Learning From Doing: Part 2

Hey running friends! It's February 26 and, coincidentally, today's long run was 26 km. One word to sum it up: ouch. But I had a few thoughts to keep me going which I figured I'd share with y'all here.

Garbage in, garbage out
Today's run was pretty sluggish overall, which came as a surprise since last weekend's 23 km long run felt generally okay. The only thing I could chalk it up to was having a friend in town last week, which meant eating a little worse and drinking a little more than usual over a seven day average. I'm not saying my eating habits are great anyway (this body ain't no temple, that is for certain), but after slogging through the first 16 km, and then bonking hard between 17 and 19 km this morning, I figured my poor nutritional habits from the last few days probably played at least a small part. 

Run the tangents

My GPS map from the Royal Victoria Marathon in 2009:
the longest distance I have ever run in my life. Ever.

I ran my first marathon in 2009. A marathon distance is, of course, 42.2 km. My actual distance covered in that race, based on my Garmin GPS data: 42.7 km. That's right - a whole half a km more than necessary. Ever since then, I've learned to run the tangents: the shortest distance or line in the curves/corners. Around every bend and every curve, I reevaluate and change things up to make sure I'm running the shortest distance possible for that route because - let's face it - these long runs are ass kickers and I don't want to be running any longer than absolutely necessary.

Love those hills
Okay, so maybe "love" is a strong word. But I'm a firm believer that every hill, while daunting, is a moment of fantastic opportunity - to set a new goal e.g. to jog or run the entire hill without stopping, to refocus one's position in a race e.g. to try and pass someone up ahead, or to decide what you're made of e.g. to walk or run. Next time you find yourself looking upwards at another bridge or incline, instead of thinking, "Oh holy jeebus", try thinking, "I'm gonna own you." It's an attitude adjustment, for sure, but you might just surprise yourself in how you approach that hill. If nothing else, remember: for every up, there's a down. So, there's that to look forward to. Right? Ahh, the yin and yang of running.

Today's run: 26 km long run. Weather: started out around 2°C and overcast, but warmed up to about 6°C with scattered sunshine by the time I was done (yup, I'm pretty slow). Feeling: tired but good. Looking forward to the distance backing off next week... "only" 19 km scheduled for the long run, yippee!

Learning From Doing

I'm up to 19 km on my long runs, so I've had a lot of time out there to think about what's helped me be successful in completing the marathons I've run over the years. Here's what I've discovered.

Stick to the schedule
A general rule in increasing to long distances is to not run more than roughly 10% of the distance you ran the week before (although there is some debate about the validity of this rule, generally I think this can be a sensible starting point). Marathon training programs are designed to gradually increase the distance a person is running from week to week. Skipping a run here or there is one thing, but to miss a week or two, or even a long run here and there, can easily throw your schedule off track. Hey, life happens and sometimes it's not possible to make every training run. Learn how to adapt, but get the mileage in as needed.

Go the distance...
I've been out on my share of long runs where I get to a certain point, and all I want to do is totally ditch. I will admit, I have been tempted more than once in the middle of a long run to just hop on a bus or flag down a taxi and go home. But somehow, I've forced myself to stay on my feet and make the distance for that day. Sometimes it's by telling myself to just make it to the next kilometre, or next walk break. Sometimes, I need it to be even simpler - like, committing to one step at a time. I'm a firm believer that whatever you need to tell yourself at that time, that day, in that run to keep going, is exactly what you need to hear

...unless your body is saying otherwise
When I got injured in 2012 training for #3, it was devastating. But that injury didn't come without its warning signs. Fatigue, pain... these are all precursors to injury and they should not be ignored. 

Be open
In running, there will be good days, and there will be bad days. And very rarely have the rest of the days been just "okay" or "meh". I've found running is either glorious, or heartbreaking. Incredible, or soul-sucking. For all the awe-inspiring runs I've had, I've had just as many that were plain awful. But you know what? I learned something from all of them. I became stronger. I found confidence, courage, belief - and more - simply by putting my shoes on and going out there. As long as you are open to the possibility of what running can bring, I believe you will gain as much or more than you give.

Be kind to yourself
Lastly, running can be hard to do - not just for beginners, but for everyone. It doesn't matter whether you're starting from scratch, or if you've been running for years. Struggles befall us all - in life, and in running. Don't forget that this is something you are doing for yourself, to be fitter, healthier. So remember that. If the going gets tough, give yourself a break... and then get back out there the next day.

What are the things you've learned while training?

Even If We're Just Running In The Dark: Afterthought

After attempting a run in the seriously pitch black, pre-sunrise towards the end of last week on a path that was not lit at all (and ironically, not taking my own advice), I realized I had one more tip for running in the dark: use a head lamp! Bonus: you'll feel like a miner... maybe. 

Today's run: 8 km relaxed. Weather: 6°C and slightly overcast, but with the most incredible sunset I've seen in a long time. (I didn't take my phone with me tonight, so I'm afraid you'll just have to take my word for it.) Feeling: so great, I said "Fuckin' eh!" aloud when I made distance. Hopefully those around me just chalked it up to Tourette's.

Even If We're Just Running In The Dark

Before I launch into this post, I'd just like to say this: fuck [gasp] you [wheeze] hill sprints [pant]. 

Okay! Now that's done, this post covers running in the dark. Given this time of year, if you are an early morning, after work or even late-ish evening runner, chances are you've had to run in the pitch black. I'd like to make sure all of you stay safe out there, so here are a few safety tips I've picked up over the years for running when it's dark outside. 

