Self Transcendence Triathlon

I hesitated for a few precious seconds before slipping beneath the cool blanket of water. Despite being overcast, the visibility was surprisingly clear and I fixated on the frantic thrashing of some feet in front. But, just like a salmon vigorously making its way upstream, in a flash the feet were gone and I was left staring at a few random bubbles. As so I scanned my field of vision for some more feet. After swimming for a couple minutes I looked up to ensure I was going in the correct direction, and to check out the pack I was with. Turns out I was in a very small pack of two. As for my direction... tracking a red buoy amid a mass of red swim caps is easier said than done. All that came to mind was the 80’s song, ‘99 Red Balloons’.

The last time I raced a triathlon was August 1999. Since that time a lot has changed: marriage, a house, two children, an enjoyable career, a few grey hairs, and not least glasses. It’s the subtleties of life that can easily be taken for granted. Turns out, trying to locate a buoy 500m away when you’re near-sighted and not wearing glasses, is difficult at best. All I could do was smile.

With only seven swims in the last dozen years, the last few hundred meters were a tad desperate. The joy I felt grew exponentially as I a) was able to see bottom, b) could stand, and c) slowly began exiting the lake.

The next 1’46” was a blur as I struggled to take off my wetsuit and put on my helmet and bike shoes. That said, a benefit from a slow swim is that the transition was remarkably empty and I was able to clip into the peddles without having to worry about anxious competitors.

Maybe it’s due to some marathon wisdom I picked up over the last five years, but once I settled into a comfortable rhythm on the bike, I took my time moving through the field. With a limited cycling base, I tried to avoid crossing the anaerobic threshold and consequently was conservative on the hills while tapping out a metronomic tempo on the flats. I’d been targeting my return to the sport for three years, and on that early summer morning I continued to grin and count my blessing, fully appreciative of every moment.

With about 500m left on the bike, I used a slight downhill to slip my feet out of the shoes and soft peddled into transition. Despite not having elastic laces I was pretty happy with my second transition (1’03”), and glided out onto the run course feeling smooth. Perhaps it has more to do with expectations than reality, but fearing the worst, i.e. tired heavy legs, I started conservatively and felt nothing but a silky effortless stride. Feeling comfortable so early in the run, I told myself to run controlled and relaxed until 5k, re-evaluating afterwards. Once exiting the water, only one person passed me the entire race, at about 5k into the run. I remember debating picking up the pace, but instead opted for a controlled/enjoyable second half.

Cruising toward the finish line, I could hear Ally cheering, and saw Isla jumping up and down while clanging an old cow bell. Twelve years was far too long in-between races, and yet with no pressure and racing for nothing other than sheer enjoyment, I executed one of my best performances. I crossed the line thoroughly happy, with no excuses, having just relived my youth. It was everything I’d anticipated and more. Results here.

Training: 2:19:08, 14/199 OA, 4 AG, 1,500 swim 27:01 44th, 40k bike 1:10:46 20th, 10k run 38:33 8th

Twilight Shuffle 5k

On a muggy nondescript Tuesday afternoon, I stood outside work patiently waiting for my friend to show. We were about to embark on our pilgrimage to Chemainus, a sleepy town 80k north of Victoria which holds an annual race celebrating the arrival of summer. What started out as a flat, fast 4-miler, has turned into a twisting, lumpy (the course passes through a lumber yard) 5k. Regardless, my highlight is always the post-race thirst quenching pints at a local pub. Classic.

Larry arrived on time, and after a quick pit stop for bananas and Gatorade we were off. Three hours later we were standing in the middle of the picturesque little town, toeing the line with 328 other competitors. The field was relatively weak, but with Kevin and Lucy (both my nemesis) on either side I wasn’t going to be lacking any competition.

Apart from a local 8-year old kid confusing 5k with 200m, the start was uneventful... bordering on relaxing. I knew my fitness was lacking, and had decided to follow Lucy and Kevin for as long as I could. What I didn’t anticipate was Kevin also being off form, and as we split the few kilometres everything slowly started to make sense. Lucy gapped us at the turn-around, and Kevin and I continued to play cat-and-mouse until the final 400m climb where I managed to sneak in front with what will go down in history as my slowest 5k ever, so far.

Heading into the event, my expectations weren’t high but neither was I anticipating running that slow. If I can take something positive away, apart from the sheer enjoyment or racing and a few good pints with friends, it would be an increasing desire to perform well. Apathy hasn’t set in yet. Results here.

As for the dark side of my training, i.e., the swim and bike, everything was going... swimmingly, until Sunday morning. I was at the end of a 60’ big gear tempo piece and feeling really chuffed. It was at this exact moment, that I happened to come across (in the opposite direction) competitors from a Half Ironman event. As everyone flew passed me dressed in aero helmets and slick skin-suits, my confidence started to melt. My last triathlon was 12-years ago, and apparently a lot has changed. I just hope none of this underlines my enjoyment on race day.

