Anything is Possible

Post Pittsburgh Marathon Post...

2017-05-16T20:58:00.000-04:00

So after a day of mini heart attacks watching my wife and kid spend money like drunken sailors at the Premium Outlet stores in Grove City, we headed out in the blindly optimistic search for a hotel room on Friday night. Friday the 13th no less. Miracle of miracles, we found a room in Cranberry, just a few minutes north of Pittsburgh. And that's when I took another leap of faith, or another blind departure from established reason, similar to striking out on a Friday without booking a hotel room. Yes... on the night before the night before the marathon, I had a beer. Well, how could I help it when it was Happy Hour in Cranberry, PA?

So the next morning we struck out for Pittsburgh and got settled into our (pre-booked) hotel (at 9 am... pretty cool that they let us in that early) and headed out for the Dick's Sporting Goods Pittsburgh Marathon Expo.

And what an Expo... there are good expos and crap expos in my extensive experience with these things, and I have to say that this was a very top notch expo. There was a great mix of cheap running clothes, out-of-town run booths, freebie power bar samples, shoe sponsor display area... and lots of well-initiated volunteers. Details, all taken care of, something that impresses the hell out of me.

We wandered the town for the rest of the day, spending a few hours in the Andy Warhol Museum (extremely cool, one of those places everyone should visit), and checking out various other stuff. Mostly we wandered slowly while our kid, who is an obsessed photographer, took tons of pictures, none of which are in this post. Yet.

We had dinner at the Bar Louie in a very neat little shopping area across the river from downtown. The view of the skyline was excellent, and the trains that passed were actually kinda neat. And that's where I did it once more; I had a 20 ounce Dos Equis. After all, it was Happy Hour again. The marathon was going to be interesting...

The start line was a few steps from our hotel. Better than I had even calculated. And the corals were very well designed to make the start orderly. A light mist of rain fell most of the four and a half hours that I was on the course, never too heavy and just noticeable enough to help mitigate the humidity. And as I settled in to find my stride and break out of the crush a bit, I was impressed by the fact that there was a pretty decent band performing close to the start. Very shortly thereafter, another band appeared. Then another. I counted 20 bands in the first 10 kilometres, apparently out of a total of about 60. There were choirs, bagpipes, stand up basses, steel drums (not all together of course)... even a couple of guys on idling Harleys who lit them up like thunder on demand.

I've never seen so many orange slices. There were easily a dozen groups - large groups - of people handing out orange slices. Orange peels covered the pavement in places. There were Skittles dispensing citizens, banana hand outs, countless water stations that were not official water stations...

I've seen kids high-fiving runners before, of course, but not like this. There were kids shaking out their hands from over-high-fiving, but they weren't gonna quit. Hundreds of high fives going on. Countless people shouting themselves hoarse from crowded bars (not a typo, and yes it was early morning)...

This is not to say that this was the first enthusiastic marathon host city I've encountered. This is to say that this was an enthusiasm that said "You want orange slices? We'll bring Florida up here. You want gels? Every couple hundred feet you'll get gels. We're gonna blast this baby out of the park."

So how could I possibly have declined the beer shots at mile 23? Not after the guy who was handing them out with the enthusiasm of a salesman earnestly assured me that it would be good for me. So what other explanation could there be for the noticeable dulling of pain that followed, or the crazy half mile sprint to the end?

And speaking of the finish area... half a mile straight in an open area, lined with wildly cheering mobs. Design geniuses, these course planners are. It was brilliant, right down to the size and space of the finish area and the meeting area outside of it.

So obviously I highly recommend not only the Pittsburgh Marathon but Pittsburgh itself. After all, who could expect a marathon of anything less than excellence when you look at how these folks approach their sports. They go for the win, and they sure as hell pulled this one off with flying colours.

Las Vegas Marathon 2010

2016-12-20T20:52:00.000-05:00

We arrived in Las Vegas a week before the marathon. We executed the strategy exactly as planned: a day trip to the Grand Canyon, some shopping (ok, a ton of shopping, inevitable when you arrive the week following Thanksgiving), and some casino/hotel sightseeing with a minimum of indulgence in food and drink. Importantly, I managed to sync somewhat with the three hour time difference between Toronto and Las Vegas, helpful for being prepared on marathon day.

However, it was tough to be cautious on the walking when there is so much to see and do and so much shopping to be done. So every night my feet were sore, and I was a bit fearful that the marathon would be a bit shaky (even disastrous) as a result. However, I kept focusing on the positive factors, such as the fact that my weight felt perfect, my muscles were absolutely fine apart from the fatigue, and my cardio fitness seemed fine. My training runs in Vegas were fast and effortless. By the way, training runs in a new town are an amazing way to recon the vicinity and were an immense help in finding great spots to check out, routes to drive, access to hotels, etc.

Our resort space had a kitchen, laundry, etc., so we could cook most of our meals and thus avoid any of the gastronomic risks associated with travel pre-marathon. We soon felt completely at home and I was really psyched about the upcoming marathon. I think the fact that there were so many distractions really helped me stay loose and relaxed leading up to the race.

The expo was incredible. Every aspect of this event, from the sizes of various spaces to the placement of booths was very well done. The fact that I won a pair of Brooks Glycerin 8's sure didn't hurt. The little cafeteria area right in the middle of the expo was an excellent idea that I haven't seen in an expo before, and addresses the fact that many people rush through expos simply because they need to go somewhere to eat.

The following day, Saturday, the day before the marathon, I decided to run the local Vegas Santa Run. It was gloriously chaotic, hilariously variant in the shapes and sizes, ages and fitness levels of the participants. I think we raised a shitload of money for some local charity, so that was good. There was good grub and fun entertainment at the end, so if that 5 kilometres affected the outcome of my marathon... so be it.

The morning of the marathon was a bit chilly, pretty much as expected though, and eventually the temperature rose to the high teens Celsius. Yes, a perfect day to run a marathon. Parking around the start area would be tricky if we chose to drive down, coupled with the fact that I intended to take advantage of the free beer at the finish line, so we walked down. We walked all of the four plus kilometres. That was going to hurt on the return trip, but the beer would ease the pain.

The start time of 7 am meant that the sun was just above the horizon when the race started. I was in corral 14, and there was a little over a minute wait time between the corral releases so I crossed the start line almost 15 minutes after the race began. The race was far less crowded than 30,000 runners and relatively narrow streets would indicate in most runs, so the staggered start certainly helped.

Most of the bands on the route were excellent. the Blues Brothers types at the start were really cool, the Led Zeppelin guys further down the strip gave me goosebumps, and the Jimi Hendrix guy was a real energy boost as well. And yes, Bret Michaels and his band rocked the finish area at the end like only true pros can do. There were so many Elvi running that I don't think they could find a spare to perform.

The course itself was quite flat. Running up the strip, which I had cruised in our rented Mustang convertible all week, was really cool. One of my only regrets is that I didn't take the glass of beer offered by a bum about half an hour into the run since that would have made a great story. I hope someone took him up on it. The guys in the fake leather jackets, hair greased back, holding beers outside a seedy downtown bar at 8 am were another memorable sight. When the course veered off into Nevadan suburbia, the view changed dramatically with a greater emphasis on the surrounding mountains. Quite a bit of back-and-forth criss cross stuff, but it was all good. Chatted with some fellow runners to pass the time, struck by how many fellow Canadians there were.