• Run with a friend. If you can't run with a friend, or prefer to run alone, see below.
• Plan to run on well-marked, well-lit trails that are inaccessible to traffic. Even better, run on trails where you're sure to encounter other people (safety in numbers).
• Wear light-coloured or bright clothing with reflective patches or strips.

Recently, a friend bought me an LED light with two settings - blink or glow - that can easily be attached to a zipper, belt loop, etc. I've found this relatively inexpensive accessory quite handy and another easy way to make sure drivers, cyclists and other people on foot can see you... which really, is the whole point.

What other precautions do you take to make sure you're seen when it's dark outside?

A Note on Fear

In my last post, I mentioned how terrifying it can be to run distances one has either never run before or not run in a very long time. 

In his recent (and incredibly interesting) interview with Marc Maron, Bruce Springsteen had this to say about fear:

Your desperation has to be greater than your fear. Your desperation, your hunger, your desires, your ego, your ambition, has to be greater than your fear of complete humiliation. So as long as you have that equation correctly balanced, you're going out there, my friend! No matter what happens!

While he spoke of fear in the context of performing in front of huge crowds of people, his thoughts on this topic still resonated with me with respect to running. Insightful, no? Testify, Bruce.

Running Journal
Today's run: 4 km hill sprints (worst! ever! you know, in case you didn't get that impression from me earlier). Weather: a little rainy but, at 7°C, much warmer than it's been recently. Feeling: accomplished, strangely. Besides being completely and totally out of breath, of course. 

Musical Interlude
Since there seems to be a theme with this post, here's a video for you from the one, the only, The Boss. Enjoy. 

Feels Like The First Time (Marathoning)

This is the 100th post on Five by 35! Thanks to everyone for reading the blog and supporting me and my running. You're the best. And hey - if you haven't yet given to my Team Diabetes fundraiser in memory of my dad, maybe now is a good time (just saying!). 

Some of you may be wondering what it actually takes to train for a marathon. In all honesty, given that I haven't run one in nearly three years, I'm kind of wondering that myself.

Don't get me wrong. Logically, I know what I need to be doing. To sum it up, see below. 

But mentally? That's another question. 

Training for number five feels like training for the first marathon, all over again. According to the schedule, I ran 13 km this morning; I haven't run that distance since January 2015 (yes, I checked - thank you, Garmin Connect stats). 

Over the next 16 weeks, the long distances are going to slowly creep up, from 13 km to 16, 19, 23, 26, 29 and finally, 32 km. And with each increase in distance, I'll have to answer this question for myself: can I do it? The only way to find out is to put my shoes on, force myself out there and take it one step at a time.

It's terrifying. But hopefully, it will all be worth it.

Today's run: 13.5 km. Weather: 0°C and overcast. Feeling: a little frustrated at first, as I inadvertently forgot to turn my heart rate monitor on and so freaked out a little because I really wanted to track how things were going. But I decided to stop, turn it on, and then kept going. 

P.S. A special shout-out to my friends and fellow runners, Chelsea W. and Christina S., who ran the Star Wars Half Marathon - The Light Side at the Disneyland Resort today. Great job, ladies! Very proud of you both.

A Love Affair

I moved to the Canadian west coast 13 years ago and haven't looked back since.

The city has its faults: stark class divides, gentrification - displacing and further marginalizing some of the city's most vulnerable, skyrocketing real estate prices. But its natural beauty is unparalleled.

I've been running long distances here now for the better part of a decade. I've spent hours on trails, on the seawall and along the beaches and, each time, I marvel at the splendour this place has to offer. I'm so grateful for taking the chance to move here. That decision changed my life, in more ways than I can say.

False Creek sunrise

I'm sure I've written about my love affair with this city before, but it definitely bears repeating. Vancouver: I love you.

Inukshuk at English Bay

Small Inukshuks and other assorted "rock art"

Today is a rest day but yesterday's run: 8 km. Weather: still cold for Vancouver but, with the incredible sunrises we've been having, who cares? Feeling: okay. Calves are not great, for some reason. Probably in need of a little stretching and massage. 

Stay tuned for future posts, where I plan to actually write about running (go figure!). I'm working up some material on new and old gear, and what it takes to train for a marathon.

Running Round-Up: What Would've Been My Dad's Birthday Edition

Seeing as my dad's 79th birthday would have been yesterday, I decided to take the day off as I wasn't sure how I would feel about it. Turns out, it was a total bummer.

I've never had the experience of having to endure a birthday of someone I've cared about who has died. A confidante suggested I do something that would have made my dad happy - like, take the money I would have spent on a gift or card and donate it to a charity, or take part in an activity that makes me happy because it's likely my dad would have preferred I do that than wallow in misery (hard to argue).

So I compromised. Yesterday, I wallowed. Today, I ran. And read poetry.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver
I came across this poem over the summer and found it strangely comforting. None of us is perfect. And even though we all endure hardship, life goes on and so will we. Sometimes that can be hard to remember.

     You do not have to be good.
     You do not have to walk on your knees
     For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
     You only have to let the soft animal of your body
     love what it loves.
     Tell me about your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
     Meanwhile the world goes on.
     Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
     are moving across the landscapes,
     over the prairies and the deep trees,
     the mountains and the rivers.
     Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
     are heading home again.
     Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
     the world offers itself to your imagination,
     calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting --
     over and over announcing your place
     in the family of things.     

Journal Entry
Today's run: 10.5 km slow run. Weather: brilliantly sunny. Cool, but warmer than as of late. A nice reprieve before sub-zero temps return to the area tomorrow. Feeling: good. Surprisingly eager for longer distances in the training schedule. Maybe it's the call of the wild geese.