National Novel Writing Month 2012

It's almost November, which means it's time for another National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo.

If you've ever considered writing a novel, I highly recommend trying this annual nonprofit event that encourages kids and adults to tackle the challenge of writing a 50,000-word novel in one month.

The writing challenge begins on November 1 and finishes on November 30. To participate—free and open to everyone—register at http://nanowrimo.org/

I'm planning to participate for the third time. In 2010, I wrote the first draft of what turned into From my Mother -- my first novel -- during NaNoWrimo.

Like last year, I asked the Squamish Public Library if they were willing and able to support NaNoWriMo by offering a space for local participants to work on their masterpiece and they again agreed enthusiastically to host two so-called Come Write In events next month.

So, if you're doing NaNoWriMo and find yourself in the neighbourhood on Saturday November 10 and/or Sunday November 18 any time between 10am and 2pm, join me at the Squamish Public Library  to complete our daily word count together.

Praise for From my Mother

Return to Ironman: Whistler 2013

"I thought you never wanted to do one of those again?" my dad said on the phone.

Well, that's not quite true; I had thought more of it as, you know, maybe, possibly, one day.

Since finishing my fifth Ironman in New Zealand in March 2005, I decided to focus on running, never looking back as I slowly and surely improved; earlier this year, at the age of 41, I ran personal records for the 10K, half marathon and -- most importantly -- the marathon at 3:00:29 (on a course that was later declared up to 400 metres long for the top finishers including me).

What's more, I knew I could run faster.

On a high from these results and greedy for more speed, I began a 10-week high intensity program with a coach 2-1/2 weeks after the Vancouver marathon in early May. Bad move. Disaster struck within a month, though it has taken me four months and counting to to realize the extent of it.

In my 16 years of running (and including six years of triathlon) I have only suffered one previous major injury, an ITB problem in 2003. In the nine years since that injury, I have done three Ironmans, 12 marathons including 11 in 3:15 and faster, and completed five ultras without any issues that couldn't be fixed with a couple of treatments.

So this mysterious pain that prevents me from running, even walking at times, and doesn't seem to handle driving well either, has been tough to deal with. While the symptoms are clear, it has proven hard to pinpoint and I still don't have a diagnosis.

I do know that it hasn't responded to the Active Release Technique, Trigger Point massage and IMS (Intramuscular Stimulation) treatments I have received in the past four months; all were done by qualified and experienced professionals whom I'd recommend highly without hesitation.

This week I am seeing a physician who specializes in sports medicine, in particular field hockey, football and running, and I am scheduled for an MRI on November 6 (it will be eight weeks since that request was made).

The last few months have been challenging, and I've had to keep my mind in check. By and large, I remain optimistic though have found it hard to motivate myself for cross training, with swimming and cycling high on the list of recommended activities.

I am a runner, I love to run. But I can't at the moment and have no idea when I'll be able to run again.

Finally last week I got on my bike because I wanted -- needed -- to doing something. I realized that the last time my Argon 18 had been used was in Ironman New Zealand 7-1/2 years ago. Wow.

I did my first triathlon, an Olympic distance in June 1999, and my last in March 2005. I now have been away from the sport for a longer period of time than I was in it.

In 2005, I simply stopped riding my bike and gave up swimming without too much regret to focus on running. As my passion for running grew it erased any interest I had in a return to triathlon, though I have remained closely involved in the sport through Tim's training and racing, friends, and my work as a writer and editor.

While I certainly wasn't compelled to swim or ride, I have kept all my triathlon gear (bike, wetsuit, clothing) except for my Zipp race wheels; Tim discouraged me from selling the carbon bike used only in preparation for and racing at IM NZ, even as it simply sat there gathering dust.

"It's unlikely you'd ever buy a bike of that quality again," he'd say. "Besides, you'll never get your money back in selling it."
"But what if I never ride it again?"
"Don't sell it."

Then Ironman Whistler was announced. An Ironman around the corner. With 100 Kona slots. Of course Tim signed up on Tuesday, as did a neighbour and other friends both locally and overseas who had registered for priority entry. The thought of signing up had crossed my mind, though I dismissed the idea very quickly. Or so I thought.

When general online registration opened Thursday at noon, I found myself filling out the entry form; my fingers were typing even as my brain was thinking, No, absolutely not, NO WAY.

