at Mauricio, who was bent over, practically on the ground laughing his face off. ‘Oh my god, Oh my god, Oh my god!’ was all he could muster out. ‘You almost got hit by a WHEELCHAIR!’ Could that be a sign?

After this minor incident, people began to talk. So much so, that last week at work I was told that someone almost got ‘Janed’ on the weekend. When I raised my eyebrows at this comment, Mauricio explained that they almost got killed crossing the street. Apparently now this is synonymous with pulling a ‘Jane’. Finally, I have been forced to acknowledge this tendency that has carried me close to death. Perhaps I am too eager to cross, but I vehemently argue that this eagerness is a well-measured, life-proof calculation to enable the most efficient means of street-crossing. If I end up getting hit by a car, of course, this whole argument will be void. We shall see.

I feel like I’m in Russia (and it’s not the vodka talking)

2010-12-09T17:29:00.000-05:00

It is a truth universally acknowledged amongst runners (and likely even by Jane Austen) that the intelligent way to begin building up after a week off would be to go for a short, easy run. I will premise my subsequent sentences by stating that this truly was my intention as I headed down to the treadmill for my first run (yes, the treadmill. Within a week, as the weather turned south of zero and Santa Claus came to town, I became a wimp. What can I say, I became accustomed to the fuzzy warmth of vodka shots and indoor heating.) I looked outside at the heavy gusts of wind blowing trees over the streets, people in furry coats scurrying down the sidewalk and the snow falling wildly, thinking about how pleased I was not to be at the cemetery doing an interval workout. Instead, I began a slow jog on the treadmill of my bright, cheerful, and warm condo gym, armed with my IPOD shuffle. Surprisingly, after a week off my legs felt light and sharp, and in no less than two minutes in I began to increase my 7.5mph pace to something a little more challenging. I upped the pace by .2mph every five minutes or so, until I was fifty minutes into my run and found myself running at 9.0mph quite comfortably. Hmmmm...I thought to myself, is it so bad if I do my first run as a progression run? With Rihanna blasting in my ears ‘COMMON’ COMMON’ COMMON’’ I didn’t give it much of a second thought. Suddenly Usher piped in (pardon the pun) and began to ask for ‘MORE!’, instructing me to ‘LIGHT IT UP, TAKE IT UP HIGHER, PUSH IT TO THE LIMIT GIVE IT MORE!’ and as I am simply unable to say no to Usher, by 55minutes I had suddenly jumped up to 9.8mph (Usher has great powers). I held onto the pace for the next twenty minutes with the help of Ricky J, Tiao Cruz, Lady Gaga, more Usher and of course Far East Movement, which point I figured I had better stop or I’d risk not being able to get out of bed the next day. My run felt stupendous – I almost wished I had a race that weekend so I could put my pent up energy to some productive use (and run with real people) instead of wasting electricity in the gym (and running with my imaginary famous entourage). So my first run ended up being a total of 80 minutes and 12-ish miles, ending in a sub-19:00 5k. Not at all what I expected.
The next day I decided to brave the outdoors (ok fine, I was still a wimp but the gym closes from 8-9AM on weekends. Dammit!) and do the beltline 10 mile loop – it was frigid (TWSS, obvi) but I dressed decently for once so it was bearable. My legs felt a little tired but I wasn’t sore, and I did the loop in a best time of low-74mins, which I found hard to believe considering I was consciously trying not to go too fast. I am beginning to be convinced that time off is a good thing...yes, I am saying it out loud, even though it will come back to haunt me when coach forces further marathon tapers on me and sends me these very words to remind me. Oh, the love-hate! I retreated to the treadmill again on Monday, where my planned easy run turned into another ‘tempo’ of two 12 minute sections at 9 and 9.8mph, followed by 4min sections at 10-10.2mph. Yes, I definitely know how to phase my way into training. That being said, it didn’t feel too strenuous, so perhaps I can pass it off as some light tempo work before doing real intervals outside? Yes?

The rest of the week I stayed outdoors, in true G.I. Jane form. I even did a circuit workout on Tuesday night with Jay and Jacquie (Ja triple threat), though we have finally come to our senses and have stopped doing them outside on the wet and/or frosty grass of Churchill park. There is something completely pointless about doing static strength exercises in the cold and getting soaking wet when you could really be doing the exact same thing inside. Jay kindly invited us to his condo gym, where we went through Kap ‘N K’s torture plan in its entirety (almost), even doing jumps down the carpet of what seemed to be an elegant ballroom. I'm sure that was appreciated.

I can tell my week as a 'normal person' has ended because upon entering Starbucks after a -18 degree run this morning, the employees changed their comments from ‘beautiful’ to ‘OH MY GOD YOU LOOK LIKE A RACCOON!’ That’s a new one. We went from ‘hot and sweaty’, to ‘raccoon-like’. Seriously? I strained to remember if I had accidentally put makeup on at 5:30 in the morning before going out for my run, or perhaps had slept-walked and put mascara all over my face. I was pretty certain that my face was untouched, so I asked them what made me reminiscent of such an animal. ‘Your face is bright red except for around your eyes! It looks so funny!’ Well, they sure aren’t discrete, but at least they’re honest? I am convinced that they think I am some kind of scientific specimen whose phenotype they must observe and record on a daily basis: ‘The evolution of raccoon runner: 2010’. At least I seem to be providing them with a dynamic range of data and what seems to be a constant source of entertainment!

Back to the run - Thursday’s run was perhaps the most rude awakening to winter. Now Wednesday was cold – I met Nic in Forest Hill and prided myself in being able to withstand -8 degree temperatures for 80 minutes and actually getting hot at the end. Of course, Thursday we ran longer and it was a frigid -18 with wind chill. Seriously, what month is it? Isn’t this supposed to come in late January? My hands got frostbite for probably the tenth time now, and upon my return home I spent five minutes in the gym washroom shrieking while they oh-so-slowly and painfully thawed to room temperature (I wonder what the people in the next room were thinking?).
Perhaps I should just move to Russia, as it would be just as cold and I would have access to superfluous amounts of cheap vodka. And of course as the saying goes:

“In America, you can always find a party.
In Soviet Russia, the party always finds you.”

I like it. (Subject to your own interpretation, of course!)

I’m bored, so I will blog

2010-12-01T21:33:00.000-05:00

It’s been four days since Nationals and I would say I’m pretty much recovered from the after-party. It was a rough couple of days there though. My legs were seizing, I was nauseous and I was massively dehydrated – worse than any other night out in recent years! Thankfully, I am on break now, which means no running for me for a week followed by a week of easy running. It also means I have a lot of extra time on my hands, but since my blog is (primarily, though I will admit not totally) about running, I can’t blog either! As a compromise, I will blog about not running and try to make it pertinent to running. Sound contradictory? Just wait and see!

Not running has its perks. First of all, it opens up a whole other world of time in my day – time to enjoy my coffee for an extra two hours, or sleep in a little, or go to work early (oh the joys!). I especially love it when I walk down to Starbucks – having spent an extra 5 minutes on my face in the morning – and having them exclaim: “Oh my! You look beautiful! You are normally so hot and sweaty!” Gee, that’s one way to flatter your loyal customers. At least I know what they think of me on a day-to-day basis (actually I already knew what they thought of me – the crazy runner who runs in any and every kind of weather, every day, in the wee hours of the morning. I by no means deny this. But at least now they now that I can blend in with the majority of the population if I try!).

The funny part is when I go to work before 8AM and the one person who is there exclaims ‘Oh, you must be sooooo tired! You got up so early today!’ and I have to explain to them that I actually slept in. Go figure. Another thing that I enjoy is the feeling of not having to eat healthfully. I get a strange neurosis when I am running a lot of mileage that I need all kinds of key nutrients in order to stay healthy on a daily basis. I sometimes convince myself that if I don’t eat veggies and a whackload of protein after a workout, that I will wake up injured. It’s completely illogical, but when running a lot of mileage and doing tough workouts day in and day out, it does have a cumulative effect. To this end, when I am not running I somehow think it’s fair game to eat absolutely nothing of nutritional value and as much junk food as I would like. Martinis become a daily staple. I’d have mimosas in the morning if I didn’t have to work (or more specifically, if I wasn’t responsible for the lives of small animals at work). Take last night, for example, when I polished off 2/3 of a container of Cool Whip, drowned in chocolate sauce, and two glasses of errr...something. It was a marvellous feeling. I also enjoy eating chocolate for breakfast. Anyway, all in all, I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended this week with several nutritional deficiencies and permanent liver damage.

Martini madness

I also become an insomniac, though heavy alcohol consumption can sometimes negate this effect. Even if I cross-train, though, I still get hyperactive and I am usually restless all night. Last night Jeff started snoring at 2AM and I burst out into hysterical laughter, which scared the crap out of him and made him jump off the bed. I also felt like jumping, though it was more like jumping up and dancing to ‘Like a G6’ around our apartment. Unfortunately, I eventually dozed off instead...

