May 14, 2019
July 01, 2014
The 100 push-ups training program
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| Luka was just a pup in 2009 |
But I thought of it again last month as I worked on a piece of my writing that will be published in an anthology later this year. In this piece I am citing Nicholas Thompson, who wrote in The New Yorker, “For someone who doesn’t run, the difference between a 4-hour marathon and a 2:50-something may seem inconsequential, and easy to confuse. But for someone who does run seriously, it’s immense. To make an analogy ..., it’s like the difference between doing 25 push-ups (not bad!) and 100 (holy smokes!).”
I couldn't help but think that doing 100 push-ups sounded a lot easier than running a 2:50-something marathon. Regardless, I wanted to work on improving my strength, and decided to make this push-up challenge part of it.
This time an initial test was not needed: I knew from recent efforts that I could barely make it to five push-ups. So I started in the first column of the six-week program.
Day 1 had five sets of push-ups, doing 2, 3, 2, 2, and then at least 3 (I managed 4). It was challenging but I did it.
Each week has three days of training, with a day of rest in between. The third, and final, day of the first week felt so hard that I doubted I would be able to move on to the second week: I did 4, 5, 4, 4, and the minimum of 5 for the final set and was absolutely spent.
But I managed Day 1 of the second week, and the next, all the way until today -- Day 2 of the fourth week of this program. To my surprise, I managed a total of 72 push-ups over five sets: 14, 16, 12, 12, and 18. Amazing. It was not easy but I did them (I had Tim check my form). You do not always understand what your body is capable of, and how quickly it can progress.
Clearly, this training program works. Check it out here. Whether I will be able to crank out 100 push-ups after finishing the sixth week is almost irrelevant to me because the improvements I have made so far are already completely worth it.
May 29, 2014
Revenge marathons: risk vs reward
"All it takes is all you've got," read a sign at about 39k into the Vancouver marathon. It made me smile as I struggled past it.
The mental and physical effort required to run a marathon -- 42.195 kilometres or 26 miles 385 yards -- is substantial.
"Racing hurts, in ways both obvious and subtle," writes Joe Henderson in Marathon Training: the Proven 100-Day Program for Success.
Both your body and mind need time to recover from that effort. A general rule of thumb is that it takes at least a month to recover from a marathon, though it depends on a runner's preparation and experience as a marathoner.
Or, as Olympic marathon champion Frank Shorter famously said, “You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming.”
Perhaps that was the reason I had trouble writing about my Vancouver race; I was already trying to forget to make space for the idea of running the next.
I always use one key tool to help me decide about a new running goal: does the prospect excite me? If I don't feel a few butterflies in my stomach thinking about a race, a goal, I don't bother. What's the point?
The verb excite is defined as 1. to stir to activity. 2. to call forth (a reaction or emotion, for example); elicit: 3. to arouse strong feeling in. Immediately after the Vancouver marathon, the idea of running another soon stirred me to activity: checking my schedule and race calendars.
It wasn't long before I found a marathon I liked, and one that fit in terms of timing, schedule and logistics. Now it was time for another key consideration: was it a good idea to do another marathon so soon?
I knew the general answer was: no. Definitely not if you are trying to race a marathon, attempt to run a personal best. I only needed to open some of my books on running.
"If you actually race your marathons (rather than simply trying to finish), it's not a good idea to do more than about two per year," writes Alberto Salazar in Alberto Salazar's Guide to Road Racing.
Tim Noakes, author of the 930-page Lore of Running, agrees.
"I suggest you race an absolute maximum of two marathons per year, or one marathon and one ultramarathon," writes Noakes. "But it is better to race only one marathon or ultramarathon each year if you wish to be running competitively in 20 to 30 years. Ideally, there should be at least four, but preferably six, months between these races."
Bob Glover and Shelly-lynn Florence Glover also offer a clear warning in The Competitive Runner's Handbook: the Bestselling Guide to Running 5Ks through Marathons when it comes to revenge marathons.
"What's the best way to improve your marathon performance? Don't do what many runners attempt -- jump into the next marathon they can find to try to lower their time," the Glovers write. "Most marathoners shouldn' t race any distance for at least four weeks. Ideally another marathon shouldn't be considered for at least six months, preferably a year for first-timers. Some experienced marathoners may be able to run another marathon in three or four months."
"If you marathon too often and too close together, you increase risk of injury and decrease the changes for a good performance," write the Glovers.
Nearly all runners, including myself, have found out the hard way that your body will signal clearly when you push it too far: it breaks down and forces you to rest.
"If we don't take enough recovery time voluntarily, the body will find its own way to get all it needs," writes Henderson in Marathon Training.
To be sure, not everyone agrees on the marathon rules.
"Well, no such 'rule' [of running only one marathon a year] exists. And if one did exist, some running rules are meant to be broken -- as long as you are well-trained and know what you're doing," according to Hal Higdon, who has contributed to Runner's World for longer than any other writer.
"On several other occasions, I have run multiple marathons. I ran six marathons in six weeks to celebrate my 60th birthday and ran seven marathons in seven months to celebrate my 7[0th] birthday. In between, I ran ten during the space of one year so I could run my 100th marathon at the 100th Boston Marathon in 1996," writes Higdon, a 2:21:55 marathoner, in Marathon Training Guide - Multiple Marathons.
Dean Karnazes, serial marathoner and ultrarunner, writes, "Having once run 50 marathons, in 50 states, in 50 consecutive days, I’ve learned a few things about recovery. Chiefly, I think it’s overrated."
These were all the things that went through my mind in the last few weeks. The cautionary advice exists for good reason, and I needed to do some careful thinking about the risks and rewards of a revenge marathon.
I have done them before, the first time in 2007, when I ran the Gold Coast marathon three months after the Canberra marathon. Those were not super-close but closer than all the advice highlighted above: in Canberra I had run a big PB of 3:08 (improving my previous best of 3:13) and I went a lot slower at the Gold Coast in 3:15, which also marks my slowest marathon of the 14 I have run in the past eight years.
In 2009, however, I ran the North Olympic Discovery marathon five weeks after the Vancouver marathon, finishing in 3:10:39 and 3:10:19 respectively. And in 2011, I ran the Victoria marathon in a then-personal best time of 3:06:06 only two weeks after finishing the Bellingham Bay marathon in 3:09:40. (I ran a 50-mile ultra four weeks after Victoria but that had nothing to do with "revenge").
So I have some experience with revenge marathons. They have been good experiences, and each time I made sure to listen to my body, and -- most importantly -- stayed healthy. While they brought good results (and awards), they never brought me quite the time I had hoped to run.
This time around, one key consideration was that I had slowed down markedly in the second half of the Vancouver marathon: I had reached 24K in 1:43:01, a pace of 4:17 per kilometre, or 6:54 per mile. The remaining 18.95K I covered in 1:23:45, a pace of 4:36 per kilometre, or 7:24 per mile.
While this was not a voluntary easing of the pace and felt as hard as I could run then, I did not cover the second half at the top speed I had planned and have shown to be capable of. A slower overall pace relative to capability should, or could, theoretically mean a shorter recovery.
I also took another good look at my training diary: In the 17 weeks leading up to Vancouver (excluding the final pre-race taper week) I ran an average 61K per week. I had looked at that number and felt that, if anything, I was undertrained, rather than overtrained.
But my long runs had been long, with three 35Ks and one 39K. And some were close to each other, including one after a hard race effort. The weekend after the April Fool's half marathon I had run 18K on Saturday, followed by 35K on Sunday at an average of 5:02 per K, my slowest long run, about which I wrote in my training diary, "hard, hard work."
Was it possible that, despite my low weekly milage, I was a touch overtrained, too tired, because of my long runs? I will never know for sure but this possibility informed my running schedule since the Vancouver marathon, with the prospect to run another four weeks later -- less (running) was more.
Daily walks and two yoga sessions a week (for a total of six post marathon), with a couple of great deep tissue massages, have formed the cornerstone of my recovery. So far, (as of Thursday morning), I have done only four runs, the longest about 13K. And I feel good about that. I'll do at least one short training run before Sunday, possibly two.
Last night I finally felt confident enough to commit and registered for the Windermere marathon, held this Sunday. Triathlete Tim will be racing too, in the half marathon, which starts at the halfway point of the marathon. On paper the course looks great, though it is clearly not downhill all the way.
It sounds beautiful too. "The first 7.2 miles of the marathon runs through Liberty Lake’s upscale neighborhoods, pass Pavillion Park and well-groomed golf courses before connecting to the Centennial Trail at the Harvard Road Trailhead. The Centennial Trail follows the contours of the winding Spokane River and the views along the race route are a big part of the attraction of this race," according to the race website.
"The visible and audible Spokane River is usually flowing with white waters, thanks to the melting snows running off the nearby mountains. The exciting downhill Finish is in Downtown Spokane’s Howard Street Bridge in Riverfront Park."
Last but not least the race director, Elaine Koga-Kennelly, was not only encouraging, but also inspirational. "She has finished 101 marathons across the U.S.A. including Boston and Internationally (London, Paris, Great Wall of China, Victoria, BC) and also five Ultra-Marathons," I read in an article profiling her on the Spokane Metro Woman Blog. She now races in the 70-74 age group and I cannot wait to meet her.
As for my goal, I will begin at 6:51-per-mile pace, in other words aim for a 2:59 finish. The only way to find out if I can is to try. I am excited that I get to race another marathon, on a new course!
The mental and physical effort required to run a marathon -- 42.195 kilometres or 26 miles 385 yards -- is substantial.
"Racing hurts, in ways both obvious and subtle," writes Joe Henderson in Marathon Training: the Proven 100-Day Program for Success.
Both your body and mind need time to recover from that effort. A general rule of thumb is that it takes at least a month to recover from a marathon, though it depends on a runner's preparation and experience as a marathoner.
Or, as Olympic marathon champion Frank Shorter famously said, “You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming.”
Perhaps that was the reason I had trouble writing about my Vancouver race; I was already trying to forget to make space for the idea of running the next.
I always use one key tool to help me decide about a new running goal: does the prospect excite me? If I don't feel a few butterflies in my stomach thinking about a race, a goal, I don't bother. What's the point?
The verb excite is defined as 1. to stir to activity. 2. to call forth (a reaction or emotion, for example); elicit: 3. to arouse strong feeling in. Immediately after the Vancouver marathon, the idea of running another soon stirred me to activity: checking my schedule and race calendars.
It wasn't long before I found a marathon I liked, and one that fit in terms of timing, schedule and logistics. Now it was time for another key consideration: was it a good idea to do another marathon so soon?
I knew the general answer was: no. Definitely not if you are trying to race a marathon, attempt to run a personal best. I only needed to open some of my books on running.
"If you actually race your marathons (rather than simply trying to finish), it's not a good idea to do more than about two per year," writes Alberto Salazar in Alberto Salazar's Guide to Road Racing.
Tim Noakes, author of the 930-page Lore of Running, agrees.
"I suggest you race an absolute maximum of two marathons per year, or one marathon and one ultramarathon," writes Noakes. "But it is better to race only one marathon or ultramarathon each year if you wish to be running competitively in 20 to 30 years. Ideally, there should be at least four, but preferably six, months between these races."
Bob Glover and Shelly-lynn Florence Glover also offer a clear warning in The Competitive Runner's Handbook: the Bestselling Guide to Running 5Ks through Marathons when it comes to revenge marathons.
"What's the best way to improve your marathon performance? Don't do what many runners attempt -- jump into the next marathon they can find to try to lower their time," the Glovers write. "Most marathoners shouldn' t race any distance for at least four weeks. Ideally another marathon shouldn't be considered for at least six months, preferably a year for first-timers. Some experienced marathoners may be able to run another marathon in three or four months."
"If you marathon too often and too close together, you increase risk of injury and decrease the changes for a good performance," write the Glovers.
Nearly all runners, including myself, have found out the hard way that your body will signal clearly when you push it too far: it breaks down and forces you to rest.
"If we don't take enough recovery time voluntarily, the body will find its own way to get all it needs," writes Henderson in Marathon Training.
To be sure, not everyone agrees on the marathon rules.
"Well, no such 'rule' [of running only one marathon a year] exists. And if one did exist, some running rules are meant to be broken -- as long as you are well-trained and know what you're doing," according to Hal Higdon, who has contributed to Runner's World for longer than any other writer.
"On several other occasions, I have run multiple marathons. I ran six marathons in six weeks to celebrate my 60th birthday and ran seven marathons in seven months to celebrate my 7[0th] birthday. In between, I ran ten during the space of one year so I could run my 100th marathon at the 100th Boston Marathon in 1996," writes Higdon, a 2:21:55 marathoner, in Marathon Training Guide - Multiple Marathons.
Dean Karnazes, serial marathoner and ultrarunner, writes, "Having once run 50 marathons, in 50 states, in 50 consecutive days, I’ve learned a few things about recovery. Chiefly, I think it’s overrated."
These were all the things that went through my mind in the last few weeks. The cautionary advice exists for good reason, and I needed to do some careful thinking about the risks and rewards of a revenge marathon.
I have done them before, the first time in 2007, when I ran the Gold Coast marathon three months after the Canberra marathon. Those were not super-close but closer than all the advice highlighted above: in Canberra I had run a big PB of 3:08 (improving my previous best of 3:13) and I went a lot slower at the Gold Coast in 3:15, which also marks my slowest marathon of the 14 I have run in the past eight years.
In 2009, however, I ran the North Olympic Discovery marathon five weeks after the Vancouver marathon, finishing in 3:10:39 and 3:10:19 respectively. And in 2011, I ran the Victoria marathon in a then-personal best time of 3:06:06 only two weeks after finishing the Bellingham Bay marathon in 3:09:40. (I ran a 50-mile ultra four weeks after Victoria but that had nothing to do with "revenge").
So I have some experience with revenge marathons. They have been good experiences, and each time I made sure to listen to my body, and -- most importantly -- stayed healthy. While they brought good results (and awards), they never brought me quite the time I had hoped to run.
This time around, one key consideration was that I had slowed down markedly in the second half of the Vancouver marathon: I had reached 24K in 1:43:01, a pace of 4:17 per kilometre, or 6:54 per mile. The remaining 18.95K I covered in 1:23:45, a pace of 4:36 per kilometre, or 7:24 per mile.