Training:
Jun 13: bike 75’ w/ 6xhills
Jun 14: A.M. easy run 22:54, P.M. Chemainus Twilight Shuffle 5K, 17:59 (PW), 3:36 km/pace, 6/328 OA, 2 AG
Jun 15: bike 80’ w/ 4x (5' 80%, 5' 85%)
Jun 16: A.M. run 1:25:10 w/ 10xstrides, AFT. easy run 23:24, P.M. swim 1,800m
Jun 17: A.M. bike 75’ w/ 10’ big gear
Jun 18: day off (scheduled)
Jun 19: bike 2h25 w/ 60’ big gear

VTS #2 - Open 3,000m

TC10k Report

A few nights ago I watched an old Billy Bob Thornton flic, ‘Friday Night Lights’. The film is based on H.G. Bissinger's book, which profiles an economically depressed town and their heroic high school football team. As I lay in bed that evening, I couldn’t escape the stark contrast between football and running. The following morning as I toed the line for the 22nd Times Colonist 10k, I would have nobody running interference or blocking competitors from my path. There would be no time-outs. And, as this wasn’t a relay event any midrace substitution would be frowned upon. Luckily I find the loneliness of a runner quite intoxicating.

After taking some extremely harsh drugs two weeks earlier, I finally kicked the bronchitis and accompanying ailments from my system (over the course of four months, and three doctors, it has been a long time coming). And so, as I stood on the far right of the second row, ahead of an estimated 13,000+ participants I couldn’t be happier to be racing in the event despite a truncated training program (that's me in the green singlet, 800m in).

Starting at the pointy end of the race typically means being surrounded with athletes lacking a sense of humour, and Sunday was no different. That said, I remember Brad asking Shawn (?) what he wanted to run that morning. His response, “10k”… a dozen or so runners instantly cracked up, and Brad was left red in the face (thanks B).

The start was quick; apparently the beautiful Inner Harbour added more than a touch of inspiration to the morning. We were running a new course which rolled for the first few kilometres. Knowing this, I ignored my marathon ‘steady-as-you-go’ mantra, and instead attacked the downhill sections as I tried to maintain rhythm and pace. Despite the aggressive start, I was surprised at how comfortable I felt but apparently I wasn’t the only one with the same game plan. At this point there was a small group of four dangling 100m in front and notwithstanding my best efforts they continued to stay there.

With the Sooke 10k (38:35) as a recent guide, I didn’t know what to expect from my body. Sooke is a harder route and I was unsure how much my ill health had played a role. This would be the first time in years where I had no expectation and instead ran unabated.

Typically between 5k and 7k the race starts to ‘feel’ hard, this is made doubly difficult at the TC as the only major hill of the race appears right after the 5 km mark. I was prepared for this, and although the elastic stretched I hung on for dear life as I desperately tried to maintain contact with the group.

As the race entered the final stages I slowly began to reap the rewards of my desperation and passed over a dozen people. With 3k remaining I let gravity take over and pushed hard on the long gradual downhill passed the Coast Guard station and toward the finish. As I crossed the finish it was the first time in ages that I was truly happy. Running can be such a fickle sport, and your happiness can easily be measured in seconds or someone else’s result. For me, Sunday was all about enjoying the freedom to run… nothing else.

3:22, 3:47, 3:42, 3:34, 3:46 (18:11)
3:48, 3:45, 3:32, 3:30, 3:38 (18:22)

Training: TC10k 36:33, 12/401 AG, 55/10,214, 3:40 pace/km

Sooke River 10k

This luckless race has single-handedly crushed any latent desire for a marathon this year. The only thing racing this weekend were delusions of grandeur running through my head.

Just before leaving the house I checked the progress of a friend who was racing in Vienna. He’s run more than a handful of ‘thons over the last few years, his inaugural performance in Dublin ’04, 4:06:22. After following his training for a couple years we managed to connect in Boston two years ago where we bother suffered through a cold, windy day. I’ve continued to follow his training over the last few years and was ecstatic to see he’d finally managed to achieve his dream of a sub 3-hour performance, 2:59:35. He may not be the most talented athlete out there, but what he lacks in skill he more than makes up with determination, grit and tenacity. On more than one occasion he’s been a true inspiration.

And so, with the car packed we drive out to Sooke, Isla wondering whether or not there’d be a park to play in, Ally trying to calm Corbin and me daydream of a fall marathon. Fast forward a couple hours and my fantasy world had come crashing down to reveal a bitter cruel reality.

With a cold sweat clinging to my forehead, I knew immediately after the warm-up that I was in trouble but didn’t expect the worst. At about the 3k marker, I remember a Justin Bieber look-a-like passing me and asking if I was okay, he thought my shoulders looked tight? Who asks that sort of question mid-race, particularly when you’re less than five feet tall? The same rug rat, congratulated me on my performance after the race, “good job out there” I remember him saying… all I could do was smile: 3:33, 3:45, 3:44, 3:43, 3:58, 3:58, 3:59, 4:12 (hill), 3:52, 3:35

In all seriousness, I’m not too worried about the race. Sure it was my second slowest 10k ever, having only run slower in my debut as a runner back in ’93 (46:03 at the UVic 10k). But as I’m struggling through the lingering effects of my recent cold, I’m not too surprised with my performance. What hasn’t escape me thought, is my clear desire to run two minutes faster at the upcoming TC 10k.

