Panama Flats

In what seems like a rare moment these days, earlier this week I found myself sitting down to a quiet house. Isla was asleep in bed still wearing her new “I love NY” t-shirt, Ally was puttering on the computer and I was basking in the joy of recently finished renovations. It wasn’t until then that I realized my legs were aching. Not in a shocking or sore manner, but rather the pins were vibrating with that comfortably numb feeling you get after a solid workout. The session today will no doubt add to that numbness.

Despite the incessant clouds and accompanying rain that has been blanketing the southern tip of the island; I wasn’t at all deterred when I left the house this morning. After a gentle warm-up along the Lochside Trail and through Boradmead, I found myself clipping across the Panama Flats feeling... what was it?

Comfortable.

A sensation that two weeks ago would have been entirely foreign, if not unworkable. And if the rest of the week continues to unfold as planned, I could round out the week with mileage not seen since last September (109 km or close to 68 miles).

I still have a lot of work to do if I want to try and PB over 5k later this summer. But given that I took time off this autumn to deal with a tear in my hamstring, followed more recently with an ankle injury, I’m quite pleased with how my body has adapted to my recent increase in running.

Upward and onward... happy trails.


[photo: Panama Flats]

Evolution

The transition out the door is relatively uncomplicated; leaving work isn’t difficult but always takes more time than expected, particularly when juggling the bike/run commute.

After an injury related absence from running I’m keen to again feel the exhilaration and exhaustion that accompanies training. I was diagnosed with a partial 2nd degree tear, but after carefully monitored recovery, coupled with a few easy jaunts my ankle is surprisingly sturdy.

I use the busy stretch of corridor between the office and the Tillicum Rd to relax into the session. The sun is shining bright overhead and the afternoon air was unexpectedly warm and still. I test my legs with some relaxed strides before entering the cooler, shaded creekside trail along the Colquitz River to begin the workout.

Fast-forward ten minutes and I’m nearing the end of my first tempo piece, now cruising the mostly gravel path across the Panama Flats. “Mw-tweet”, my focus is broken by the piercing call of a red-wing black bird. I use the stirring to pass through a mental checklist; stand tall, hips forward, light on my feet. I power up a moderate hill, my breathing laboured as I crest the top.

Sweat now tricks down the side of my face. I concentrate on the pat-pat-pat of my cadence as I travel across the small stones. My reintroduction to running has been brilliant, if not a rude awakening. I’ve missed the second race in the VTS but with the next event (the mile) only three weeks away my preparation will be desperate.

I’m glad to be back.

[photo: Colquitz River, Victoria, BC]

Then that happened

It amazes me the capacity of one particular sense to completely capture a moment. The sight of a leaf lazily floating in front of your face on a cool autumn morning. The pungent smell of urine and nerves as you stand impatiently waiting for the start of a race. And then there was yesterday.

Work has been particularly busy of late and yesterday was no exception. When not in meetings with executive, I was left to deal with the pesky auditors, finalize our 2010/11 budget and prepare for estimates (now delayed). Surprisingly, or as luck would have it I managed to accomplish much of what I had intended. Rare at best.

With the day’s work complete and an accompanying sense of satisfaction spread across my face, I left the office turning left and running over the Gorge trestle. Over the last few weeks, I’ve been unsuccessful in finding a particular video, Sweet Home Alabama (you needn’t ask). With my options dwindling, I put my faith in a truly unique shop in the heart of Cook Street Village… and was rewarded.

I didn’t stop here. After a jaunt on Sunday, I noticed that a pair of shorts were worn through and so decided to swing by Frontrunners on the way home to pick up a couple new pairs. Again I was triumphant, and as I ran steadily down Quadra for home I couldn’t help but reflect on how truly productive the day had been.

Nearing home, I spotted an extended stretch of grass alongside the road and opted for the forgiving grassland. This is not out of routine figuring that when you run as much as we, a few precious steps on the soft ground can be a difference maker. What I remember next is the sound of uncooked linguine snapping, the sharp cracks in quick succession still echo in my head. Why me, not now, please.

And so, after limping home and participating in the usual dinner/bedtime routines and watching previously mentioned movie, my allotted time for denial had passed. I grabbed the car keys, my Blackberry and a book off the shelf, and then proceeded to carefully drive myself to the hospital only to confirm I have a torn anterior talo-fibular ligament (4-6 weeks). Bugger.