Fear is powerful. Fear can be paralyzing. It also can propel you into action, and disappear when you challenge it. I couldn't deny the excitement I felt; the familiar thrill of wild abandon in committing to a clear goal that is as electrifying as it is terrifying. Giddiness that trumps all reason and rationale; a gut feeling that something is completely logical in its inherent craziness and that, despite trying very hard, is impossible to ignore.

I paid my $736.31 accepting that I may discover over the next few months that I am no longer cut out for triathlon, that the desire and excitement for Ironman training and racing remains overshadowed by the fear of mass swim starts and riding big downhills, fears that I dealt with in each of the five Ironmans I did between 2002 and 2005. Or, as I hope and expect, I may find myself a triathlete again, loving the feeling of supreme fitness that comes with training in three disciplines.

IM Whistler is here, now. And so am I. So why wait? What would I be waiting for? Turning 45, 50, 55 or 60? If I don't want do Ironman now, why would I want to do it later? Let's do it now. At least I'll finally have some powerful motivation to get back on my bike (the windtrainer until next spring) and into the pool; if nothing else, there will be good crosstraining ahead while I search for the answer to my running injury. 

The Casual Ultramarathoner

Frank's first ultra, by Glenn Tachiyama

I met Frank Smith at one of the monthly meetings of the Squamish Writers Group almost a year ago. It was November 2011. The monthly assignment was to write on the topic of Gravity, and I wrote mine with running in mind. At the end of the meeting Frank and I chatted about running, and writing of course.

Since I drive from Valleycliffe to the meeting downtown at the office of Goodwin Studios (owned by local poet Jude Goodwin) and Frank was always on foot, I'd offered to drop him off at home in the winter months. He always declined, saying he lived very close. I recall that after one meeting it was absolutely pouring, and he again declined my offer of a ride, repeating that it was close and that he liked walking in the rain. Made a lot of sense to me.

What I didn't know was that he was homeless for a while.

I regularly bumped into Frank at the local library, or at Nexen Beach where I'd be walking Luka, and he'd be running, and we of course met at the monthly writers' meetings. We'd always have a chat, which typically included running and writing. He mentioned he was reading my blog and enjoyed reading about my training and racing.

He told me he'd first started running in 2008, ran off and on for a while, then stopped, and picked it up again at about the time we first met at the writers group. He'd never done a race and said he couldn't help but read the references on my blog to PB as peanut butter, rather than personal best.

In our chats, it soon became clear that Frank is a highly intelligent, gentle and quirky soul who always has a fresh point of view to offer. He's got a good sense of humour too.

Tim, Luka and I ran into him again at Nexen Beach just after I shaved one side of my head; Frank instantly noticed the new do and said that it looked good. When I mentioned it had drawn a couple of strange comments, he said that one of the things he liked most about living in Squamish where he moved in 2011 was that most people here were so different that he'd never felt more at home. I liked that.

In late July Frank said he'd signed up for his first race, opting for the Squamish 10K. This certified 10K, held every first Sunday in August, took him 41:19, placing him second in the men's 30-34 age group.

High on this superb result, though he didn't realize how well he did, he asked my advice about signing up for another race the following weekend:  the Squamish 50. Miles that is.

I asked him for more details about his recent training. He said he'd been running regularly again for the past nine months as he'd slowly ramped up the volume.

"In the last couple of months, I've generally run twice a day, for around 30-60 minutes per run. On weekends I often go on a 2-3 hour run, as well as regular running—sometimes my long run might go to 4 or more hours. On occasions when I feel too sore to run, I take a day off. Much of my running is on trails, although I also do some road running. I guess the above totals something like 10-15 runs a week, for 10-15 hours," Frank said.

While cautioning him with the general advice to run regularly for at least a couple of years before even attempting training for a marathon, let alone an ultra without preparation, I also told him that based on his training I expected he'd be able to cover the 50-mile distance.

First half of the Squamish 50

Arguably, a trail ultra is easier on your body than a marathon on the road. However, undulating trails take more time and of course a 50-miler is nearly double the marathon distance. I also advised him to allow plenty of recovery time afterward.

Frank was keen to sign up and so the following Saturday he toed the start of only his second running race, a 50-miler through the undulating trails of Squamish. He finished, in a superb 13:30. A big adventure for an interesting person, and I was keen to pick his brain. Frank agreed to answer questions via email, or Facebook rather. Here they are:

Me: One of the key questions that intrigue me when people start running is why, how does it feel, and what is it that this runner connects with? I don't think everyone can answer those questions immediately and I think the answers change over time.
 
And I believe that in many ways we don't have access to the rationale that explains our drive completely, but it's always an interesting journey to try and understand that what we do realize and highlight the questions to which we might keep looking for an answer.