I was on a record pace up to around mile 22 when I started to struggle. I felt cold and a bit dizzy, so I took longer walks at the water stations just to ensure I wasn't going to pass out. My shoes were only in their thrid run, having been purchased earlier in the week. They were exactly the same brand and size I always wear, so if anything they were a huge help (Nike Zoom Vomero 5's). I always wear the same socks as well, Nike microfibre things. And again as always I wore the official marathon shirt, which in this case was excellent (some marathons give out shirts with seams and such that cut and chafe). As a result my finish time was 4:21, which is still pretty damned good for me.

Food at the finish area was perfect, the standard stuff which is all I want at that point. Lots of water and carb drink (which I am always thoroughly sick of by the last water station, although I never fail to drink it). The pics taken with the show girl as you exit the finish area were pretty neat, but I felt sorry for the show girls because they must have been nauseous from the smell of all those runners at that point.

Bret Michaels and his band totally rocked at the finish area. I was impressed. The beer was very good. I couldn't believe how everybody was getting right into the concert considering that they were completely wiped out. Even though they waved and yelled and pumped fists, there were very few feet that left the ground in anything resembling jumps. It just goes to show ya.

The after party at Club XS in the Wynn was excellent. The dancing was crazy, the drinks flowed, and everyone was completely wiped out by ten o'clock. Our waitress was amazing. She was a pretty good server, too. We had a riot with the little bit of energy we had left.

So that was marathon number 15 relegated to history. The bling was thick and heavy, very satisfying. My opinion is that every marathoner should run this one. It's as perfectly seamless as every other operation in Vegas and how can you possibly resist that?

Besides, there are at least four In N Out burger locations in town, and if you've never had one you simply have lived an unfulfilled life.

Post Des Moines Marathon Post

2016-10-26T21:01:00.000-04:00

Iowa isn't flat. You really need to know that for a whole lot of reasons.

For example, if you're driving to Iowa and you imagine that you're going to level out onto a flat drab pancake of an unending cornfield when you cross the state line from Illinois, you're in for a shock. What you're actually going to see is some of the most picture-perfect rolling hills patchworked with fields that are interspersed with trees and rivers and tidy farms. It can be very startling.

Startling because I (back to first person...) really didn't pay a lot of attention to the elevation chart on the Des Moines Marathon website. I DID go back after the race to see if it was misleading in any way, and to my expletive-spouting dismay, it wasn't. Dismay is such a strong word, so I'll retract that. Dismay at a lack of proper focus, but not dismay at the hills. Because the hills, which just kept on coming without any reprieve until the last few miles, made this marathon a challenge of Himalayan proportions for the unprepared. I like challenges. I like interesting marathon courses. So I loved Des Moines.

Make no mistake, I trained hard and well for this. Maybe not quite enough hills in the prep work, but lots of long runs and short runs, gym work and dietary care.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. The Expo came first, of course. This expo was very well done, like all of the other details of the race. Excellent prices on Gu, and a nice representation of other marathons, cool clothes and such. And Bart Yasso. Bart's little chat was, as always, fun, intense, and irreverent by turns. He sums things up well, as in his answer to a Gel-during-the-race question: 'It's a race, not a picnic.' And his description of the Comrades Race in South Africa was intense.

Fast forward to the actual race. Psychedelic national anthem at the start a la Jimi Hendrix. The bands that were liberally scattered throughout the course were excellent, by the way; one or two were rockin' a little slow, but they were talented and they were into it. I started out fast, strong, confident. As the hills refused to flatten through the first few miles, I found myself keeping pace with a dude from South Dakota named Troy, and we decided to pace each other for as long as it took. Troy was a trooper, confident and strong, and we alternately encouraged each other when things got tough.

My first suspicion that my under-4-hour pace would face a serious challenge was when I saw the beer at Mile 14. Ok, Iowa wrestlers and farmboys, we know you're full of piss and vinegar, but we mollycoddled Easterners need our beer closer to Mile 23. This clearly threw me off.

One unique aspect of the race was circling the track at Drake University around the halfway mark of the race. That was a very cool twist, a change of pace without having to change pace.

I faithfully gagged on my Gu at appropriate intervals, and that was probably what drove me over the finish line eventually. Because by Mile 22 I was tagging along behind Troy on legs that were cramped and collapsing, staggering in the most video-unfriendly manner. But by god I made it in 4:23. And new buddy Troy, god love him, refused to abandon me in the final couple of miles despite my repeated urging. His PR was 4:22, and if he waited on my sorry ass he wasn't going to beat it. He waited on my sorry ass and missed it by a minute. I owe ya one, buddy.

The fine folks who spectated along the route were animated and informed. "Look up! The ground is not your friend!" one guy repeated to all passing runners around Mile 20. "Run Like Diarrhia!" one sign urged. The water stations were manned by alert, energetic folks who really helped to make the miles melt away.

And the route was drop dead gorgeous. One of the city parks we passed through is considered one of the top six city parks in America, for obvious reasons if you see it. The city is uncluttered, small-town unhurried and friendly, and perfect for a marathon. A bit of out-and-back, but nothing too crazy.

The medal was extremely cool. The food at the end was ridiculously plentiful and varied: pulled pork sandwiches, pizza, bananas, etc., etc. I was a staggering mess and managed merely some chocolate ice cream and an apple. (That's Troy in the picture above, by the way.)

So later we went to the Machine Shed Restaurant and ate way too much. That restaurant is so authentic you expect to be called out to raise a barn or something while they prepare your order. Great food, though. Then we went to the Amana Colonies (yes, home of the ranges) which was pretty interesting and strange.

So yes, clearly I am suggesting that you ought to include the Des Moines Marathon on your list of must-run races. It's a flawlessly executed event in a beautiful city. Do it.

Rocking the Green Mountain Marathon

2015-10-19T21:13:00.000-04:00

My wife is a city girl. She has no appreciation whatsoever for the olfactory experience of the rural world. So as we cruised slowly down West Shore Road in South Hero, Vermont, and I told her to watch for the sign for our Bed and Breakfast, the word "Farm" in its title caused an immediate reaction. "No, no, they just CALL it a farm," I said quickly. We approached a small muddy field full of sows, which I started to point out to her would NEVER be anywhere near a Bed and Breakfast... yup, you know it. The pigs were the (unprepped) breakfast.

The B&B turned out to be infinitely relaxing, roomy, and perfectly located for our purposes. A mere couple miles from the start and finish line, right on the course which was a 13 mile out and back along the western shore of the island.

As you can see, the weather on Friday and Saturday was sunny and cool, with a light breeze and perfect running conditions. But the marathon was set for Sunday, leaving plenty of time for the weather to deteriorate. In the meantime, though, we had a great time exploring the narrow back roads, the pretty town of Burlington, the local colour.

We met a couple at the local pub on Friday night who had organized the race for years. They were great folks, and we ended up meeting them on Saturday night at the pasta dinner as well where they introduced us to more locals and made us feel right at home. The pasta dinner was held at the local school and was put on by the Grade 7 and 8 kids as a fundraiser. Impressive job by the kids, great turnout by the entire town.

This being backwoods country, there weren't too many distractions after the pasta dinner, no street lights or rowdy nightclubs or any such craziness. So after meeting our fellow B&B guests, also marathoners, and chatting for a bit, we retired early.