Thus far, I have absolutely no desire to run, though I will likely start again by the weekend. There always comes a point for me in the season where I want some downtime and I don’t want to worry about workouts: in the fall, December is a great month to do this. It’s a jolly month full of parties, gifts and time off from work, where you may not need the extra endorphins from running (...though, your body might need the workout!). I think I was also mentally spent after AOs, as I had a difficult work month in November and I was getting tired trying to work long days and train hard. Furthermore, with another marathon build-up beginning in the New Year, now is the perfect time to rest and re-boot. I am really looking forward to begin my second build-up with all the fitness I’ve gained over the past year. There is no better way to start marathon training than with a fresh mind and fresher legs.

Wintertime must: SKISHOTS!

Gettin SLIZZARD by the blizzard

2010-11-28T22:35:00.000-05:00

Nationals was a learning experience. You would think that, at the mature age of 25, having run in 3 National and 4 CIS Championship XC races and having the responsibility of coach put on your shoulders for the day, that Nationals would no longer be a learning experience. However, I definitely proved that theory wrong. It started in the morning, when I couldn’t find my arm warmers. I was suddenly overcome with what I perceived to be a BRILLIANT idea – to cut the toes off my old compression socks and wear them on my arms. They were in fact the perfect length, though they were surprisingly tight around my bulging biceps. I couldn’t quite figure out how they were able to hug my calves comfortably yet cut off the circulation from my arms, but I attributed it to the large number of push-ups I’ve been doing recently. Nevertheless, I stuck with my plan and began to coordinate the rest of my attire. Now, the weather forecast called for snow and -2 degrees, with the 40km/h winds bringing it down to a chilly -10, with gusts up to 60km/h. Naturally I stuck to my plan of shorts, a singlet, gloves and my makeshift arm warmers. I had never been cold wearing this outfit and had run in plenty of winter-time cross-country races, so I didn’t give it much of a second thought. I would say that’s a piece of extremely brilliant reasoning.

On our drive to Guelph the skies went from blue and sunny, to cloudy, to dreary and dark, to a violent, wild blizzard. Seeing as it was my job to get the girls psyched up and ready to run hard, I began to complain like a five-year-old about the weather. I then pulled out several flasks from my bag and started a rap about getting slizzard after the blizzard. I have no doubt my words were inspirational and provided the girls with profound insight on why they should run hard that day. If that wasn’t damage enough, I proceeded to hand out the post-race goodie bags I had made for all the racers before they even began to run. What was the point of running hard now?

When we got to the course, we had trouble finding our tent (important piece of advice here: carry head coach’s cellphone number with you when you go to a National Championship. Just a thought.) We ended up starting our warm-up ten minutes later than planned; fortunately, however, the sun came out and it started to warm up considerably. At this point my arms were throbbing from my piercingly tight arm warmers, which I suffered through through the warm-up since they were practically glued to my skin and impossible to tear off. We ran the course forwards and backwards (the secret of CHAMPIONS) and headed to the start line. I was able to peel the compression armor from my poor biceps, which had turned blue and nearly started bruising at this point. Of course it began to cloud over once again and the winds came out to cheer us on, leaving me in shorts and a singlet sans arm coverage trying not to get blown off the startline. I was frozen. Unfortunately, once the gun went off the situation did not improve. I was frigid for the entire event (that’s-what-she-said) and all I could think about was how cold I was. I didn’t get the good start I had hoped for and again spent the whole race playing a game of catch-me-if-you-can. I did pick people off the whole time but wished I could have made up more ground than I did. I felt frantic and could never relax or get warm, all culminating in a sub-par performance. I finished in 32nd place in a time of 26:30. On the bright side, I ran 20s faster than last year in worse conditions, so that’s something to be mildly happy about.

Freezing in the background

Sadly I seem to have an influence on the other girls, as they also sported summer outfits for the race and were equally frozen throughout. Nice work G.I. Jane! To make matters worse, I forced Meghan to borrow spikes for the race, resulting in her limping off the finish line with an injured achilles. So just to summarize my impressive coaching accomplishments, I pretty much enforced a) a lack of focus, b) unhealthy eating and drinking habits, c) a negative attitude, d) improper attire and e) injuries on the girls on the day of their first National Championship. I would say this is quite a great list of feats, accomplished in a mere few hours.

After the race was another test of endurance that I had been preparing for just as intensely, perhaps moreso. I would have much rather blogged about the occurrences of the post-race party, but alas it is likely slightly inappropriate. Though I will say that Rob Kitz had a gold medal performance that day, even after pouring (not spilling. Pouring.) his drink all over me and nearly puking on me as well. I’m not sure what I did to him in the past that made me his target that night. Nevertheless, him and many others provided for great entertainment and so I must thank them. This includes a couple JCs who somehow managed to get kicked out of a RESTAURANT (not the bar. Restaurant. Though obviously they also got kicked out of the bar. Actually I stand corrected, since only one of them actually made it in – the other pulled a formidable COOLIS 2008.) Well, I think I have succeeded in being a sufficiently horrible role model for the weekend so I will stop here, but will leave you with my creative rap.

WEZ BE RUNNIN THROUGH THE BLIZZARD, GET-GETTIN SLIZZARD

Poppin spikes on the ice, in the blizzard
When we run we run it right getting slizzard
Feelin’ sizzurp in my stride, sub-26
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6

Gimme that fl-flask
Gimme that Gre-Grey Goose
Crowds love my style, runnin hard gettin wild
Get them shots poppin, we get that kick and then drop
Lose the competition, take 2 more, i won’t stop

(3:20) Hell Yeaaaa
Sprint it up, sprint-sprint it up
When sober crowds around me, they be actin like they drunk
They be actin like they drunk, actin-actin like they drunk
When sober crowds around me actin-actin like they drunk

Poppin spikes on the ice, in the blizzard
When we run we run it right getting slizzard
Feelin’ sizzurp in my stride, sub-26
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6

Runnin on, sippin on sizz, Ima ma-make ya fizz
Peeps i keep it gangsta, poppin’ shots up the hill
This is how we run, every single day
Take that flask to the face, and let me see you fly

(3:20) Hell Yeaa
Run it up, run-run it up
When sober crowds around me, they be actin like they drunk
They be actin like they drunk, actin-actin like they drunk
When sober crowds around me actin-actin like they drunk

Poppin spikes on the ice, in the blizzard
When we run we run it right getting slizzard
Feelin’ sizzurp in my stride, sub-26
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6

It’s that finish line bump, make you put yo kick up
Make you put yo kick up, put yo, put yo kick up
(You can’t catch me)
It’s that finish line bump, make you put yo kick up
Make you put yo kick up, put yo, put yo kick up
(You can’t catch me)
Hell Yeaaaa, Make you put yo kick up, put yo put yo kick up
Hell Yeaaaa, Make you put yo kick up, put yo put yo kick up

Poppin spikes on the ice, in the blizzard
When we run we run it right getting slizzard
Feelin’ sizzurp in my stride, sub-26
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6
Like a G6, Like a G6
Now I’m runnin so fly like a G6

Oh Lord, AO: Overdeity of the Forgotten Realms

2010-11-14T21:44:00.000-05:00

Loviatar: Goddess of pain, hurt, agony, torment, suffering and torture.

Every year I go back to the grit, grass, mud and evilness that is cross-country. After five years of forced cross-country racing, I swore I would never return to this brutal, painful place; yet every year I go back. In snow or sunshine, rain or wind, fit or unfit, I go back. Every year, the gun goes off and I am quickly swallowed in a sea of bodies. No matter how hard I feel I’m pushing I am not getting to where I want to go fast enough. My legs get beaten down, inch by inch, by unrelenting hills and the sinking ground, until I’ve lost all motivation to try and go any faster. Instead, I try to cling on to what strength I still possess, but feel it being usurped from my being with each step (from the Greater Powers no doubt), until I am no longer hunting but am being preyed upon by the wild, hungry, lathanders behind me. It ends in more pain that I can remember, emulated in a disillusioned, wobbly sprint to the finish, at which point all I want is to collapse to the ground, unnoticed. Instead, I walk down the chute lined with spectators, struggling to regain my composure, yet weaving from side to side. Once I have a moment to think a clear thought I immediately exclaim: Why did I want to do that? WHY?! WHY??????

Lies

My friends, the answer is the same reason women will have more than one child: PAIN IS FORGOTTEN. Somehow, the intense pain of cross-country gets buried in your brain, likely stored with all the other bits of critical information that if you could only just remember clearly, would really help you make some better decisions in life (like the effects of drinking eight shots of vodka in 12 minutes, or eating an entire carton of ice cream in one sitting - not that I have ever done EITHER of those two things). Instead, we remember the endorphin rush (or sugar rush, or dopamine rush), the fun afterwards (or during), the team camaraderie and support (or the illusion of popularity under the influence), and the satisfaction that comes from suffering through a truly gruelling race (or test of other sorts). Fair enough. But now that I’ve started this blog, I promise to come back and read this post before I run a cross-country race next year, to remind myself of the torture that awaits.