Why does a guy start running in his 30s, and opts to begin with a 10k road race, followed by a 50-mile trail race? What is it that you have discovered in your running travels so far? Of course time is always an issue, so feel free to pick and choose questions to answer.
Frank: "Why?" is a big question in a little word.  Lots of reasons contribute, although of course some more prominently than others. When I started running, I had quit smoking and found myself walking off a lot of newfound energy. I tried running, and found that it helped me in a lot of ways.

How does it feel? The feeling varies, ranging from ecstatic through bored and desperate. Part of the appeal of running has to do with the variety of emotions it triggers, many of which tug at very human roots.

What does this runner connect with? The ground!  Joking aside, running does help ground me. I find that after a lot of abstract considerations, running really pulls me back to basics. You can only get so theoretical when you have to make an effort to breathe and move, such fundamental forces. I also like to experience the different places and times that I go through while running. I find that every mode of transportation exposes different aspects of geography, for example. When I go for a run, I see and hear and smell and taste and feel things differently.

I strongly agree with your comments about the difficulties of answering these questions. My reasons for taking up running recently include its accessibility—anyone can run, it doesn't require specialized equipment or training or facilities. Running affords many opportunities, including physical and intellectual and social options.

I mostly got into running for reasons having to do with overall health rather than athletic performance, so I didn't think much of racing. Recently some friends encouraged me to race. I had run considerably longer distances than 10K, but wanted to start with a race I could confidently finish. After that, I wanted to try a long trail race, and the Squamish 50 happened. I had never run that far before, and I didn't know if I could do it, but with some excellent expert advice beforehand, I managed to prepare for the race and run it while having fun!

(By the way, regarding the phrasing of your question, I technically wasn't in my 30s when I started running— you could say I started racing in my 30s).

Have you always been athletic; even if not in a 'formal' sense, can you describe the sports and/or activities you did growing up?
I was never really athletic, although I generally liked casual athletic activity and had a little bit of ability. Growing up, I played a number of North American team sports. I preferred using my arms more than my legs. I did a small amount of formal athletics but mostly played casually.

You mentioned you first began running in 2008? Why? Who/what inspired you to do that? Did you intend to "become a runner" or was there another reason to try running?
When I started running, I had, as I say, quit smoking. Running helped me keep me my mind off smoking, and I found that it also gave me a chance to get away and think. Of course, running also improves physical fitness and I felt better. I felt motivated to eat better, and the combination of overall improvements got me to keep running. As I ran more and learned, I found many sources of inspiration. Terry Fox stands out.

I did not intend to "become a runner". For me running has been about distinct aspects from the identity. I tried running for a number of reasons including the accessibility and the health benefits, so I didn't really get involved with "running culture" as many people do. More recently I have given some of the common running practices a try.

I never thought of myself as "a runner", and I still don't. That caused a few surprises when I would discuss relatively long runs, then mention that "I'm not really a runner". After the Squamish 50, I felt like maybe I should stop saying that "I'm not really a runner", but I still don't think of myself as a runner. I'm a casual ultramarathoner.

What exactly did you do? For example, how long did you run initially and how far did you get eventually? How often did you run? Did you run with anyone? Got advice through friends, coaching, books, websites, anything?
When I decided to run, I didn't have any running shoes, so I just ran in the non-athletic shoes I had. I got a little distance before feeling winded and sore, and I couldn't believe how anyone could run for five minutes at a time! After that, I looked up a few basic pointers online, and went out for runs periodically, each time trying to increase my distance. After a while I could run for a couple of hours. I enjoyed going for runs without routes or times or other runners.

When did you realize you liked it running? What was it that made you realize you liked running? Or perhaps did you not get there yet until more recently?
I realized I liked running when I had planned to go somewhere but wanted to keep running instead. Running had replaced other interests in appealing to me. With running as a rewarding activity in itself, I made more time for it. I have found many more reasons to like running, including places, people, thoughts, and events.

You mentioned you then ran off and on for a while, before stopping altogether. Do you remember that timeframe more specifically, so how long did you run more or less consistently (assuming you did at the start), and then why did you run a little less before taking a break altogether? 
I ran fairly regularly for a while, I don't remember exactly how long. A number of events have popped up that have prevented me from running for various amounts of time.