While this was not a voluntary easing of the pace and felt as hard as I could run then, I did not cover the second half at the top speed I had planned and have shown to be capable of. A slower overall pace relative to capability should, or could, theoretically mean a shorter recovery.
I also took another good look at my training diary: In the 17 weeks leading up to Vancouver (excluding the final pre-race taper week) I ran an average 61K per week. I had looked at that number and felt that, if anything, I was undertrained, rather than overtrained.
But my long runs had been long, with three 35Ks and one 39K. And some were close to each other, including one after a hard race effort. The weekend after the April Fool's half marathon I had run 18K on Saturday, followed by 35K on Sunday at an average of 5:02 per K, my slowest long run, about which I wrote in my training diary, "hard, hard work."
Was it possible that, despite my low weekly milage, I was a touch overtrained, too tired, because of my long runs? I will never know for sure but this possibility informed my running schedule since the Vancouver marathon, with the prospect to run another four weeks later -- less (running) was more.
Daily walks and two yoga sessions a week (for a total of six post marathon), with a couple of great deep tissue massages, have formed the cornerstone of my recovery. So far, (as of Thursday morning), I have done only four runs, the longest about 13K. And I feel good about that. I'll do at least one short training run before Sunday, possibly two.
Last night I finally felt confident enough to commit and registered for the Windermere marathon, held this Sunday. Triathlete Tim will be racing too, in the half marathon, which starts at the halfway point of the marathon. On paper the course looks great, though it is clearly not downhill all the way.
It sounds beautiful too. "The first 7.2 miles of the marathon runs through Liberty Lake’s upscale neighborhoods, pass Pavillion Park and well-groomed golf courses before connecting to the Centennial Trail at the Harvard Road Trailhead. The Centennial Trail follows the contours of the winding Spokane River and the views along the race route are a big part of the attraction of this race," according to the race website.
"The visible and audible Spokane River is usually flowing with white waters, thanks to the melting snows running off the nearby mountains. The exciting downhill Finish is in Downtown Spokane’s Howard Street Bridge in Riverfront Park."
Last but not least the race director, Elaine Koga-Kennelly, was not only encouraging, but also inspirational. "She has finished 101 marathons across the U.S.A. including Boston and Internationally (London, Paris, Great Wall of China, Victoria, BC) and also five Ultra-Marathons," I read in an article profiling her on the Spokane Metro Woman Blog. She now races in the 70-74 age group and I cannot wait to meet her.
As for my goal, I will begin at 6:51-per-mile pace, in other words aim for a 2:59 finish. The only way to find out if I can is to try. I am excited that I get to race another marathon, on a new course!
May 26, 2014
Some post-Vancouver marathon analysis
Three weeks have passed since I ran the 2014 Vancouver marathon; I have had time to reflect and analyze my race. As usual, this event was superbly organized and I recommend it, especially on the new (since 2012) course, which is more scenic and offers a flat final 10K (except for a minor incline in the final 500m to the finish).
Most notably, I loved the cheering volunteers that lined Stanley Park this year.
I was grateful to be able to start, grateful to feel confident enough to aim at improving my personal best of 3:00:29, which I ran on the same course in 2012. My body has bounced back from a one-year layoff with injury starting in June 2012 better than I'd expected. Not being able to run for such a long time has renewed my love for running and my appreciation for the ability to train and race again.
Even so, the Vancouver marathon did not go as I had planned, hoped. It is hard to pinpoint a reason but I have a few theories. The analysis is done to help me learn from this marathon, my 18th, and improve in the next. It also helped me decide to race another, if all goes well, as early as June 1.
A few things stood out for me in my Vancouver marathon experience:
1. It was a wet day.
2. About 4K into the race, I was stopped to allow traffic to cross the course. I stopped my watch almost immediately and did not time my stop because it would ruin my ability to track my race time.
3. About 13K into the race, I felt I was running below goal pace and picked it up.
4. I passed halfway at 90:02 on my watch.
5. About 25K into the race, I felt flat, lacking energy, and it became a matter of slowing down as little as possible.
6. I made sure to celebrate my finish, regardless of my time.
Re 1 the weather: since the conditions on race day are beyond a runner's control, I was determined to embrace whatever weather we were given. Perhaps that led me to ignore them completely, instead of adjusting my goals. Then again, the rain was not torrential (not that I can recall anyway) and the temperature was OK. I do not think the weather influenced my race much.
Re 2 While I had read about the possibility of being stopped for traffic, I had not expected this to happen to the runners on 3-hour pace. By 4K I had just found my rhythm, and was stunned when I, and other runners near me, had to stop. I tried to stay calm, but I might have spent a little more energy than was wise when we got running again. Did I go too fast here?
Re 3 After about 13K there was a short out-and-back section, and a timing mat. I remember thinking here that I was probably taking it too easy if I wanted to stick with my 2:59 goal, and that I needed to decide to commit to my goal now if I wanted to have a chance at achieving it. I might have sped up too much here.
Re 4 When I was stopped just after 4K, I also stopped my watch. There were timing mats to adjust our race time. So I did not take a split of our wait time, as I wanted to keep track of my race time overall. The official results show that I crossed the halfway point at 90:22, and they tracked my time at the 4K stop at 13 seconds, which would put me at halfway at 90:09. My own watch showed me passing halfway at 90:02--I remember thinking at this stage, great, I am on track for 2:59.
Re 5 But after about 25K my energy levels just sank. My body also felt stiff, particularly on the right side. Was it just a dip? Would I feel better in a few kilometres? Had I run too fast? Was I having an off-day? I focused on running as well as I felt I could, trying to slow down as little as possible. But I knew I was slowing. And could feel my Sub-3 goal slipping away.
Re 6 As I ran to the finish line, I felt a surge of happiness. The clock ahead read 3:06-something. More than six minutes slower than two years ago. Seven minutes slower than my goal. But I was here finishing a marathon, when a year earlier I had still been unable to run, without any sign that I might return to training at all. So I celebrated. A 3:06 marathon is nothing to be disappointed about as an amateur runner. Heck, finishing a marathon at all is worth some fist-pumping.
As it turned out, photographer Pat Cheung captured that moment:
Most notably, I loved the cheering volunteers that lined Stanley Park this year.
I was grateful to be able to start, grateful to feel confident enough to aim at improving my personal best of 3:00:29, which I ran on the same course in 2012. My body has bounced back from a one-year layoff with injury starting in June 2012 better than I'd expected. Not being able to run for such a long time has renewed my love for running and my appreciation for the ability to train and race again.
Even so, the Vancouver marathon did not go as I had planned, hoped. It is hard to pinpoint a reason but I have a few theories. The analysis is done to help me learn from this marathon, my 18th, and improve in the next. It also helped me decide to race another, if all goes well, as early as June 1.
A few things stood out for me in my Vancouver marathon experience:
1. It was a wet day.
2. About 4K into the race, I was stopped to allow traffic to cross the course. I stopped my watch almost immediately and did not time my stop because it would ruin my ability to track my race time.
3. About 13K into the race, I felt I was running below goal pace and picked it up.
4. I passed halfway at 90:02 on my watch.
5. About 25K into the race, I felt flat, lacking energy, and it became a matter of slowing down as little as possible.
6. I made sure to celebrate my finish, regardless of my time.
Re 1 the weather: since the conditions on race day are beyond a runner's control, I was determined to embrace whatever weather we were given. Perhaps that led me to ignore them completely, instead of adjusting my goals. Then again, the rain was not torrential (not that I can recall anyway) and the temperature was OK. I do not think the weather influenced my race much.
Re 2 While I had read about the possibility of being stopped for traffic, I had not expected this to happen to the runners on 3-hour pace. By 4K I had just found my rhythm, and was stunned when I, and other runners near me, had to stop. I tried to stay calm, but I might have spent a little more energy than was wise when we got running again. Did I go too fast here?
Re 3 After about 13K there was a short out-and-back section, and a timing mat. I remember thinking here that I was probably taking it too easy if I wanted to stick with my 2:59 goal, and that I needed to decide to commit to my goal now if I wanted to have a chance at achieving it. I might have sped up too much here.
Re 4 When I was stopped just after 4K, I also stopped my watch. There were timing mats to adjust our race time. So I did not take a split of our wait time, as I wanted to keep track of my race time overall. The official results show that I crossed the halfway point at 90:22, and they tracked my time at the 4K stop at 13 seconds, which would put me at halfway at 90:09. My own watch showed me passing halfway at 90:02--I remember thinking at this stage, great, I am on track for 2:59.
Re 5 But after about 25K my energy levels just sank. My body also felt stiff, particularly on the right side. Was it just a dip? Would I feel better in a few kilometres? Had I run too fast? Was I having an off-day? I focused on running as well as I felt I could, trying to slow down as little as possible. But I knew I was slowing. And could feel my Sub-3 goal slipping away.
Re 6 As I ran to the finish line, I felt a surge of happiness. The clock ahead read 3:06-something. More than six minutes slower than two years ago. Seven minutes slower than my goal. But I was here finishing a marathon, when a year earlier I had still been unable to run, without any sign that I might return to training at all. So I celebrated. A 3:06 marathon is nothing to be disappointed about as an amateur runner. Heck, finishing a marathon at all is worth some fist-pumping.
As it turned out, photographer Pat Cheung captured that moment:
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| Each marathon finish is worth celebrating |
April 28, 2014
Taking stock before Vancouver marathon
Six days to go until the BMO Vancouver Marathon. A year ago I could not race, I could not even run. So I am extra grateful to
be on the start line in 2014 as one of the elite runners again.
It will be my fifth start at this event, which has brought me both my slowest and my fastest times for the 10 marathons I have run since moving (back) to Canada 6-1/2 years ago: 3:12:56 in 2008 and 3:00:29 in 2012. The latter was a breakthrough marathon, a personal best by 5:37.
Like in 2012, I plan to start at 4:15/km pace, and aim to finish in 2:59. I am confident but also well aware that there are no guarantees in the marathon: this will be my 18th after all. While it may seem that I have been at this Sub-3 marathon thing for a while, this is only my third marathon that I am actually starting at Sub-3 pace.
Last December I began the Seattle marathon at Sub-3 pace too. Things were a little different. After a one-year enforced layoff from running starting in July 2012 because of injury, I had to build up my training again; I could not simply begin where I had left off. In the 17 weeks leading up to the 2012 Vancouver marathon, I had run 1,914 kilometres, an average of 112K a week.
In the 15 weeks leading up to the Seattle marathon in December 2013, I ran 915K, an average of 61K per week. Yet I had a fantastic race in Seattle, hitting halfway in 89:14, or 55 seconds faster than ever, and passed 20 miles (32K) in 2:15:32, an average of 4:13 per K or 6:47 per mile. At the 2012 Vancouver marathon, I timed myself at 30K in 2:08:08. At Seattle's pace as timed by the 32K mark, I would have hit 30K in 2:06:30.
While this is a moot point in terms of finish time--Seattle offers a hilly final 10K and I finished in 3:05 there, I was encouraged to see that a year-long break from run training had not affected my speed as much as I had feared. In fact, that's an understatement; I was elated to see how quick I had come back to a similar level.
For the 2014 Vancouver marathon, I had planned to up my weekly mileage again. But I got accepted into a one-year creative writing program, landed a big book project, and also was still trying to keep up with my Czech language studies. Something had to give and it was the amount of run training I did in preparation for this marathon, though I made sure not to compromise on quality.
As it turns out, I have run 1,037K, an average of 61K per week, over the past 17 weeks, the same weekly volume I did for Seattle. This number, however, does not reflect the fact that I did longer long runs.
Before Seattle, my longest runs were three 32Ks; this time I did three 35Ks and one 39K. I managed to do them at a decent average pace too, with the first 35K at 4:57 per K, the second at 4:42, then I ran 39K at 4:45, and the final 35K at 5:02 (I was tired for that final 35K, a week following a 87:04 in the April Fool's half marathon, and after running 18K the previous day.)
Before Vancouver 2012, my longest runs had been 32K in 5:09 per K, 35K at 5:00, 39K at 5:02, 35K at 5:03. Of course then I ran double the weekly volume from what I have been doing for this marathon, so naturally I was more fatigued for my long runs too.
In the lead-up to Seattle 2013 I ran my 32Ks at 4:51 per K, 4:56, and 4:53 respectively. (I had a few superb medium long runs including a 29K at 4:38 per K, a 17.5K at 4:28, and a 19K at 4:34.)
Last Wednesday, I did my final track workout: three 1-mile repeats. Before Vancouver 2012, I did those in 6:03, 5:54 and 5:53, hands down my fastest until then. Before Seattle 2013, I ran 6:15, 6:13 and 6:03. Last week, I ran 6:01, 6:01, and 6:04.
In terms of racing, I ran the First Half in February in 88:40 (compared with 87:27 in 2012) and the April Fool's in 87:04 (compared with 86:54 in 2012). Though in April Fool's 2014, I hit 10K in 40:26 (41:00 in 2012) and 16K in 65:54 (66:32 in 2012).
I also did a couple of 10Ks, the first in fresh snow for a time of 41:52 and one race my Garmin measured at 9.5K in 39:16, or 4:09 per K -- a second slower per kilometre than I ran for more than twice the distance the following week in the half marathon. Go figure! Those 10Ks were helpful in terms of lifting my effort beyond what I would be able to achieve on my own in training.
In the last month, since the April Fool's half marathon, I have been quite tired,
partly from running and partly from work and studies, and that has
been reflected in the pace of my recent runs. It's also normal overall fatigue towards the end of marathon preparations, so I am not
too worried about that.
Last week I already felt much better than the week before that, so the taper should have worked its magic by the end of this week, perfectly in time for race day on May 4.
I am grateful and excited to race! (And, yes, a little scared too but that's a good thing.)
It will be my fifth start at this event, which has brought me both my slowest and my fastest times for the 10 marathons I have run since moving (back) to Canada 6-1/2 years ago: 3:12:56 in 2008 and 3:00:29 in 2012. The latter was a breakthrough marathon, a personal best by 5:37.
Like in 2012, I plan to start at 4:15/km pace, and aim to finish in 2:59. I am confident but also well aware that there are no guarantees in the marathon: this will be my 18th after all. While it may seem that I have been at this Sub-3 marathon thing for a while, this is only my third marathon that I am actually starting at Sub-3 pace.