Truth

Cyric: God of murder, lies, intrigue, strife, deception, illusion

So this weekend, back I went, blissfully ignorant, stupidly happy about running AOs. Little did I know I was entering the Forgotten Realm of HURT. That being said, the course was significantly better than the course last year, in which I actually caught myself laughing out loud partway through because of how ridiculous the hills were. (It had to be a joke. Who could possibly run up 80 degree inclines and sprint down the other side, over, over and over? I think they confused cross-country with mountain running? I was terrified for my life running down those hills!). It seems someone must have vehemently complained about this, because the course this year wavered on the opposite extreme and was as flat as a pancake. Perhaps this is a slight exaggeration, since there were several of what I would call legitimate ‘slopes’ or rather ‘slanting terrain.’ Still, it rivaled the Notre Dame Invitational in its pancake perfection, an American ‘cross-country’ race that should actually be placed in category of Outdoor-Cross-Track. But as per usual, I digress.

Blissfully ignorant with coach

The race was 6k in 1k, 2k and 3k loops. My strategy was to not go out too hard, but to stay within striking distance of the lead pack. Then at 3k, try to pick people off as much as I could. When the gun went off, I found myself smack in the middle of the pack; however, I felt like I was going at full tilt. This is not an unusual feeling for me in a cross-country race, or short race at that, and I figured I would be able to maintain my pace for longer than those around me so I just tried to stay even. It wasn’t until the middle of the second loop, however, that girls started to fall back and I could really start to pick more off. Van Buskirk, Marchant and Sexton had already gapped the field by a considerable amount, but the second pack was within reach so I tried to focus on catching them. I did start to pass those who were falling off the pack, but was unable to get any closer to 4th-8th place by the end of the second loop (3k). This is when I began to tire and my goal to catch them was starting to seem less and less attainable. When I did catch two girls, another girl passed me, and this went on a few times until before I knew it I was in the last 1000m and in 11th place. I knew Sarah Nagy was in front of me and that I was gaining on her, but when it came down to the final sprint I just couldn’t snagy her (I’m sorry I couldn’t resist). I wasn’t terribly happy with how the race played out and how I placed, but I know that I raced my hardest on the day and that’s all I can really ask from myself.

Post-race! [Endorphins have set in]

On the bright side, our team placed 2nd to Speed River, which is an incredible accomplishment seeing as most of us haven’t raced cross-country all year, in the last 15 years or at all (congrats to Mama K and Meghan on their first cross-country races!). I find that so impressive! Next up we will be making the trip back to Guelph for Nationals in two-weeks for another test from the Circle of Greater Powers. This time, I hope I feel more like the fluid Akadi - goddess of movement, speed, and air - or Ilmater - god of perseverance, endurance and martyrdom - rather than Loviatar.

A video of the race: http://www.runnerspace.com/eprofile.php?do=videos&event_id=4871&video_id=34049&folder_id=-2

God Ilmater Jane - the new G.I. Jane [next time - just practicing]

On the Road2Hope (quest for 17:30)

2010-11-06T18:01:00.000-04:00

The thought of reducing mileage and focusing on speedwork for the next month was somewhat unattractive to me a few weeks ago. I was absorbed in 80+ mile weeks and addicted to the euphoria of double days, long runs and the strength I was deriving from them. The mileage only became easier and easier to sustain, so the thought of scaling back made no sense to me. But alas, with three races (one of which is a National Championship) in one month and with coach pushing shorter, more intense workouts on us, the logical part of my brain (which seems to oscillate in and out of range) kicked in and I realized that I would be better off taking advantage of the speedwork, reducing the mileage a little and sharpening up for the end of the fall season.

With this in mind, back I went to try and nail a sub-18:00 for 5k ‘officially’ – on the roads at that. I figured going down to the Hammer would be an appropriate place to drive this nail in the board, so to speak. I was joined by fellow angels Kathryn and AZ.

Now AZ is normally quite a high-energy individual. On the ride down to Hamilton, however, she seemed particularly rambunctious. I think ‘OH MY GOD I’M SO NERVOUS!’ were the first words she uttered upon entering the car. ‘5k! It’s so INTENSE! What am I supposed to eat? How long do we warm up? How fast should I go? Oh my god I feel sick. Ooooh my stomach. Oh god I have to go to the washroom.’ I looked back to make sure she was breathing in between her unremitting words, and was relieved to see that she had not fallen into sweaty convulsions. ‘AZ, relax!’ I said, ‘It’s only 5k! You’ve run an ironman! What could be more nerve-wracking than 10 hours of racing?!’ ‘Ummm...a 5k...or maybe a 3k? My stomach hurts...’ She continued on with her nervous chatter. I couldn’t figure out why she was so nervous, since there was virtually no pressure on her – hell, Nic wasn’t even in the car to instill REAL LIFE fear in her! When I asked her what her 5k PB was, her voice became shrill again ‘PB? PB?! I have no PB! I’ve never run a 5k!’ Aaaaaaah it finally all started to make sense to me! The long distance runner’s fear of running anything shorter than a marathon. I can understand that. Luckily, the calm Kathryn was there to appease AZ’s nerves by telling her they’d run together, and that Kathryn was going for a sub-19:10, or 3:50/km. ‘Ok so I’ll just follow you then? We can do 3:50? Ooohhh that sounds intense!.....’ AZ continued..

When we arrived in Hamilton winter was upon us. It was freezing cold, windy and we shivered in the registration tent wearing full-on skiing gear. Of course when AZ asked me SPECIFICALLY what I intended on wearing (the logical part of my brain again slipping away) I stood by my weather-network outdated decision of a singlet and half-tights. ‘YOU ARE CRAZY G.I. JANE!’ She yelled. ‘What is wrong with you? You are a freak!’ I thanked her for the compliment and defended myself by saying I would sport some trendy arm-warmers and gloves as well (but really they were just to make me look more hardcore). By the time we warmed up, however, it had gotten a few degrees warmer and I was legitimately HOT. I rolled up my half-tights.

My goal for this race was to go out anywhere from 3:25-3:30 and hang on, really focusing on staying strong in the last 2k. My ‘A’ goal was to run 17:30; ‘B’ was to run 17:45 and ‘C’ was to PB (sub-18:00). I felt pretty relaxed through 1k, which I went through in 3:26 or so. I was pleased to see at 2k I had apparently picked it up to 3:25. I began to think I’d have no problem going 17:30. I started to increase the intensity in the next km, only to pass through in 3:41. WTF?! How is that possible? I realized that the km markers were likely off and that I should shift my focus to my cadence and effort and not on splits. I tried to push harder from 3-4k but only managed a 3:38, which I ended up maintaining to the finish, where I crossed through in 17:48. I was initially a little disappointed, seeing as I was on such a road2hope to a 17:30 early on, but eventually began to appreciate that I still ran a 37s 5k road PB and was 11s faster than my 5000m on the track earlier this summer. Can’t really complain. I am still dissatisfied with my ability to push harder in the last km of my races, however, since the guy I was with until 4k managed to squeak under 17:30 in 17:28 or so. Argh!

Kathryn was close to cracking 19:00 with her 19:04, which we have justifiably blamed on the horrible hairpin turn at 3.8k, where not only did she (and everyone else) lose momentum, but also ran around the marshall standing 2 feet away from the cone instead of directly around it. Next time will be a sub-19:00 fo sheeze. As is the bliss of one’s first try at a distance, AZ set an awesome PB of 19:34. Way to eliminate the 20:00 barrier by blowing by it on your first try! Of course, the whole way back AZ exclaimed how much she LOVED 5k’s and promptly began planning her attack on a sub-19:00, which I have no doubt she will attain by next Spring. I suppose pre-race nerves are a good thing in some cases!

After the race I felt strangely perky and energetic. My legs felt great on the cooldown and my energy was high all day, leading me to suspect I could have dug a little deeper. I wish I had another chance to run a 5k this season, but it doesn't look like this will be a possibility with two cross-country races on the horizon. That is, unless I raced every weekend and squeezed in another 5k in the third week of November, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. Nevertheless, I am chipping away at my 5k time season by season without ever really focusing on it, so I am hoping that it will continue to get incrementally faster with each try!

I will also have ample opportunity to be forced out of my comfort zone in the coming weeks, as I prepare for the AO Championships and AGSI Nationals Cross-Country, both being held in Guelph. Looking forward to it!

Don't send a man to do a woman's job!

2010-10-29T16:02:00.000-04:00

Nicole's Angels!

Last weekend was the Toronto Women’s Only 5k and 5 miler at Sunnybrook park. I was really looking forward to this event, since I have never run a women’s-only road race. Of course, water stations lined with buff firemen and aid tables filled with chocolate may have also had a (very small) impact on my excitement. I had been meaning to participate in this series for the past year (and have been dreaming of firemen and chocolate), but found the races always conflicted with another major race or life event (like my wedding - I know, no excuse) and I was never able to participate. So despite having raced the half-marathon the weekend before, race again six days later I did (for the firemen. Okay I think I need to stop now).