I woke in the middle of the night to a howling wind that sounded like it would rattle the sturdy old farmhouse to an untimely end. This was worrying.

But the day dawned dark, drizzly, and windy. The temperature was around 45F, and the high humidity made it bearable. In fact, the wind wasn't all that bad, maybe 20 mph at times.

We parked about a mile from the start, in a field, and walked up. Once the race started I was able to focus and contend with the elements rationally.

There was a long, steep decline after the first mile, which meant that there would be a long, steep incline at mile 25. The wind was at our backs for most of the first half. In other words, restraint and strict adherence to pace were the name of the game.

The field thinned out appreciably after mile 6 or so when the half marathoners turned around. I referred to my Garmin more than I have done before, forcing myself to stick to a pace that would bring me in around four hours. It worked like a charm, right up to around the last 2 or 3 miles when I struggled to keep running. Another excellent boost was the Hammer gels that I took faithfully.

There weren't many spectators, but the couple who banged their pots and pans at the end of their farm lane, the group that yelled and screamed around mile 6/19, the water station volunteers who were all right on the top of their motivational game... all of them were incredible.

Some of the views along the route were beyond postcard perfect. The colourful trees, the rolling hills, the expanse of dark lake. You have to see it to appreciate it. Absolutely breathtaking.

When I saw how close i was to a PR by mile 20 (my PR was and remains 4:12), I pushed as hard as my cramping legs would go. the pain was becoming intense; various spasms and collapses racked my legs with no rhyme nor reason. But I pushed on, maintaining a steady focus on trying to get a bit of momentum, determined to either PR or come close. And yes, I came in 3 minutes short of my PR, one minute faster than my second fastest time. That worked for me!

These Green Mountain folk know how to celebrate, too. The chili they had for the runners after the race was seriously some of the best chili I've ever had, and that's no mean feat.

So do I recommend this race? Absolutely. Sign up early because it sold out this year. Here's the website link: Green Mountain Marathon

Marine Corps Marathon 2007

2014-08-01T11:03:00.000-04:00

The Marine Corps Marathon Expo was huge. This was the biggest marathon event I'd been at to this point, so I was pretty impressed. Still am impressed, by the way; the organization of this marathon is a testament to the hard work of the countless marines who get involved, and obviously to the skill and commitment of the organizers as well.

Loved some of the little touches at the expo such as the Marine Corps motorcycle pictured above. The Marine Corps Marathon is called "The People's Marathon" and, like a marine, it lives up to the billing. The flyovers of some of the coolest planes in the world at the beginning was worth the price of admission alone. Things like a welcome note from the president of the United States in the participant literature, the wandering Abe Lincoln at the expo, put a stamp on this event. The hills in this one aren't ridiculous, but they do keep the top elite types out of the race, so this emphasizes that it's about the rest of us and about giving it the old boot camp effort. Even the drill sergeant near the end (just before a crazy steep hill that leads up to the finish line) was encouraging, demanding, and, shockingly, smiling.

The Marine Corps Marathon is one of the big ones, and it was the biggest I had run to date at that time. So I was (and still am) impressed by the crowd of runners that never thinned out, and by the unending statues and monuments that I'd only seen on TV or in movies before. The spectators were awesome, but I have to admit I was paying more attention to the monuments. It was an absolutely perfect day, sunny, not too warm, a soft autumn feel to the air.

Two things were not so great about the race. After crossing the finish line, we had to stop for quite a while (over 10 minutes, not sure of the exact time) in a standing crowd bottlenecked to go through food lines. There was no alternative route around, either. I had to sit down or keep moving, and there was nowhere to sit and nowhere to go.

The other negative was the wait for shuttle buses at the end. We waited, no exaggeration, for over 2 hours. Although we had fun chatting to the guy who runs Cooperstown (he ran the marathon as well), we'd have much rather been back at our room.

There was enough Marine involvement to put a clear brand to the event, but at all times everyone was made to feel welcome. I think for me that was the key; all of those huge hulking Marines smiling and totally committed to making sure questions were answered, directions given, water stations run seamlessly. Can't emphasize enough how important that is to the feel of a race, the sense that everyone involved is enthusiastic.
Pictures with a full dress Marine and bulldog at the Iwo Jima memorial at the end was a pretty cool idea that the organizers set up. .

We spent the week following the marathon touring around the Mall, visiting pretty much every museum, the legislature, etc. Touring the Smithsonian was one of the best vacations for me ever. That alone made the trip worthwhile. If the marathon itself totally sucked, it would still have been an enormously satisfying trip. I think everyone should visit this king of all museums; modern Western civilization is all here, endlessly fascinating.

Would I run this one again? Hell yes. I will one day, guaranteed.

First Toronto Yonge Street 10K

2014-01-09T20:55:00.000-05:00

This race wasn't even on my radar before I was talked into signing up for it in 2012. I tend to run very few 10 km races, for one thing. So when a friend whom I had been badgering to start running suggested the Toronto Yonge Street 10k, I reluctantly agreed to run it with him.

See, I had this erroneous idea that running a 10k would somehow screw up my marathon training. After all, I ran ten km training runs three times a week, and longer runs of 20 to 30 km on weekends. What would be the point, right?

So I spiced it up a bit. Stayed at my daughter's place the night before, ran 8 km to the starting line and 5 km back to her place post-race. Made the race part of a long run. I needn't have done that, though, because it was more than enough fun and challenge without that extra mileage.

First and foremost, seeing the excitement and nervousness of my friend at the starting line of his first 10k race was really cool. Talking him down (while also trying to drive him crazy with fear, of course; who said I'm a sympathetic kind of guy??) was loads of fun. And, like every race with a lot of entrants, the excitement and camaraderie of the starting area is always worth the experience.

The Toronto Yonge Street 10k is fast. With a net downhill gradient and a virtually straight beeline down the most famous, most well-known street in Canada, you almost can't NOT get a PR (read that twice). The crowds are impressive in both size and enthusiasm. The weather in mid-April is perfect for a fast race. What's not to love?

So, yes, I gave it all I had and turned in a PR performance. My wife and kid were on the sidelines at about the halfway mark, so it was a great photo op as well. I had one of the most memorable races ever, lots of hoots and hollers and just plain fun running going on all around me. It was a party; runners could just Go For It, unlike the marathons I was accustomed to running in which pacing and control are paramount.

My friend came across the finish line five minutes later, out of breath and ecstatic from his impressive triumph. We hung out for a while with other friends who met us at the finish (and partook of the amazing bagels and other post-run fuel that was better than most marathons offer). And guess what? This focus on speed helped to expand my training focus for my Fall marathon such that I turned in a PR in that baby as well!

I'm excited about running the Toronto Yonge Street 10k in April 2014 in part because it was such a cool experience two years ago. It'll be a challenge coming off a significant injury, which is even better. It also comes at a strategically beneficial time in my training for my Spring marathon this year. Let's get on with the training!

Running Out of Patience: Waiting Out Injuries

2013-12-15T20:08:00.002-05:00

"If you break your neck, if you have nothing to eat, if your house is on fire—then you got a problem. Everything else is inconvenience. Life is inconvenient. Life is lumpy. Learn to separate the inconveniences from the real problems. You will live longer." ~Sigmund Wollman

I've incurred many minor running injuries over the eight years that I've been training and running races. Most of those injuries are common and easily handled. You run less, you stop running for a short period, you get treatment... no biggie. In fact, minor aches and pains incurred by runners are a large part of what runners rap about. Shop talk amongst runners involves liberal amounts of advice and anecdotes that revolve around these issues.