Last December I began the Seattle marathon at Sub-3 pace too. Things were a little different. After a one-year enforced layoff from running starting in July 2012 because of injury, I had to build up my training again; I could not simply begin where I had left off. In the 17 weeks leading up to the 2012 Vancouver marathon, I had run 1,914 kilometres, an average of 112K a week.
In the 15 weeks leading up to the Seattle marathon in December 2013, I ran 915K, an average of 61K per week. Yet I had a fantastic race in Seattle, hitting halfway in 89:14, or 55 seconds faster than ever, and passed 20 miles (32K) in 2:15:32, an average of 4:13 per K or 6:47 per mile. At the 2012 Vancouver marathon, I timed myself at 30K in 2:08:08. At Seattle's pace as timed by the 32K mark, I would have hit 30K in 2:06:30.
While this is a moot point in terms of finish time--Seattle offers a hilly final 10K and I finished in 3:05 there, I was encouraged to see that a year-long break from run training had not affected my speed as much as I had feared. In fact, that's an understatement; I was elated to see how quick I had come back to a similar level.
For the 2014 Vancouver marathon, I had planned to up my weekly mileage again. But I got accepted into a one-year creative writing program, landed a big book project, and also was still trying to keep up with my Czech language studies. Something had to give and it was the amount of run training I did in preparation for this marathon, though I made sure not to compromise on quality.
As it turns out, I have run 1,037K, an average of 61K per week, over the past 17 weeks, the same weekly volume I did for Seattle. This number, however, does not reflect the fact that I did longer long runs.
Before Seattle, my longest runs were three 32Ks; this time I did three 35Ks and one 39K. I managed to do them at a decent average pace too, with the first 35K at 4:57 per K, the second at 4:42, then I ran 39K at 4:45, and the final 35K at 5:02 (I was tired for that final 35K, a week following a 87:04 in the April Fool's half marathon, and after running 18K the previous day.)
Before Vancouver 2012, my longest runs had been 32K in 5:09 per K, 35K at 5:00, 39K at 5:02, 35K at 5:03. Of course then I ran double the weekly volume from what I have been doing for this marathon, so naturally I was more fatigued for my long runs too.
In the lead-up to Seattle 2013 I ran my 32Ks at 4:51 per K, 4:56, and 4:53 respectively. (I had a few superb medium long runs including a 29K at 4:38 per K, a 17.5K at 4:28, and a 19K at 4:34.)
Last Wednesday, I did my final track workout: three 1-mile repeats. Before Vancouver 2012, I did those in 6:03, 5:54 and 5:53, hands down my fastest until then. Before Seattle 2013, I ran 6:15, 6:13 and 6:03. Last week, I ran 6:01, 6:01, and 6:04.
 |
| Photo Greg Herringer |
I also did a couple of 10Ks, the first in fresh snow for a time of 41:52 and one race my Garmin measured at 9.5K in 39:16, or 4:09 per K -- a second slower per kilometre than I ran for more than twice the distance the following week in the half marathon. Go figure! Those 10Ks were helpful in terms of lifting my effort beyond what I would be able to achieve on my own in training.
 |
| Photo Rick Horne |
Last week I already felt much better than the week before that, so the taper should have worked its magic by the end of this week, perfectly in time for race day on May 4.
I am grateful and excited to race! (And, yes, a little scared too but that's a good thing.)
February 14, 2014
First race of 2014: a half
It has been two years since I ran the First Half Marathon, a popular Vancouver race. In 2012, I ran 87:27, my fastest then over the 21.1K distance, and an improvement from my 89:39 in 2009 and 89:46 in 2011 on the same course. Since then, I have run three faster half marathons.
My best, 86:54, came in April 2012, followed by 87:02 in June 2012. Then injury and no training for an entire year. The first half since then, in October 2013, I ran in 87:14.
I am not sure what I will aim for this Sunday -- I am healthy and enjoying my training. My weekly volume has been low, barely half of what I was running in the lead-up to my fastest half in 2012. Partly I have been cautious as I returned to training following a 5-week recovery from the Seattle marathon 2-1/2 months ago. And partly I have been quite busy.
Most of my training so far this year has been focused on endurance, I have done very little speed.
I'd like to improve my time on the First Half course, ie better 87:27. In the 2012 edition I passed the first mile marker in 6:39, and ended up with an average pace of 6:41 mile, or 4:09 per K.
But I am also tempted to use the event as a marathon race pace run, ie 4:15 per K, or 6:52 per mile, as I just this week received confirmation of my spot in the Vancouver marathon on May 4.
I'll see how the legs and lungs feel Sunday morning and take it from there. I am definitely looking forward to the first race of 2014, especially considering that only a year ago I was not able to run at all.
My best, 86:54, came in April 2012, followed by 87:02 in June 2012. Then injury and no training for an entire year. The first half since then, in October 2013, I ran in 87:14.
I am not sure what I will aim for this Sunday -- I am healthy and enjoying my training. My weekly volume has been low, barely half of what I was running in the lead-up to my fastest half in 2012. Partly I have been cautious as I returned to training following a 5-week recovery from the Seattle marathon 2-1/2 months ago. And partly I have been quite busy.
Most of my training so far this year has been focused on endurance, I have done very little speed.
I'd like to improve my time on the First Half course, ie better 87:27. In the 2012 edition I passed the first mile marker in 6:39, and ended up with an average pace of 6:41 mile, or 4:09 per K.
But I am also tempted to use the event as a marathon race pace run, ie 4:15 per K, or 6:52 per mile, as I just this week received confirmation of my spot in the Vancouver marathon on May 4.
I'll see how the legs and lungs feel Sunday morning and take it from there. I am definitely looking forward to the first race of 2014, especially considering that only a year ago I was not able to run at all.
November 25, 2013
Time for my first post-injury marathon
In six days I will start a marathon, my first marathon in 18 months, my first marathon since an injury stopped my training for more than a year, my first marathon since I ran my fastest in 3:00:29 in May 2012. I am excited. And scared, too.
After 16 marathons, I have great respect for this distance. And a return to training after my first injury-induced layoff in 18 years of running has only served to increase that reverence.
Forty two kilometres is a long way to run and anything can happen. There are no guarantees, except that it will be both exhilarating and hard.
I last wrote on this blog some three months ago when I had just started an 18-week marathon training program I had chosen, very excited and grateful to be able to do so. By then I had been able to build up to a long run of 18K, the longest distance I had run in 15 months, which I clearly noticed mentally and physically.
It was a challenge to start an 18K session, as much as I was grateful for my renewed ability to run that far following that enforced break. A year without run training is a very long time and, as I wrote in my previous blog post, I expected to need at least a year to get back to the level of training I had been able to do consistently before my injury.
In the lead-up to my 3:00:29 marathon, I ran more than 100K a week, as many as 140K, in daily training sessions. My mid-week runs alone were 24K, with my long runs topping out at 36K.
I could not expect to do this again straightaway. I had to return to marathon training carefully—my body would need time to get used to running again. I chose a program that maxed out at a weekly volume of 88K (though, as it turned out, I never did run that). The program had five days of running per week.
In fact, I was not entirely sure whether I would be able to get ready—physically and mentally—to run a marathon before the end of 2013.
Realizing marathon starts never come with guarantees about finish time, I also did not want to start one if I did not feel 3:15 was possible—the slowest of my last 12 marathons over the past seven years. Again, possible does not mean guarantee.
On September 14, I did a 15K race in Bellingham. I was surprised to finish in 61:41, an average pace of 4:07 per kilometre and 6:37 per mile. I remember passing the 10K mark in 40.44 there, 65 seconds faster than the Squamish 10K six weeks earlier.
Increasing my running volume was great but also tough. My weekly long runs, which slowly got longer again, felt challenging mentally and I was glad they would top out at 32K, equally glad I would only have to run three of them.
In that first post-injury 32K run at the end of September, it took me half the out-and-back run to shake the mental weight of having to go that far. I did not wear a Garmin that day, but ran for 2 hours 37 minutes to cover what I believe was 32K, so an average pace of about 5 minutes per K, just under 8-minute miles. A normal average pace for most of my (long) runs.
On October 6, I ran my first half marathon post-injury, my first 21.1K in 15 months. I was not sure what to expect. I used that race to gauge my appetite for a marathon, deciding at 16K into the race that the idea of racing 42K eight weeks later was very unappealing.
I ended up crossing the line in 87:14, my third-fastest time ever and only 20 seconds slower than my best. I ran an average 4:08 per kilometre, or 6:39 per mile, compared with 4:07 per K, or 6:38 per mile, for the PB I ran in April 2012.
Triathlete Tim helped change my mind on the marathon, saying, “I would -- you have just run 87 minutes.” I locked in the Seattle Marathon on December 1.
I had eight weeks of preparation left.
That same week, on October 10 I returned to the track for the first time in 15 months, for a session of five 800s, as per my program. I ran 3:00, 2:59, 2:57, 2:57, and 2:55, and was happy with those. By comparison, in March 2012, I had run six 800s on the same track, doing 3:01, 2:56, 2:59. 2:58, 2:59, and 2:59, while in July 2011 I had done six 800s in 3:06, 3:01, 2:59, 3:01, 3:01, and (wait for it) 3:01.
On October 14, I did a 10K race around flat Stanley Park in Vancouver. Conditions were great, and I felt good, strong. I crossed the line in 39:48, but wondered if the distance was accurate as the start line had been moved. If correct, it would mark my fourth Sub-40 10K finish ever (I ran 2 in early 2009, and No. 3 in April 2012).
On October 16, I did my second 32K run, ending up with an average of 4:56 per kilometre, covering the first half in 4:58 per K and the second in 4:54. I was very happy with that.
On October 19 I flew to the Netherlands to visit my parents and grandmother for two weeks. I had not seen them for two years, and did not want my marathon training to hijack my time there.
Over those two weeks, I (happily) ran less than half of what I was supposed to run and missed two key track sessions. But there was a great surprise too.
I had axed a plan to do a race in the Netherlands and opted for a 29K training run instead. It was an extremely blustery Sunday morning as a big storm was about to hit the Dutch coast, later causing millions of euros of damage and claiming one life.
My Garmin showed a quick running pace in the first half, as I averaged 4:25 per kilometre over the first 17.7K. Smiling, I knew it had to be the wind that gave me wings and that it would come back to slow me down on the way home, as it did.
Still, I ended up with an average pace of 4:38 per K for those 29K—a marked increase over my usual pace of about 5 minutes per K. I wondered if something was wrong with my Garmin.
On November 4, the day after I returned home. I ran 17.5K at an average 4:28 per K, according to my Garmin. Huh.
Four days later, on November 8, I did another semi-long run of nearly 19K, averaging 4:34K.
On November 10, it was time for my third and final 32K training run of this marathon preparation, and was pleased with a 4:53 per K average.
On November 12, there was a track workout, with five 600s. I ran them in 2:12 to 2:15, a solid pace but nothing stellar. They were hard work.
On November 16, it was time to race, a 10K in Richmond on a cold but sunny morning, with a flat out-and-back course. I felt good and ran hard, crossing the line in 39:04. If accurate, it is my fastest 10K by 35 seconds.
Four days later I ran three 1,600s on the track. I had been dreading this session because the 600s, which I was doing at the same pace I was meant to hold for the 1,600s, had already felt hard. A 600 is only 1-1/2 laps on the track, while 1,600 takes four of them.
I did not feel like digging super-deep, just 10 days away from a marathon I am still scared of running. I took 6:17, 6:13, and 6:03. Ten days before my 3:00:29 marathon in May 2012, I did the same session in 6:03, 5:54, and 5:53, i.e. a lot faster.
So, overall I take heart from some solid race results, crossing my fingers the courses were accurate, as well as some great training runs in recent weeks where I was able to hold a faster average speed than I am used to. I have three 32K runs under my belt, and I feel good, excited and am looking forward to testing my level of fitness.
On the flipside, this is the first marathon ever for which I have not done a single three-hour training run—I used to do three to five of those before each marathon! I certainly feel underdone when it comes to long runs, as those always give me confidence. This time my longest runs were still 10K short of the distance I want to cover at a fast pace this Sunday.
Also, I missed out on some key track speed sessions, as reflected in those 1,600s I did last week. That’s OK though.
I do not know the Seattle course, other than from what I have seen on online course maps, showing that it saves the hills for the end.
Nine-time Seattle marathon winner Uli Steidl told The Seattle Times last year that it is unrealistic to expect to keep the same pace in the final third of the course, as in the first two-thirds. "You just have to know it's coming," Steidl said of the hilly last third. "The Galer and Madison Street [hill], people are pretty afraid of it."
I am just so grateful at having been able to prepare for another marathon again and the thought of starting one, as scary as it is, is also a dream come true. I am going to keep an open mind and, as my wise friend Dessie Suttle says, "Relax and let it happen."
***
Marathon history (excluding my first 4 marathons of 4:18 in Ottawa 1999, 4:44 in Sydney 2001, 3:24 in Gold Coast 2003 and 3:36 in Honolulu 2003):
Finish 1st half 2nd half
5. July 2006 Gold Coast 3:13:01 96:25 96:36
6. April 2007 Canberra 3:08:48 93:04 95:44
7. July 2007 Gold Coast 3:15:13 93:14 101:59
8. May 2008 Vancouver 3:12:56 93:17 99:39
9. Sept 2008 Victoria 3:07:10 93:37 93:33
10. May 2009 Vancouver 3:10:19 94:26 95:53
11. June 2009 NODM 3:10:39 92:53 97:44
12. April 2010 Rotterdam 3:11:51 96:06 95:45
13. May 2011 Vancouver 3:07:41 93:5X 93:5X
14. Sept 2011 Bellingham 3:09:40 92:02 97:38
15. October 2011 Victoria 3:06:06 91:23 95:42
16. May 2012 Vancouver 3:00:29 90:09 90:20 * PB
After 16 marathons, I have great respect for this distance. And a return to training after my first injury-induced layoff in 18 years of running has only served to increase that reverence.
Forty two kilometres is a long way to run and anything can happen. There are no guarantees, except that it will be both exhilarating and hard.
I last wrote on this blog some three months ago when I had just started an 18-week marathon training program I had chosen, very excited and grateful to be able to do so. By then I had been able to build up to a long run of 18K, the longest distance I had run in 15 months, which I clearly noticed mentally and physically.
It was a challenge to start an 18K session, as much as I was grateful for my renewed ability to run that far following that enforced break. A year without run training is a very long time and, as I wrote in my previous blog post, I expected to need at least a year to get back to the level of training I had been able to do consistently before my injury.