I’m not gonna lie, my legs were pretty beat up after the half-marathon. Not wanting to acknowledge the possibility that I am not a superwoman and have some trace of mortal in me, I searched for external reasons to explain this fact. ‘Oh, it was the up and (moreso) downhill of the course that really took a beating on my legs.’ Or, ‘I’ve run 20 races on my racing flats, including 7 half-marathons and a marathon, so I was basically running barefoot’ was my next justification. Of course the fact that I actually just ran very hard and also doubled on race day, putting my total mileage for the day at 24 miles, did not enter to my genius equations. Nevertheless, I woke up on Monday in a world of soreness. I managed to get out for an easy run and felt mildly better, only to wake up Tuesday morning in the full throttle of post-race DOMS. Every muscle in my legs ached, so intensely so that I thought I might tear my calve should I attempt to take a single stride. After I got through Tuesday (sans ripped calf muscle – hooray!), however, the legs started to feel much better.

By Saturday I was feeling peppier, though when I started running my legs were overcome with heaviness and lethargy. I did not think good thoughts before this race. Instead I convinced myself that it would be a tempo and that I didn’t care about winning (a lie obviously). I even debated sitting down after the warm-up and eating chocolate(and gazing at firemen) instead of going over to the start line. Coach would not have been proud to know these thoughts (though I guess she knows them now...damn this blog!). I eventually made it to the start line and luckily after doing a few strides, my legs started to feel much better. When we lined up I saw two girls on my left with TOC singlets on. This is when I realized there could be more company during the race than I had previously anticipated. My intensity increased, since when you are a UTTC member, ‘TOC’ reads ‘DEVIL’. There was no question I had to beat them.

G.I. Jane's game face next to her competition

TOC giving me some evil eye (bring it!)

The gun went off and so did we, at what felt like a brisk but not crazy pace. The two girls stayed with me for the first few hundred meters, at which point one dropped off while the other stayed right on my heels. We went through 1k in 3:28. Hmmm definitely quick. I thought for sure she would start to fall back and that I’d soon be able to relax the pace. However, that was not so. I also noticed some dude that kept cheering for me and appearing each km marker. I wondered who he was and how he knew my name, as he was awfully loud. Regardless, I initially thought it was nice that he was cheering for me with such gusto. I went through 2k in 6:59 and still I could feel 2nd place not too far behind me. I began to question my complacency in this race. When I went through 3k in 10:32, I began to wonder who this TOC girl was (whose footsteps I could still hear) and if she was going to run a sub-29:00 5 miler. Thankfully, by 5k (which I got to in 18:15 – at that point I had already started to bring down the pace) she dropped back and I was able to develop a bigger lead on her. Let me tell you I was very relieved, since I was definitely starting to feel the burn.

This is when the random dude became more apparent to me. He started to run alongside me in the final three kilometers, telling me he was going to race me to the finish and encouraging me to pick up the pace. ‘Two wins in a row! You can do it! Common’ don’t slow down!’ At this point I was tired, obviously irritable, and the last thing I wanted was a stranger NOT in the race racing me a race in which I did not care about my finishing time. When he refused to let up with his heckling, I turned to him and said: ‘Relax dude! I don’t need you here!’ Perhaps I was a bit harsh, as he quickly apologized and retreated into the woods. I immediately felt guilty and wondered whether that was the best thing to do, but my thoughts were cut short by a couple of women running in the 5k coming in the opposite direction, who had clearly heard me and chuckled ‘You tell him, woman!’ And hey, it was a woman’s race! As Charlie’s (and therefore Nic’s) Angels would say, ‘Don’t send a man to do a woman’s job!’

The course was not an easy one. It included bridges, hills, sharp turns and even mud, somewhat reminiscent of a cross-country race. I enjoyed running through the park, however, as it offered a pleasant distraction, especially in the painful last kilometers of the race. I began to suffer considerably at 6k and wondered whether I’d make it back to the finish in sub-4:00 kilometers. I felt like slowing to a jog since there was no one around, but knew that I still risked giving up the win, so I tried (pitifully) to push onwards. I gave it everything, but at that point ‘everything’ meant 3:55/km. Ouch.

Approaching the finish line!

I was relieved and happy to cross the finish line 1st overall, dipping under the minute mark this time in 29:58. I must have looked rather unhappy, tired and hungry, since a volunteer ushered me to the refreshment tables and ordered me to nourish myself, literally telling me to “GO SEEK SOME NOURISHMENT!” I couldn’t help but laugh, as did Jeff, but the perplexed expression on her face indicated that she was in fact quite serious with her command. To avoid any further confrontation I proceeded toward the Gatorade, only to be stopped by a Global TV cameraman. ‘Could I ask you a few questions?’ He asked pleasantly. ‘Of course!’ I responded, excited at the prospect of being on National television. My mind raced at the thought of breaking news updates and top news stories featuring: G.I. Jane, winner of the Women’s Only 5-miler! Ah, the fame that would soon be mine! After learning to pronounce my name ‘C-U-LLIS instead of C-O-OLIS’ (perhaps I should just change it to Coolis officially?) he asked me what I thought of the course. This is where things started to go awry (yes, apparently I can only get so far as to correctly pronounce my last name) . I blabbered something like ‘Oh, it was nice. I like running in the park. There’s nice scenery.’ I immediately realized how stupid I sounded, but could not for the life of me draw a single intelligent comment from my glucose-depleted brain. All I thought was ‘the lady was right, I need nourishment! I can’t think!’ But of course the questioning went on, enabling me to dig an ever deeper hole for myself when I exclaimed that running through Sunnybrook was nicer than ‘running down Yonge street like last weekend.’ Just in case embarrassing myself was not enough, I also had to offend the Goodlife organizers whose course I actually did enjoy! I don’t remember the rest of the interview (for the best, I am sure) but have seen no trace of it on the internet or on TV, leading me to conclude that (a) they trashed it as soon as they saw what horrible TV material I made or (b) no there is no (b) they definitely just threw it out. I am hoping I can brush up on my post-race interview skills so that IF there is a next time (and reporters have not been warned against asking me even the simplest of questions) I will be a little more coherent.

The finish!

Overall, however, the day was a success: Mama K placed 4th overall in the 5-miler and the rest of the Angels tore it up in the 5k, placing 1-2-3-4-6-10. Unbelievable. The day was an incredible one for the Angels, as we definitely made our mark on women’s running in Toronto. I am already anxious for the next women’s only race, however, since in my runner’s brain- glucose-depleted state I somehow missed seeing the firemen and only got my hands on one bar of chocolate (a 100 calorie one at that!) at the end of the race. Perhaps it would be more appropriate to spectate at the next one?!

Nicole's Running Angels

The Goodlife

2010-10-19T14:48:00.000-04:00

Skip to the race recap below if you've had enough of my long ramblings and only want to hear the important half :) (no pun intended)

Prelude

Sunday was one of those days that makes every hard training run, every painful recovery run and every race disappointment worthwhile. One of those days when all the stars align and allow you to perform to your true ability. One of those days when racing feels GOOD and you enjoy every moment of it. Finishing a race like this takes on a dreamy reality; I crossed the finish line at the Toronto Goodlife half-marathon in an exertion-induced daze, in which I found it hard to put into words how I felt, since I couldn’t really grasp what I had done at the time. All I knew is that I had had a big PB (runners brain at its finest: simple words, half-thoughts), so I should be happy. So happy I was!

On the surface, anyone would agree I had a good race because I ran a 2min46s PB over 21.1k. I also won the half marathon and was in the top 20 overall. However, the race meant much more to me than that. Breaking 1:20:00 for the half-marathon has been a huge goal for me since 2006. Yes, 2006. That being said, I admit I didn’t quite understand what running a 1:20:00 meant at this point in time ...I knew it was a big barrier and I was very fit at the time but I don’t think I gave quite enough credit to the distance. I gave my first go at it in Ottawa of ‘06, but instead of breaking 1:20:00 I broke my foot and couldn’t finish the race. Not a good first effort by any means!

Smiling with a broken foot :(
(Failed sub-1:20:00 attempt #1)

So the next summer I tried again. I was at about the same fitness level as the previous summer and decided to run the Scotiabank Vancouver Half-Marathon, a point-to-point course containing a good-sized downhill. Unfortunately, it was a horrible, cold, windy and rainy day, and though I was on pace for 7k or so I was battling every natural force possible and went on to clock my now second best time of 1:21:46.

G.I. Jane battles wind and rain for 21.1k
(Failed sub-1:20:00 attempt #2)

At the end of 2009 I started to gear up for my first marathon in the spring of 2010. Suzanne Zelazo (Dr. Z) and Jenn Eberman were my training partners as we all shared similar goals and ran comparable times. Dr. Z ran the Goodlife half-marathon last year and won in 1:20:42. After that race, we promised each other that a sub-1:20:00 would soon be ours and that together we’d make it happen.

