I love the track. Love it. I love the smell of the rubber on a hot day; love the lonely silence of the empty stands in the early-morning chill; love the imperceptibly shifting line of sun and shadow across the lanes; love the hubbub of runners working hard; love it all.
For the past few years, I’ve done all my track work alone. It’s all I knew. I’d go out there and whip around, doing 400s or 800s or 1600s, not really knowing how fast to go, but loving every gut-wrenching second of it (unless the bathrooms were closed – what is it about speedwork that inevitably cleans out the system?). There were times, however, when I would lose the pace, start to slow, start to doubt, and eventually pull up short on an interval, or on the entire workout.
Those were lonely moments.
Recently, I’ve started running with a group at the SMU track on Wednesday evenings under the watchful eye of an excellent coach. The first workout I did with them was a revelation. For one, I discovered that I’d been doing some of my intervals WAY too fast, especially my 400s. My previous idea about running 400s was pretty much go out there and run your guts out and see what happens. So I would do 73s or 74s to begin and then lose the pace with each interval until I threw up my hands and cried “no mas!” Apparently, that’s not the best way to do things. So now I have a coach who sagely gives me my paces (from Daniel’s tables), and I do my best to hit the right splits.
The other revelation I received from that first group workout was this: it’s wonderful to run with others. There’s just something about moving around the track as a pair or as a group of three or four that almost eliminates the mental strain I suffered as a lonely intervalist. On the one hand, it’s surprisingly comfortable to follow someone, to have him or her set the pace – I can take my mind off of the pace and just run. On the other hand, it’s also fun to lead, especially when I’m running with folks who I know are faster than I am.
As a result, I’ve been having surprisingly great track workouts. For example, that first one I did was 2 sets of 8x400m @ 82s with very short rests between intervals. That’s way more 400s than I’d ever run before – and it felt great. I was tired, but I wasn’t on the edge of doom. And I ran a bunch of them with a world-class woman marathoner. That’s pretty cool too.
I must admit, I do miss those lonely morning speed sessions… but not that much. With the group, not only am I running better, but I’m also learning a lot from the coach and getting to glimpse the aspirations of other runners. I’m discovering too that there is strength in sharing your goals with others and sharing in their goals. So even though I’ll always crave the loneliness of the long distance runner, I’m beginning to understand that sometimes the loneliness is not all it’s cracked up to be; sometimes there's strength to be gained and shared in a community of runners.
Friday, September 25, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
A Bad Run
Have you ever had that run where you suddenly realize (or finally accept) that, despite all your training, you might not be able to keep the pace you wanted for your goal race? It sucks. Big time.
So I’m three weeks away from the Valley Harvest Half Marathon (Wolfville, Nova Scotia). This is my season finale – the big one – the one I’ve been aiming at since recovering from my disappointing performance at the Ottawa Marathon in May. My season has been okay, but not great – this half was supposed to make it all better.
Perhaps my goal was unrealistic; it’s so hard to tell with goals. I mean, I did really well at Valley last year: ran a big PB with a 1:19:30 and came second. This time around, though, I wanted to run all my miles at 6:00 (for a 1:18:40), which is only 4 seconds faster per mile than last year. That seemed reasonable enough to me, but things don’t seem to be going quite right.
What makes me say this is my run last Sunday: a 26km long run with some race pace work near the beginning. Normally, I love doing pace work for the half – there’s just something about that comfortably quick pace that suits me. It’s hard, but it’s not “Ah! I want to die!” hard like 10k pace. Anyway, the thing about this run was that I was doing it in Hubbards (where my wife and I stay some weekends in the family getaway – a trailer on a hill overlooking the cove). In Hubbards, I mostly run on the rails-to-trails path, a lovely little gravel path, flat and car-less. But this time I decided to run on Highway 3 between Hubbards and East River because this is the leg of the Rum Runners Relay I’ll be running next Saturday (more on that crazy and wonderful race another day). What I quickly found out is 1) the route is hilly and 2) I struggle with 6 minute miles on hilly terrain. What was supposed to be a threshold run quickly turned into an “Ah! I want to die!” run. I did 2.5miles at just under 6:00 – took 5 minutes to recover – and then did 3miles, but couldn’t make the pace until the last mile, which was this really long downhill that allowed me to run a 5:49 to make up for the time lost in the previous two miles.