In the lead-up to my 3:00:29 marathon, I ran more than 100K a week, as many as 140K, in daily training sessions. My mid-week runs alone were 24K, with my long runs topping out at 36K.
I could not expect to do this again straightaway. I had to return to marathon training carefully—my body would need time to get used to running again. I chose a program that maxed out at a weekly volume of 88K (though, as it turned out, I never did run that). The program had five days of running per week.
In fact, I was not entirely sure whether I would be able to get ready—physically and mentally—to run a marathon before the end of 2013.
Realizing marathon starts never come with guarantees about finish time, I also did not want to start one if I did not feel 3:15 was possible—the slowest of my last 12 marathons over the past seven years. Again, possible does not mean guarantee.
On September 14, I did a 15K race in Bellingham. I was surprised to finish in 61:41, an average pace of 4:07 per kilometre and 6:37 per mile. I remember passing the 10K mark in 40.44 there, 65 seconds faster than the Squamish 10K six weeks earlier.
Increasing my running volume was great but also tough. My weekly long runs, which slowly got longer again, felt challenging mentally and I was glad they would top out at 32K, equally glad I would only have to run three of them.
In that first post-injury 32K run at the end of September, it took me half the out-and-back run to shake the mental weight of having to go that far. I did not wear a Garmin that day, but ran for 2 hours 37 minutes to cover what I believe was 32K, so an average pace of about 5 minutes per K, just under 8-minute miles. A normal average pace for most of my (long) runs.
On October 6, I ran my first half marathon post-injury, my first 21.1K in 15 months. I was not sure what to expect. I used that race to gauge my appetite for a marathon, deciding at 16K into the race that the idea of racing 42K eight weeks later was very unappealing.
I ended up crossing the line in 87:14, my third-fastest time ever and only 20 seconds slower than my best. I ran an average 4:08 per kilometre, or 6:39 per mile, compared with 4:07 per K, or 6:38 per mile, for the PB I ran in April 2012.
Triathlete Tim helped change my mind on the marathon, saying, “I would -- you have just run 87 minutes.” I locked in the Seattle Marathon on December 1.
I had eight weeks of preparation left.
That same week, on October 10 I returned to the track for the first time in 15 months, for a session of five 800s, as per my program. I ran 3:00, 2:59, 2:57, 2:57, and 2:55, and was happy with those. By comparison, in March 2012, I had run six 800s on the same track, doing 3:01, 2:56, 2:59. 2:58, 2:59, and 2:59, while in July 2011 I had done six 800s in 3:06, 3:01, 2:59, 3:01, 3:01, and (wait for it) 3:01.
On October 14, I did a 10K race around flat Stanley Park in Vancouver. Conditions were great, and I felt good, strong. I crossed the line in 39:48, but wondered if the distance was accurate as the start line had been moved. If correct, it would mark my fourth Sub-40 10K finish ever (I ran 2 in early 2009, and No. 3 in April 2012).
On October 16, I did my second 32K run, ending up with an average of 4:56 per kilometre, covering the first half in 4:58 per K and the second in 4:54. I was very happy with that.
On October 19 I flew to the Netherlands to visit my parents and grandmother for two weeks. I had not seen them for two years, and did not want my marathon training to hijack my time there.
Over those two weeks, I (happily) ran less than half of what I was supposed to run and missed two key track sessions. But there was a great surprise too.
I had axed a plan to do a race in the Netherlands and opted for a 29K training run instead. It was an extremely blustery Sunday morning as a big storm was about to hit the Dutch coast, later causing millions of euros of damage and claiming one life.
My Garmin showed a quick running pace in the first half, as I averaged 4:25 per kilometre over the first 17.7K. Smiling, I knew it had to be the wind that gave me wings and that it would come back to slow me down on the way home, as it did.
Still, I ended up with an average pace of 4:38 per K for those 29K—a marked increase over my usual pace of about 5 minutes per K. I wondered if something was wrong with my Garmin.
On November 4, the day after I returned home. I ran 17.5K at an average 4:28 per K, according to my Garmin. Huh.
Four days later, on November 8, I did another semi-long run of nearly 19K, averaging 4:34K.
On November 10, it was time for my third and final 32K training run of this marathon preparation, and was pleased with a 4:53 per K average.
On November 12, there was a track workout, with five 600s. I ran them in 2:12 to 2:15, a solid pace but nothing stellar. They were hard work.
On November 16, it was time to race, a 10K in Richmond on a cold but sunny morning, with a flat out-and-back course. I felt good and ran hard, crossing the line in 39:04. If accurate, it is my fastest 10K by 35 seconds.
Four days later I ran three 1,600s on the track. I had been dreading this session because the 600s, which I was doing at the same pace I was meant to hold for the 1,600s, had already felt hard. A 600 is only 1-1/2 laps on the track, while 1,600 takes four of them.
I did not feel like digging super-deep, just 10 days away from a marathon I am still scared of running. I took 6:17, 6:13, and 6:03. Ten days before my 3:00:29 marathon in May 2012, I did the same session in 6:03, 5:54, and 5:53, i.e. a lot faster.
So, overall I take heart from some solid race results, crossing my fingers the courses were accurate, as well as some great training runs in recent weeks where I was able to hold a faster average speed than I am used to. I have three 32K runs under my belt, and I feel good, excited and am looking forward to testing my level of fitness.
On the flipside, this is the first marathon ever for which I have not done a single three-hour training run—I used to do three to five of those before each marathon! I certainly feel underdone when it comes to long runs, as those always give me confidence. This time my longest runs were still 10K short of the distance I want to cover at a fast pace this Sunday.
Also, I missed out on some key track speed sessions, as reflected in those 1,600s I did last week. That’s OK though.
I do not know the Seattle course, other than from what I have seen on online course maps, showing that it saves the hills for the end.
Nine-time Seattle marathon winner Uli Steidl told The Seattle Times last year that it is unrealistic to expect to keep the same pace in the final third of the course, as in the first two-thirds. "You just have to know it's coming," Steidl said of the hilly last third. "The Galer and Madison Street [hill], people are pretty afraid of it."
I am just so grateful at having been able to prepare for another marathon again and the thought of starting one, as scary as it is, is also a dream come true. I am going to keep an open mind and, as my wise friend Dessie Suttle says, "Relax and let it happen."
***
Marathon history (excluding my first 4 marathons of 4:18 in Ottawa 1999, 4:44 in Sydney 2001, 3:24 in Gold Coast 2003 and 3:36 in Honolulu 2003):
Finish 1st half 2nd half
5. July 2006 Gold Coast 3:13:01 96:25 96:36
6. April 2007 Canberra 3:08:48 93:04 95:44
7. July 2007 Gold Coast 3:15:13 93:14 101:59
8. May 2008 Vancouver 3:12:56 93:17 99:39
9. Sept 2008 Victoria 3:07:10 93:37 93:33
10. May 2009 Vancouver 3:10:19 94:26 95:53
11. June 2009 NODM 3:10:39 92:53 97:44
12. April 2010 Rotterdam 3:11:51 96:06 95:45
13. May 2011 Vancouver 3:07:41 93:5X 93:5X
14. Sept 2011 Bellingham 3:09:40 92:02 97:38
15. October 2011 Victoria 3:06:06 91:23 95:42
16. May 2012 Vancouver 3:00:29 90:09 90:20 * PB
August 15, 2013
A return to marathon training
Last week I started a new training program -- an 18-week marathon preparation.
It feels amazing, exciting -- and natural. After all, I am a marathon runner, I train for marathons.
It has been only 10 weeks since my return to running, following a year of enforced layoff to sort out mysterious heel pain that failed to respond to various types of treatments and stumped a top sports doctor.
In those last 10 weeks I went from running two 5-minute stretches, with a 5-minute walk in between, to running 85 minutes.
I went from wondering if I would run again to, well ... running, and increasingly running freely.
It is an amazing transformation that has taken a lot of hard work at the Bikram yoga studio over the past eight months, especially in the last 3-1/2 months during which I took 80 classes. It is progress that I certainly do not take for granted, and I am carefully starting to rebuild a running base.
As mentioned in previous posts, I used Pete Pfitzinger's Return to Running program; however, earlier in the year I had done another program, which began with four stretches of only 30 seconds of running in a 20-minute power-walk (after I had worked up to an hour of pain-free power-walking following a four-month complete break from running and, prior to that, three months of short and irregular runs because of the recurring heel pain), and gradually increased to four 4-minute stretches of running with 1-minute walks between each over a period of seven weeks.
Then I had started the Return to Running program (on March 26) and followed it for 3-1/2 weeks, getting up to 3 stretches of 10 minutes of running, with 2-minute walk breaks, before finding that a single 15-minute run brought back the heel symptoms. I did not run for the next 5-1/2 weeks, while doing 32 Bikram yoga classes over 32 days.
The Return to Running program, which I started for the second time on June 4, went very well and got me to running 40-45K per week, with my longest run at the end of the 7-week schedule at 55 minutes on July 22.
Five days later I ended up doing an 85-minute run, 10-15 minutes more than I had originally intended, joining Triathlete Tim for an awesome lap of the Ironman Whistler run course; my body felt OK during, and after, that session, helped by a deep tissue massage the next day
With that, I decided I would try the lowest-volume 18-week program from Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning, which begins with a 53-kilometre week and tops out at an 88-kilometre one, reducing some of the longer runs in the first few weeks by a couple of kilometres.
I began the program after, or in a way with, the Squamish 10K on August 4 as the fist session called for a lactate threshold workout.
The Sub-3 marathon is still on my mind. Of course it it. Indeed, it was a key motivation over the past year as I did the work required to restore my body -- but I expect it will take at least a year of training before I will be back to the level, both in training and in racing, I was before my injury.
And that's OK.
With this marathon program, I am aiming at getting back into regular training first and foremost, rebuilding my endurance, and in the process slowly start regaining some of the speed I have lost. I have mapped out the schedule to target a US marathon in December but since getting to the race involves booking flights and accommodation I first want to see how some longer runs and tempo runs feel before I commit any funds.
I am in new territory, physically and mentally, and I am monitoring my body carefully to gauge how it responds to training consistently again after such a long break.
Bikram yoga is certainly part of my new marathon training regime. I believe that my body is in better shape than ever in terms of strength and flexibility and at the same time I know -- I see it in the mirror during every practice -- that there are many more gains to be made. That's encouraging.
I firmly believe that I have come out ahead, and I am truly grateful my body protested so that it forced me to listen to it better, help it perform better. I am excited about slowly rebuilding my running fitness over the coming year, with two 18-week marathon preparations -- the next one hopefully upping the weekly volume to between 88K and 113K -- followed by a six-week recovery in between each.
By this time next year, I hope to be ready for another increase in training volume, returning me to the schedule that helped me speed up my marathon time by more than five minutes last year, the schedule that also allowed me to set my current PBs at the 10K and half marathon.
But my mind is right here, right now, loving the fact that I can go for a mid-week 75-minute run and do a 90-minute Bikram practice later in the day. I love to run -- I have always loved to run, and now I love it even more. I am so grateful that I can.
It feels amazing, exciting -- and natural. After all, I am a marathon runner, I train for marathons.
It has been only 10 weeks since my return to running, following a year of enforced layoff to sort out mysterious heel pain that failed to respond to various types of treatments and stumped a top sports doctor.
In those last 10 weeks I went from running two 5-minute stretches, with a 5-minute walk in between, to running 85 minutes.
I went from wondering if I would run again to, well ... running, and increasingly running freely.
It is an amazing transformation that has taken a lot of hard work at the Bikram yoga studio over the past eight months, especially in the last 3-1/2 months during which I took 80 classes. It is progress that I certainly do not take for granted, and I am carefully starting to rebuild a running base.
As mentioned in previous posts, I used Pete Pfitzinger's Return to Running program; however, earlier in the year I had done another program, which began with four stretches of only 30 seconds of running in a 20-minute power-walk (after I had worked up to an hour of pain-free power-walking following a four-month complete break from running and, prior to that, three months of short and irregular runs because of the recurring heel pain), and gradually increased to four 4-minute stretches of running with 1-minute walks between each over a period of seven weeks.
Then I had started the Return to Running program (on March 26) and followed it for 3-1/2 weeks, getting up to 3 stretches of 10 minutes of running, with 2-minute walk breaks, before finding that a single 15-minute run brought back the heel symptoms. I did not run for the next 5-1/2 weeks, while doing 32 Bikram yoga classes over 32 days.
The Return to Running program, which I started for the second time on June 4, went very well and got me to running 40-45K per week, with my longest run at the end of the 7-week schedule at 55 minutes on July 22.
Five days later I ended up doing an 85-minute run, 10-15 minutes more than I had originally intended, joining Triathlete Tim for an awesome lap of the Ironman Whistler run course; my body felt OK during, and after, that session, helped by a deep tissue massage the next day
With that, I decided I would try the lowest-volume 18-week program from Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning, which begins with a 53-kilometre week and tops out at an 88-kilometre one, reducing some of the longer runs in the first few weeks by a couple of kilometres.
I began the program after, or in a way with, the Squamish 10K on August 4 as the fist session called for a lactate threshold workout.
The Sub-3 marathon is still on my mind. Of course it it. Indeed, it was a key motivation over the past year as I did the work required to restore my body -- but I expect it will take at least a year of training before I will be back to the level, both in training and in racing, I was before my injury.
And that's OK.
With this marathon program, I am aiming at getting back into regular training first and foremost, rebuilding my endurance, and in the process slowly start regaining some of the speed I have lost. I have mapped out the schedule to target a US marathon in December but since getting to the race involves booking flights and accommodation I first want to see how some longer runs and tempo runs feel before I commit any funds.
I am in new territory, physically and mentally, and I am monitoring my body carefully to gauge how it responds to training consistently again after such a long break.
Bikram yoga is certainly part of my new marathon training regime. I believe that my body is in better shape than ever in terms of strength and flexibility and at the same time I know -- I see it in the mirror during every practice -- that there are many more gains to be made. That's encouraging.
I firmly believe that I have come out ahead, and I am truly grateful my body protested so that it forced me to listen to it better, help it perform better. I am excited about slowly rebuilding my running fitness over the coming year, with two 18-week marathon preparations -- the next one hopefully upping the weekly volume to between 88K and 113K -- followed by a six-week recovery in between each.