Sooke River 10k, 38:35, 3:52km/pace, 27 OA, 4 AG,

Bazan Bay 5k

On a cool, blustery Sunday morning, I ran my inaugural race as a master… the Bazan Bay 5k. Given the talent that crept out of the woodwork, you wouldn’t be remised thinking this was a championship event. I don’t recall ever finishing 60th in a 5k before. Regardless, despite an all-time PW (personal worst) I found myself pleasantly happy with the race. Apparently expectation management is everything.

I have only recently introduced some speed work into my routine, but unfortunately due to the recent snowfall my workouts have been interrupted at best. On Tuesday I ran what were supposed to be 800s on a darkened soggy section of the Lochside Trail, followed by modified 200s along the Colquitz River on Thursday. Although my peak race is still 8 weeks away, I had hopes that my fitness would allow a performance reminiscent of last season (+/- 17:20)… allowing room for improvement of course (16:51).

With the race capped at 800 I knew the start would be fast and wasn’t too surprised to split the first kilometre in 3:23, but was shocked at how comfortable it felt. Waiting for the inevitable smack of lactic acid, I eased up slightly and was more secure with a second split of 3:28.

At this point I explicitly remember a coach/spectator yelling at someone to a) relax on the downhill… what downhill the race is pancake flat, and b) to make use of the tailwind. It was the latter comment that caused me some consternation; perhaps even more so as I passed 3k with a 3:44. Ouch! And yet the best was still to come.

After panting heavily alongside the oceanfront for 2 kilometres I rounded a cone that mark the beginning of the homeward stretch and ran headlong into a rather sturdy headwind… which might explain part of the subsequent 4:08. But as I ran scared for finish line (a nemesis on my heels) I can almost guarantee I didn’t run a 3:05 closing split that my watching showed.

Having run 13 5k’s in the last 16 years, and now with a new PW but also an accompanying PB as a master I look forward excitedly to the future. I don’t remember being this motivated in quite some time. Results here.

Training:
Monday: easy 42:38
Tuesday: A.M. easy 24:14, P.M. 1:03:01 w/ 7x(2’40”)(3’)
Wednesday: aerobic 1:10:17
Thursday: 1:08:39 w/ 20x35” (1’)
Friday: easy 25:52
Saturday: day off
Sunday: 1:02:18 with Bazan Bay 5k 17:48, 3:34k/pace, 60 OA, 8 AG

Snow Day

Yesterday morning, under a blanket of fading stars I ran to work along the Colqutiz Trail. With the air cool and crisp, the early signs of spring were inescapable as daffodil shoots littered the path edge and the sweet aroma of cherry blossoms hung delicately in the trees.

You can imagine my surprise then as I woke this morning and peered out the window to see a world blanketed in snow. I fully expect this evening’s run home to me heavy on adventure and light on aerobic capacity. And tomorrow’s track workout, 15x400 will almost certainly be postponed (Ally sent me the attached photos this morning).

On the weekend, amid milder conditions I participated in my first Island Race Series event in almost two years. Billed as the Island’s premier road racing series, Sunday’s course was more reminiscent of a cross county route and I’ve certainly run GutBuster trail races that are flatter. That being said, I thoroughly enjoyed myself even if I my ego suffered a few bruises: Hatley Castle 8k results, 31:06, 3:53 pace/km, 25 OA, 4 AG

With the Times Colonist two months away, my recent competition has lit a fire in my belly and planted seeds for the future.

Training:
Monday: A.M. 44:45, P.M. 42:31
Tuesday: 1:08:51 w/ 3x10 tempo (2’)

Xterra Makena Beach Trail Run

After being gone for the better part of five days, it has taken me almost a week to recover some semblance of normalcy and it will undoubtedly be a few more days before I fully regain my composure. My recovery has been in part delayed due to an annoying bout of bronchitis and a rather large corporate realignment at work. Life certainly isn’t dull.

As for the race itself, apart from seeming like a lifetime ago, it was desperate, brutal and unforgiving. Essentially everything you could and would wish for in a trail race.

I was very fortunate to be staying at the race hotel, and with the event starting almost directly below my fourth floor balcony my usual pre-race routine was quite truncated. That said, with almost 600 nervous competitors milling about the grounds being caught up in the excitement was inevitable. And so after a light warm-up (not difficult when it’s 28C) I toed the grassy start line with naught but a smile and a dry cough for company.

BOOM!

Never in my life have I experienced such a loud starting noise. I should have taken more caution when I noticed the previous year’s winner with his fingers in his ears. I literally jumped with fright and was quickly swallowed by 50+ people at the start.

But with relatively open and rolling terrain over the first mile it wasn’t long before I was near the front. This worried me. But as we made a sharp right and struggled up the steep lower slopes of Haleakala gaps quickly formed and ‘racing’ quickly turned to ‘survival’, as the next two miles turned to a lung burning, quad bruising fight for survival.

After reaching the race high point and quickly sneaking a peak at Molokini off in the distance, the course turned right again before plunging down the notorious Cactus Alley. After spending a lot of time running under a canopy of rocks and roots in BC’s rain forest, I was hoping to use the downhill to gain a few positions. Unfortunately, either a) so were my competitors or b) my quads were spent. Probably both.

After coming off the volcano the route pops out onto the very southerly tip of Big Beach. Never has running been so difficult or my throat so parched, as I shuffled along the next mile of open shoreline. We’ve all experienced those dreams where you’re violently running and going nowhere, this was the harsh reality for each competitor.


