Friday October 16: Shady the Superego

I don’t know if any of Freud’s theories about the mind are true. In fact, what I’ve been told about modern psychiatry from folks in med school is that there isn’t a whole lot of talk about Freud (beyond historical interest) when it comes to treating mental illness these days. Nevertheless, I wonder if his hunch about how the mind is composed of competing parts (i.e., id, ego, superego) is right, or at least useful.

I mean, I’m rarely of one mind about anything, even running. “I” seem to stand at the nexus of numerous competing thoughts, emotions, desires, judgments, and whatever else, tangling like a thousand kite strings, pulling in numerous directions at once. It’s a bit unsettling and frustrating at times.

Let me give you an example. I love to run. Love it. But there’s always some part of me lurking in the dark alley of that passion, threatening my running joy with judgements. This shadowy figure will whisper in my ear, “How can you spend so much time and money on such a useless pursuit? It’s embarrassing to work so hard at something that will get you nowhere – you’re only mediocre, after all. Isn’t it time you grew up and put your hobbies in their proper place? You’re not just running – you’re running away.”

I’m not sure if this is exactly what Freud was talking about in his theory of the “superego” – that part of the personality that absorbs the norms and values of society and sits in a cosy red plush throne and passes judgment on everything we do and think of doing – but it surely is an example of a mind divided. What’s worse is that this shadowy figure can take on the form and voice of people I know so that I end up projecting the judgement and guilt onto others – which is not a good thing.

I don’t know if anyone else feels this kind of guilt and judgment concerning their running, but it’s something I’ve never been able to shake totally. When I first started running to lose weight and to get healthy, there was no guilt at all. I was singular of purpose then – all parts of my self were on board, including that shady character who seems to stand for the opinions of others. Shady was so mortified about us being overweight that he gladly assented (with a slight nod) to an obsessive amount of exercise.

However, once it was clear that my weight and health were normalized, he began to get suspicious of the running. At times now, he’s full-blown judgemental. Mind you, he doesn’t have the power to stop me (us? -- what pronoun do you use for a mind divided?) from training seriously, but he does have a way of making the whole thing feel uncomfortable. And it sucks.

Part of the problem is that Shady may have a point – that’s probably why I can’t chase him off. For me, running can only be a hobby, and while I (obviously) think there is value in pursuing a hobby with passion, perhaps that passion can spill over into self-indulgence. It’s a vexing question for me: “Is my running self-indulgent?” True to a mind divided, my gut reaction is – “Maybe.”

Now, I don’t think running is inherently self-indulgent – not in the least. It’s more a question of balance. In an odd way, running may be like sugar cereals like Fruit Loops: part of a balanced breakfast. If all you eat is Fruit Loops, things are not going to go particularly well for you. Am I eating too many Fruit Loops?

Here’s the thing, though: in my first post to this blog, I talked about how so many wise folks say to throw yourself into whatever you’re passionate about; otherwise, you’ll become one of those people living lives of quiet desperation. That sounds great, but what if your passion doesn’t make any money?

I love to run and I love to write, but I’ll (probably) never make a living off of either because I’m mediocre at both – this is where Shady does his damage. He makes me feel like an ass for spending time on running and writing when I could be out there finding a better-paying job or contributing more to the public good. I still run and write, but I also doubt and feel guilt – my “I” is pulled in opposite directions. It sucks.

Perhaps this is just life. Didn’t Nietzsche envision the self as merely the site of competing energies? (I can’t remember, and I’m too lazy to look it up right now.) Perhaps I’ll never be of “one mind” about anything – perhaps there is no “one mind” to be had. All I can say is that even if I sometimes doubt my running, I never doubt it while I’m doing it. I don’t care if that’s just the effect of endorphins or if it’s a real moment of peace and clarity – either way, I’m going to keep running, no matter what Shady says.

Thursday October 15: Another Racing Season Ends

My racing season is over. Valley was it until next April. I must admit, though, that I have mixed emotions about entering the so-called “off season.”