So obviously a considerable amount of time has gone by and still the 1:20:00 barrier remained. Though I am usually quite a positive person, I have to say that I have never been sure of whether I would achieve this goal: the more time that has passed the more daunting and insurmountable this obstacle has become. Needless to say, after the last few months of big mileage and strong workouts, I felt closer than I have ever been to being able to achieve it and knew that now was a better chance than any. So, with Dr. Z's previous win in my mind, Toronto Goodlife it was. And thank god, it was.

The race

I had a down week last week and scaled back the mileage considerably: shorter runs, no double days, two days off. I felt like I didn’t run at all and it was very difficult for me. By Friday, my legs felt like springs from which I could jump or run any distance. Even my abdominal work got stronger because my legs could help withstand the dreaded plank position for any amount of time (Kap ‘N K would have been proud!). My sleep quality decreased, since for those of you that don’t know I become an insomniac when I don’t run or exercise. I knew I was ready to run fast.

I woke up at 5AM for coffee and nutella (yes, plain nutella out of the jar. Nothin’ better). I was surprisingly relaxed, as I somehow knew I would have fun out there. The net downhill course and perfect weather forecast may have had something to do with that! My legs felt familiarly jumpy, so much so that I did running As down my hallway several times as I was waiting for the elevator. I think I would have started doing 20m dashes had the elevator taken a second longer. When I got to the start line, Nic was there with my bib number and some pre-race words of encouragement. When I asked whether she knew of any women in the race, she blurted “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because YOU ARE FITTER THAN ALL OF THEM!” I accepted this somewhat nonsensical answer and decided that my primary goal was just to run 1:20:00 no matter what the competition was like. 3:47s, here I come.
The gun went off and I went through 1k in 3:52-3 or so. I felt relaxed, but thought I was being a bit too relaxed, so I started to pick up the intensity. I wasn’t intending on playing it safe by any means. All I thought was ‘get on pace, and hold it.’ By 3k I was at 11:23, inching closer to 3:47 pace. At that point I knew I was picking it up slightly with each km so I just stopped looking at my watch. I just got into a rhythm and went with it, knowing it was quick but placing faith in my fitness and strength and trusting that I could keep it going as long as I wanted (that’s what I told myself, anyway!). I did check again at 10k and saw 37:2-something, so at that point I was under pace, and I started to get excited.

The crowds were so great. There really is no better feeling than running down Yonge street on a crisp, sunny morning with a personal escort, strangers yelling ‘you go girl!’ every 10s, the most amazing varsity cheering squad stationed at halfway screaming ‘G.I. Jane!’ (just in case I forgot how hardcore I am supposed to be, this was a good reminder to step it up!), your coach on her wheels yelling words of encouragement and your husband running behind you in the last three kilometres keeping you honest. From 10k on I just kept cruising along, enjoying the sunshine and trying to distract myself from the km markers. Occasionally the lead cyclist would get just a little too far ahead of me, which I actually enjoyed because I would automatically try and chase him down, as if it were my job to keep up with him. It was a nice way to make the time pass and motivation to keep up the pace.

Chasing the lead cyclist?

17k into the race I went through the natural thought of ‘when is this going to be over,’ but actually cut myself off to acknowledge that I was having a great race, and that I shouldn’t wish it to be over but rather enjoy the moment while it lasted. So instead, over the last 4k I let the cheers of the crowds sink in, I felt the relaxed effort in my stride and focused not on how much pain I was in but how much more I could be in if I was any less fit. I thought of Dr. Z and our goal setting together and how much this victory meant . This did make me happier, though perhaps not any faster...and of course now I am kicking myself since I crossed the line in 1:19:00.00! How could I be so complacent in my last 2k?! I should know by now that getting too comfortable will only come back to haunt you!

Regardless, breaking that Goodlife tape was one of the best feelings I’ve ever had. Not only because I could finally stop running, but because I exceeded my own expectations and proved to myself that I can attain some of the lofty (and questionable) goals I set for myself. This race has made me realize that you should never lose faith in your dreams because oftentimes you can achieve more than you and others might expect. I can’t say what the exact formula is but dedication, hard work and a great coach are an absolutely crucial part. I could not have done this without Nicole and rest of the group pushing me, supporting me and always believing in me. This PB was for the angels, and most of all for Dr. Z, who I have no doubt is the next to break the tape in under 1:20:00.

Meghan's musings

2010-10-13T10:03:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gentlemen! I am posting this purely for entertainment purposes, as I’m sure you will all imminently realize this story is a fictitious (but creative!) account of last Monday’s incident. Though Meghan wanted to entitle this - her rendition of the night’s events - ‘The True Story,’ I much prefer the title of ‘Lynch’s Lies’ or ‘Meghan’s Musings.’

Monday!!! A random smattering of intervals and hills makes this day my favourite run of the week. Since moving to Toronto my running has changed dramatically in that I have yet to a) stop during a run to stare at ducks, b) buy and chug peach juice from Tim Horton’s half way through a run and subsequently walk home, or c) break out random dance moves instead of doing drills. The future may hold a time when I use terms like “fartlek” without snickering and possibly, should another person implore everyone to name the runner whose picture she happened to have with her - during what I thought was her birthday dinner - my mind may not feverishly race to think of ANY famous runners (My grand total for that day was “Terry Fox” ...“Usain Bolt” ... “Tom Longboat.”)

I digress.

This Monday was as much fun as any other (seriously, I really like Mondays). After trying desperately to be anywhere near speedster Jane throughout the entire practice (A la “Chasing Stevenson” perhaps?), Jane, Kerry and I trotted home. I fancied it would be an ideal time to gently inform Jane that her sharp elbows were treading a tad too close to my delicate, cherub-like face.

“Is that so?” she dismissed my concern, while clearly feeling her elbows for the appropriate thumb-tack placement. “Ummm, it’s ok... it’s ok, though, Jane” I stuttered, “If it will help you to get faster, please feel free to bash my cheekbone in.” (It’s worth mentioning here that I’ve already broken this bone once, not that THAT matters).

As I contemplated how I could further aid Jane’s running career, and am a half-breath away from suggesting I stop sleeping so as to research, test, and prepare her only the most perfectly balanced recovery meals, in the blink of an eye, Jane tripped (cause it still undetermined). Due to what I can now assuredly self-diagnose as post-traumatic-stress disorder I am not quite clear on the exact events, but I know I reached and tried to stop Jane from hitting the ground – completely disregarding my own safety - though, in retrospect, there was probably a better chance of me dislocating her shoulder, but let’s remember IT’S THE THOUGHT THAT COUNTS, RIGHT? Fortunately, in true GI Jane form, she bounced up immediately, and showed no signs of slowing down....

However, the air, the air, took on an icy chill.

As we continued along, I cowered fearfully behind Jane with the always-delightful Kerry, and tried to occasionally call out to assess her injury. This proved a challenge, as even when injured, Jane still runs at a cheetah-like pace. Coming to a stoplight, Jane garbled something about blaming me (perhaps she hit her head, too?) and pointed to her leg, where a trickle of blood was streaming down from her knee, similar to the tears streaming down my innocent, “Precious Moments” figurine-esque expression. I apologized exceedingly and asked if she had ice at home (because if she did not I was prepared to spend my meagre student budget on top of the line ice. Like, it would be organic, free-range ice from Whole Foods).

Once home, I am overwhelmed with fear that I, have injured someone who I basically consider to be a professional runner and spend the night tossing and turning, weighing the costs/benefits of dropping out of school to build a time machine. The next morning, Jane’s knee ever-present on my mind, is spent picking out the perfect apology e-card, (not because I was not willing to hire a chamber ensemble to play soothing, injury-healing Mozart selections for her all day, but because these are just the technologically-driven times we live in). I hear no response from GI Jane, and am a moment shy of throwing away all my pyjamas and watch, and head outside to bid farewell to the running group only to see Jane, and learn her training has not missed a beat, and her running is looking as effortless as usual.

For now, that is.

Monday, bloody Monday!

2010-10-07T11:53:00.000-04:00

Bloody Monday

What better segway to this post than my last entry, dated only three days ago. You may have noted that this was Monday, a day that has been established as my scariest day of the week. Of course, this means practice at Churchill for HILLS, DRILLS and INTERVALS. It was another rainy day, though the rain miraculously cleared for my jog up to the park. I was also sufficiently behind schedule so as to miss the DRILLS portion of the workout, and make it just in time for strides. Could this be a turning point in my dreary and difficult Monday streak? I could only hope.