When did you resume running again, what triggered it? What did that new start look like, as in what training did you begin with, and how did you build up to running as you describe close to the Squamish 50. What made you stick with it? Did you like running better this time around, or did it feel different?  
After not running for some time, I decided to give it another try. I started off slowly, aiming to maintain a limited amount. As I kept running I found that my endurance grew better than I expected. When I met you, I found inspiration in running and writing and living. I turned around my running and went for longer, better runs. I learned more about training and nutrition and many other aspects.

At some point I also started running with the Squamish Trail Running Club, where I ran with other people, learned more about running, and learned about local trails and courses.

I kept running for lots of reasons. I liked it, I made many new friends, I still wanted the health benefits, and it gave me good chances to get out. I felt better this time around, enjoying it more and running more smoothly.

Describe a typical running week for you as it was in the month before the 10K and the 50-miler.
In the month leading up to the races, I generally ran a couple of times a day on weekdays, going for half an hour or an hour at a time around the trails in my neighborhood. On weekends I would often go on longer runs, either with the Squamish Trail Running Club or on a solo adventure. I wasn't specifically training for the races, I would go on runs through scenic areas or with interesting people.

What prompted you to sign up for the Squamish 10k? What was your frame of mind going into that race?
Some of my friends encouraged me to try a race. I thought I might next year, but Squamish Logger Days came up and I thought the 10K offered a good chance to have fun and try a race. It was my first race, so I just wanted to finish and find out how an actual race would go. I was sleepy at the start, and I felt nervous excitement, then I ran the race.

Describe that 10k experience, from start to finish, and how it compared with your expectations? What was it like to race? Did you sense how fast you were?
It took me some time to get into the swing of things. I ran faster than I usually would, and I struggled to make the race go well. In the latter part of the race, I fought some bodily urges. Then, approaching the finish, I had trouble discerning the actual finish line. I finally crossed, ran off a bit farther, then lay down on the grass for a while.

I found a lot of the other runners quite impressive, and the overall experience quite interesting. The race changed the running experience qualitatively from my usual runs. I focused considerably more on running mechanics. I generally prefer my casual runs but I'm glad I experienced the race.

I had a hard time telling how fast I went. I didn't know if I'd gone over or under an hour. I found out that my time came faster than I expected. [Frank ran 41:19, an average pace of 4:08 per kilometre.]

Now how did you go from finishing your first race ever, to signing up for a 50-miler a few days later? Had you toyed with that idea earlier? What brought you to that? How did your mind work? It's a fairly unique progression for a runner. What gave you the inner courage to attempt it and what did you hope to find?
Around the time of the 10K, I saw some signs for the 50-miler. I had previously thought of running a trail race. After the 10K I still wanted to do a trail race, so this seemed like an opportunity. I had figured on trying a trail half-marathon, and some friends had invited me to join their trail relay team. I considered those options, as well as the 50-mile race.

I thought running the ultra would be funny. It was!

I signed up at the last minute, I had to go through some hurdles to get the payment processed and move from the waiting list to official entry, but I managed to sign up. I went out of town during the week leading up to the race, then got on a funny schedule right before the race, and finally got to the start line.

I had never seriously considered running an ultramarathon before. I didn't even know if I could physically run a marathon, let alone an ultramarathon. I wanted a challenge, and this seemed appropriate. Don't ask me how my mind worked!

I asked you about the race, and you provided some immensely helpful information. I thought about the race, and read a little bit about ultra running. Based especially on your words and on previous experiences, I felt confident that I could try the race. I just hoped to finish.

Talk us though the race, beginning with your mindset in the days leading up to the 50-miler, and race morning.
Leading up to the race, I thought I would find a new type of race where I didn't know what to expect. Would my legs last? Would I want to keep going? Would I even manage the race procedures?

The beautiful dawn sky promised an exciting day of running ahead. I live near the race start, so I arrived on foot. At the entrance gate the attendant asked approaching drivers whether they were going to the race, but thought I was just out for an early-morning walk. Everything had the air of novelty for me, and I talked about the race with some of the other runners gathered before the start.

We set off, and I felt pretty good early in the race. As we got into the higher elevations, my legs started to hurt earlier than I expected. I pushed through, and after a while I felt better again. My worn shoes fell apart, making it increasingly difficult to run. Later on, my body hurt again, including muscles that had never felt sore before. I accumulated a collection of scrapes and cuts and bruises.

Rounding back near the finish line, I gained a fresh burst of energy, and picked up my pace again. After crossing the finish line I felt like running more. I then danced for a bit to celebrate the finish. I wanted to lie down but thought it might be hard to get back up.