On the one hand, I’m tired and a little sore from a hard season of training and racing. My mind and body could use a break from the sense of urgency I feel during race season. It’ll be nice just to run easy, especially while the fall colours are still brilliant. There’s a certain amount of freedom that I allow myself during off season to run new routes and explore new areas. Running like that can be rejuvenating.

On the other hand, though, I’ve had some really great races since starting up with Cliff and his group of dedicated runners, and I’m a bit curious to see what else my legs can do. I feel like I’ve got some momentum, and I hate to let the energy dissipate – but I’ve got to let it go and start building for what I hope will be a breakthrough season next year. I’m looking to focus on shorter races – 5s and 10s – in the first half of the season and to break 17:00 for the 5 and 36:00 (maybe even 35:00) for the 10. Those are big goals, so it’s going to take some foundational work to get there.

Something else is making me wish my season weren’t over: so many runners I know are still racing. This weekend is the National 10k run in Toronto, the Toronto Marathon, and the PEI Marathon – the weekend after that is the Moncton Marathon. Beyond that, a number of runners I know are running the Sacramento Marathon in December, so they’ll have a focus right up until then… and then it will be time to gear up for Boston. I feel a little left out of the excitement now that my own goal race has passed. I’m also a little uncomfortable with not running anything big in the spring, but I really do think it will be best for me to focus on the shorter distances and then build back up to the longer ones. The marathon takes so much mental and physical energy as well as time – I want to have a shot at a big PB before I make that kind of commitment again.

So I’m feeling a little adrift as I detach from my Valley goal and start looking for a new goal to attach to. But I need to remember that there is opportunity in this “in-between” or liminal state. I now have a chance to do some runs without purpose, to explore a broader spectrum of running experiences. I’ll still be building towards next season, but I won’t be so narrowly and intensely focused for awhile – perhaps I’ll even smile more while I’m running! (I’ve been told that I look too serious and too focused when I race!)

What the off season holds for me is a little uncertain. Now that I have a coach, I’ll be very interested to see what kinds of workouts I’ll be doing. Will I do hills or uphill bounding or weight training or what? What kind of mileage will he suggest I run? Will I get to do any threshold, VO2, or speed work? I’ve never really known what to do in the off season; consequently, I’ve usually ended up regressing rather than improving and then spending all spring trying to catch back up to where I was the previous season. This time, I hope to emerge from the winter a stronger and faster runner.

Sunday, October 11: Valley Harvest Half Marathon

Holy cow. What a day! The Valley Harvest Half Marathon was a huge success.

The wee hours of Sunday morning were freezing cold, but as we were cruising along Highway 101 towards Wolfville, the autumn sun rose blazing above the forest horizon and lit the fall colours on fire. The sky was a deep, magnetic blue, and the wind was barely shifting in the leaves. The day was perfect for running.

Despite the beauty, for me, the hours before this race were fraught with gastro-intestinal drama (it’s always the same!). I prefer to run with empty guts, so I try to cultivate a bit of anxiety well before race start – nothing gets things moving like nerves! But this strategy never works perfectly in terms of timing. Things will get going when there are no bathrooms to be had (on the road) – and they will resurface when there are mile-long lineups for the toilets just minutes before start. It’s a crappy situation, but I can’t seem to find the secret to well-timed bowels!

Anyway… my brother, my nephew, my wife, and I all made it to Wolfville, and although we were a bit late, the package pickup worked great and we somehow made it into the lineup a couple of minutes before the gun went off. I rarely line up right at the front, and this race was no exception: I decided to stand about three people back from the line. I find that I go out way too fast if I line up in front – it feels like I have hundreds of people chasing me if I’m in front. If I’m stuck in a pack for the first few hundred metres, then I won’t go crazy out of the gate. This strategy seems to work for me. It also gives me a chance to feel out how the race is going to go with other runners.

In this race, there were a couple of guys who shot out in front very early. I was running with a pack of guys – maybe four or five of us – but there were two runners a number of seconds ahead even after the pack crossed the first kilometre in a fairly quick 3:32. There was a guy last year who ran the half in 1:10, which is uncommonly fast for a local race like this one, so I figured that those two lead guys were just superior runners, and I decided to forget about them and just stick to my plan – run 3:44s.