We gathered around coach, nervously awaiting the torture plan she had in store for us. She surveyed us slowly, as if trying to determine just how evil she would have to be to maintain her threatening presence. I secretly hoped our faces looked terrified enough that she would take *some* pity on us.
“Can anybody guess the workout?” She toyed.
Of course everyone was silent, since we have learned that trying to guess is futile. After a few seconds she stated that it would start with 4x800m at ‘hard-tempo’ or ‘hardish but not hard’ effort, with 90s rest. We got started and went through the first repeat in 2:40, which I hoped was at this ‘hardish but not hard’ effort she was so eloquently asking for. The next three repeats were bang on consistent 2:40s, so I assumed I ran them at an appropriate pace. I tried to make Meghan take the lead on the last one but she shyed away, even though she had been on my heels for every repeat. Instead she ran close behind me, apparently making me almost elbow her in the face (oops). Meghan is our newest club member, but is so special that she already has more nicknames than everyone else (no pun intended). They include ‘PJ’ – for infamously wearing her pyjamas to two morning practices – as well as ‘Everyone else,’ (don’t ask) and a new one we came up with on Monday - ‘Energizer Bunny’ - since she never seems to tire. Her balance of speed and endurance is impressive, and starkly contrasts the laid-back, aloof attitude that she brings to workouts. I am convinced that this facade is a tool she uses to trick her competition into thinking she is not a threat, so that when the gun goes off she can creep up on them and crush them unexpectedly...

Much like last week, after the 800s we were ushered down the steps for what we assumed were some good ‘ol hills! Once again, this is where Ms. Stevenson began to go loopy on us.
“Everyone! Pick a number between 1 and 5” She demanded.
“1” “4” “5” “3” “2” Were the chorus of yells that came back at her.
“Hmmmm....1 plus 4 plus 2 plus 1 plus 5 plus 3....you guys want to do 16 repeats?”
Again, silence befell the group when we truly had no idea where she was going with this.
“Huh?” I muttered to myself. She then dismissed the number calling game and told us to sprint up pregnant lady AS FAST AS WE COULD, emphasizing that she wanted us to practically die at the top or we weren’t going hard enough.
“NO TEMPO!!! HARD! HARD! HARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRD!” She yelled.
Meghan was the first to retreat in fear at coach’s menacing words.
“Meghan: ARRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHH! GO MEGHAN, GO! HARRRRRRRD! GOOOOOOOOOOOOO” Nic screamed at her. Meghan took off (perhaps only to escape Nic, but as a convenient consequence ran up the designated hill) and we each followed single file, booking it up pregnant lady. We repeated this four times, all the while Nic growling and yelling at us to go harder and faster. To our surprise, after these repeats most of the girls were done – except for G.I. Jane, the Energizer Bunny and Kap ‘N K, of course. What was shocking was the fact that I was able to guess the next repeat – something I have never been able to do – as the 1500m hill loop. We powered through the repeat in 5:40 and voila, the workout was DONE. I smiled at the fact that I had gotten through it and that it hadn’t been nearly as bad as the week previous. I should not have celebrated so soon.

Kap ‘N K, Meghan and I began our cooldown jog back downtown in good spirits. We discussed our upcoming races and realized that Meghan and I would be going head-to-head in the Toronto Women’s Only 5 miler in three weeks. Meghan then jokingly (?) commented on how my elbow seems to align perfectly with her face (she’s a petite girl), as she was running close behind me for the second time that night. I think I sensed some anger in her voice now that I think about it. The next thing I knew, my feet were caught underneath me, causing me to fly forwards down the steep incline of Russel Hill Road. I staggered and struggled to catch my balance, but instead slammed down hard on my hands and knees on the muddy, cold and wet pavement. I immediately felt my right knee begin to throb.
“Are you okay?!” Kap ‘N K shrieked worriedly ( I think I saw Meghan giggling from the corner of my eye).
“Ummm...yes...I think I’m fine!” I stuttered back.
“Oh gosh that was so scary!” Kap ‘N K continued. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Oh, my! Did I trip you?” Meghan finally asked with feigned innocence.
“Um, YA. I THINK SO.” I said bluntly.
“Oh dear, you are going to need a bubble around you from now until your race to make sure you don’t get injured!” Meghan exclaimed.
‘Is that a threat?’ I thought to myself in a mix of fear and anxiousness, ‘Does Meghan want to kill me? Does she want to beat me THAT badly?’ My mind raced.
Once we got to the stop lights I looked down at my knee, only to see blood gushing down my leg from the muddy mess that was once my kneecap.

The Carnage

“Look what you’ve done Meghan!” I screamed. “I had better not be injured or coach will be after you!” I continued. Meghan displayed little sympathy, carrying on her conversation with Kap ‘N K while I ran five steps in front, avoiding Meghan at all costs and trying to ignore the incessant throbbing of my kneecap.

It is now three days later, and my knee is swollen, bruised and scarred. It hurts even more than it did initially, though the pain is worse when I sit and walk than when I run (few would be thankful for this fact other than me). Although Meghan was unsuccessful in her attempt at sabotaging my race (thus far), she did ensure that Mondays remain the most cursed day of the week. At least I know who my enemies are, and that their demise is only an elbow swing away!

Peak-a-boo! It's October.

2010-10-04T15:08:00.000-04:00

First of all I'd like to apologize for the awful title. Nothing to add there...

This week was the peak – so to speak – of my training before the Goodlife Toronto Half-Marathon. I have to say it was a success and that I was very pleased with how my workouts went, especially since it was within one of my highest mileage weeks yet (85 miles).

The group after Saturday's workout

Part I - Boooooo Mondays
(I kid, I kid - mondays are fabulous, Nic ;)

Monday night practices are in some ways like Halloween: mysterious, frightening, always full of scary surprises, and you are often tricked (but only sometimes treated). It is the only workout of the week that is not laid out in advance, and instead follows a broad structure of: ‘HILLS. DRILLS. REPEATS.’ Now, this description has the potential for being a very straightforward combination of hill repeats and intervals around Churchill. However, when your coach is as instinctive and dynamic as Ms. Stevenson, it is not so simple. In fact, it is virtually impossible for us to guess what the workout will be. I have tried many times to read a pattern in what we do, but unless it follows some kind of abstract calculus equation that I am unable to catch onto, it is in fact completely random (and is a complete waste of time to try and decipher). So now on Mondays I go to practice ready for anything, and I mean ANYTHING, spanning from straight hills – 30s or a whopping 5min per repeat – to crazy loops, to straight intervals, to people running in all different directions with staggered starts, with the entire workout ranging from 2k to 7k in length.

I went to this Monday’s workout just like any other: prepared for anything, bracing myself for the worst, and hoping for the best. It was cold, rainy and I had had a long day at work. All I thought of was having a bath and eating a warm meal afterwards. Little did I know that this indulgence would be delayed until after 8PM, when I would return home a wet, muddy, crabby, exhausted mess. (I am convinced this is how wild animals feel after they have hunted their prey for hours unsuccessfully, returning to their nest ravenous, drained and empty-handed.) The workout started out with 3x800m around Churchill at medium/hard/medium effort. Beth was back for five days from Ann Arbor, which was great because it gave me someone to chase (not because I actually like her). I was pleased to see that my first 800m at medium effort was 2:44, on par with some harder efforts I had previously put in on this loop. However, I was even more elated with my hard effort – a new PB on the loop – of 2:35, and a subsequent second-best time of 2:40 for the third repeat. After this set we were ordered down the stairs for some hills. This is where Nic’s sanity began to come into question:
“Ummmm....run up pregnant lady. Then down zig-zag. Then up the steep hill to finish on pregnant lady, down pregnant lady, up zig-zag, and down pregnant lady.” I imagined an unassuming passerbyer wondering what the hell Nic was saying. First off, because she had named a hill ‘pregnant lady,’ simply because one day a pregnant woman was walking up it (you’d think it’d be a better story, but unfortunately not). Never in my life had I thought I’d utter the words ‘we’re going up pregnant lady,’ or ‘we’re doing intervals on pregnant lady,’ or ‘I HATE PREGNANT LADY!’ but alas, here I was cursing this poor woman. After Nic gave us such a poignant description of the loop, confusion broke out as to the order of each hill to go up and down. Shortly thereafter Nic admitted she had completely forgotten her own directions:
“What the hell did I just say?”
I repeated the sequence of hills to her and to the group, and was met with a blank stare. “Huh?!” Nic responded. “That doesn’t make sense...”
“Well yes I would agree with that...” I confessed. After a few seconds we decided to ignore her and just start the repeat, following whoever was in front. Unfortunately that was me, and though I tried to follow the right order by the end I really had no idea where I should be going. It ended up an almost 5min long hilly interval, after which we did 3 steep, grassy hill repeats, followed by another long, windy hill all the way back up to Churchill. At this point we all gasped for air and thought the workout was over.
“Okay. Now you are going to do: 800m/2x400m/2x200m.” Nic stated. My heart fell. My legs were wobbly and my lungs burned. I couldn’t believe how much more we had to do. I think the others felt the same since her orders were met with a chorus of groans. The first repeat was 2:42. Not bad on extremely tired legs, I thought. Once we delved into the short-distance 400s and 200s, the rest of the ladies were on fire and all I could do was sprint my hardest to try and keep up with them, running 79s/77s/36s/36s. Finally, it was over. The rain poured, the darkness set in, and Kerry, Meghan and I jogged home slowly and quietly, feeling a combination of fatigue and fearful anticipation of the circuit workout we’d be back for in a mere ten hours – again, in the dark. October is definitely upon us.