Training: steady 58:52

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

But then his heart would nearly explode when the pistol cracked

“And he stood tall there in the dark, while a cool breeze ruffled the ragged lock of hair on his forehead, knowing that for one instant there would be a kind of calm in the midst of all that pounding, roaring furor, a moment of serene calm before an unholy storm”.

A crooked smile slowly crept over my face; I then found myself laughing aloud after realizing that I missed that moment of calm, and truth. Perhaps more surprisingly, I missed the chaos.

Since I last wrote, a new rhythm has (almost unknowingly) worked its way into the tread work of my life and consequently my running. These days, the details seem to take care of themselves as I, left alone focus on the horizon. A consequence of this new outlook has been an uncomplicated enjoyment in my running.

This summer will be busy, marked most notably with the arrival of our son ‘expected’ at beginning of July. Between now and then I hope to scatter in a few track races. My expectations are low.

I suppose though, everything kicks off this weekend as I hope to participate in small local race. Early Sunday morning, I will undoubtedly find myself on the edge of Beacon Hill Park, ridiculously early, accompanied by 13,000+ of my closest friends. Let the fun begin.

Until then...

Training: 1:05:14 w/ 20' tempo, Sunday is going to hurt *ouch*

Enjoy the road you’re travelling...

If I could offer only one tip for the future, this would be it, “enjoy the road you’re travelling”. And if I were to continue unsolicited, I’d suggest possessing a passion for life, playing and laughing with enthusiasm, and living with purpose... but I’ll stop here.

"So you're going to go through with it, then."

"I am, I've been planning this for a long time. It'll give me something to talk about for the next nine days - or ninety-nine, more likely. Anyway, at least I'll have my race."

That was the first entry on this blog. It lasted much more than ninety-nine days, and I’ve been lucky enough to have more than one race. Beginning on a cold Friday in November, 2006, the printed tales of this runner have been at times harsh, quite often enjoyable, but always provided me with growth and opportunity.

Scanning the last five years, I’m amazed at the running I’ve accomplished (let alone the life I’ve managed to squeeze in):

2006
As I trained with my first coach for what would stand today as my fastest marathon (CIM ’06 2:40:19), I was fortunate to share many an experience with equally lasting friends (Carter – 22nd Annual Harriers Gunner Shaw). Running the CIM, was also where I would meet fellow blogger Mike, a.k.a. “Running with Lydiard”.

2007
During a year where I broke my arm while downhill-mountain biking on my stag, was married, found out we were pregnant, and bought our first house, I’m surprised I did any running at all. On the contrary, Seamus, Carter and I set out to travel “Three Roads to London”. My race (3:14:11) was disappointing but the experience something I still talk about today. From the redemption of another marathon only weeks later, to the running of the bulls, or a half marathon PB (1:15:29) the year was something to remember.

2008
If for a second I thought ’07 was busy, the fiddle tune only quickened in ’08. That spring I was running well and although I cancelled an early-season marathon (Ally was on bed rest), I was able to benefit from my fitness and posted a 5k and 8k PB, 16:51 and 27:28 respectively. Sadly, later that spring saw the passing on Ally’s mum but with the angels looking over us, our daughter was brought into the world less than 24h-hours later. I don’t know how I did it, but mere weeks later I ran the Ottawa Marathon (2:53:05) setting myself up for my inaugural run at Boston. That fall also saw me run my first ever x-country race; on a cold day my achilles still hurts.

2009
What more can I say, Boston hurt... a lot! But, all the pain and suffering is a distant memory and the race afforded me the opportunity to meet some of the blogospheres epic writers/runners: Thomas, Mike and Mark, a.k.a. Diary of a Rubbish Marathon Runner, Love 2 Run, and Run Faster Master. Thanks guys!

2010
And so I find myself sitting here today, reflecting on paths travelled and the adventures that lay in front of me. With Isla growing, and Ally expected to give birth in a few short months I couldn’t be more excited. This is also a year, where I hope to take down my 5k PB and if the Gods align perhaps toe the line for a triathlon (my first in 11 years). But on a sad note, it will also see the end of this blog (at least in this format). Thanks for the endless comments, support, encouragement and friendship.

Borrowing some words, “Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself. Stretch. Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young”.