By this time next year, I hope to be ready for another increase in training volume, returning me to the schedule that helped me speed up my marathon time by more than five minutes last year, the schedule that also allowed me to set my current PBs at the 10K and half marathon.
But my mind is right here, right now, loving the fact that I can go for a mid-week 75-minute run and do a 90-minute Bikram practice later in the day. I love to run -- I have always loved to run, and now I love it even more. I am so grateful that I can.
August 05, 2013
First comeback race - a 10K baseline
Yesterday I did my first race in almost 14 months.
I dropped off my registration only six days earlier, when the previous day's 17K run bolstered my confidence about the wisdom of running the Squamish Days 10K to mark -- celebrate -- my return to running.
It is amazing how fast my body has progressed in the last two months. After all, it was only on June 4 that I gingerly tried running again with a session consisting of a 15-minute walking warm-up, followed by a 5-minute run, a 5-minute walk, a 5-minute run, and a 15-minute walking cool-down.
I knew I could run a 10K distance by July 15, or three weeks ago, when I did a 50-minute run. But running an easy 10K in training and doing it in a race are two very different things.
In the last year I have done no training to speak of, as all "runs" were curtailed by and ended in heel pain. I have certainly not done any speed work, or even fast workouts, since my last race in June 2012.
There were two "tempo runs" in the last month. I wrote about the first in this post, a 15-minute effort during which I was very happy to run 3.6K at an average 4:12 per kilometre. (By comparison, in the half marathon I raced in June 2012, the last race before my injury, I covered the 21.1K at an average pace of 4:07.5 per kilometre).
Ten days later I did another tempo run, as per my return-to-running program, this time a 20-minute effort; like the previous time, I opted to wear a Garmin but avoided looking at my pace until after the workout was done so I could listen to my body, rather than the watch.
I felt fantastic and had more confidence to put in more effort this time. Convinced I had run faster than in the previous one, I was stunned that the Garmin had clocked a 4:27 average pace over a 4.6K distance. I checked and rechecked the numbers, trying to see if somehow the Garmin had missed part of my effort. But it hadn't.
It was a reality check. I still was not sure if I should sign up for the 10K by then, and this made me wary. I had just run at a pace that would work out to a 44:30 10K if I was able to hold it for double the distance.
The last time I had taken more than 43 minutes in a 10K race was 10 years ago, in a hilly event in Malabar, one of the eastern suburbs of Sydney. Wow.
And yet it might not be so strange -- I had not been able to do any run training for so long, something I have no experience with. I have never had to take any significant break from training. It is easy to lose speed, and endurance. I have never been a naturally fast runner, endurance comes easier to me than speed.
"After two weeks of not running, studies show that VO2 max [one of the best measurements of a runner's physical fitness] decreases by 6%. After 9 weeks VO2 max drops by 19%. After 11 weeks of no running, studies demonstrate that VO2 max falls by 25.7% from peak physical fitness," according to this article, as a quick Google for this blog post showed.
And while I began working on overall fitness through cycling, swimming, and Bikram yoga about three months into my injury, running fitness and speed require run training.
The speed I have (or had, before this enforced break) is the result of years of consistent run training, continually building the gains.
You can even see it in my personal best times: a 3:00:29 marathoner should, theoretically, be able to run a 38:40 10K -- my best 10K is 39:39, a full minute slower -- and an 85:58 half marathon -- my best is 86:54, also nearly a minute slower.
And while endurance comes easier to me than speed, I am currently finding that runs I would not have even thought twice about a little over a year ago, are now a challenge. On Thursday I had planned to do a 45-minute easy run but lacked the mental energy. After postponing the session until 5:30pm, I finally decided to just head out for a 20-minute run if that was all I could mentally handle.
As I warmed up after about 5 minutes, I felt better, found fresh energy, and decided to do 30 minutes, and eventually ended up running the 45 minutes as planned, grateful for a nice run. My point is that, as I slowly settle back into a running routine, it is taking both a physical and a mental adjustment that is significant.
So, was registering for the 10K a good idea? I could not expect to race it -- sure, I could try to run as fast as I could, but with the awareness that I had only been able to run for two months. I would have to set aside my ego, and run for the thrill of being able to compete again, not for the potential of a personal best, or a "good" time.
Partly based on that second tempo run, when I had felt fantastic but had not run anywhere near as fast as I felt I did, I also had to accept that I might not be able to finish in 45 minutes, or less.
But the excitement to toe the start-line of a race again, and a local race I love on top of that, easily won out. I decided that I would -- for the first time ever -- race without a watch. That way I would be forced to go with what I felt, not with any numbers I saw.
On Sunday morning, there was the familiar but almost forgotten sense of excitement -- butterflies in my tummy, sweaty and shaky hands as I wrote in my journal about heading off to the race start soon.
While I did not know what pace to expect, at least I knew I would look sharp in a gorgeous pair of running shorts my sister had just given me. They are almost too pretty to run in and super comfy.
I drove the short distance to the race start, familiar after having done this great event in 2009, 2010 and 2011 in 41:39, 41:00 and 40:14 respectively -- I have raced well here, though have not matched my best on what is a fast, flat and certified 10K course.
Pickup of my pre-registered race package went superfast and I got ready to do a warm-up. For this I had brought my watch, and I started with 5 minutes of walking along the course, before running for almost 10 minutes with three accelerations.
Then I spotted a friend, Amy, who now lives in Whistler, and we had a brief chat, wishing each other well.
I went back to the car to take off my warm-up shirt -- and my watch. I have thought about racing without a watch before but had never done it. I was excited about trying it today. Without any idea what pace to expect, there was no point to keep track of it. I like to know my pace but it felt good to take off the watch.
I chatted with another friend as we walked towards the starting area, and then saw more familiar faces, friends I have trained and raced with before, and it was so great to be there.
It was time to line up for the start. We cheered on the wheelchair athletes who headed off first. Then we got our countdown.
I did not allow myself to think too much about the significance because I knew it would be too easy to get all emotional about it, and I needed to be able to breathe, not cry. My starting pace was faster than I thought it would be, easy to gauge as my friends did not run ahead as far and fast as I had expected. Still, we had not even run 1 kilometre.
It was challenging to decide on my pace, so I just followed my legs and lungs and made sure that I was breathing at a rate that felt sustainable. Since I did not know what to expect, it felt natural to avoid thinking about it. The kilometres would come as they did.
The course was marked with new signs (though they might have been there last year too when I could not race), bright yellow with black numbers indicating each kilometre and the first mile. At that first mile marker I had settled into a pace that felt comfortable, and I resisted the brief temptation to ask a friend, Gord, for his split as I could see him checking it on his watch.
All I knew that at this stage it was faster than 45-minute pace, and that it felt OK for now. I was running stride for stride with a friend, Jason, and I really enjoyed that.
At the 2K mark we ran past the Bikram Sea to Sky Yoga studio, a fitting tribute during my first race to a place that has helped so much in my recovery. I knew they were just starting their 8:30am class.
At the first aid station, I grabbed a water from one of the volunteers, had a quick sip and dunked the rest over my head as did Gord ahead of Jason and I. The weather was perfect for a warm August morning. The sky was overcast, and it was not as muggy as I remember it being in previous years.
At the next corner, a friend was cheering us on -- a talented runner, rider and triathlete, Andrew had just broken his wrist after falling off a skateboard, only a few weeks after having recovered from a running injury -- and I appreciated the lift from his energy and smiling face.
As we hit 3K, I wondered if this was a pace I could sustain and yet at the same time I felt confident I could. Jason and I were still running together, silently, peacefully.
We approached the bridge, a slight incline, followed by a slight downhill on the other side, as we headed towards 4K. Still fine and with the halfway marker in sight I became more relaxed, enjoying the sensation of racing at a pace I had not anticipated, and feeling a sense of ease in it. I knew it was a delicate balance, however, and I made sure to stay as relaxed as possible.
The race leader was already heading fast and light in the other direction on the out-and-back course, well clear from the rest of the pack. I counted four women ahead of me, none within reach though. Another friend, Marko, was comfortably heading home, and we waved at each other. I missed Sean but returned a silent cheer of Gord.
As Jason and I rounded the halfway point, I grabbed a water at that aid station from the great volunteers and had a quick sip. I cannot remember if I poured the rest over my head, though I probably did. I was on the home-5K-stretch. I love out-and-back courses and use them all the time in training.
Even as I was fatiguing, I also felt that it was a normal level of tiredness. You run 10K, you get tired in the second half. At the final water station I took a sip of water but did not feel like swallowing any so spat it out -- the remainder of the cup went over my head as I got ready to pass the Bikram studio for the second time. Two K to go, which mentally means that really there is only 1K left and then there is the final K which somehow is always more manageable.
Without being able to verify my pace, I felt like I had run a steady pace throughout and knew I could hold it until the finish. I pushed away emotions that if I had allowed them to surface would have stopped me dead in my tracks. Instead I focused on the incredible sensation of having a solid 10K, feeling better than I had dared to hope.
I rounded the final corner and headed for the finish -- now I wanted to see the clock.
My official time was 41:49, which far exceeded any expectations; it was only 10 seconds slower than my slowest effort on this course, and just a little over 2 minutes slower than my best 10K time (39:39).
After the race, I did an easy 3K cool-down with Amy who also had a solid performance. Next I drove out to the northern part of Squamish to catch Tim who was out on a 3-hour run to hand him a bottle of water, and then went back to the race start where I received a trophy (a beautiful Bald Eagle wood carving) for being the fastest local woman today. Icing on an already delicious cake.
For Squamish Days 10K results, click here
It is a little hard to wrap my head around the fact that I can run, train and race again. I am slowly beginning to believe it, so grateful that all the hard work and patience are paying off.
I dropped off my registration only six days earlier, when the previous day's 17K run bolstered my confidence about the wisdom of running the Squamish Days 10K to mark -- celebrate -- my return to running.
It is amazing how fast my body has progressed in the last two months. After all, it was only on June 4 that I gingerly tried running again with a session consisting of a 15-minute walking warm-up, followed by a 5-minute run, a 5-minute walk, a 5-minute run, and a 15-minute walking cool-down.
I knew I could run a 10K distance by July 15, or three weeks ago, when I did a 50-minute run. But running an easy 10K in training and doing it in a race are two very different things.
In the last year I have done no training to speak of, as all "runs" were curtailed by and ended in heel pain. I have certainly not done any speed work, or even fast workouts, since my last race in June 2012.
There were two "tempo runs" in the last month. I wrote about the first in this post, a 15-minute effort during which I was very happy to run 3.6K at an average 4:12 per kilometre. (By comparison, in the half marathon I raced in June 2012, the last race before my injury, I covered the 21.1K at an average pace of 4:07.5 per kilometre).
Ten days later I did another tempo run, as per my return-to-running program, this time a 20-minute effort; like the previous time, I opted to wear a Garmin but avoided looking at my pace until after the workout was done so I could listen to my body, rather than the watch.
I felt fantastic and had more confidence to put in more effort this time. Convinced I had run faster than in the previous one, I was stunned that the Garmin had clocked a 4:27 average pace over a 4.6K distance. I checked and rechecked the numbers, trying to see if somehow the Garmin had missed part of my effort. But it hadn't.
It was a reality check. I still was not sure if I should sign up for the 10K by then, and this made me wary. I had just run at a pace that would work out to a 44:30 10K if I was able to hold it for double the distance.
The last time I had taken more than 43 minutes in a 10K race was 10 years ago, in a hilly event in Malabar, one of the eastern suburbs of Sydney. Wow.
And yet it might not be so strange -- I had not been able to do any run training for so long, something I have no experience with. I have never had to take any significant break from training. It is easy to lose speed, and endurance. I have never been a naturally fast runner, endurance comes easier to me than speed.
"After two weeks of not running, studies show that VO2 max [one of the best measurements of a runner's physical fitness] decreases by 6%. After 9 weeks VO2 max drops by 19%. After 11 weeks of no running, studies demonstrate that VO2 max falls by 25.7% from peak physical fitness," according to this article, as a quick Google for this blog post showed.
And while I began working on overall fitness through cycling, swimming, and Bikram yoga about three months into my injury, running fitness and speed require run training.
The speed I have (or had, before this enforced break) is the result of years of consistent run training, continually building the gains.
You can even see it in my personal best times: a 3:00:29 marathoner should, theoretically, be able to run a 38:40 10K -- my best 10K is 39:39, a full minute slower -- and an 85:58 half marathon -- my best is 86:54, also nearly a minute slower.
And while endurance comes easier to me than speed, I am currently finding that runs I would not have even thought twice about a little over a year ago, are now a challenge. On Thursday I had planned to do a 45-minute easy run but lacked the mental energy. After postponing the session until 5:30pm, I finally decided to just head out for a 20-minute run if that was all I could mentally handle.
As I warmed up after about 5 minutes, I felt better, found fresh energy, and decided to do 30 minutes, and eventually ended up running the 45 minutes as planned, grateful for a nice run. My point is that, as I slowly settle back into a running routine, it is taking both a physical and a mental adjustment that is significant.
So, was registering for the 10K a good idea? I could not expect to race it -- sure, I could try to run as fast as I could, but with the awareness that I had only been able to run for two months. I would have to set aside my ego, and run for the thrill of being able to compete again, not for the potential of a personal best, or a "good" time.
Partly based on that second tempo run, when I had felt fantastic but had not run anywhere near as fast as I felt I did, I also had to accept that I might not be able to finish in 45 minutes, or less.
But the excitement to toe the start-line of a race again, and a local race I love on top of that, easily won out. I decided that I would -- for the first time ever -- race without a watch. That way I would be forced to go with what I felt, not with any numbers I saw.
On Sunday morning, there was the familiar but almost forgotten sense of excitement -- butterflies in my tummy, sweaty and shaky hands as I wrote in my journal about heading off to the race start soon.
While I did not know what pace to expect, at least I knew I would look sharp in a gorgeous pair of running shorts my sister had just given me. They are almost too pretty to run in and super comfy.
I drove the short distance to the race start, familiar after having done this great event in 2009, 2010 and 2011 in 41:39, 41:00 and 40:14 respectively -- I have raced well here, though have not matched my best on what is a fast, flat and certified 10K course.
Pickup of my pre-registered race package went superfast and I got ready to do a warm-up. For this I had brought my watch, and I started with 5 minutes of walking along the course, before running for almost 10 minutes with three accelerations.