I broke my big toe on August 28th, about six weeks before the Scotia Toronto Waterfront Marathon which I was registered to run. A big toe is a critical part of your running anatomy. And when it's broke, it hurts. My doctor said it would take six to eight weeks to heal. So I figured, during the early days after my injury, and whilst medicated with my own Prescription (light on the Coke, a bit more generous on the Rum), that my triumphant Return to Running would see me crossing the STWM Finish Line somewhat more slowly than originally planned, but nevertheless finishing. After all, I ran a 30 km race six weeks after having my appendix removed, so it couldn't be worse than that, right? Wrong.

Everyone who had broken a big toe knew I was deluded, but didn't slap me in the face with that knowledge. They let me come to that realization myself. I also came to realize that the discipline I had developed in my running regime served me well in this recovery period. I quickly adopted a daily routine at the gym that saw me paying attention to all of those upper body muscles I had neglected as a runner. I could still use the Elliptical Trainer as well after a couple of weeks. In short, I adapted, and it wasn't so bad. The gym made my Runner's Cold Turkey far more manageable.

I practiced patience. We aren't a patient society, and I am not a patient person by nature, so this was an extremely useful exercise. I also came to fully appreciate the supportive nature of the running community of which I am a part; they helped me through it with their inclusiveness and attention. Special mention must be made of the Digital Champion group and the CRS folks from STWM who helped me get through the unhappy experience of not being able to run STWM.

I'm back running now; it took over two months before my first attempt to hobble, and it's been improving slowly. The toe - and entire foot - continues to be painful. And yes, I know the day will inevitably come when I can no longer run. That day comes for everyone eventually. But for me, that day is not today. I plan to have an excellent run on April 13, 2014, at the Toronto Yonge Street 10k, the run that will have me back at full speed, in defiance of the slings and arrows that befall runners.

Post Cleveland Marathon Post

2013-06-21T17:26:00.001-04:00

The Rock N Roll Hall of Fame is a lot of fun and endelessly fascinating, but it's not the best thing about Cleveland. It's just one little part of the whole experience, and if you're going to run the Rite Aid Cleveland Marathon as I did on May 19, 2013, you need to know these things about Cleveland.

It's all about the people of this town. The receptionist at the Comfort Inn a couple miles from the Start/Finish line is one of Cleveland's best-kept secrets. She told us about the early breakfast and automatic late checkout (and post-race drinks and snacks) that were all included. she clearly enjoyed her job and was damned good at it. You don't find a lot of that pride of ownership. Oh, and the parking guy who directed me in, who knew what he was doing and caused me no angst whatsoever. The maids who asked if everything was ok and didn't have to do that. I'd hire 'em all if I could.

The guy I know only from online runner's social media groups, Bill, who recognized me at the Expo and shouted out to me. AND shouted out again to me at the Finish line. Great to finally meet you, Bill! The Team VW folks who were an important sponsor of the marathon helped to add a bit of fun at the expo and at the finish line tent for those of us that were on Team VW.

I wish I had counted how many folks were set up with speakers blasting out tunes along the route of the marathon. Definitely more than I've seen in any other marathon ever. AND there were bands, quite a few live bands, and all good, and they played with enthusiasm. Loved the church choir singing on the church steps, everybody in their Sunday Best waving and smiling along. Fantastic.

The volunteers at the aid stations: at ALL aid stations (every one of them) the volunteers clearly and loudly yelled directions so you didn't have to guess which was water and which was energy drink. Awesome folks, attention to detail.

The cops along the route and around the finish area, and their dogs, unobtrusive but watchful and quick to react to traffic issues (didn't see any other kind of issues). Barely a month post-Boston, this was one helluva tough gig for them, and they handled it with a professionalism that merits admiration and respect. And as far as traffic issues go, this was one of few marathons I've run in where I saw no angry motorists.

The race organizers mapped out a scenic, flat, interesting route. It was clear that they didn't just go oh what the hell, out-and-back 'em and to hell with it. No, they made it a very fine run.

The spectators. Oh, sure, a lot of them were friends and family of runners, but those spectators tend to cluster near the start and finish areas. The spectators who came out of their houses and cheered themselves hoarse, made signs, cut up oranges and bananas for total strangers... god, those people deserve to have me spend my money in their city!! You are justifiably proud of your citizens, Cleveland!

The guy in line with me at the gas station downtown who gave me simple, clear directions when I got turned around on my way out of town. Good man.

There were others, of course. Other runners, both locals and out-of-towners. The pacers did a great job (the pacer I was with near the finish roused the crowd to cheer louder). So yes, of course I would run it again. And if you haven't... I think you should.

High Fives All Around the Bay

2013-03-26T21:04:00.002-04:00

There was a whole lot of high-fiving going on along the route of the 2013 Around the Bay Road Race. Kids were all over that action, of course, nothing new there. And the guy with the Mickey Mouse hands and bare feet at the top of the second major hill (before THE Hill) was high fiving with the professionalism and skill that we've come to expect from him.

I really didn't expect to be doing a terribly celebratory race that day. Hell, I hadn't planned to run this one this year at all. But a friend had to unload his bib due to an unexpected (startling, scary) health issue that happened less than two weeks before the race, so I went for it.

As always, I started out faster than I should have done. The corrals that were in place for the first time in the 119 year history of the race were fortuitous, bunching everyone with - roughly - their appropriate speed group. I almost forgot to take my Gu gel at mile two, but I remembered in time and narrowly averted the certainty of smashing headlong into The Wall. Gu number two was still in the belt for kilometre 18.

Keeping a pace within a tenth of 5 minutes/km was starting to wear me down. I valiantly fought to keep up with various runners whose confidence and excellent pacing pissed me off enough to fire me up.

Gu number two powered me over the rollers that lead to the Mother of All Hills. It's always fun, by the way, to mess with the minds of other runners who haven't experienced this race before. Telling them that some people use ropes to get up the final hill, for example. Or that the worst part is tripping over the bodies on the way up.

Miraculously, I was doing just fine on the windless, sunny, 3 degree Celsius route. Sure glad I wasn't one of the unfortunates who were stopped by a train (heard about that after the race).

Anyway, just before the hills started, and after the High Five Station (a girl holding up a sign and a white mitten that she would have to burn after the ten thousand high fives it took), there was a whole lot of crowd support that needs to be acknowledged. In fact, all along the route there were freelance water and citrus stations, one beer station (too far from the end for me, but the effort was awesome). Citizens of Hamilton, you did your city proud, we salute you. You are fantastic. People in groups or alone yelling their lungs out with encouragement to total strangers, something that brings a lump to my throat every time I see it (what are their stories, why are they so incredible, what drives them???)

Ok, so plunging down into the valley before the Hill that Dwarfs All Hills, you hear it before you see anything. The concert-level boom of Queen's "We Will Rock You", always the same every year, always gets your heart pumping and your energy surging. And then you see the huge speakers, the tent, the pickup truck, and The Little Guy in his wheelchair, and you High Five him and hit the footbridge, single file, before you start Up the Hill.