Our hopes and speed were only raised slightly as we exited the coast, only to once again trundle through a very sandy ‘spooky forest’. At this point I was desperate. With my nearest rival a distant memory I scrambled over the last mile of black sand and sharp lava before crossing the finish line, a wilted version of myself.

Training: 47:43 10th OA, 2nd AG, 06:54 pace/mile

GoodLife Fitness Half Marathon

Game on. Those were the words that echoed in my head as I passed over the 10k timing mat. With dark clouds hanging precariously low and a blustery wind at my back, I knew the ensuing 11k was going to be tough. I wasn’t disappointed.

Up until that point, I had been running in the company of a friend. Jen had hoped to hold 3:47s, me 3:45s which would’ve seen both of us sneak under 1h20. However, having completed 4 of the last 5 (albeit rolling) kilometres in the neighbourhood of 3:50, I knew we were in for a challenge. And so, with washed out Olympic Mountains to my right and an eerie Ross Bay Cemetery on my left my perceived effort slowly edged beyond comfortable, and settled well into the red.

The subsequent kilometres passed with the same eagerness as do telephone poles on a dreary autumn morning.

After eventually reaching the turn-around, I noticed a small group of runners dangling 200m in front of me. But try as I might, as we weaved our respective paths through Fairfield’s twisted streets, each corner presented an image a tad lonelier and disconnected than the last. My splits as follows:

3:35, 3:41, 3:47, 3:42, 3:45 (18:30)
3:50, 3:51, 3:40, 3:51, 3:50 (19:02)
3:49, 3:53, 3:51, 3:51, 3:52 (19:16)
3:56, 4:04, 4:09, 3:57, 3:59 (20:05)
4:02

Two days later, I founded myself sitting outside Habit enjoying much appreciated coffee as Carter and I traded tales from the weekend. His stories were much more exciting. However, I remember recounting how I’d hoped to run faster. How, despite being marginally older, enjoying marginally more responsibility, and wanting to run within the confines of a healthy, well-balanced family life... I still hoped for more. I think I’ve been deluding myself.

His response brought a smile to my face, “train with me”, he said. Much like throwing down a gauntlet, he penned a 10k time we’d both be happy with. Achieving it before well before spring arrives, arguably a bit challenging. Game on.

Training: 38/5717 OA, 2/242 AG, 1:21:04, 3:51km/pace

Landsend 10k

When I began my four-week vacation the sun was always up before me, the daytime temperatures hovered around 27C and I enjoyed a voracious thirst for Speckled Hen. Last night after lighting the fire for the first time in months, I sipped on red wine while cooking coq au vin; this morning running to work amidst darkness and with naught for company but a light drizzle and my own wandering thoughts. Autumn has clearly arrived.

Yesterday morning Ally and I bundled up the kids and drove out to Sandown Park for the annual Landsend 10k. Although the rainfall didn’t stop until later that afternoon, there was no wind and it wasn’t that cold. Some consolation perhaps.

After the usual warm-up (10’ easy, 3’ tempo, 7’ easy) I ditched my rain gear and slowly made my way to the start. The announcer proceeded to inform us that a) the kilometre marks were not accurate, and b) the course had been amended. Stretched. I didn’t pay much attention to either of these details until after the race.

The gun cracked and I quickly fell into step behind the race leaders only to watch them rapidly fade away into the mist, my nearest competitor finishing nearly full two minutes before me. I checked with MC (McMillan Calculator) the night before and based on my recent 5k performance, settled on a 10k time of 35:54 (3:35 pace/k). I split the first marker faster than expected but quickly settled into a comfortable stride, perhaps a little too comfortable as I dropped some precious seconds over around 3km.

The course is relatively flat out-and-back along very rural roads with a sharp steep hill shortly after 4km. Previous routes were measured to be approximately 150m short and we were assured this year’s route was accurate. That said I was quite surprised to hit the turnaround in 18:22 after completing a 4:03 kilometre.

3:25, 3:35, 3:42, 3:35, 4:03 (18:22)
3:55, 3:39, 3:44, 3:46, 3:23 (18:29)

At about 7k I was struggling to maintain a relaxed rhythm and was surprised to find myself remembering my previous 10k PB, perhaps taking some console in the familiarity of discomfort. I snapped back to reality to hear quickly closing feet only to recognize it was the raindrops falling off the trees. I ran the last few miles like a frightened rabbit closing in a time over a minute slower than anticipated.

I’m not too concerned about this race or the result as I had planned to use it in preparation for the GoodLife Fitness Half Marathon next month. But it has left me pondering my fitness and questioning a goal time for the next race, 1:19:53 vs. 1:22:00.

Back to reality, ouch!

Training: 36:51, 3:41/km, 5/91 OA, 4/14 AG

VTS Race #8: 5,000m (Fugly)

I’ve participated in enough races to fully appreciate and understand a few of the finer points concerning: pacing, attitude, fitness and desire. My summary, “you can’t run fast unless you run fast”. This all too obvious statement usually requires a certain amount of attitude (belief in oneself), fitness and race smarts. Apparently I still have a lot to learn.