Then I spotted a friend, Amy, who now lives in Whistler, and we had a brief chat, wishing each other well.
I went back to the car to take off my warm-up shirt -- and my watch. I have thought about racing without a watch before but had never done it. I was excited about trying it today. Without any idea what pace to expect, there was no point to keep track of it. I like to know my pace but it felt good to take off the watch.
I chatted with another friend as we walked towards the starting area, and then saw more familiar faces, friends I have trained and raced with before, and it was so great to be there.
It was time to line up for the start. We cheered on the wheelchair athletes who headed off first. Then we got our countdown.
I did not allow myself to think too much about the significance because I knew it would be too easy to get all emotional about it, and I needed to be able to breathe, not cry. My starting pace was faster than I thought it would be, easy to gauge as my friends did not run ahead as far and fast as I had expected. Still, we had not even run 1 kilometre.
It was challenging to decide on my pace, so I just followed my legs and lungs and made sure that I was breathing at a rate that felt sustainable. Since I did not know what to expect, it felt natural to avoid thinking about it. The kilometres would come as they did.
The course was marked with new signs (though they might have been there last year too when I could not race), bright yellow with black numbers indicating each kilometre and the first mile. At that first mile marker I had settled into a pace that felt comfortable, and I resisted the brief temptation to ask a friend, Gord, for his split as I could see him checking it on his watch.
All I knew that at this stage it was faster than 45-minute pace, and that it felt OK for now. I was running stride for stride with a friend, Jason, and I really enjoyed that.
At the 2K mark we ran past the Bikram Sea to Sky Yoga studio, a fitting tribute during my first race to a place that has helped so much in my recovery. I knew they were just starting their 8:30am class.
At the first aid station, I grabbed a water from one of the volunteers, had a quick sip and dunked the rest over my head as did Gord ahead of Jason and I. The weather was perfect for a warm August morning. The sky was overcast, and it was not as muggy as I remember it being in previous years.
At the next corner, a friend was cheering us on -- a talented runner, rider and triathlete, Andrew had just broken his wrist after falling off a skateboard, only a few weeks after having recovered from a running injury -- and I appreciated the lift from his energy and smiling face.
As we hit 3K, I wondered if this was a pace I could sustain and yet at the same time I felt confident I could. Jason and I were still running together, silently, peacefully.
We approached the bridge, a slight incline, followed by a slight downhill on the other side, as we headed towards 4K. Still fine and with the halfway marker in sight I became more relaxed, enjoying the sensation of racing at a pace I had not anticipated, and feeling a sense of ease in it. I knew it was a delicate balance, however, and I made sure to stay as relaxed as possible.
The race leader was already heading fast and light in the other direction on the out-and-back course, well clear from the rest of the pack. I counted four women ahead of me, none within reach though. Another friend, Marko, was comfortably heading home, and we waved at each other. I missed Sean but returned a silent cheer of Gord.
As Jason and I rounded the halfway point, I grabbed a water at that aid station from the great volunteers and had a quick sip. I cannot remember if I poured the rest over my head, though I probably did. I was on the home-5K-stretch. I love out-and-back courses and use them all the time in training.
Even as I was fatiguing, I also felt that it was a normal level of tiredness. You run 10K, you get tired in the second half. At the final water station I took a sip of water but did not feel like swallowing any so spat it out -- the remainder of the cup went over my head as I got ready to pass the Bikram studio for the second time. Two K to go, which mentally means that really there is only 1K left and then there is the final K which somehow is always more manageable.
Without being able to verify my pace, I felt like I had run a steady pace throughout and knew I could hold it until the finish. I pushed away emotions that if I had allowed them to surface would have stopped me dead in my tracks. Instead I focused on the incredible sensation of having a solid 10K, feeling better than I had dared to hope.
 |
| About to finish (Ben Lypka/Squamish Chief) |
My official time was 41:49, which far exceeded any expectations; it was only 10 seconds slower than my slowest effort on this course, and just a little over 2 minutes slower than my best 10K time (39:39).
After the race, I did an easy 3K cool-down with Amy who also had a solid performance. Next I drove out to the northern part of Squamish to catch Tim who was out on a 3-hour run to hand him a bottle of water, and then went back to the race start where I received a trophy (a beautiful Bald Eagle wood carving) for being the fastest local woman today. Icing on an already delicious cake.
For Squamish Days 10K results, click here
It is a little hard to wrap my head around the fact that I can run, train and race again. I am slowly beginning to believe it, so grateful that all the hard work and patience are paying off.
July 31, 2013
Survived 30-Day Meditation Challenge
Yesterday I completed a 30-day meditation challenge. Inspired by Sakyong Mipham's book Running with the Mind of Meditation, in which he likens learning to meditate to learning to run in that the mind is like a muscle that can be strengthened through practice.
The key, as Mipham suggested, was to start small and build a base, just as one does in running. So my goal was to spend 10 minutes each day focusing on my breath, clearing my mind from the constant whirlwind of thoughts.
Simple but not easy. Just like running. A few times I felt like quitting. But then I wondered why I had such mental resistance to doing something as simple and peaceful as sitting or lying still for just 10 minutes, focusing on my breath, which -- as my teachers remind me in each Bikram yoga class -- is the most powerful tool you have.
I also know the important role of breathing from running. Calming, slowing and/or deepening my breath in challenging workouts, or when it gets hard in a race, is crucial and always beneficial.
It will take more than 30 days to learn to meditate, to get more comfortable, to find a sense of ease in it. The more I struggled nearly each day over the past 30 days with quieting my mind, being mindful, just here and now, the more I wondered why that was and how I could change it. I am curious, intrigued.
So next week I will start the 21-day Oprah and Deepak meditation challenge -- registration is free and you receive daily guided meditations for 21 days starting August 5.
The key, as Mipham suggested, was to start small and build a base, just as one does in running. So my goal was to spend 10 minutes each day focusing on my breath, clearing my mind from the constant whirlwind of thoughts.
Simple but not easy. Just like running. A few times I felt like quitting. But then I wondered why I had such mental resistance to doing something as simple and peaceful as sitting or lying still for just 10 minutes, focusing on my breath, which -- as my teachers remind me in each Bikram yoga class -- is the most powerful tool you have.
I also know the important role of breathing from running. Calming, slowing and/or deepening my breath in challenging workouts, or when it gets hard in a race, is crucial and always beneficial.
It will take more than 30 days to learn to meditate, to get more comfortable, to find a sense of ease in it. The more I struggled nearly each day over the past 30 days with quieting my mind, being mindful, just here and now, the more I wondered why that was and how I could change it. I am curious, intrigued.
So next week I will start the 21-day Oprah and Deepak meditation challenge -- registration is free and you receive daily guided meditations for 21 days starting August 5.
July 24, 2013
Withdrawn from Ironman Whistler
Earlier this month I made the decision to withdraw my entry from Ironman Whistler. The July 11 deadline, if I wanted a $150 refund, helped me make up my mind.
It was both a hard and an easy decision to make. Hard as I registered for the race in October last year with the intent of competing. As a former triathlete and five-time Ironman finisher, I could simply not resist an Ironman that landed in my backyard, one offering 100 qualifying slots for the 2013 Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.
This year, only one other race (IM Frankfurt held earlier this month) offered that many slots, according to RunTri.com. Every triathlete competing in an Ironman wants to go to Kona, even retired triathletes like me. I am a far better athlete now than when I did my last Ironman in March 2005.
Yet by late April, the reality was that my injury (mysterious heel pain that had curtailed my running for nearly a year by then) had not disappeared. A 15-minute run was all it took for the pain to return. So I stopped running again.
Cycling, especially riding on the Computrainer in the aero position, was not helping, I realized. It only served to increase the tightness and imbalance that I now suspected was the cause of my problem. I stopped cycling too. The last ride I did was on April 21, the day before I discovered that my body still could not cope with a 15-minute jog.
Unfortunately, the bike ride is a little crucial in Ironman -- it takes up more than half the time any athlete needs to finish (unless you ride so hard that your run will take you longer than your bike did, not uncommon). Not having cycled from March 2005 until October 2012 meant I could not rely on a fitness base there either.
While still hopeful in late April, I was already well aware that my chances of getting ready for an Ironman in August were very slim. I did not run again until June 4, starting with two 5-minute stretches. By July 11 -- the deadline to receive a partial refund -- my longest run had been 40 minutes.
I have consistently spent at least 10 hours a week on yoga, stretching, massage and rolling for the past three months.
When I realized that I was not even sure if I would be ready to run (not race, just run) the local annual 10km on August 4, I also realized that doing an Ironman three weeks later was just not a good idea. Indeed it was unrealistic. That made the decision easy.
There will always be another Ironman, should I want to do one. And after the past year, a healthy body is worth more to me than any race, even one with a hundred Kona slots.
It was both a hard and an easy decision to make. Hard as I registered for the race in October last year with the intent of competing. As a former triathlete and five-time Ironman finisher, I could simply not resist an Ironman that landed in my backyard, one offering 100 qualifying slots for the 2013 Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.
This year, only one other race (IM Frankfurt held earlier this month) offered that many slots, according to RunTri.com. Every triathlete competing in an Ironman wants to go to Kona, even retired triathletes like me. I am a far better athlete now than when I did my last Ironman in March 2005.
Yet by late April, the reality was that my injury (mysterious heel pain that had curtailed my running for nearly a year by then) had not disappeared. A 15-minute run was all it took for the pain to return. So I stopped running again.
Cycling, especially riding on the Computrainer in the aero position, was not helping, I realized. It only served to increase the tightness and imbalance that I now suspected was the cause of my problem. I stopped cycling too. The last ride I did was on April 21, the day before I discovered that my body still could not cope with a 15-minute jog.
Unfortunately, the bike ride is a little crucial in Ironman -- it takes up more than half the time any athlete needs to finish (unless you ride so hard that your run will take you longer than your bike did, not uncommon). Not having cycled from March 2005 until October 2012 meant I could not rely on a fitness base there either.
While still hopeful in late April, I was already well aware that my chances of getting ready for an Ironman in August were very slim. I did not run again until June 4, starting with two 5-minute stretches. By July 11 -- the deadline to receive a partial refund -- my longest run had been 40 minutes.
I have consistently spent at least 10 hours a week on yoga, stretching, massage and rolling for the past three months.
When I realized that I was not even sure if I would be ready to run (not race, just run) the local annual 10km on August 4, I also realized that doing an Ironman three weeks later was just not a good idea. Indeed it was unrealistic. That made the decision easy.
There will always be another Ironman, should I want to do one. And after the past year, a healthy body is worth more to me than any race, even one with a hundred Kona slots.
Returning from injury: marathon thoughts
On Monday I had a 55-minute run to do. It was the final session of the seven-week Returning to Running program I have been following, and I looked upon this run as a graduation of sorts.
In the past seven weeks I have found the confidence that I have finally overcome the injury that has plagued me for the past year, stopping my training and racing dead in their tracks (for the first time in 17 years) just as I was at the peak of my fitness -- a 3:00:29 marathoner ready to go faster.
Seven weeks ago, I tentatively did the first session on the program -- two 5-minute runs with a 5-minute walk in between. The roller coaster of hope and disappointment from the past year kept a lid on my optimism. Yet I knew that my body felt different too.
Yesterday I ran 55 minutes without stopping, bringing my weekly running total to 2 hours 20 minutes. Guesstimating a 5-minute per kilometre on average, I ran 40km for the week. While that's not even half of the 100km weeks I had grown used to doing, it now feels like a lot of running.
Throughout these seven weeks I have remained both careful and vigilant. I have done nearly all my runs on a flat course, first walking about 15 minutes and cooling down with the same (that's also the time it takes to walk from my house to the start of a flat running route.)
I have maintained my yoga routine, taking 30 Bikram classes over the past seven weeks, or an average of four per week, to keep increasing my flexibility and strength, particularly in the right hip / glute area. That's six hours of yoga a week.
And those 90-minute Bikram classes are challenging workouts in themselves each time. There is a reason teachers tell beginners that their main goal is to try to stay in the room. At the Sea to Sky Bikram studio, owner and teacher Jena often reminds us to "stop wrestling with the door, you have already decided to stay."
"Until you do it you can't comment on how difficult it is. It's tough. It's ugly," Wimbledon champion Andy Murray has said of Bikram, which has reportedly been a key part of his training for the past five years.
Aside from Bikram, I also stretch after each run, using a sequence of at least eight stretches suggested in Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning. As recommended I hold each stretch for about 30 seconds on both sides, doing each one twice.
And I roll. Daily. I use the TP Therapy ball and roller but especially the ball and particularly for the right side of my hip and glutes.
During the past seven weeks, I also had another five massages to help preserve and advance all the flexibility I have gained in Bikram. And I will keep working at that diligently. Especially as I increase my running.
It is exhilarating to be running again. I am so grateful.
I know that there is a long road ahead before I will be back at my fitness level from May 2012. But I am patient. And determined.
Over the next few weeks I plan to increase my long run slowly to 90 minutes by the end of August. With that, I'll be ready to start the training program for my next marathon.
I have already got my eye on one...
In the past seven weeks I have found the confidence that I have finally overcome the injury that has plagued me for the past year, stopping my training and racing dead in their tracks (for the first time in 17 years) just as I was at the peak of my fitness -- a 3:00:29 marathoner ready to go faster.
Seven weeks ago, I tentatively did the first session on the program -- two 5-minute runs with a 5-minute walk in between. The roller coaster of hope and disappointment from the past year kept a lid on my optimism. Yet I knew that my body felt different too.
Yesterday I ran 55 minutes without stopping, bringing my weekly running total to 2 hours 20 minutes. Guesstimating a 5-minute per kilometre on average, I ran 40km for the week. While that's not even half of the 100km weeks I had grown used to doing, it now feels like a lot of running.
Throughout these seven weeks I have remained both careful and vigilant. I have done nearly all my runs on a flat course, first walking about 15 minutes and cooling down with the same (that's also the time it takes to walk from my house to the start of a flat running route.)
I have maintained my yoga routine, taking 30 Bikram classes over the past seven weeks, or an average of four per week, to keep increasing my flexibility and strength, particularly in the right hip / glute area. That's six hours of yoga a week.
And those 90-minute Bikram classes are challenging workouts in themselves each time. There is a reason teachers tell beginners that their main goal is to try to stay in the room. At the Sea to Sky Bikram studio, owner and teacher Jena often reminds us to "stop wrestling with the door, you have already decided to stay."
