Who's Bars?

I've had a chance now to read what Virginie wrote about our run today, and a chance to think about everything throughout the day. What can I possibly share that would be motivating, or inspirational? It would seem that our Blog has focused more on the "emotional" aspects of our training rather than the physical ones, but I can tell you that I'm sufficiently tired today. We were up at 2:30 am this morning. The alarm was supposed to wake us up at 3:00, but we were already wide awake so we decided to get up and get at it. 30 minutes earlier means done 30 minutes earlier does it not? I had taken the time to prepare all our food the night before. I cooked macaroni, got couple of snickers bars as well as a new one we are trying called "Tho's Barz". I'm not sure if it's right, but I've been calling them "Those Bars". Clever eh? I imagine myself talking to another runner...

"Hey, have you tried Tho's Barz?"
"Which Barz?"
"Tho's Barz! I love Tho'z Barz!"

 We have our route all planned out. Our goal is 46 km. 23 km towards Terwilligar Park in the south end of Edmonton, and then the 23km back. There was quite a bit of trail on the route there, which makes it even more exciting.

All week long, we've had spring weather, so when I checked the weather report last night, and saw that Environment Canada predicts -7 with a winchill, and some other forecast is predicting -2, I have my fingers crossed that Environment Canada is wrong. Seriously, I'm very much TIRED of running in the cold. I've had it up to "here" (pointing to forehead). However, fortune is not on our side this morning. It is cold, with a bitter wind coming in from the north. The hardwood floor is cold in our home, and as we shuffle along it, trying to make our preparations, I've got a little anxiety about what we need to go out and do. There is always that question... What if? What if we don't make it? What if we get frustrated, angry, or injured and we are far from anywhere? What then? Of course those thoughts don't get you to the finish line, so for now, the only way to know is to get out there, and get it done.

It's 3:30 by the time we've arrived at the starting point. Our worries are true. The wind is cold, and with the windchill, it's between -12 and -15. A little while ago, I lost my favorite running face mask on a trip to visit my Parents. So, I've been living without it. This is a morning where I miss it the most.

The sky is overcast. I can see this because the lights of the city reflect softly on the bottoms of the clouds. They are threatening flurries this morning, but so far there is nothing "new" and white on the ground. I hope it stays that way, but I'm committed regardless of what the weather can throw at me. I'm thinking about what I'm going to be writing, though the experience has not yet unfolded, I mull over things in my mind about where we are going, and why we are going there. What should I write? What would be inspirational. I wonder if people come to our blog to learn about running, and they mostly get a series of blogs that describe our emotional struggles.

I'd be writing all day if I described all the little things that happened. Running for 6 hours just to train is pretty epic in itself. Our goal of 46 km will take us way down the river valley, hopefully past Terwilligar park, and then back again. 23 out, 23 back. Everything is going great too, until we run into a completely iced over portion of the trail, and it is not just a short section either. The ice follows the trail clear from the high level bridge, to the bridge on Groat Road, perhaps a 3km stretch. It takes it toll on the both of us. We tackle some sections on our hands and feet in a "crab walk" style. We tackle others by stepping gingerly in a section to find it provides no support or traction at all. In fact, I start to cool down because I'm not moving very fast. To complicate things, I can tell I'm getting frustrated, and so is Virginie. By the time we get to Hawrelak Park, we're looking for any signs of pavement. We find a fork in the trail. We've gone right before, so we start with that. What do we find? Ice... So we turn around and go right. Ice... It's okay though... we continue on. We eventually find a road through Hawrelak Park, and when we get to the other side, the trail looks clear. At least for a while. It ice's over eventually. Something has also gotten into Virginie. Perhaps it's me... by now, I'm ready to file a formal complaint with Mother Nature. I'm mean really! How fickle can you get??? I guess the one saving grace I can think of is that at least it's good training. If we can mentally and emotionally get over this, all the better shape we'll be in when race day comes. So, we continue on.

This is the general theme for the next hour. At one point, a low-lying area has collected all sorts of snow melt, and its iced over, and that ice has a fine layer of snow on it now. Virginie steps on one spot, and her shoe immediately goes through the ice, into the freezing water underneath. We end up scaling the side of the trail in the prickly wild rose bushes to try and get away from the ice water. It works! I start wondering if I can find an alternative trail back.