After returning from our first camping trip (with children) and only moments prior to toeing the line I had enough wherewithal to draft out a rough race plan. Based on my recent mile, the McMillan Calculator predicted a 5,000m time of 17:17. I was hoping to run something faster, ideally closer to 17:00 but settled on sub 17:10... for no reason other than an unfounded belief that I was entitled to run faster. My pace/km was 3:26.

I chatted with the eventual winner (and perpetual superstar) Lucy Smith just before the start and knew that she was aiming to hold 3:25s with the thought being able to slip under 17:00 if the conditions were right. Sure, why not I thought. I was completely surprised then when instead of a moderate 81”-82” opening 400m, we cruised through in 78”. At that moment I knew I had to either, a) run with it and accept the result that fate would deliver or b) slow down. I choose poorly.

We spilt the opening kilometre in 3:23 the whole time alternating 400s as there was a wickedly strong wind on the backstretch. We continued this pattern through 2,400m, after which all I could do was squeak out a weak apology between gasps and wait for the inevitable.

The train wreck was excruciating. Despite trying to hold my form (the usual smooth stride and relaxed shoulders) it felt as if I was running uphill, into the wind with wet sneakers. In the end I crossed the line in the predicted 17:17 but couldn’t help but think of the possibility that existed had I run a smart race. Still, the result was far better than my first 5,000m in May (17:40) and a further improvement over the 17:24 run in June.

The carnage: 3:23, 3:24, 3:28, 3:35 & 3:27

Enough of this, back to vacation for a couple more weeks...

Training: VTS #8: 5,000m, 17:17.0, 3:27/km, 5:34/mi, 2nd OA

VTS Race #6: the Mile (again)

There are certain events in life where familiarity or experience can help bread a sense of calm. Competing in the mile isn’t one of them. And so it was that on a warm Saturday evening in late July, I found myself again pacing nervously, almost painfully as I waited to be called to the line.

CRACK!

Unlike last time there was no hesitation upon hearing the sound of the gun, rather the sharp noise brought almost instantaneous relief. Bolting clear from the line I immediately found myself out front and for the duration of the event was unaware of the other competitors. As I rounded the first corner and despite strangely heavy legs, I repeatedly told myself to slow down knowing that the initial rush that accompanies the burning off of the excitement and fear would soon be over.

Much like last time, the first 200m went by dizzily fast. I glanced at my watch, 37.5... and again much like last time, I had difficulty finding meaning in the split. The additional 9m at the beginning made the opening leg meaningless.

I heard the crowd as I passed the start, alone, the announcer educating the spectators that if I were to continue this pace I ‘may’ sneak under 5:00. I also heard for the first and last time a single high-pitched voice, “go daddy, go”.

“… 1:15 …”

I rounded the corner again and began my journey down the backstretch for the second time. It was about after 500m that it started... the all too familiar acid strain, my systems beginning to panic, organs shutting down for the duration. My legs started to get the first wave of lactic numbness. I don’t recall much else but a numbed sense of hurting.

“… 2:30 …”

Starting the third lap, I was really feeling it now, a sense of fear and dread knowing that I still had a long way to go. Just before the 1,000m mark I started my kick. Probably nothing noticeable but I didn’t want to slip off the pace. My shoulders now ached.

As I sped down the homestraight, the lactic acid was boiling. I remember the announcer, Paul telling the crowd that I was still on pace for a sub-5:00 mile, an important and hard fought barrier for the mile. Then the bell rang out.

“… 3:45 ...”

I rounded the corner and ran onto the backstretch for the last time. With about 200m remaining I was finally tying up. I was fighting fiercely to maintain form, trying valiantly to lift my ears off my shoulders. I recalled something Ron had yelled during the final lap of my last race and with great effort and determination pumped my arms fiercely. I pumped harder still, trying to concentrate as my headed rocked.

I could see the clock in the distance. Paul had the crowd cheering, as I tried to make sense of the number. I knew it would be close. I was completely numb, a world of pain. I would find out later that I crossed the line with a time of 5:00.5, half a second off my goal. It looks like I’m going to have to wait for until next season to have a crack at this again. Bugger. That said, I didn’t walk away empty handed as I won an adidas watch. Oh, and next time, I’m running in the elite race... although I would’ve come last I can only hope I that by chasing someone’s coattail I might have found the time I needed.

Training: VTS #6: mile, 5:00.5, 3:06/km, 5:00/mi, 1st OA

VTS Race #4: 5,000m (Track is Back)

It had been eight laps since I’d run comfortably in the slipstream of the runner in front. Now, almost in jest I felt nothing but the imaginary slap as their wake dangled painfully out of reach.

The bell rang loud in my ear as I began my last lap. I round the corner and ran hard onto backstretch for the last time. I remembered the advice painfully gained from my last race, and tried in vain to hold my form. I had started my kick 500m out, and now with 300m remaining I had made minimal progress. Rather than gaining on my nearest competitor I enjoyed the lukewarm comfort of a dead heat. Once again there was nothing left in the tank. And much like last time I was left gasping, hands on knees after crossing the finish line.

A colleague and I were swapping weekend war stories this morning. He asked me what it felt like during one of those races, and my answer, “a long drawn-out paper cut”.