The hill is a bit of a letdown at first. It's not terribly steep for the first couple hundred metres, but then you turn a corner and it gets a bit steeper. You go under a bridge, turn again, keep climbing, and it gets steeper. The final thirty or forty metres are almost straight up, and your heart and pounding and you can barely see because I'll be damned if I'm gonna stop running and walk. And then with about 20 metres to go I hear a huge voice yell "Myron!!!" Sure enough, there he is at the top of the hill, Mike, the guy I ran for. No High Five here, this was a firm grasp handshake and a "Go hard, make sure you get a good time for me!". A most excellent slingshot effect.

All downhill from there. Legs wouldn't stop, partly pure adrenaline, partly that kilometre 18 gel, partly a refusal to let that punk kid get past me, partly a desire to have that Finish Line picture include a much more athletic type and pysch people into thinking I could compete with THAT.

High Fives? How about this: I beat my previous PR for this race, set last year, by FIVE minutes and ten seconds.

So of COURSE I'll have to run this thing again next year. It will be the 120th year of the race, which really and truly blows my mind, and it will be my... let me see... fifth(!) time Around the Bay.

Gimme Five!!

Life Before Radiation

2012-04-09T17:58:00.000-04:00

Tomorrow afternoon is the first radiation session for my wife. The lump in her breast has been removed. There will be no chemotherapy per her doctors. Twenty sessions, one every day for the next twenty business days, should do it.

The initial shock has worn off to an extent. Yes, there's a real desire to return to normal life. Normal life that is more intensely experienced for having had this brush with mortality. The knowledge that cancer has invaded, that it could still return, that from now on, even after five years of confirmed victory, there is no ultimate victory. You always knew that death will come, as it always has to everyone, but you're shaken when it first extends its exploratory tentacles. You circle the wagons and defy it to even slow you down.

So we plan much more deliberately now.
We take some satisfaction in the fact that we've balanced life thus far reasonably well, having saved for retirement while travelling and doing a lot of the little things that give life colour. Going to the theatre, for example. Staying at hotels that are just a bit more expensive and a bit nicer. Taking off to the beach for the weekend even though you ought to rake the lawn and finish up odd jobs, even though this is the third weekend in a row that you've done so.

You can't do everything, but you can at least work yourself into a job that you actually like. A job that you actually look forward to returning to after the radiation treatments are done and the doctors give you the green light. You can live a life with no reasonable regrets.

You can live a life that you don't put on hold for a minute longer than necessary. You can be very deliberate in planning for those things that weren't so urgent before but are now far more important to ensure take place. Things like finding a beach front place for retirement.

Make it count. Stop planning and plotting only long enough to relax and enjoy the scenery.

Third Time Around the Bay - 2012

2012-03-28T12:01:00.004-04:00

This race was all business for me this year. I ran Around the Bay for the first time in 2010 and posted a 3:05 time, which was acceptable to me. Last year I ran it roughly a month after having my appendix removed, against my doctor's emphatic advice, and posted a 3:42 time. Last year's result was heartbreaking, because no matter how you approach it or what you expect out of it, it is, after all, a race. So I try to put that stupid exercise behind me, try to forget the soul destroying experience of puttering along knowing that this proves nothing apart from the fact that I'm every bit as pigheaded as my doctor knows me to be, that the registration money I "didn't waste" would have been better wasted.

This year the weather was perfect, more perfect than it should be on March 25th in Hamilton, Ontario. The runners were all psyched; the energy that coursed through the 9000 plus runners was incredible. I started out strong and fast, disposing of my garbage bag jacket almost immediately. The crowd was energetic; the runners were all focused and pushing hard. This was more like it; this was what it's all about.

The first 20 kilometres flew by at a pace around 5:00. I was well under my 3 hour goal; wasn't even breathing hard, barely breaking a sweat. There was very little chit-chat in this crowd of runners because it was clear that most of us were having a surprisingly fast race and didn't want to jinx it or lose focus.

Proof that I was focused, that I could not be distracted from my laserlike quest: I did not partake at the bacon station. Which reminds me: there was no beer station the whole way. Suggestion for the organizers: get the Grim Reapers to dole out beer shots next time, work that barley harvesting metaphor!

Right before you hit the 20 km mark there is a series of rolling hills, nothing too serious but significant enough to notice. Right after the 20 km mark is a long, very long, and reasonably steep hill. On this hill, just after Mike S. flew past me on the way to his own personal victory, I started to feel a little dizziness, just enough to make me scale it back just a bit. I kept the pace under 5:20, so still pushing.

Self awareness, objective monitoring of your status, becomes important at this point. And you don't simply learn it as you go through the race; you have to have developed this sense in your training. You have to know where that redline is, because although you don't want to become one of those unfortunates being loaded into ambulances along the way if you can help it (and you can't always help it, of course), you don't want to scale back so far that you haven't given it everything you've got. You want to cross the finish line on an empty tank, but you want to stay upright through the food lines.

A collective gasp ran through the group that I was running in as we approached the ravine that was part drastic downhill and part drastic climb. Part of that gasp was fear, but there was an undeniable sense of appreciation of the beauty of the rock formation we were about to tackle. I high fived the little guy on the approach to the hill and began the ascent.

The great thing about this hill is that it climbs quite steeply to a point after which you round a corner and see that the hill continues for another few hundred feet at an even more acute angle. I love to hear the utter depair voiced by first-timers at this point. And I confess that I actually walked the last 50 feet or so this time. I consoled the guy beside me who was also walking, saying that we'd survive to do it again next year. "I hate being passed. I just hate it," he said.

So I loped in the last 3 or 4 kilometres from the top of the hill, knowing that I could push it a bit again, never going slower than a 6 minute km. Sprinted into the entrance of Copps, arms straight up and smiling across the finish line,chip time 2:47:57, 17 minutes faster than 2010. Anyone watching me would have thought I was staggering, limping, hobbling toward the exit after that, but in my mind I was swaggering. The thrill just never gets stale, not when you've given it 110%.

Courage

2011-12-20T20:08:00.000-05:00

She's sitting on the floor in front of the TV. Wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, and tape are spread all about as she prepares Christmas presents. She's an excellent wrapper, by the way; everyone always remarks on the artistic merit of the package they receive from her. Corners are always perfect, seams are seamless, fancy pleats draw gasps of admiration if she deigned to create them.

She looks back at me to share a laugh from the antics on TV. I summon a wide smile, quite convincing I think. Her act is far better, although she is in all likelihood totally involved in her task.

Her biopsy was on December 5th, the 3rd anniversary of her mother's death at the hands of cancer. Today, December 12th, we went to the family doctor to hear the verdict officially, even though we already knew. She cried softly; I kept a frozen, foolish expression, trying to encourage the doctor who was also having a rough time of it. He's been our doctor for a long time; believe it or not, he does house calls, sees patients on Saturdays, even gives out his home phone number in instances like this one.

It's fairly easy to bluster, rant and rail at this relentless disease, but initially, inside, when you realize with cold certainty that it has a beach head, that although you will almost certainly obliterate its first tentative foray into your body, your wife's body, you also realize that it isn't going to be over, not really. Something is going to take you someday, and now you can put a name to it.

So we deal with it the same way we dealt with it before the mammogram. We enjoy what we do, we make plans and tell jokes. We go out for dinner, chat with friends and family, follow what our kids do. We do the same things because it could all end an hour from now for all we know.