Drills!

(High knees are my specialty)

The oh-so-appropriate Stevenson Tomb at MPC

Part II - Cemetery Execution

I rested up on Wednesday, going for a very easy 11-miler and taking the afternoon off, as Thursday we planned to do my half-marathon ‘execution run’ in the cemetery (somewhat appropriately). The workout was supposed to be 1 loop (6.5k) at 4:00/km, 1 loop at 3:47/km (1:20:00 half-marathon pace) and 2k hard. It seemed to be an ambitious workout to say the least, and on Wednesday night I suddenly became nervous about it, starting to question whether I am really in 1:20:00 shape and wondering if I could do it with all the miles in my legs. I jogged up to the cemetery at 6:40AM, where Nic would do one loop with me and Beth would join in for the 2nd loop and the 2k hard. We set off and immediately the pace felt uncomfortable. 500m in Nic looked at me and said ‘uh-oh’ – I immediately felt relief, as I figured we were going too fast.
“No! TOO SLOW!!!” she exclaimed. This was not a good sign. We went through 1k in 4:08, at which point I tried to pick it up. 2k was 4:03. I began to worry that it would be a struggle for me to even get down to four minute kilometres.
“Just relax, feel tempo effort for this loop and try not to worry about the time,” Nic advised. I was happy to follow her direction, and soon the pace started to feel easier. We picked it up considerably between 2-3k and went through 3k in 12:01, putting us back on 4:00 pace. The next 2k were 3:55s and we ended up finishing the first loop in 25:25 for a 3:58/km average. Beth hopped in at this point and I felt the intensity increase immediately. I tried to be polite and ask Beth how she was, but one sentence into our conversation I realized I had better shut up or I wouldn’t be able to maintain any kind of pace increase. When we passed through 1k in 3:40 I understood why I felt this way, but was relieved that the execution was actually going to plan. We pressed on and saw the k’s click by in 3:47, 3:43, 3:42 and 3:40, hitting 5k in 18:33. The next 1500m was hillier and more challenging, but we maintained sub-3:50s and finished the second loop in 23:56. Nic had told us to do at least 500m hard at the end, but we made it to 1k in 3:39, at which point Beth and I agreed to stop. I couldn't believe how relieved I was that the execution was over. I SURVIVED. Seeing as the first two kilometers felt so uncomfortable, I was shocked at how well it ended up going - and when I updated Nic on the second loop I think she was pretty surprised too (I think her reaction was something like 'HOLY COW! MOLY WOWY SHEESUS You are fit!').
I actually didn’t feel too tired afterwards, and my legs felt surprisingly good on the cooldown and on my run later that evening. Of course, at work I walked around like an old lady, being careful not to exert myself and trying to allow my legs to recover. I know I make people wonder how on earth I am a runner when I insist on taking the elevator up one floor and when I randomly exclaim that I wish I owned a wheelchair. I don’t bother explaining (more wasted energy).

Part III - Capping it off

My last workout of the week was a meat-and-potatoes effort, where I just aimed to get in the volume but not push the intensity too much, given the hard effort on Thursday. I ended up doing it on my own since I was the only long distance gal at practice. It was 3k/1k/2k/1k, in 11:09/3:27/7:11/3:26. I felt really strong and in control, and was happy to see that I could still put forward decent times at the end of an 85 mile week and off of two other difficult workouts.I made sure to celebrate this week with several shots of vodka on Saturday - an excellent recovery tool - which reminds me of a fantastic quote I found somewhere:

"I love the feelings associated with a hard training run. I love feeling empty, dirty, worn out, starving, and sweat-purged. I love the ache in my muscles and fatigue in my legs. I love and relish the heaviness, lethargy and tiredness of my body. But most of all I love how hard a martini hits me afterwards.”

Meghan kicking ass in her last 500m repeat

Reduce, re-boot and cycle

2010-09-26T19:51:00.000-04:00

In line with how we should take care of our earth, is how we should listen and take care of our bodies (or it will come back and bite us in the a**). This week I scaled back the intensity but maintained volume and I think my body is already thanking me for this. I feel 200% better than last Sunday. I ended up skipping workout last Monday because I felt some residual fatigue from Saturday’s 18k tempo run and had mild pain in my quad. Instead, I did a less-intense, solo workout Tuesday morning after our circuit session.

I didn’t think twice about the prospective difficulty doing a workout after circuits. After months of doing a similar weekly routine, I no longer get sore or very fatigued after circuits. Of course, this week our leader Kerry Kuluski, a.k.a. Kap ‘N Krunch, coincidentally decided to change up the routine and put us through an army-like bootcamp. After our usual sets of 5min rotating plank, As, Bs, Cs, push-ups, bounding and running A’s we were partnered up and forced to do 3 sets of: 10 burpees, 10 push-ups and about a 50-stair sprint - as our partner did a wall sit for the entire time it took us to finish – and then switching up with our partners. Originally KK(K?) stated we would do sets of 10, 11, 12, etc. etc. until we reached 15, for 6 total sets. What the???? Once she saw our arms quivering after 2 push-ups, our pathetic attempts at full burpees and the overall pedestrian pace at which we completed the first set, she quickly re-adjusted her command to 3 sets of 10. Unfortunately that wasn’t enough to save me from feeling rather tired for the 4x1500m hill repeats I was to do directly afterwards. That being said, I did them at a ‘comfortably-hard’ pace (a term I am still struggling to understand and execute properly – I still don’t quite get how something hard can really be comfortable!). I tried to achieve this by going relatively easy on the flat bits and working on the steep hills. I did it fartlek-style, slowing to a jog when I reached the phone booth (our very official finish line) and picking it up again when I reached the lamp post at the bottom of the stairs. I completed each repeat in 5:55-6:00, with the rest rounding out to about 2:00-2:05. Once I did a cool-down and got back home I had been working out for over two hours, was ravenous and had a very sore IT band. Not the best way to re-set myself after a fatiguing previous week!

Of course, seeing as I was sore and tired - but am after all G.I. Jane Coolis (or Crazy Coolis?) - I did NOT forego my afternoon 6-miler. I was pleased to find out that my sore IT didn’t hurt when I ran, but only became sore after I stopped and sat down. I figured it was caused by the compounding effect of stair sprints, hills and overall fatigue and that it would dissipate within a few days – and thankfully I was right. By Thursday’s interval workout at the cemetery I no longer felt any pain and could get in some quality effort. The workout went well (3k w/2k at Kat’s marathon pace [4:10], last k changing gears to 3:35, 1k hard, 1k relaxed, 1k hard), with the 2 quality km’s in 3:22 and relaxed-effort km’s in 3:36. I am happy to see that I can consistently run 3:22s now in my harder interval sets, since my 1k ‘PB’ on the cemetery loop is 3:21. I do, however, need to re-set that PB ASAP!

Saturday we decided to skip the tempo run and do a straight long run instead. I ran with Meghan, who has now become famous for wearing her pyjamas as running attire. Apparently getting up at 6AM requires her to forego the extra (energetic) step of changing into a regular t-shirt, and she therefore sports her polka-dot baby pink and green long-sleeve, coupled with her cute, frazzled pigtails to any early practice. There is something quite humbling about running 12 miles beside someone in their pyjamas, bouncing along and chatting comfortably!

On Sunday I ran with Jeff down to the waterfront to watch the Scotiabank half-marathon and marathon races. It was a lot of fun and very exciting to see Reid Coolsaet and Eric Gilis run huge PBs, with Coolsaet making the Olympic standard of 2:11:29 by a mere 6 seconds. They looked so smooth out there. The international women ran exceptionally fast, with the top seven running under the previous course record of 2:28 and the top two demolishing it with a scintillatingly fast 2:22:43 and 2:22:44! Wowza. Nic and Jen Drynan represented the angels well in the half-marathon, coming 1st and 3rd, respectively. I can’t wait to get out there in three weeks and do the same!

When we were on the course, we witnessed the new ‘ElliptiGo’ machines pictured below. They are an outdoor elliptical machine that you can ride similar to a bicycle. Jeff could not help but comment on how ridiculous they look...I have to agree, though I could imagine they would be useful as a low-impact cross-training tool while injured. For someone who is not a big fan of the bike, I could actually see myself trying one of these one day. After having spent months on end cooped up in the gym on this boring machine a few years back, fighting with those who take pleasure in kicking people off after 30 minutes, the freedom and mobility of the outdoor ElliptiGo is quite attractive!

The ElliptiGo

Chasing Stevenson

2010-09-19T14:12:00.000-04:00

I have several goals for the fall season. Goal number one is to avoid injury. You might wonder why I would list this as a goal, since it doesn’t explicitly involve my running performance. However, achieving this ‘goal’ is a requirement in order to attain any others – and if I want to ramp up my training, I must be smart and deliberate about it to minimize the risk for injury (or burnout) and stay running throughout. So I would say it’s an important goal.