"Until you do it you can't comment on how difficult it is. It's tough. It's ugly," Wimbledon champion Andy Murray has said of Bikram, which has reportedly been a key part of his training for the past five years.
Aside from Bikram, I also stretch after each run, using a sequence of at least eight stretches suggested in Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning. As recommended I hold each stretch for about 30 seconds on both sides, doing each one twice.
And I roll. Daily. I use the TP Therapy ball and roller but especially the ball and particularly for the right side of my hip and glutes.
During the past seven weeks, I also had another five massages to help preserve and advance all the flexibility I have gained in Bikram. And I will keep working at that diligently. Especially as I increase my running.
It is exhilarating to be running again. I am so grateful.
I know that there is a long road ahead before I will be back at my fitness level from May 2012. But I am patient. And determined.
Over the next few weeks I plan to increase my long run slowly to 90 minutes by the end of August. With that, I'll be ready to start the training program for my next marathon.
I have already got my eye on one...
July 08, 2013
A tempo run -- my first in a year
Today I was allowed to do a 15-minute tempo run.
I was excited, very excited. It would be my first run at effort -- any type of effort -- in a year.
I am still revelling in the fact that I can run again, and the thrill of the 40-minute run I completed last Friday.
Since I ran the Scotiabank Half Marathon at the end of June in 2012, I have not been able to do much running at all, let alone a session at any type of effort.
And today I got to go fast for 15 minutes. The program suggested 15K race pace. But it's a little hard to pinpoint race pace when you've not been able to train.
I figured my body would know best, so I opted to wear my Garmin to record the pace but to avoid looking at the numbers during the session.
As I have done so far in my return to running, I decided to stick to a flat course so my warmup began with a 15-minute walk from my house through the Smoke Bluffs to the trail along Loggers Lane. Then I began running and followed this asphalt bike path to the Brennan Park Recreation Centre, turning around after 7-1/2 minutes of relaxed running and running back the same way for a running warm-up of 15 minutes, as the training session suggested.
Now it was time to start my tempo run. I walked for a minute and started a new lap on the Garmin. It was nice to run "fast" -- it felt natural too, even though it has been a year since I did. I could feel the extra space that has slowly yet surely been opening up in my hip flexors with the regular Bikram yoga sessions and massage. I loved the tempo run as much as I thought I would.
Of course it was effort, so my breathing was laboured. I focused on relaxing into it and keeping what felt like a steady pace. I briefly checked my watch at what I thought would be my 7-1/2 minute turnaround point and managed to keep my attention away from the numbers revealing my pace.
A couple of weeks ago I took the Garmin on a couple of 30-minute runs and found that I was running about 4:45 per K, faster than I had expected -- and naturally then started to aim to stick close to that. After those two runs, I decided to leave the Garmin at home and wear a regular watch instead so my body would choose its own pace, rather trying to keep up to the one reflected on my wrist.
It was easy today to keep my attention away from the Garmin -- the exhilaration of returning to one of the things I love so much about running, moving your body at a pace that is challenging and comfortable at the same time while focusing on keeping your breath and body relaxed, was all I needed.
"Running is like flying -- there is freedom and levity. We are moving through space above the ground. It is a great way to connect with nature and to breathe fresh air," writes Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, author of (the superb) Running with the Mind of Meditation. He is also a 3:09 marathoner.
Freedom and levity were what I felt today. And gratitude, lots of gratitude.
A part of me still carries fear that the injury has not yet gone or that it might return. I try to let go of those thoughts as much as I can. Still, it has only been five weeks since I began running again and so I remain cautious.
After I walked home, back up through the Smoke Bluffs, I checked my pace -- in the 15-minute warmup I had covered 3.2K at an average pace of 4:45 per kilometre.
As for the 15-minute tempo run, I had run at an average of 4:12 per kilometre for a distance of 3.6K.
I was excited, very excited. It would be my first run at effort -- any type of effort -- in a year.
I am still revelling in the fact that I can run again, and the thrill of the 40-minute run I completed last Friday.
Since I ran the Scotiabank Half Marathon at the end of June in 2012, I have not been able to do much running at all, let alone a session at any type of effort.
And today I got to go fast for 15 minutes. The program suggested 15K race pace. But it's a little hard to pinpoint race pace when you've not been able to train.
I figured my body would know best, so I opted to wear my Garmin to record the pace but to avoid looking at the numbers during the session.
As I have done so far in my return to running, I decided to stick to a flat course so my warmup began with a 15-minute walk from my house through the Smoke Bluffs to the trail along Loggers Lane. Then I began running and followed this asphalt bike path to the Brennan Park Recreation Centre, turning around after 7-1/2 minutes of relaxed running and running back the same way for a running warm-up of 15 minutes, as the training session suggested.
Now it was time to start my tempo run. I walked for a minute and started a new lap on the Garmin. It was nice to run "fast" -- it felt natural too, even though it has been a year since I did. I could feel the extra space that has slowly yet surely been opening up in my hip flexors with the regular Bikram yoga sessions and massage. I loved the tempo run as much as I thought I would.
Of course it was effort, so my breathing was laboured. I focused on relaxing into it and keeping what felt like a steady pace. I briefly checked my watch at what I thought would be my 7-1/2 minute turnaround point and managed to keep my attention away from the numbers revealing my pace.
A couple of weeks ago I took the Garmin on a couple of 30-minute runs and found that I was running about 4:45 per K, faster than I had expected -- and naturally then started to aim to stick close to that. After those two runs, I decided to leave the Garmin at home and wear a regular watch instead so my body would choose its own pace, rather trying to keep up to the one reflected on my wrist.
It was easy today to keep my attention away from the Garmin -- the exhilaration of returning to one of the things I love so much about running, moving your body at a pace that is challenging and comfortable at the same time while focusing on keeping your breath and body relaxed, was all I needed.
"Running is like flying -- there is freedom and levity. We are moving through space above the ground. It is a great way to connect with nature and to breathe fresh air," writes Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, author of (the superb) Running with the Mind of Meditation. He is also a 3:09 marathoner.
Freedom and levity were what I felt today. And gratitude, lots of gratitude.
A part of me still carries fear that the injury has not yet gone or that it might return. I try to let go of those thoughts as much as I can. Still, it has only been five weeks since I began running again and so I remain cautious.
After I walked home, back up through the Smoke Bluffs, I checked my pace -- in the 15-minute warmup I had covered 3.2K at an average pace of 4:45 per kilometre.
As for the 15-minute tempo run, I had run at an average of 4:12 per kilometre for a distance of 3.6K.
July 02, 2013
Returning from injury: running update
Ten weeks ago, on April 30, I began a 32-day Bikram yoga challenge, with the goal to do one Bikram class a day at the studio here in Squamish.
I wrote down my intention, "Set my body free so I can run."
After various treatments which failed to eliminate the pain, I took a 4-1/2 month complete break from running (from October 1, 2012, until February 12 this year), and then eased back into it from scratch—after first building up to a pain-free hour of powerwalking.
At first I was angry, upset, and—most of all—desperate: what was it going to take?!
I have always felt, and still do, that there is no reason for me not to be able to run again. After all, there has never been a diagnosis of the injury. The obvious ones for the location of my pain such as Achilles tendinitis, a stress fracture, and plantar fasciitis were all ruled out.
As I calmed down a little, I returned to research and decided that my heel was merely the symptom, not the problem.
I stopped running again and also gave up cycling so I could concentrate on upping the frequency of my Bikram yoga practice to improve my flexibility and strength, particularly by opening up the hip flexors and strengthening the gluteal muscles. I kept my swimming routine.
A week into the Bikram challenge, I had a funny neck twist during swim squad. I stopped immediately. What the heck now?! Swim coach Roseline assured me that it was not a typical swimming shoulder injury, based on where I felt the strain/pain. Initially I thought a few hot baths and heating cream would get rid of the increasing stiffness in my neck that followed but it did not.
While I had trouble turning my head to the left, it did not noticeably affect my Bikram practice (only the triangle pose was somewhat affected) so I was able to continue my 32-day challenge.
After five days, however, I realized my neck was not going to release the tension on its own. I was not sure if the neck issue resulted from swimming (I had done the BC provincial champs swim meet on April 26), or just a 'funny' move, or whether my body was beginning to shift with the daily Bikram classes.
I did know it was time for a deep tissue massage. My swim coach recommended RMT Natalia Finlayson and I went to see her on May 10.
That first treatment made me feel a lot better, though I also knew my neck was not out of the woods and so I stayed out of the pool, as I did not feel like risking a shoulder injury.
Meanwhile, I kept up the daily Bikram routine. And I noticed more flexibility in my right glute and piriformis, both from the daily yoga but also from Natalia's massage on my back, shoulder and neck.
I went back to Natalia on May 13 and she again treated the left side of my neck and back as well as the right hip, glutes and piriformis. She said swimming could work diagonally. She also recommended that I stretch on top of the Bikram routine, as yoga is not a replacement for stretching.
By the third treatment, my shoulder and neck were much better and she spent a lot of time on my right piriformis, which held release a ton of tightness. I had by now told her about my heel injury, or rather symptom.
By May 22, I was back in the pool and felt good enough to swim with the squad for an hour. I decided to stick with the massages, now focused on the tightness on the right side of my hip, quads, and glutes. I could tell that all the hip opening work in Bikram was helped along by Natalia's massages, and vice versa.
After the fourth treatment on May 23, and 23 straight days of Bikram, Natalia encouraged me to try a run again. I felt comfortable with the idea, indeed had felt for a few days that I would be OK to run, and ran two 5-minute stretches, with a 5-minute walk in between on May 24. And I continued from there as per this return-to-running program by Pete Pfitzinger.
In the 10 weeks since my body rebelled after that 15-minute run, I have done 53 Bikram classes—or a little more than five classes each week on average. (That compares with the 50 classes I did in the prior five months, or an average of about 2.5 per week.) I also have had 10 deep tissue massages from Natalia, with the first on May 10 and the most recent one on June 24, a period of six weeks.
Yesterday I ran 35 minutes--in one go--a day after running 25 minutes. Amazing. If I had not experienced it, I would not believe it.
I know that there is more work ahead. More Bikram, more massage, more stretching and more strengthening. After each Bikram class, I do a TFL stretch as well as a piriformis stretch. After each run, I do the stretch routine as recommended in Pete Pfitzinger's Advanced Marathoning. I use the TP Therapy products daily, especially the ball and the Grid foam roller. I also have regular Epsom salt baths.
June 28, 2013
A 30-day meditation challenge
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| Find it on Facebook here |
Why? Because I have found after 100 Bikram yoga classes in the past six months that this is the hardest part of the practice. Clearing my mind of thoughts, the constant chatter, has proven challenging even for the 20 seconds in the savasanas between the poses, let alone the minimum recommended three minutes immediately at the end of the class.
My mind is often racing ahead to the next pose, the next drink of water, leaving the room to have a shower, making dinner. I want to learn to stay in the present, being right here, right now.
As a distance runner, I learned over the years that concentration and focus are key parts of my training and racing. When faced with a training run of 3 hours or racing 42 kilometres, and beyond, you need to learn to focus on what you are doing right now, right here instead of worrying about what's to come because it would be too overwhelming.
A book that really helped was Running Within: A Guide to Mastering the Body-Mind-Spirit: A Guide to Mastering the Body-Mind-Spirit Connection for Ultimate Training and Racing by Jerry Lynch and Warren Scott. I first read it in 2003 before my third marathon, when I bettered my time from 4:18 from 3:24, and it remains one of my favourite books.
I have been working on the mental aspect of running -- both training and racing -- ever since. The better I can concentrate, the better my result. If my mind wanders, or is filled with negative thoughts, my running invariably suffers.
Now I want to learn to bring more focus, stillness into the rest of life.
Recently I began reading Sakyong Mipham's Running With the Mind of Meditation: Lessons for Training Body and Mind.
"The practice of meditation is the practice of developing interest and appreciation in our breath. When we do this, we are showing interest in ourselves, our well-being, and our life-force energy. We are developing the ability to show interest in our own life and in what we are doing," writes the marathon-running Rinpoche, a religious teacher held in high regard among Tibetan Buddhists.
"That is why we feel the benefits of meditation immediately: we simply notice life more, pay attention to it more, and appreciate it more," he writes.
Mipham writes that learning to meditate -- learning to focus on your breath, "the most effective way of being in the present" -- is like learning to run. You start small and slowly build your skill, your endurance.
In Chapter 4, he recommends "one of the most basic and helpful meditative techniques. The process essentially consists of paying attention to the breathing." He recommends starting with a short period, such as 10 minutes. Set an alarm so you won't be distracted by the need -- desire -- to check your watch or clock.
You sit still, upright, comfortable. Relax. Then place your attention on the breathing. This will be challenging at the beginning as your mind will be racing with thoughts, as it always is.
"Initially it is important not to feel overwhelmed or disheartened by the influx of thoughts, simply recognizing just how many thoughts are coming into your mind," Mipham writes. "As we continuously and repeatedly place the attention back on the breathing, the mind becomes stronger and stronger... We are strengthening our mind, building the base."
The first time I tried it, I lasted less than five minutes. A few weeks later I tried again, and made it for the full 10 minutes. I wanted to do it again the next day. But did not and that was a couple of weeks ago.
So it is time to throw a 30-day challenge at it, the time it reportedly takes to form, or break, a habit. I have done them before, in writing and yoga. There is a freeing quality to making the commitment to do something every day for 30 consecutive days. No need to think about it, just do it.
In the month of May I did a 30-Bikram yoga challenge -- one class a day for 30 consecutive days. For the past three years I participated in the international 30-day writing challenge National Novel Writing Month held every November-- the goal is to write 50,000 words in 30 days, an average of 1,667 words a day.
I am curious to explore the effect of meditation, practicing mindfulness, every day for thirty days.
"When we speak of meditation, it is important for you to know that this is not some weird cryptic activity, as our popular culture might have it. It does not involve becoming some kinds of zombie, vegetable, self-absorbed narcissist, navel gazer, "spade cadet", cultist, devotee, mystic, or Eastern philosopher," writes Jon Kabat-Zinn in Wherever You Go, There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life.
"Meditation is simply about being yourself and knowing something about who that is."
Want to join me beginning July 1? Check out The 30-Day Meditation Challenge facebook page.