What was frustrating was that there was no way I could have done 13miles at 6:00/mile – no way at all. If the Valley Harvest Half were flat, then this run may not have worried me so much, but Valley is not flat – it’s not as hilly as the Hubbards-East River route, but it’s got some gut squeezers, especially in the final 8k or so. Not good.
So what do you do when you have a run like this? Part of me wants simply to write it off as a bad run, nothing more – but part of me suspects that I’m not ready for a 6:00/mile (3:44/km) half. I remember how comfortable the 6:05s were last year when I was training for Valley, even on the rolling terrain of the Waverly road (my favourite threshold route). I knew I was ready last year – this year I don’t know where I am.
Perhaps this uncertainty is a good thing. I dunno. I know myself, though – I know exactly what I’ll be tempted to do at Valley. I’ll want to go for those 6:00 miles, knowing full well that I’ll probably pay for it dearly over the last 5 miles. I guess it comes down to a choice between running a smart race from start to finish, which could involve writing off a PB from the start or running a gutsy race and going for the PB whether it’s there or not. The latter is more risky because the race could easily devolve into misery and slowness – like it did for me at the Ottawa Marathon, where I swore to the running gods as I was suffering through the final 12k that I would pace smart from that point forward. But if you run “smart” and potentially undersell your training, you won’t even have a shot at improving your time. The whole thing is dicey – and that’s what makes it exciting for me.
I’m still not sure how to interpret my Sunday run – but in my mind, at least it adds a bit of drama to Valley. I can hardly wait to see what I convince myself is the right strategy.
So I’m three weeks away from the Valley Harvest Half Marathon (Wolfville, Nova Scotia). This is my season finale – the big one – the one I’ve been aiming at since recovering from my disappointing performance at the Ottawa Marathon in May. My season has been okay, but not great – this half was supposed to make it all better.
Perhaps my goal was unrealistic; it’s so hard to tell with goals. I mean, I did really well at Valley last year: ran a big PB with a 1:19:30 and came second. This time around, though, I wanted to run all my miles at 6:00 (for a 1:18:40), which is only 4 seconds faster per mile than last year. That seemed reasonable enough to me, but things don’t seem to be going quite right.
What makes me say this is my run last Sunday: a 26km long run with some race pace work near the beginning. Normally, I love doing pace work for the half – there’s just something about that comfortably quick pace that suits me. It’s hard, but it’s not “Ah! I want to die!” hard like 10k pace. Anyway, the thing about this run was that I was doing it in Hubbards (where my wife and I stay some weekends in the family getaway – a trailer on a hill overlooking the cove). In Hubbards, I mostly run on the rails-to-trails path, a lovely little gravel path, flat and car-less. But this time I decided to run on Highway 3 between Hubbards and East River because this is the leg of the Rum Runners Relay I’ll be running next Saturday (more on that crazy and wonderful race another day). What I quickly found out is 1) the route is hilly and 2) I struggle with 6 minute miles on hilly terrain. What was supposed to be a threshold run quickly turned into an “Ah! I want to die!” run. I did 2.5miles at just under 6:00 – took 5 minutes to recover – and then did 3miles, but couldn’t make the pace until the last mile, which was this really long downhill that allowed me to run a 5:49 to make up for the time lost in the previous two miles.
What was frustrating was that there was no way I could have done 13miles at 6:00/mile – no way at all. If the Valley Harvest Half were flat, then this run may not have worried me so much, but Valley is not flat – it’s not as hilly as the Hubbards-East River route, but it’s got some gut squeezers, especially in the final 8k or so. Not good.