I ran with the pack for the first 5k or so, and by that time we had absorbed one of the two early leaders. The other guy was still out in front – but he wasn’t getting any further away. At 5k, I began to wonder if the lead guy had simply gone out too quickly. At the same time, I stepped up the pace slightly and began to pull away from the pack. I felt like I had a little more in me, so I decided to test my legs for a bit. Things felt good, and very slowly I began to close the large gap between me and the lead runner.

The first 8k of the course are the most scenic in my opinion. This is perfect because runners are still able to look around early on: fatigue hasn’t narrowed our focus to a pinpoint yet – there’s still energy in the tank to enjoy the view a bit. The initial kilometres provide the most spectacular views of the Minas Basin and the fertile dykelands that surround it. This is old Acadian country, and despite its troubled history, there is a deep sense of peace and contentment that pervades this land during an early-morning autumn run.

From 5k to 10k, I ran alone between the pack and the lead runner. I felt strong, and with every inch of gap that I closed, I felt stronger. It was just before we turned north towards the turnaround that I finally caught and passed the leader. He had slowed, but he wasn’t struggling. We exchanged words of encouragement, and I took off for the turnaround.

I’m glad I’d run the course last year and knew that the hilliest section was the few kilometres after the turn-around (the course is mostly a loop course, with one short out-and-back section, where the turnaround lies). I wanted to put distance between me and the other runners, but I knew enough not to blow it on the hills. Instead, I stayed relaxed for the hills and then turned it on for the last 6k. In fact, my Garmin shows that my last 5k was my fastest 5k – I’ve never been able to do that before. I had some extra kick in the final quarter because I’d made some good decisions early on – another first for me!!

I worked hard for those last 6k, running as if the pack were breathing down my neck. In reality, they were over a minute behind – but I never look back in a race, and in this race, I stopped looking at my Garmin to see if I was going to make my goal of 1:18:40. I figured that I was running as fast as I could without risking disaster, so it was useless to become a slave to the watch. Instead, I just kept thinking about keeping proper form and cycling my hips and extending my stride back.

And it worked. As I turned the corner on the track at Acadia University for the last 100m of the race, I looked at the clock and saw that I was going to get my goal. I was almost bowled over by a rush of elation, and I pumped my fists for joy. I was happy that I was going to win, but my exuberance came much more from the fact that I was going to beat my goal. In the end, I crossed the line at 1:18:02.

My brother also had a great run, and I was so proud of him. The last Half he’d run was in London, Ontario 5 years ago, where he ran a 1:53. He flew in from Ottawa to run this one, and he flew across the course in 1:43 – a 10 minute PB! He’d gone out a bit quick and had some unpleasant moments in the last few kilometres, but he gutted it out and crossed the line with a burst of speed. It was inspiring to watch.

I must admit, a big part of the reason the day was so special was because Julie-Ann, Patrick, and my Aunt Jane were in the stands supporting us. Patrick (only 5 years old) held up signs to encourage us across the finish line, and he was so proud of his daddy and his uncle (who, he told anyone in the stands who’d listen, had “won the game”!). He was so cute. And I’m not sure what I would do if Julie-Ann weren’t there at the finish, cheering her crazy husband across the line. More than anyone, she knows how much goes into the training and what each finishing time means. It’s so nice to share the experience with her.

So many runners ran incredibly well that day. The first woman in the half came across the line in a blistering 1:28. And the woman who won the marathon – who also trains with Cliff – absolutely killed the course and came within 13 seconds of breaking 3 hours. That’s an amazing accomplishment. The guy who won the marathon ran 2:57, which I think was a PB (but I’m not sure). I also knew the woman who won the 5k – Leah (the team captain of the Rum Runners team “The Outiliers” and another runner who trains with Cliff). She smashed her PB by almost a minute to win in 19:19 and to place second out of all runners. Improving that much over 5k in a season is astonishing – I can’t wait to see her marathon results from Moncton next weekend.