May 09, 2013
Bikram challenge - an update
Today is Day 10 of my 32-day Bikram challenge. I opted for 32 days because I wanted to devote the month of May to this. Of course May has 31 days. And I did not want to miss practice on April 30, as a competitive swim meet had left no room for classes in the previous four days. Hence the 32.
Incidentally, today it is also six months ago that I began practicing Bikram regularly.
Day 1 of the challenge had felt extra difficult. My body was tired from competing in six freestyle events (1500m on Friday evening, 400m and 100m on Saturday, followed by the 800m, 200m and 50m on Sunday) at the MSABC provincial championships.
I had to (chose to) lie down a couple of times to fend off dizziness during triangle and tree, and ran out of water well before the end of practice. So, I was glad I had told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my 32-day plan before class because otherwise it just might have gone out the window.
I was apprehensive on Day 2, feeling overwhelmed with the month ahead. Teacher Kirsten offered advice that immediately struck a chord.
"Just take it one pose at a time," she recommended.
One step at a time is how I run marathons, ultras and have finished Ironman triathlons. One pose at a time, or one breath at a time as teacher Jena later added, will be the mantra for May.
And Day 2 turned out to be one of the happiest classes I have done. My doubts about the challenge completely washed away during the savasanas. It was not a conscious thought, but a simple observation that arose, a deep sense that the challenge was what I needed to do.
Practice was not easy, easy is not the point after all, but I felt light and focused. Happy and content to be there. And my bottle even had water left at the end of the class.
"Perfect is the best you can do today," Kirsten quoted Bikram.
On Day 3, I stuck the 30-day-challenge note on the studio's Wall of Fame, and added two stickers across Days 1 & 2. I waited until after practice to mark completion of the third one. I did not yet write my "Intention" on the note. It had to be short, and initially I thought of "release, strengthen, run."
Practice on Day 3 was easier than on Day 1, but harder than Day 2. My training journal says, "Good class. Definitely feel that stuff is happening in my body."
Perhaps "stuff" sounds vague but I do not want to over-analyze or prejudge what is going on, neither physically nor mentally. I trust that whatever needs to happen is happening as long as I show up for practice and give it the best effort I can that day.
After Day 4 I had formulated my Intention for this challenge and wrote it on the note in the studio: "Set my body free so I can run!"
It was a good class.
Day 5 was an emotional one. I was physically off balance -- despite my best efforts I kept falling out of eagle. I appreciated the teacher's comment that on some days we simply can not seem to balance, a great reminder to let go of my irritation about it.
Emotionally, I was off kilter too. After triangle, I felt weepy and this persisted until camel, when the second set made me cry. I did not notice, nor tried to analyze, a specific reason behind this wave of emotion that finally disappeared and left me with a sense of relief after camel. This is becoming one of my favourite poses exactly for the mysterious sensations that follow -- as the teacher advised, I watch them float by and take another deep breath.
Day 6 was so different. "Felt calm and strong and focused," the notes in my journal say.
Day 7 was called into question when I strained my neck in the morning. It might have happened as I warmed up in swim training, or I might have slept funny, or it might have been the long phone call I made the previous day. Regardless, I cut short swim training because my neck/shoulder was sore with every stroke, and I did not want to risk injury.
Surprisingly, the stiffness that made turning my head to the left very difficult barely affected my practice that evening. Keeping my left arm straight up in the air in triangle was hard, and I avoided leaning on my left arm when turning to get into savasana. But everything else was fine, and practice felt good.
Day 8 was almost as great as Day 2. I felt strong and focused, and I could really notice an increased mobility in the hips in certain poses. A quarter of the challenge done!
Yesterday, Day 9, was harder. I did not have as much energy, and my body felt tighter to begin with, especially in the right glute/piriformis area in the first sets of some poses such as the standing forward bend, or forward fold, in the half moon pose. However, in the second sets my body released.
Overall, I had a good class and felt much better for it.
There is so much happening in my body from daily Bikram practice, even after only nine days.
I have also noticed recently that practice leaves me less smashed -- I am still tired afterward, but no longer so deeply exhausted as I was in previous months.
Incidentally, today it is also six months ago that I began practicing Bikram regularly.
Day 1 of the challenge had felt extra difficult. My body was tired from competing in six freestyle events (1500m on Friday evening, 400m and 100m on Saturday, followed by the 800m, 200m and 50m on Sunday) at the MSABC provincial championships.
I had to (chose to) lie down a couple of times to fend off dizziness during triangle and tree, and ran out of water well before the end of practice. So, I was glad I had told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my 32-day plan before class because otherwise it just might have gone out the window.
I was apprehensive on Day 2, feeling overwhelmed with the month ahead. Teacher Kirsten offered advice that immediately struck a chord.
"Just take it one pose at a time," she recommended.
One step at a time is how I run marathons, ultras and have finished Ironman triathlons. One pose at a time, or one breath at a time as teacher Jena later added, will be the mantra for May.
And Day 2 turned out to be one of the happiest classes I have done. My doubts about the challenge completely washed away during the savasanas. It was not a conscious thought, but a simple observation that arose, a deep sense that the challenge was what I needed to do.
Practice was not easy, easy is not the point after all, but I felt light and focused. Happy and content to be there. And my bottle even had water left at the end of the class.
"Perfect is the best you can do today," Kirsten quoted Bikram.
On Day 3, I stuck the 30-day-challenge note on the studio's Wall of Fame, and added two stickers across Days 1 & 2. I waited until after practice to mark completion of the third one. I did not yet write my "Intention" on the note. It had to be short, and initially I thought of "release, strengthen, run."
Practice on Day 3 was easier than on Day 1, but harder than Day 2. My training journal says, "Good class. Definitely feel that stuff is happening in my body."
Perhaps "stuff" sounds vague but I do not want to over-analyze or prejudge what is going on, neither physically nor mentally. I trust that whatever needs to happen is happening as long as I show up for practice and give it the best effort I can that day.
After Day 4 I had formulated my Intention for this challenge and wrote it on the note in the studio: "Set my body free so I can run!"
It was a good class.
Day 5 was an emotional one. I was physically off balance -- despite my best efforts I kept falling out of eagle. I appreciated the teacher's comment that on some days we simply can not seem to balance, a great reminder to let go of my irritation about it.
Emotionally, I was off kilter too. After triangle, I felt weepy and this persisted until camel, when the second set made me cry. I did not notice, nor tried to analyze, a specific reason behind this wave of emotion that finally disappeared and left me with a sense of relief after camel. This is becoming one of my favourite poses exactly for the mysterious sensations that follow -- as the teacher advised, I watch them float by and take another deep breath.
Day 6 was so different. "Felt calm and strong and focused," the notes in my journal say.
Day 7 was called into question when I strained my neck in the morning. It might have happened as I warmed up in swim training, or I might have slept funny, or it might have been the long phone call I made the previous day. Regardless, I cut short swim training because my neck/shoulder was sore with every stroke, and I did not want to risk injury.
Surprisingly, the stiffness that made turning my head to the left very difficult barely affected my practice that evening. Keeping my left arm straight up in the air in triangle was hard, and I avoided leaning on my left arm when turning to get into savasana. But everything else was fine, and practice felt good.
Day 8 was almost as great as Day 2. I felt strong and focused, and I could really notice an increased mobility in the hips in certain poses. A quarter of the challenge done!
Yesterday, Day 9, was harder. I did not have as much energy, and my body felt tighter to begin with, especially in the right glute/piriformis area in the first sets of some poses such as the standing forward bend, or forward fold, in the half moon pose. However, in the second sets my body released.
Overall, I had a good class and felt much better for it.
There is so much happening in my body from daily Bikram practice, even after only nine days.
I have also noticed recently that practice leaves me less smashed -- I am still tired afterward, but no longer so deeply exhausted as I was in previous months.
I have physically and mentally relaxed into the notion of the 32-day challenge. There is a peacefulness from knowing that I have
committed to going daily; I do not need to think about whether I “should” go or
perhaps wait a day, I simply go once a day every day this month.
Take my mat and towels
(one for the session, and another for the shower after, since the first gets
absolutely soaked), my one Bikram outfit, a bottle of water, and get to the studio on time.
Like
in running, or any type of training, the knowledge that you have a manageable schedule
you want to stick to is mentally relaxing. Commitment can set you free from throwing obstacles into your own way. It stops you from thinking, “It is so
hard, maybe I should rest” or "I am too tired today", or "Too busy today"—you simply go.
I have also found that it allows me to relax in the practice
itself. Taking class once or twice a week, I felt I had to make them count,
whereas now I am conscious of sustaining the effort for 32 days in a row. That
does not mean I am taking it easy; it means that I am extra careful with
technique and listen better to where my body is that day.
I know that there are still another 23 days to go, so I am reluctant to say that it has been easier than I expected. The challenge is no doubt ahead.
I know that there are still another 23 days to go, so I am reluctant to say that it has been easier than I expected. The challenge is no doubt ahead.
But I am focused, I know exactly why I am doing this. I need
it, my body needs it, not just to run, but to live a good life, to live a full
life.
We miss out on so much when we do not use our body, cannot use our body, hate it
as so many women do, as I used to do in my early 20s, focusing on the things it is
not, can not do -- and assuming that it simply is the way it is.
We can change so much about our body if we learn to use it by giving it the time it needs, the effort it deserves. It will give us so much in return. I have experienced it as a runner and as a triathlete. Earlier this year I noticed it in the pool -- beliefs we have about our ability change if we challenge them.
Heel pain has prevented me from running for 10 months now. I have not been diagnosed with a medical reason for this problem. To me, that means there is no reason, none whatsoever, that I should not be able to return to running. I just need to listen carefully to what my body is trying to tell me.
Right now it is clearly saying that daily Bikram -- stretching and strengthening -- is what it needs.
A huge thanks to the enthusiasm from Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky for my challenge, your energy lifts me every practice.
Right now it is clearly saying that daily Bikram -- stretching and strengthening -- is what it needs.
A huge thanks to the enthusiasm from Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky for my challenge, your energy lifts me every practice.
May 01, 2013
Bikram yoga challenge -- 32 days
Last week, with 17 weeks to go until Ironman Whistler, my body made clear that it was not ready to run. In fact it made clear it was not ready for much riding either, especially in the aero position.
While that was far from good news, it also confirmed that the pain in my heel was merely a symptom, not the cause. The real problem lies in my hips, glutes and piriformis. Unless I fix that soon, I will only be able to do the 3.8K swim on August 25.
From the outset, my registration was about helping me cope with the injury. It was about helping me overcome the reluctance to resume swimming and cycling as it became clear run training was off the menu for a while. As an athlete I am new to dealing with a long layoff from running; I have never had to do that before.
For me, registering for Ironman was also about not losing hope that one day I will be running again, training and racing freely. And in the last few months my optimism about my future as a runner has strengthened. But I have also realized it is going to take a lot more effort and work. And Ironman might arrive too soon.
Bikram yoga will form a key part of my new plan of action to help restore my body's ability to run, to increase my chances to do Ironman, as planned.
Yesterday I began a 32-day challenge of practicing daily. I feel that my body needs it -- my hips, glutes, piriformis, my spine need more flexibility and strength. I have no doubt that these 32 days will be extremely hard but I believe that the benefits and rewards will far outweigh the effort.
Last night, before practice, I told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my intention because I wanted to commit myself to it. Accountability is also part of the reason I am writing this post. In the past three months I have done 21 Bikram classes, so an average of seven per month, less than two a week, compared with the 31 I did the prior six weeks, as I have easily found reasons to "go tomorrow".
Life is busy, so if I want to add something to the schedule I have to commit wholeheartedly and create the time. Reserve the space in my day and mind to practice those 90 minutes every day for one month.
Yesterday's practice was challenging, as my body was tired from the three-day swim meet over the weekend. I probably had not rehydrated well enough either. It confirmed that it had been a good decision to tell Jena about the plan because otherwise I might have skipped today, and the next day, thinking the challenge could wait until "later".
But I know that my body needs it now. How do I know that? Ten days ago, Jena read a quote during practice, which went something like: When you come to the end of what you know, you arrive at the beginning of what you sense. And I sense that Bikram holds the key to my recovery. I certainly sense it is worth trying and seeing what happens.
So I am planning on today's 5:30pm class for day 2 of my 32-day challenge. Namaste.
While that was far from good news, it also confirmed that the pain in my heel was merely a symptom, not the cause. The real problem lies in my hips, glutes and piriformis. Unless I fix that soon, I will only be able to do the 3.8K swim on August 25.
From the outset, my registration was about helping me cope with the injury. It was about helping me overcome the reluctance to resume swimming and cycling as it became clear run training was off the menu for a while. As an athlete I am new to dealing with a long layoff from running; I have never had to do that before.
For me, registering for Ironman was also about not losing hope that one day I will be running again, training and racing freely. And in the last few months my optimism about my future as a runner has strengthened. But I have also realized it is going to take a lot more effort and work. And Ironman might arrive too soon.
Bikram yoga will form a key part of my new plan of action to help restore my body's ability to run, to increase my chances to do Ironman, as planned.
Yesterday I began a 32-day challenge of practicing daily. I feel that my body needs it -- my hips, glutes, piriformis, my spine need more flexibility and strength. I have no doubt that these 32 days will be extremely hard but I believe that the benefits and rewards will far outweigh the effort.
Last night, before practice, I told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my intention because I wanted to commit myself to it. Accountability is also part of the reason I am writing this post. In the past three months I have done 21 Bikram classes, so an average of seven per month, less than two a week, compared with the 31 I did the prior six weeks, as I have easily found reasons to "go tomorrow".
Life is busy, so if I want to add something to the schedule I have to commit wholeheartedly and create the time. Reserve the space in my day and mind to practice those 90 minutes every day for one month.
Yesterday's practice was challenging, as my body was tired from the three-day swim meet over the weekend. I probably had not rehydrated well enough either. It confirmed that it had been a good decision to tell Jena about the plan because otherwise I might have skipped today, and the next day, thinking the challenge could wait until "later".
But I know that my body needs it now. How do I know that? Ten days ago, Jena read a quote during practice, which went something like: When you come to the end of what you know, you arrive at the beginning of what you sense. And I sense that Bikram holds the key to my recovery. I certainly sense it is worth trying and seeing what happens.
So I am planning on today's 5:30pm class for day 2 of my 32-day challenge. Namaste.
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