On the weekend I participated in Victoria Track Series Race #4, the 5,000m. It would be my second 5,000m of the summer, my first eight week earlier a disappointing (personal worst) 17:40. Despite having lost two weeks to an injured ligament, I was looking forward to making gains in my quest for a new PB.

Unlike last time where they held separate heats, on Saturday the organizers combined the elite and open races and I toed the line with 20 other nervous athletes eventually finishing in 17:24, 16” faster than my previous race. More importantly (and despite a fast opening lap) I was pleased with my pacing.

May 01: 3:35, 3:25, 3:36, 3:37, 3:25

Jun 26: 3:23, 3:30, 3:31, 3:30, 3:30

Obtaining a new PB (16:51) in the next two months will be a push, but I’m looking forward to the challenge. Last summer I ran three 5k races over the similar 8-week period and lowered my time from 17:27 to 17:07 (a 20” improvement). So far, I’ve managed to knock 16” off, in a little over 6-weeks. And with 8-weeks remaining until the August 21 final race, I have the road clearly laid out in front of me. With wildcard this summer will be the arrival of our newest family member.

Training:
Jun 21: day off
Jun 22: A.M. 1:15:07 with 4x2' (1') + 6x1' (30") + 8x30" (30"), P.M. easy 1:02:26
Jun 23: easy 54:16
Jun 24: easy 43:14
Jun 25: day off
Jun 26: 1:00:17 with 5,000m 17:24, 7th OA, 4th AG
Jun 27: rolling 1:22:21


Weekly mileage: 6h17’41”, +/- 89km or 56 miles

VTS Race #3: the Mile (my first)

CRACK!

.

There was a small moment of hesitation when I thought my legs were going to fail me completely, and then I was away. Bolting clear from the line, burning off the rush of excitement and fear that had been weighing me down. Almost immediately, I found myself on the outside in about fifth position and not where I wanted to be. I ran strong around the first bend and tucked nicely into second, about two yards off the pace.

The first 200 went by as always, dizzily fast and I risked glancing at my watch, 38.0. Opening in that time was par for the course for me but as I tried to adjust the split for the additional 9m at the start, I quickly realized my brain was lacking the necessary concentration and gave up the calculation. What should I have been running?

I heard the crowd as we passed the start in a relatively tight bunch, the announcer reading off names like role call on the first day of school. But did I hear that, probably not. I swore I heard one single voice, “go daddy, go”.

“… 1:15, 1:16, 1:17…”

I rounded the corner again and began my journey down the backstretch for the second time, then it hit me. It started in my gut, a slow acid kind of strain, my systems beginning to panic, intestines, other organs shutting down for the duration. And my legs started to get the first wave of lactic numbness. Shoulders and arms starting now. However, what I remember most was the sheer dehydration in my throat, I was completely parched.

I could hear the panting and heavy strides of the runners behind me. Someone was trying to move up on the outside. Who was it? I hung in there coming into the home straight for the second time, although this time a little more laboured. As the crowd yelled, this time I knew I heard it, there was no mistake, “go daddy, go”.

“… 2:35, 2:36, 2:37…”

Starting the third lap, I was really feeling it now, the old intestine-sliding-down-the-leg extremis that comes when it dawns on you that there is a long way to go. Paul, the first place runner had put 15m on me, but as I stared down the far straighaway I knew I was gaining, slowly.

My shoulders ached now with the heavy strain of the lactic acid, so I pumped harder, trying to concentrate on form as my headed rocked back. I had been warned that this is where I needed to focus, maintain the pain, then push through it. Strangely enough, I vividly remember taking stock and was surprised at my inability to recognize any pain. I was completely numb.

As I sped down the homestraight, I really felt it, the lactic acid was boiling, but I was also getting excited knowing that this time it would not be long, that it wasn’t going to go on forever. Then the bell rang out.

“… 3:47, 3:38, 3:49”

As I rounded the corner and ran onto backstretch for the last time, I was tying up, “feck me, what was I doing”. My ears were now firmly resting on my shoulders and my arms were heavy. I opened my kick only to find I was already in top gear, there was nothing left. I couldn’t breathe fast enough, my chest was pounding. I remember someone telling me to relax my chin, and Ron yelling at me to pump my arms as I soared onto the home stretch, running in fear of the footsteps behind.

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"So this is what it feels like, this is what happens..."

Earlier that morning, I plugged my recent 17:40 5k into McMillan’s Calculator and was unceremoniously awarded a time of 5:06.0. I crossed the line in 5:04.2. I have eight weeks to find another four seconds. I loved every painful moment.

Training: VTS #3: mile, 5:04.2, 3:09/km, 5:04/mi, 2nd OA

VTS Race #1: 5,000m

“... go, go, go, daddy... wait”

With daylight waning, those were the words I heard twelve times as I fought my way around the track in what was my first race in the Victoria Track Series (VTS).

Saturday was to be my first true test of conditioning since running the RVM in October and injuring my hamstring. With less than a handful of workouts in the last seven months I wasn’t expecting much. Based on my recent (soft) 10k performance, the McMillan Calculator suggested a 5k equivalent of 18:19. I sincerely hoped I was capable of running quicker, but with a frigid wind lashing my back I approached the start line with more than a handful of doubt.