So what do you do when you have a run like this? Part of me wants simply to write it off as a bad run, nothing more – but part of me suspects that I’m not ready for a 6:00/mile (3:44/km) half. I remember how comfortable the 6:05s were last year when I was training for Valley, even on the rolling terrain of the Waverly road (my favourite threshold route). I knew I was ready last year – this year I don’t know where I am.
Perhaps this uncertainty is a good thing. I dunno. I know myself, though – I know exactly what I’ll be tempted to do at Valley. I’ll want to go for those 6:00 miles, knowing full well that I’ll probably pay for it dearly over the last 5 miles. I guess it comes down to a choice between running a smart race from start to finish, which could involve writing off a PB from the start or running a gutsy race and going for the PB whether it’s there or not. The latter is more risky because the race could easily devolve into misery and slowness – like it did for me at the Ottawa Marathon, where I swore to the running gods as I was suffering through the final 12k that I would pace smart from that point forward. But if you run “smart” and potentially undersell your training, you won’t even have a shot at improving your time. The whole thing is dicey – and that’s what makes it exciting for me.
I’m still not sure how to interpret my Sunday run – but in my mind, at least it adds a bit of drama to Valley. I can hardly wait to see what I convince myself is the right strategy.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Introduction
I guess I need to make this area my own, to shape it how I want it, although my wants are pretty simple – just some space so I can write about running. I’m not sure if I’ll have any guests, but I might as well carry on as if someone might arrive at any time, unexpectedly – keep three chairs instead of just one, as Thoreau might counsel. And even if nobody does drop by – who cares? At least I won’t be walking down the street muttering to myself about split times and lactate thresholds, grabbing hold of some terrified pedestrian, “Can YOU tell me what my max HR is?!” I can spill my guts about running here and nobody has to get hurt… or bored. Freedom for you, gentle reader, is only a mouse click away.
But how best to lay the foundations of this bloggy little hermitage of mine? Hmm. Perhaps I should answer a few relevant “W” questions: Who? What? and Why?
Who?
Even though my hope is that this blog will explore much more than just my running, a little bio might help to start things off. Besides, I love to read about other runners, so why not add my story to the pile?
I loved running as a kid – even ran track for a year in high school, although volleyball and soccer were more my thing back then. I was a pretty mediocre runner (55 for the 400, 2:08 for the 800 – if I remember correctly!), but I loved it – especially getting up at dawn and running through Lemoine’s Point (in Kingston, Ontario). I’ve got so many great memories of syrupy morning light, frost-tinged leaves on the path, lonely shoes crunching on gravel, and the calm reaches of Lake Ontario spreading far into the distance from grey limestone shores.
My love of running lasted partway into university… until I found a new love: beer, cigarettes, and fatty foods. I can hardly believe it now, but by the time I was in the second year of my PhD, I was 50lbs overweight and sprouting a very nice set of man boobs.
The funny thing (other than the moobs) was how long it took me to realize fully what was happening. I knew I was overweight and out of shape – I could see it and feel it – but I still thought of myself as an athlete (nurturing self-delusions is a strength of mine). The turning point came when I happened to step on a scale that was lurking in the corner of a friend’s bathroom – the trembling needle strained all the way over the 200 mark.
That was the moment I decided to run a marathon.
During the summer of 2003, I walked a lot and started running – I could barely run for 15 minutes at first, which was more than a little frustrating. But I stuck with it, and with the help of my partner Julie-Ann (we’re married now), I changed my lifestyle completely: we ate healthier, I quit smoking, and I paid fewer visits to the public house, with its unhealthy mix of late-night liquid exuberance and misery. The weight came off quickly – and it has stayed off.
Using the great Hal Higdon’s on-line training schedules, I trained over the winter of 2003-2004 for a half-marathon. I also joined Good Life and went to the gym religiously – I have to admit, I loved Body Pump! Things progressed smoothly, and in the spring of 2004, I ran the Forest City Half (London, Ontario) in 1:30.