It's going to defeat us all someday, death is, but that day isn't today. Today we laugh in its face, spit in its eye, and prepare to strike out at it with everything we've got whenever it draws near.

Stress

2011-12-13T20:36:00.002-05:00

Work on speed. Know that every day might not be your fastest. But every day will bring unexpected surprises that will leave you awe-stricken. When you're halfway through an hour run and you feel like lengthening your stride, giving it just a bit too much effort, do it. Feel the slight twinge of doubt in your ability to make it at that pace. You can always slow down; this is just a training run. But you don't. You persist, you focus, you feel the doubt fade away.

Be tough with yourself. Don't let yourself slacken pace. Fight into the wind and rain. Lift your head and approach sprint level when the bemused commuter glances at you. Wink. Feel the blood pumping through your veins, feel the tension and fatigue in your muscles, enjoy every bit of it.

Because it won't last forever. Channel the stress into physical exertion. Work it to the limit. There is no tomorrow, there was no yesterday. Until the end of the run, when you can forget the whole thing. There is no stress.

Carpe Diem.

Pre Des Moines Marathon Post

2011-10-10T12:23:00.000-04:00

Six days until the Des Moines Marathon. This one will be unique, as they have all been. I've gone through phases in the half decade that I've devoted my vacation time and weekends to running. I started by paying almost no attention to time, pace, and all that stuff. Then I got a half-ass tracking watch, the Nike thing that has a pod in your shoe and is totally inaccurate. Now I have my Garmin satellite toaster oven armband, which I enjoy immensely.

I like to run faster, really I do. But I care about my time from the perspective that a bad time may mean I'm tired, injured, dehydrated, etc. It's the "why" that matters; the time is merely an indicator of strength and health to me at this point.

It's like I'm really feeling synchronized with the whole World of Running thing, the whole club or extended family that evolves out of this activity. Giving support to others who are going through phases I've gone through; getting support from others who have something to contribute to my growth as a runner (because I don't know everything... sshh). You just have to relax, exercise your sense of humour, roll with the incessant punches that are injury, weather, distractions...

So I hope to run a decent race in Des Moines, obviously. I'll enjoy the scenery if there is any (I've been assured that Iowa is much more than cornfields and panhandling politicians), I'll take the time to meet and greet along the route if the opportunity arises. I'll prioritize the family aspect of the trip because if I lose an hour's sleep and a couple of minutes on my results, for example... I don't mind in the least.

And I'll let you know how it went.

Running Charities

2011-10-01T13:08:00.000-04:00

Non-runners usually assume you are running races in order to raise money for some cause. In many cases they are right, of course. After all, runners raise enormous amounts of cash for endless numbers of causes. It's a fantastic relationship, total synchronicity. There are no imaginative boundaries to the creative approaches that runners employ to help charities; many of the success stories I see are the result of both luck and planning, and this aspect of running is endlessly fascinating.

I have determined that I will commit to Terry Fox Run every year, for one thing. I have also started getting involved with Run for Life as a member of the board, and that has been a real fun ride so far with endless potential. I see all sorts of opportunities to turn my running habit into a means to contribute to charitable ventures, and I am cautiously venturing into that realm.

Why cautiously, you ask? First of all, I don't want to scare people away when they see me coming, and I don't want to create any kind of negative attitude about charities as a result of my approach. Secondly, I don't have time to really get into it more than I already have at this point. And thirdly, perhaps most importantly for me, is the fact that I simply 'give at the office' and expect that most other people do as well. Running is a health/fun thing for me first and foremost. I hope, and believe, that I make an impact by my example for many people.

Like a lot of things in life, charitable organizations and functions have rules and structures for what should be obvious reasons. There needs to be 100% clarity and transparency about what the money goes for, what the charity's goals and objectives are, and that all regulatory rules are being obeyed.

So by all means, go and speak to your kid's class. Get a little informal group going. Advise a friend, 'coach' him or her along. Give advice online or in person. Make a difference. But always be clear when you're asking people for money: tell them whether they're going to get a tax receipt or not. It's that simple.

That's what I have to say about that.

Running Jam

2011-08-24T20:27:00.000-04:00

Running with other people is neither as complicated nor as simple as you might think. It's like absolutely anything else you do with other people. I wouldn't play chess with Bobby Fischer, for example, even if he were still alive, because it would be an utter waste of time for both of us. Nor would there be a whole lot of Kenyans out there who would run with me for obvious reasons if you've seen my Dailymile log.

Finding someone whose pace, endurance, current health, etc. matches yours is no mean feat. Consider the distance between two runners of similar (but not identical) pace times; a couple of minutes over 30 kilometres translates into hundreds of metres. Therefore running with someone who is roughly the same speed and endurance level as yourself will always involve some give-and-take. It's almost as much about personality as it is about skill level. Both parties have to be quite willing to take it as it comes or change things up along the way. Doing training runs with other people is like jazz.

Which is why I've been really lucky to have had such great running partners in the past couple of months. The Run For Life gang are faster and younger than I am. However, we have had some great long runs, great conversation, great exchanges of advice and motivation. The great thing is that, when there are three of us running together, we have become totally cool with each other's specific styles after only a handful of runs. And it's great to have the company to make the miles melt away behind us.

I ran 32 kilometres with Runnrgrl last Saturday, and that was incredible because neither of us had done a training run of that length with another person before. That's 3 plus hours, quite a long time to pass in a trying physical endeavour with someone whom you really barely knew previously. It went amazingly well; conversation never flagged, and we made it in a quite commendable time. The real test came near the end when I started to seriously fall apart from the heat and from what I think can be attributed to aging shoes. Runnrgrl was incredibly patient, allowing me to walk for a couple of minutes while masterfully dragging me along. In fact, I would go so far as to say that she demonstrated coaching skills that I have never encountered personally before. Her diplomatic manner was truly impeccable, because I know I was starting to get a bit whiny. At least I felt whiny; really I was dizzy and staggering, but I know that I had something left in the tank and she refused to let me finish on a less than heroic note. On top of that, it was actually her who had had physical challenges recently so we fully expected that she would be the one limping to the finish. Her pace actually increased as we went, and she seemed to get stronger. Always surprises when you run with other people.

I still like running alone since that's what I'm most accustomed to doing. And it's highly unlikely that I'll find anyone to run with me at 4 am in the near future. But running with other people unquestionably adds a dimension to the exercise that is crucial, because in the end life is infinitely more interesting when you do things with other people, and running is no different.

New York: Runs Like a Charm

2011-08-05T21:38:00.000-04:00

It's been a week since I returned from my first visit to New York in almost 30 years. I've started this blog entry many times and deleted it almost immediately each time. I guess my problem is in trying to articulate how much my perception of the city has changed since I looked over it from atop the World Trade Centre in 1982.

I say 'my perception' because the city is still the densely populated, muscular centre of action that it was then. It's just that it makes infinitely more sense now to me than it ever did. The embodiment of what America projects to the world through the city of New York is extremely contemporary, extremely sensible, and extremely positive.