Goal number two is to get very fit. This is obviously a pretty broad goal, but ultimately it means that I want to bring my training to the next level and as a (hopeful) consequence, bring my running to the next level as well. Thankfully, I am in the perfect environment to do this.

We have a great group of girls that train together. There is a big mix in terms of specialties, mileage, speed and talent, as well as ‘purebreds’ versus triathletes (and pentathletes for that matter). Nonetheless, we are all happily united under the same coach, the one-and-only Nicole Stevenson. I started running with her about two years ago, and since then our group as grown and flourished into a fabulous women’s training group that comprises some of the great and promising talent in Toronto. Of course, at all of our workouts Ms. Stevenson, the self-professed ‘retiree,’ kicks all of our asses in any repeat from 200m to 30k. For many of us, this has served as great motivation and inspiration that we could one day keep up with her (even if for only 1k!). Recently, another huge talent, Beth Wightman, has been getting her groove back and has – much to Nic’s joy and excitement – been challenging coach in workouts. Unfortunately, Beth has recently moved away to Ann Arbor for the next two years, leaving coach lonely and desperate for company in the hundreds of lonely meters that gap us in each interval.

I have been chasing Nic and Beth for months, but have never imagined actually running a hard repeat with them. It just doesn’t happen. If we do 1k hard, I’ll go 3:19 and they’ll go 3:10. 3k hard I’m closer, but it’s still 10:30 versus 10:14. So one of my goals this fall is to simply try and close that gap and try to become a better training partner for Nicole. If I could be on par with her for even one repeat, no matter what it is, it would be a step forward. If I could even chase her closely enough that she becomes afraid that I just might go stride-for-stride with her over the finish line, that would be enough (for a little while, of course). Just so that she isn’t totally alone (because really, I’m just looking out for her).

This is where the goal to get fit and ramp up my training comes in. I had 5 years of solid competitive running behind me before I was on/off injured for about a year. Since then and for the past 1.5 years, I have been fit, strong and consistent. I have chosen this time to increase my mileage from what it’s been for the past few years, where I comfortably covered 60-70 miles/week, except for the summer where I deliberately held low mileage (50 miles) to focus on speedwork. I have now increased to 80 miles a week, with the biggest difference in my training being the addition of double runs. This does have me a little nervous about compromising my number one goal of staying healthy, since doubling up on runs can also double the chances of injury.

I do realize that bringing my running to the 'next level' doesn't necessarily mean I have to train twice as hard: consistency is key. But I have raced quite a bit in the last year and wanted to take this season to build a bigger base while sacrificing a bit of the sharpening. This is hard to do in my current workout environment (I can't get too caught up chasing Stevenson *just yet*!), so I'm trying to make sure I take down days and weeks when I need them. But so far, I am feeling good and the aches and pains are minimal.

So, three times a week I am given the opportunity to measure how far I am coming in my second goal as I stare at the back of Nic’s t-shirt during each workout. It’s definitely coming closer to me, to the point where I can read the large print writing. I'm working on the small print...

Recap of this week’s training? It was a big one...

Total mileage: 84 miles
Workouts: 3
Double days: 2

1 – 3k tempo in a 24s PB (on our Russel Hill loop) of 10:31-2 (eeeek), followed by 4 hill sprints, then 4x400m w/ a walk-to-the-start short rest in 77-78s

2 – 2k tempo in a 5s PB of 7:05 on the long-ish MPC loop, then 3x1k in 3:24-3:29, 500 fartlek and 500 hard that I was so tired for I ‘forgot’ to time...

3 – 18k pace run, relaxed effort, first 6k in 4:02 average, 2nd 6k in 3:56 average, last 6k in 3:55 average...pretty tired at the end of that big one though...

You run like a girl

2010-09-15T13:29:00.000-04:00

I’m not sure how often this mockery is made amongst men’s running groups, but I am pretty sure it is hardly ever meant in a literal sense. Until now.

Now, Joe Campanelli (JC #2, after the one-and-only JC McCoolis) is no pansy. In fact, anyone who knows him would argue that he is one of the most fearless, gruelling and dedicated runners out there. But for someone whose easy weeks are 100 miles + and whose idea of a regular interval workout is 12x1.9k w/30s rest starting at marathon pace and ending at 5k race pace, he has some remarkably soft and feminine qualities. This idea was confirmed as fact on Monday evening, when I saw him prance and dance through Churchill in a tiny (and I mean TINY), skin tight, leg bearing and blushingly sexy summer dress.

There have been indications that Joe is in touch with his feminine side. After his pitiful beer mile performance earlier this summer, where he nursed his beers and ran whimpily around the track four times, finishing in some ridiculously slow time that is too long for me to accurately remember, he was officially dubbed by Jose Carvalho (JC #3) to be a “girl.” Joe (henceforth known as ‘Josephine’) also once sported long, rapunzel-like golden locks, which along with his slight, girlish figure, did give him a feminine appearance (albeit a young one). Josephine may not have been comfortable with these soft qualities, thus his hair was quickly shed and his masculinity assured by his aggressive training regime and surprisingly high alcohol tolerance (when not combined with running). However, this facade was to be imminently compromised.

Josephine sipping on his beer

Pink Rapunzel

I have long been waiting for the day that Josephine womaned-up and wore a dress to practice. Not because I fancied him my new flamboyant boy-liking friend, but because this was all based on a bet between him and JC #3 that must have stemmed some two years ago. Though these two ‘men’ both competed for the U of T varsity squad together until 2007, Josephine continued with his 100-mile weeks post-collegiately, while JC #3 gave outdoor track one final go before packing in his competitive running career in 2008. Jose, being the 800m/1500m talent that he is, has always had speed in his legs, and has come back to the track multiple times to reclaim his crown as the beer miling champion of Toronto. He has even run in the low 2-minutes for the 800m AFTER chugging 4 beers in 6 minutes and off a training regime of little running, 80-hour work weeks and zero workouts. Josephine, being the slow-twitch (I am told even this is an understatement?) marathoner that he is, has a 1500m PB of 4:06 but hardly slows as the distance increases. So, the year is 2010. The race is a 1500m showdown. Who wins? Josephine, the slower-twitch – but incredibely fit and determined – distance queen? Or the retired, once-a-3:46-1500m-now-a-jogger-Jose Carvalho?

Over the past two years, the drinking game-induced banter and bar shot smack talk at social events between the two JCs has escalated to an unbearable tension. Finally, the heckling and challenging has materialized into a real-life 1500m race at the University of Toronto’s Varsity Stadium. And of all the things worth betting, these two thought that wearing a dress to the first Varsity practice of the fall would be the utmost motivation to win, and the most entertaining consequence to watch. Fair enough. May not have been my choice of prize for a 1500m race, but as a spectator I could not have wished for anything better.

Bar shot smack talk

Unfortunately I was not able to attend the race, but it developed as one might expect: Jose sat on Josephine for 1200m before drawing on his natural 800m speed and outkicking him (or perhaps just demolishing him over the entire last 300m), running 4:06, a good 8 seconds in front of Josephine. Unfortunate for those committed distance runners rooting for the fit and fast Josephine...but perhaps one of the greatest victories of Jose’s life, not only because he defended his 1500m reign over Josephine, but since he finally attained his dream of having a real-life girlfriend out of him (or her? I’m getting confused) for one evening. Jose WAS quoted as saying “Campanelli is going to look DAMN good in that dress,” a testament to his strong desire to witness such an event and to his faith that Josephine would look fantastic as a woman (girl?).

Josephine struggles

Jose went to the Salvation Army - to I would assume was the pre-teen girl’s section - to find a dress that would be perfect for the missus. He searched, brooded, visualized and searched some more before he would find the dress of his dreams. I have to say, it fit Josephine perfectly: it sat snugly on his small figure and showed off his toned runners legs (though I was worried I would see more of Josephine than I would like at some points while running behind him in the cooldown). It was a sleeveless, black-and-white, checkered summer dress – which initially surprised me, obviously seeing the opportunity for something far more embarrassing and flamboyant like a pink tutu. However, I gradually realized that this subtle, sophisticated outfit was a far sexier and more mature option that I’m sure brought joy to many of the varsity runners during their otherwise nerve-racking and stressful first practice.

Upon asking Josephine how he felt in his new running apparel, he admitted that he felt “free” and “quite comfortable.” The guys remarked that he had had a very strong workout, being far ahead of all them, prancing along gracefully in his feminine attire. That must have made the varsity men feel rather spectacular. After witnessing this spectacle, I am convinced that Josephine would be a great spokesperson – and model – for runningskirts, seeing as he looked so sexy, enjoyed and performed so well his first time in a dress (in public, of course). And judging from his calm and coy responses to all the compliments he received on Monday, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was receptive to such an offer!

DISCLAIMER: Photos of Josephine prancing through practice WILL be posted ASAP. I am waiting on JC#3, who is likely hoarding and admiring them for himself...