Shortly after the gun sounding, and a moment’s hesitation, I fell quickly into step behind the towering figure of the second placed runner (not too shabby). With the wind continuing to howl positioning was paramount, but after having my heels clipped I lost one position (covering the opening kilometre in 3:35).

After a ‘relatively’ comfortable start and the race leader running solo about 10 meters off the front I decided to shift gears and found myself out front at the mile marker. Unknowingly, I had also dragged along a few fearless souls and we closed the second km in 3:25.

It was at this point that the eventual winner made his move, and despite my best efforts I found myself gradually losing contact. Having previously raced only once on the track, 5,000m last summer, I don’t have much to draw upon but based on my limited experience I found kilometres three and four (3:36, 3:37 respectively)... desperate. I wasn’t in pain, but neither could I escape the feeling I was running up a sand dune, i.e., I struggled. But with the antics of my daughter to keep me focused I managed to close out the race with a solid 3:25.

Entering the event I didn’t expect more than an honest effort... I achieved my goal and also took home a t-shirt and a silver (second place) VTS bottle opener. Clearly a resounding success. My aim for the series is to improve my 5k PB, to do so I need to find 50 seconds by August. I have my work cut out for me. Next up though, my first attempt at 3,000m on May 15th which if McMillan holds true will see me around 10:08.

Training: VTS Race #1: 5,000m 17:40, 3:32/km, 5:42/mi, 2nd OA

Times Colonist 10k

What I remember most is the God awful stench as I stood waiting, impatiently for the sound of the horn. One could presuppose that runners are a superstitious lot, perhaps choosing (with complete and utter disregard to their fellow competitors) not to wash their ‘lucky’ race kits. Or, with nervous excitement bubbling over, conceivably someone (however accidently) pissed them self. Regardless, the nauseous stench at the start line was dreadful.

As for the race, I truly appreciated every moment; I hadn’t quite realized just how much I missed racing. The idea of standing on the sidelines and consequently protecting a fragile ego doesn’t begin to compare to the pleasure gained through adding my solitary footsteps to the pounding of the masses.

On the heels of a torn hamstring and with only two workouts in the last seven months (both last week), my race plan was simple... run comfortably fast for six kilometres, and uncomfortably fast afterwards. What I didn’t expect was registering a 3:57 opening kilometre *argh*. That was the sound of my ego absorbing the opening blow.

I’m happy with how the race unfolded given that I’d told Ally I expected to finish between 38’ and 40’. That said, the next time I run in a 10k event I hope to be carrying a significantly higher level of fitness. Splits as follows:

3:57, 3:49, 3:47, 3:53, 3:51 (19:17)
3:59, 3:45, 3:39, 3:41, 3:39 (18:43)

As luck would have it, there is no rest for the wicked. This weekend, Saturday, marks the first race in the inaugural Victoria Track Series. I’ve registered for eight events between now and the end of August, first up, 5,000m.

Training: Times Colonist 10k, 38:04, 101 OA, 13 AG

King of Pain

It was far better than the ubiquitous Christmas jumper, but not quite a shinny new car. Still, I’ll take the 12 days in Maui and enjoy every moment of it. This is me signing off for a couple weeks while the girls and I head further west, to the land of surf, sand and sunshine.
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As for my race, it was solid, something I’ve been hoping to achieve for a few years. I have to be brief as we’re busy packing, or at least the missus is. The highlights then:

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(1) Nonstop (almost): I ran the entire race, apart from stopping to pull up my socks (twice) and walking for 2”-3” to get some water at an aid station, it was one continuous run. I’m so glad to have not been apart of the mid-race walking wounded. I’ve put in my time.

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(2) Compression socks: as I mentioned above, I had to stop twice in the first 10k to pull them up, otherwise they seemed fine. I didn’t cramp, but then I typically don’t. The jury is still out.

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(3) Chaffing: in my race package there was a product sample called “Udderly Smooth”. I know you’re not supposed to try something new on race morning but I decided to give it a go. It worked like a dream, I’ll definitely be using it again.

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(4) Nutrition: I ran with a bottle for the first half (the water was gone by then), and ate Clif Shot Bloks (lemon-lime), roughly 3/40’… my stomach has never been so settled during a race. The only drawback was the 3C temperature at the race start, made the first few bloks rather chewy.

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Ok, I’ll give you the gory details when I’m back from vacation but until then this will have to do. Thanks to everyone who offered a kind word of support either here, or out on the course. It was much appreciated. As for what’s up next, I can honestly say I have no idea. I almost forgot, someone introduced himself to me in the first mile of the race. Said he drops in from time-to-time to read this blog… I hope your race went well.

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Until later, enjoy the road you’re on.

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P.s. This morning I’m in a world of pain.

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Royal Victoria Marathon: 2:49:41, 4:02 k/pace, 26/2319 OA, 5/219 M35-39 (half split at 1:23:01)

Royal Victoria Marathon (4-weeks out)

I’m extremely glad that I started to re-read Running with the Buffalo’s last night, and I quote “All that remains is thirty minutes to ‘man-up’ and take the pain, one last time. They are not afraid…” I had about half an hour left to race and I told myself to ignore the hurt; it was comforting to know that I wasn’t alone.