The volunteers and spectators lining the course dramatically improved morale. I knew some of the course from my previous runs, while other parts were new to me. The race had a different feel than either my usual runs or the 10K. Again, I prefer my usual runs but appreciate the experience. I did relatively well on a variety of terrain including downhills, straightaways, and moderate uphills, but lost ground on the steepest uphills. Squamish features some amazing geography, so the race was spectacular to run.

What were some key thoughts you had during those 50 miles? What was the highlight? How did the finish feel? 
I had a great time. Some thoughts during the race included how parts of the course felt, figuring out if I could finish, and taking in some of the surroundings. Highlights include starting to run, running rapidly uphill around halfway through, and running across the finish line! I also liked to talk with people and think about the race before and after running. The finish felt like a successful accomplishment, although taking some time to sink in.

And now that you have had a couple of weeks to absorb the experience, what are your thoughts?
Has it only been a couple of weeks? It feels like a lot longer than that. I'm really glad I did it, and mostly thankful to all the people who made it possible. I think that solo running is very much a team sport! I'm especially grateful to you for your irreplaceable excellence.

What are your running plans now? Have your resumed running - talk us through your recovery?
I haven't gone running since then, so maybe I'll never run again! It took me a week to recover enough to feel solid again. I've done some other activities, and I figure I'll probably run again in a little while, but for now I'm happy that the last time I went out for a run it went for 50 miles!

What have been the key changes in you through running and when did you notice them occurring?
I think running induces improvements to the body and mind. I feel better and I think better. I've now met lots of great people through running, and I've seen interesting places. For my personality I think that running helps emotionally, as well. For such a tangible activity as running, a lot of its effects are intangible. I think the changes started to happen very early, and grow with time.

How has your running influenced your writing, what specifically?
Running helps to formulate ideas, to express them, to intermingle different streams of thought, to clarify uncertainties, and otherwise to sharpen writing. Running also encourages patience, focus, strength, and other useful skills for writing. Running in different environments opens the mind to new ideas. Running with different people helps to communicate. I think that running and writing share a lot in common, and for this reason there are a number of people who both run and write.

What do you consider your key discovery as a runner so far?
I think my key discovery as a runner so far is that running helps to manage with many other aspects of life.

Within the last year, I was homeless. To go from homelessness to running an ultra in the space of a year shows how things can change. In mentioning the accessibility of running, I could run without huge costs. A lot is possible. I'm very grateful for all the people whose help gave me a chance.

*** 

Frank is a freelance technical writer, here's his Facebook page

Dealing with injury - water running plan

It has been eight weeks since I finished the Scotiabank Half Marathon in 87:02. Later that day, my body signalled something was seriously wrong, and I needed to pay attention.

Nine days off running, stretching in Bikram Yoga sessions, didn't help to fix the problem.

My superb sponsors at Chief Chiro, Drs Leah Stadelmann and Paul Fleming, have since been working tirelessly with Active Release Technique treatments as well as some adjustments (chiropractic moves). Their support, treating me two or three times a week, has been nothing short of fantastic.

Dealing with an injury, my first in nine years, is mentally draining. As things like Achilles tendinitis, tendinosis, tendinopaty; and plantar fasciitis, were thankfully ruled out, expectations were for me to be able to return to training relatively soon. While there is definitely progress, the pace has been slow.

Long story short for now, the key symptoms occur on the inner (medial) side of my right heel, varying from a pulling sensation to outright pain. While I have been allowed and able to do some running, Leah and Paul have also encouraged me to turn to the pool, especially now that it's become increasingly clear that it's a stubborn problem.

Two days ago -- emotionally exhausted from starting my outdoor runs full of hope before my heel reminded me, typically within 20 minutes, that my body is not quite ready yet -- I finally decided to commit to the pool, very much encouraged by Leah the previous weekend, and inspired by this nine-week Pete Pfitzinger water running program I found online (here's an accompanying article).

It's specific and challenging.

"To get through the doldrums of your non-running days, you need a schedule that provides structure and poses a challenge. With this program, you don’t have to worry about losing fitness -- if approached aggressively, you may come out of the water fitter than before your injury," Pfitzinger writes.

As it turns out, our pool has a great selection of water running belts including the Aquajogger. A 10-visit pass was also easily purchased for $40.

With this program, the dread of running in the pool became a lot easier to deal with; specific, short, challenging sessions that cover a full nine weeks. I am glad I overcame my initial reluctance, even if I am still hopeful I won't need to complete the entire program. But if I do, at least I have something to keep me focused.