Some of us get stressed about overpopulation, myself included. But the way that this thickly populated metropolis actually functions in what seems to be an extremely efficient and creative manner is awe inspiring. The runners in Central Park are totally synchronized almost by magic; the Park itself is perfectly manicured Nature adorned by historic landmarks and statues, a buffer against the claustrophobia of the concrete jungle surrounding it. Importantly, there is no feeling of intimidation or force in this synchronization; old, young, fat, thin, fast slow... the running groups embody more of a celebration than a competition.

The taxis are plentiful and affordable. The subway is clean and reliable. Space is at a premium, but it doesn't feel tight. This is how space should be designed; none of the sprawl that generates territorial disputes on tracts of suburban land nearly the size of this city. You want open space? Go to one of the many parks. You want to meet up with friends without the angst of figuring out who has to be the Designated Driver? No problem. New Yorkers are free to concentrate on what matters in this ultimate urban world.

Thanks to the generosity and skill of a good friend and resident New Yorker, I came to New York already armed with perfectly drawn running routes. Following these routes allowed me to see and experience the city as only runners can. For such a densely populated city, New York has some incredible running routes within very close proximity to the core of the city. In fact, the broad swath of bike path right down Broadway was beyond impressive for someone more acclimatized to the bike- and runner-hostile civic administration of Toronto... (if you're reading this, Rob Ford, I am indeed talking to you).

We encountered many other amazing people besides my friend. There was the couple we met on the subway who showed us a better route and engaged us in great conversation on the way. The hotel staff were edgy, hilarious, and capable. No wonder Letterman set up in this town; the town feels like his show.

New York has moved beyond 9/11. This city has triumphed over countless challenges many times in the past couple of centuries with a toughness and intelligence that deserves more than simple accolades. Tour Ellis Island and you'll begin to understand how the character of New York evolved. Go visit New York yourself. It really doesn't matter what you're interested in seeing or experiencing, because New York really and truly has it all. I guarantee you will be impressed.

Running Hot and Cold

2011-07-20T20:34:00.000-04:00

When I open the door at 4 am in February to go out for my ten kilometre run, I have only the mildest feeling of reluctance. When I open the door in July at 4 am to a blast of heat and humidity, I have the same absence of reluctance. No, I'm not making that up. Would I rather be curled up under warm blankets? No; that's where I was for over six hours, and that time has passed. I'm dressed properly, loosened up, and I know that I'll get through it, and I know that I'll feel pumped and ready for breakfast before facing the rest of the day.

I don't prevaricate endlessly about the little aches and pains that inevitably arise and are often used as excuses for not running. (I'm not talking about ignoring significant injuries here, just to clarify). I just do it because I can and because there are both immediate and long term rewards for doing it. Rewards such as heightened energy, better health, the experience of the run itself (which is never to be underestimated), etc.

A lot of people give up too easily. They don't see the rewards that come from persistently engaging in those activities. That approach carries through to everything; their work life becomes a stressful slugfest of whining and balking; their approach to everything from housework to pretty much anything that isn't spectacularly exciting in their view is weak. Their lives become a waste of time.

I'm not suggesting hyperactivity; I'm suggesting that quality of effort is required to reap the rewards. You don't need lotteries if you get up off your ass and do something that actually challenges you once in a while.

Predawn Ramblings

2011-06-23T20:10:00.001-04:00

It's difficult to discern the line between dream sleep and stream of consciousness while running when I have stumbled out of bed mere minutes before hitting the street. Very little visual input distracts those rambling streams of words and images.

I totally reject the idea of running with ear buds and music, and I absolutely reserve the right to change my mind some day. Real life sounds in the dark have the added dimension of space, originating miles or metres away, volumes that change. Staccatos and shrill chirps, dull traffic noise, coffee shop drive thru voices garbled and monotonous. Shuffling animal feet sounds that register on the subconscious and make me react before I process or identify the sound. Clashing steel in the factories, idling trucks.

Review of dreams partially remembered, often doubtful memories at best. Anticipation of breakfast. Double check of to-do list pre-workday - garbage? feed the dog?

Random thoughts, sometimes about how many coats of paint I'll still have to put on the deck, sometimes rough assessments of long term and short term budgetary goals, thoughts directly related to speed and pace and the workings of the parts of my body involved in this run.

I think about the absolute and utter exasperation that many people cause me. I try to unlock the puzzle they present and get to the core of how they tick. Or I ponder the absolute competence of other people - worse, sometimes both in the same people - and again try to figure it out, find the trigger to their motivation or the image that projects their brilliance.

What I always do is feel as though I am a part of this morning world, a world without the distractions and tidiness of the clockwork world that I inevitably return to after ten kilometres.

Stop Being Such a Wuss

2011-05-29T10:54:00.000-04:00

I think the biggest challenge, apart from recovering from serious injuries, is powering through more vaguely defined but occasionally nagging issues that hold me back. So here are some of those issues and how I try to deal with them.

Sleep: We all get that insomniac monkey on our backs at times. It can become exponential; the more we stress and try to sleep, the less able we are to do so. Often, as in the night before I had my appendix out, we can't sleep due to physical discomfort or pain, so I guess the trick is to weed out those potential causes first. Once I have it down to nothing obvious, or peripheral stress (which can be the worst), I try to blank out my mind entirely. No thoughts, no images, no counted sheep... and that works better than anything else I've devised to this point.

General Fatigue: Tied to (lack of) sleep in many instances, this one simply needs to be ignored first; if it persists, I take a breather. I make fatigue my friend (boy, that sounds odd) in the sense that my body is sending me a message that I have to interpret. Is it sleep, or nutrition, or overwork? All of the above or something else entirely? There's an answer out there somewhere.

Fatigued or hurting Muscles: A lot more detailed analysis needs to go into these issues to ensure that injuries don't become aggravated, obviously. However, I believe very strongly from personal experience and from watching and listening to others that people can mollycoddle their aches and pains entirely unnecessarily. People need to fight through these pains with a lot more fortitude than they often do. Just look at the ordeals that ultra distance runners go through to appreciate what can be endured. I think that once a person internalizes this approach to pain and hurt, they are well on their way to successfully completing long distances and other endurance activities. Sounds pretty self-evident, but we've all seen and heard the whiny little excuses and we've all been sorely tempted to succumb to them ourselves. Toughen up, and as you know the reward is that little bit of a swagger that you can allow yourself for having done so...

So that's your diatribe for the day.

Victoria Day Weekend

2011-05-23T17:13:00.001-04:00

A very satisfactory weekend. The garden is planted; everything is cut, trimmed, washed, weeded... and a summer of yard work stretches out ahead. I enjoy this stuff: power-washing, staining, painting. A cup of peppermint tea straight from the garden. The promise of rhubarb next spring; the hope of squash, beans, peas, strawberries, all fresh from the back yard.

This is what we bust our asses for all week. This is why we get intensely involved in the commercial world and build up our store of ducats. Yes, we have long and short term plans beyond the mundane routines, but we want the mundane routines to be enhanced. We want to have room on the grocery budget, we want to know that the planned long trips won't take a lifetime of saving to realize.

We also know that it could all disappear in the blink of an eye. Natural disasters, medical events... so we have to always balance appreciation of the present with plans for the future. And that balance is absolutely not contradictory, as we discover over time. Good things happen with preparedness; the medal comes after a long, arduous, glorious run to the finish.