I can’t say that I’ve accomplished much in my life – and I can’t say that my running a Half was particularly astonishing – but regardless, it was one of the proudest moments I’ve experienced. Symbolically, crossing that first finish line marked the end of a struggle to change the way I was living life – I’d transformed old, entrenched, unhealthy patterns of thought and behaviour for the better. For me, that was pretty big.
But really, it was only the beginning. I’d been converted – reborn in running, so to speak.
From the half, I moved to the full and ran the Toronto Waterfront Marathon in September of 2004. I totally hit the wall at 20 miles and struggled for a 3:20, but what the hay, right – I’d finished a marathon. Besides, I ran the Forest City Marathon the next May and qualified for Boston with a 3:07. I’d gone from overweight and dragging my butt for 15 minutes to Boston qualifier in a couple of years. It was a good feeling.
In 2005, Julie-Ann and I moved to Nova Scotia, and I’ve been running races as a Run Nova Scotia member ever since. I’ve even won a few races – ones that the really fast folks didn’t show up to, of course!
It’s difficult to express how much running has meant to me, how much it has positively transformed so many aspects of my life – so I’m not even going to try here. Part of the purpose of this blog is to explore all those influences over time and to watch how they change as life goes on. All I can say for sure is that I’m passionate about running.
Joseph Campbell, the great expounder of world myth (and a world-class miler in his day), said to “follow your bliss” wherever you found it. Well, I’ve found part of my bliss in running – and ever since, I’ve been following it as fast as my hairy little legs will take me!
What?
Basically, I want to write about running. But as I said earlier, I don’t want to focus only on my running; I also want to write about the running scene in Nova Scotia, about other runners, and about any thoughts or ideas that concern running. There are so many aspects to running – I want to explore as many as I can over time.
So this is not the typical “I’m training for this goal race and tracking my progress towards it” kind of blog. Don’t get me wrong – I love those kinds of blogs. They have a certain drama to them, a familiar and compelling narrative structure with a beginning, middle, and end: there’s a clear motivation, there are challenges to be overcome, and there’s an exhilarating final climactic scene. Tracking someone’s progress towards a goal race is exciting, but it’s not all that I’m interested in.
I want to be a bit more like George Sheehan, who liked to explore a broad range of thoughts that arose from his running. There’s just so much to talk about, from my own training and what’s going on in Nova Scotia to more philosophical issues. So my plan is that this blog will be a bit of a grab bag of stuff – a place to express all my running interests. Actually, my faint hope is that other like-minded folks will somehow stumble across this site and share their own thoughts – perhaps eventually some kind of alternative to the glossy running mags will take root… who knows?
Why?
I’ve read in so many different places the same piece of advice about life: find what it is you love to do and (for pete’s sake!) do it, no matter how silly it seems at first. The most recent iteration of that idea I’ve read was in Karen Armstrong’s memoirs: “[We should] find something that wholly involves and enthrals us, even if it seems hopelessly unfashionable and unproductive, and throw ourselves into this, heart and soul. […] if we follow it to the end, it will take us to the heart of life.”
Well, I love to run and I love to write, so here I am creating a running blog – even if it sounds a bit silly to some. In fact, the amount of time I spend on training has certainly made me and others (but never my wonderfully supportive wife) more than a little uncomfortable. I mean, couldn’t I make better use of my time? After all, I’m never going to be the fastest guy on the block; I’m never going to earn money from running, so why spend so much time on it?
It seems to me, though, that you don’t need to be a world-class runner in order to benefit from throwing yourself into running. Perhaps you need to be world-class in order to make a living from running, but you don’t need to be fast in order to follow running into the heart of life. You just need to be sincere and run with your whole being – guilt-, fear-, and judgement-free. For those of us hopelessly smitten with running, the value is in the deep joy that arises from doing what we love. And perhaps joy is not such a bad thing.
In the end, I’m just an ordinary runner, and this is my blog…
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