All in all, the day was amazing. The race directors and the volunteers put on a first-rate race. I was proud to be a part of it.

After the race, we headed for some lunch in Hantsport and then to the Pumpkin Regatta in Windsor and then home to a turkey dinner. It was an exhausting day, but a memorable one for sure. This may be my last Valley for awhile – Julie-Ann and I would like to have a more relaxing Thanksgiving weekend in the future, so I’m glad the race went so well – run it or not, Valley will always be special to me.

Thursday, October 8: Running in the Rain

I showed up to the track just before 5:00. It was raining hard. Strong, cold gusts were driving the drops horizontally. In the time it took me to walk from Tower Rd. and South St. to the SMU track, I was soaked. Really soaked.

I looked for Cliff and the other runners – nobody was there. In fact, nobody was on the track at all because there was a woman’s rugby game starting and the near side of the track was blocked with advertising stuff for the game. Damn.

Protocol states that when Cliff isn’t at the track, he’s at Point Pleasant. But I’m soaked; I’m cold; I’m miserable and grumpy. I wonder if Cliff will be there in this kind of weather. So what do I do? Walk down to Point Pleasant to see if Cliff is there, of course. Along the way I ran into Nick – he’s doing the same. Wind and rain and cold – doesn’t matter; we’re going to run.

I wander down Tower Road and into the park to the particular spot where Cliff sets up shop. Is he there? Of course. He’s there in a big red slicker. Wind and rain and cold – doesn’t matter. If there are runners, he’s there. His dedication is inspiring. But it’s nothing to him; it’s just what he does.

There’s nowhere to change, really – nowhere to sit, even. So I do the best I can to take off my jeans (shorts are underneath – no public nudity) and put on socks and shoes while standing under a tree getting soaked. Good start. Once dressed, though, it’s business as usual… almost. Everyone is grumbling a little bit more today. But grumbling is just part of the process – nobody would trade this – everyone knows that running when it’s tough, when all sane people are indoors, is exactly what they are looking for. This rainy workout is a more direct expression of our will – a will that creates and sustains meaning in an otherwise meaningless moment. (Not that anyone but me thinks like this… damn PhD.)

For me, though, this moment is about doing 4x1200 @ threshold (6:00/mile) with 3:00 rests. It’s about running around and through deep puddles, about taking the gusts of wind on the chest with a grunt, about keeping the pace despite water-logged shoes, rain-heavy clothes, and numb arms. But it’s also about complaining bitterly along with everyone else. I mean, none of us has the stoicism to gut this one out without comment. We’re still sissy runners at heart.

In the end, we all got our workouts done. This was my last one before Valley – that’s why it was lighter (only 4 repeats instead of 6 thresholds and some VO2 max work). I must admit that my legs feel like they’re full of lead, but I think that feeling will go away by Sunday. My wife and I have been painting the bedroom the last few days, and it’s been way more physically tiring than I would have imagined. With some rest, I should be good to go.

My goal for the race is simple: run 6 minute miles. I don’t care about place, although a top 3 finish would be really nice. The problem with having a place goal is that you have no real control over it; it all depends on who shows up on the day. There are lots of guys out there who can run faster – I just hope they’ve got their sights set on other races. At least I know nobody else in Cliff’s group is running it, and none of the Dal guys will run a road race mid-season. That helps. But there are a handful of others who might be there. I find it’s best simply to stick to a pace goal and leave the placing to chance.

All in all, though, I’m pretty psyched. My brother is running the race too, and he’s bringing my nephew Patrick along. My aunt Jane will be there as well – and, of course, Julie-Ann will be there: she’s still never missed a race. Her support is amazing and inspiring. She’s never once questioned the sanity of what I do – only the sanity of some of my ill-conceived training decisions!

So my Valley Thanksgiving run will be a family run. I’ve got my fingers crossed that the weather will be as spectacular as last year. Hopefully, I’ll cross the line feeling good not just about my time but also about the decisions I make during the race. I’m prepared – all I gotta do is run smart!