One Week Post-Pittsburgh; One Hour Pre-Apocalypse

2011-05-21T21:02:00.001-04:00

I've run three ten kilometre runs since last Sunday's marathon in Pittsburgh, and all three runs have been at my maximum pace. Tomorrow will be a twenty kilometre run, and apart from my badly burnt legs (fell asleep in the sun on the beach today), I have little reason to believe this will be anything but a very satisfactory outing.

So I wonder if perhaps I should have (or still should) schedule more marathons for this year. After my surgery in late February, I was quite certain that two marathons would be more than sufficient for this year. Now, I know that I could easily fit one or more long distance races in and probably not be the worse for it.

The question is this: how many marathons is too many? At what point does the constant imminence of races become too dominant in occupying one's time? I enjoy the races themselves immensely in every way, so that's not an issue. The problem is this: am I a one trick pony? I do a lot of other things, but none with the consistency day-in day-out as running...

Our kids are both adults now. They have no children. My mother is so busy with volunteer work that she doesn't need or want any more time from us. My wife likes the travelling that we do in conjunction with this marathoning obsession. My work isn't compromised by the time I spend training and travelling.

But... should I be spending more time doing something else? Should I be broadening my horizons, finding some other hobbies or occupations? Maybe I should carpenter or scrapbook?

It's not a facetious question. I really do spend more time than usual lately wondering if I should be devoting more time to some other pursuit or pursuits. I don't mean expanding to triathlons or some such thing, since I don't swim very well or enjoy it enough to try.

I guess it's just that when one sees the constant improvement that happens over time if one commits to running regularly, one begins to wonder what else could be achieved with that kind of regular, consistent approach.

What do you runners out there think? Do you have the same question about your own running life sometimes?

My Kingdom for a Post!

2011-04-30T12:23:00.000-04:00

The world is a strange and wonderful place. Democracy is erupting all over the world; the events of places on the other side of the globe are instantly in our consciousness. It's truly like watching something in a dream, not even possible to guess what will happen next. People are beyond confused; how can you look at something like Nostradamus and even dare to think that his hallucinations are even a fraction as wild as what's really happening?

You have to consciously avoid labeling things as good, bad, or indifferent. You simply have to evaluate what is in the best interests of the greatest number of people, or of the people you most care about.

Case in point: I hear a news story about drug lords in Guatemala being loved by the locals because of the good work and constructive projects that are being done by the drug lords and not by the government. This is presented as outrageous (can't argue with the twistedness of it), and yet the whole spectacle of the royal wedding is never presented with any of the inherent irony of that undemocratic system. I'm certainly not advocating the overthrow of the royals, but I am amused by the inability of people to get it.

Anyway, I have enough to worry about. I have windows to wash, lunch to prepare, floors to sweep... I also have to come to terms with the less than satisfactory recovery of my right leg. Ever since my appendectomy it's been a reall nuisance, achilles pain one day then knee pain the next. Cursed leg; can't you just behave?

Through the Streets Darkly

2011-04-06T20:24:00.000-04:00

There was a time, long ago, when I first started running, that I wasn't too enthused about running in the dark. I need to clarify; "dark" is still under streetlights for the most part, never out of sight of city light, always on clearly visible pavement. So it's pre-dawn, from 4ish to 5ish in the morning, with gray, reluctant dawn at the end of the run for many months of the year.

I would see shadows, threatening shades of ursine and canine life, wandering humans of dubious intent. There was no out; if anything attacked, it would be just me, no comforting traffic or pedestrians to witness any aggression or attempted robbery. The old woman who would be on her way to or from the newspaper box, in a nightgown in the dead of winter, was an apparition that chilled my blood. For weeks I had trouble believing she was real.

My perspective has changed completely, even though the population of the pre-dawn world remains the same.

Now, I feel like I'm part of that world. The animals are not a threat in any way, since I'm aware of them and they're aware of me. We respect each other's space. The wandering people represent a need for greater caution, but some of them recur and I recognize them from a distance. It's a very fundamental, unadorned awareness that takes over, and I really like being in that zone. It's the perfect way to run, as approximate to the way our ancestors ran as I can get... albeit shod...

The staggering drunk who spewed an impressive fountain of puke at the side of the road this morning was a newbie, though. If he does keep up his routine, I'm sure that one of the cruising cops will help him to change his ways.

After years of seldom straying from the same route and the same daily time frame, I've grown into the time, the route, and the solitary peace of my training runs. Weekend runs usually happen a couple hours later, more like 7 or 8 am, so there can often be something closer to traffic, annoyingly bright sunlight and warmth, things that throw me off my routine.

I'm sure there are attractive aspects of running in the evening or the afternoon, but they don't affect me. I'm a pre-dawn runner, and likely always will be.

Why Do You Do It - Around the Bay 2011

2011-03-29T21:08:00.002-04:00

Not going to rush this baby, taking it real slow and easy. Standing near the back of the pack, not going to pass or be passed. The sun is bright; the chill in the air is crisp rather than piercing. The pack moves forward glacially; I reached the starting line three minutes faster than this in a 20,000 plus field of runners at the Marine Corps Marathon.

We start running after the shrill scream of the timing mat harmonizes with the cheers of the crowd of runners and spectators. Running is a pretty generous term for what I'm doing; it's kind of a stride that focuses on reducing any bouncing, to avoid friction to my abdominal cavity as much as possible. This ingenious stride of mine will cause my hips and knees to be sore the next day, but that's all part of the madness. It was less than five weeks since I had my appendix removed.
I zealously refuse to weave around people as I'm prone to do near the beginning of a race of this size. I enjoy the scenery: the matchbox houses built long ago, the sense of time warping into the '50's or earlier that hit me last year and is one of my favourite aspects of this race.
The pain in my gut is occasional, ominous, scratching. Might be normal, harmless. Might not. If it were anything else, a shin splint or an Achilles, I could deal with it. I'd still, against all reason and intelligent action, continue, of course, but it wouldn't be as unpredictable somehow.
Chatted with a guy about his running, his son-in-law, and other stuff for a few kilometres. He wanted to go faster so we parted ways. Perfectly reasonable, so why it ripped my heart out to watch someone whose PR is light years slower than mine disappear ahead of me makes no sense.
I walked a lot. I walked much longer past water stations than I ever imagined I could. I drank more than I ever have, even when it was 30 degrees in Ottawa, 1000 percent humidity in South Bend, 28 degrees in an unending mass of bodies in Chicago.
I walked up the final mother of all hills with the rest of the halt and lame in my group. We cursed the uphill runners (both of them), partly in fun and partly because it helped to exorcise our own demons.
There were a lot of demons haunting the rear guard. Demons of past race times gone horribly awry, demons of injuries past and present, demons of weight loss issues in various stages of conquest.

I crossed the finish line running. I flashed peace signs, being absolutely unable to hold my arms up in victory because I was overwhelmed with an unfamiliar feeling of shame and unease. Of course I was relieved to have finished. Of course I felt guilt at the idea that this was disappointing in a sense I couldn't have imagined at the start.

Why guilt? Why not an "aw shucks at least I finished" feeling? Still grappling with that, but I think it's because a race demands the best of what you have to offer at the time. What I had to offer was an absolutely uncertain effort, an effort that couldn't be pinned down to any training issues pro or con, to any talent or fitness issues... I went through the motions with the sole intent of avoiding catastrophic injury, and with an incredibly stupid goal like that you can never achieve anything worthy of acclaim in life. But I had to run the race to discover that for myself.