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Today was the last significant tempo piece in my preparation for the RVM. Under clear blue skies, the girls and I drove out to Sidney this morning as I had planned to run the Lands End Half Marathon. I wanted to use this race as a dry run for the marathon and so wore my (planned) race clothes and shoes.

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After my usual 20’ warm-up, which always includes 3’-4’ at near race pace, I changed into my kit including my new shoes and made my way over to the start line. It wasn’t long before the countdown started, and within seconds of the gun sounding I was out front and leading. Now this wasn’t planned. I turned around to look for Hicham and couldn’t see him anywhere, and it was what felt like an eternality before the only Kenyan in the field pulled up beside me and then proceeded to drop the hammer which sent ripples through the field.

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After splitting 1k in (3:23, way too fast) I was running comfortably in second place and it wasn’t until the mile marker that I could hear Hicham pulling up beside me. He’d planned to start alongside Phil but seeing me up the road l had left him wanting. We ran quietly together for about another 400m before I told him to drop in behind me so that we could work together. We continued to alternate positions for the first 5k (all slightly downhill) before I was rudely spat out the back on the first of many, many climbs. 3:23, 3:30, 3:40, 3:35, 3:53 (18:02)

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It briefly flattened out around 7k and I used the opportunity (and subsequent downhill) to reel Hicham back in, help in part by his slowing. We continued to run together through 10k at which point he could see 4^th place gaining and ventured out on his own. I had no response. I also didn’t see the 4^th place runner. 3:52, 3:33, 3:34, 3:55, 3:44 (18:40)

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The following 5k was relentless series of climbs, which despite a strong effort, saw me log a 4:12 kilometer closing out 15k. 3:36, 3:48, 3:49, 3:45, 4:12 (19:12)

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The closing 5k had the runners circle back onto the opening stretch, and as much as I willed it to be flat, the slight grade felt mountainous. It was with 3k remaining that Phil passed me, after which I ran scared through to the finish. Despite wanting to run 1:17:XX, I’m pleased with the result. I had no idea the course was so hilly, and on a flatter route I know I could’ve met my goal, if not 1:16:XX high. 3:39, 3:33, 3:44, 3:46, 3:52 (18:36) 4:05

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Lessons learned: 1) I sweat a lot, I must remember to drink more come race day, 2) it’d be nice to find shorts that don’t chaff, 3) the shoes worked, Fastwitch it is, and 4) I’m not sold on the compression socks, they’ll be a game time decision.

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Full results here

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Training:

Friday: A.M. steady 37:43, P.M. easy 38:00

Saturday: easy 26:28 with 6xstrides

Sunday: 1:48:36 w/ 1:18:37 Lands End Half Marathon 4^th OA, 1^st AG (winning time 1:12:18)

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Weekly mileage: 7h15’47”, +/- 102k or 64 miles

Sidney Days 5k

Yesterday was the last of three planned summer 5k events and it left me wanting... not an entirely bad feeling, but something I certainly didn’t expect.

After taking a month down after Boston, I spent the last several weeks getting in touch with my turnover and speed: I managed to jump on the track several times, tweak my achilles (actions not necessarily connected) and participated in my most feared event, not once but three times.

So it was that yesterday, Canada Day, the girls and I drove out to Sidney on a gorgeous summer morning to participate in the Sidney Days 5k. Despite a sore throat (Isla has been sick); I was looking forward to the event and if nothing else, enjoying the day with family. After scanning the 2008 results, I was amazed at the turnout. Not only were there an additional 100+ participants, but the calibre of runner was much higher. Still, after a routine warm-up with Hicham I found myself starring down Bevan Avenue and directly into the sun.

Once the gun had gone off, I quickly became engulfed in sea of arms, I felt in the midst of a 300+ participant track event. Even after splitting the opening kilometre in 3:16, I still found myself surrounded with unfamiliar completion and in about 30th place... I couldn’t help but think it might be once of ‘those’ days.

It was after roughly one mile that the field started to come back. I settled in about 3m behind Hicham, confident that riding his coattail would see me through (my goal was 16:XX). After taking stock around 2k (no marker) I was a bit surprised with my comfort and despite being nervous, opted to pass Hicham knowing now that I was now going to be running scared.

We covered kilometres 2 & 3 in 6:58 (3:29 avg.) which was disappointing, enough said. I could still see Kevin Searle down the road, and despite being out of reach he wasn’t too far away that I couldn’t attach an imaginary line and hope for a free ride. Over the last two kilometres (3:28, 3:24) I really concentrated on my turnover and that imaginary line. I was also aware of the conversation I was having with myself, but unlike the typical negative self-talk, the nattering this time around was a positive exchange. I knew it was going to be tough, but I believed I was going to slide under 17:00 with just a few seconds to spare.

My office time, 17:07, the result... satisfying. Over the last 6+ weeks I’ve managed to improve my 5k by 20” (Black Press 5000 17:27, Twilight Shuffle 5k 17:23 & Sidney Days 5k 17:07). Outside of the performance though, what I’m taking away most from this small training block is a) a renewed desire to run, b) positive self-talk and c) a sore throat... being sick in the summer sucks.

Training:

Monday: easy 30:20 with 6xstrides

Tuesday: easy 18:29

Wednesday: 1:05:12 with Sidney Days 5k 17:07, 12th OA, 4th AG

Thursday: easy 50:38