By the time we get to Terwilligar park, the effects of everything (the weather, the emotions, the distance) are becoming obvious. Virginie's pace has slowed, and my temper has unfortunately escallated. It's not a temper that is flaming hot... it's more of a smolder. I try to help out, but I don't think I'm helping anything. We've been running with headphones on for a while, to try and get some motivation. By the time we are heading out of Terwilligar though, after about 26 km, things are looking pretty bleak. I walk to let Virginie catch up, and wait for her to pass. It's always easier to have her in front, and match her pace. Once she passes though, she takes a wrong turn, and I decide not to say anything. It's still not that clear why I did not... but the reality is, by the time Virginie realized what happened, she was done. She grabbed a bus ticket from me, and ran across the street to take the bus home.

I realize this is not the end of our story. It's the beginning of the rest of it. We can always choose to get back up and try again. I love running for that reason. It's only over when I decide. My body can complain, and my mind can complain, but I don't have to listen to any of it. My heart is in two places. Be with my Wife? Finish the run? In the end, I feel it's better for Virginie to work this one out. I don't think I'll be able to help. So I continue on.

There is so much to tell about the remainder of the run. How I got lost, how some dear friends provided encouragement in my hour of need. How I thought of a great friend that lives down where it never snows, and has become quite an inspiration to me. How I decided I love Ginger in my smoothies because it soothes a sore tummy, and how if I just ever so slightly jut forth my hips while I'm extending for the next stride, I seem to find a little "free speed". Yup, I could write forever.

Why am I doing this? Well, it's not for me. We are going to be having dinner with a family in St. Albert in the next few weeks that have boys with Duchennes Muscular Dystrophy. I met them at a church activity a couple of weeks ago. I was really struck with their eyes. They are so full of life. They wheel around like there are no issues, with a trust that is simple and honest. I don't know if they realize that they won't be able to feed themselves eventually, or even roll over in bed. Apparently, a cure is close, and new treatments are coming out all the time. With a new treatment, these boys, and many others (especially in my own extended family) will have the opportunity to have a life that I often take for granted. Even getting angry at their Wife while trying to run. Virginie, if you are reading this, I apologize. Please, let's try again. I know it will be better next time.

Arrrggghhhh!!!!

It was wonderfully sunny and warm all week long, even going up to 16 degrees on Wednesday! My heart rejoiced and my feet were quick and light. This is truly the joy of running; the sun shining, the birds singing and my best friend beside me. Who could ask for anything more?! Thursday's run was supposed to be a recovery run but I had a hard time keeping my pace down because I was so carefree! I felt alive!

This morning, we woke up at 2:30 am to see snow on the ground and the temperature hovering around -6! What kind of cruel joke was Mother Nature playing on us?! My last few posts, except the one about my Spring Companions have been rather bleak so I tried hard to think of something insightful and inspirational to blog about. The first two hours weren't too bad. I tried to run happy. We passed by these teenagers who seemed a little tipsy... or a lot. They saw our headlamps and started panicking. "Are you guys cops?!!" We reassured them that we were only runners. Their attitudes changed from alarm to disbelief that someone would purposefully get up at this time to train. We had a good chuckle over that incident.

We found a new trail which totally made me happy but all the lower trails in the River Valley were atrocious! Previous pawprints and footprints had hardened into cemented ice which threatened to roll our ankles. On slopes, the ice was slick forcing us to grab unto trees to get up or we slid on our feet and hands like a crab, going down. And because of blisters on my toes which I had duct taped to prevent them from rubbing against each other, I tried to avoid puddles but a few times, I stepped onto thin ice and my feet would go through into the freezing water. It was so frustrating and with this agonizing slow pace, the wind chill got the better of us. I had to bite my tongue to keep from swearing!

Some couples yell at each other, we hash it out on the trail. I could tell Stephen felt bad that I was struggling so much, not only with my breathing and my pace but also with every slip on the ice and my gagging trying to get food down. He felt guilty thinking he kept going too fast and I felt guilty because I was slowing him down. The cold was seeping into his fingers, making his Renauld's act up. I was trying as best as I could and he felt like a lame husband, not being able to make it easier for me. But it was because of him that I had made it this far in my running career! His constant encouragement, his loving attitude; his desire to be with me overriding his risk of injury! It was so sweet, it made my heart ache and I realized that I was trapped! That we were trapped! I would never be able to match his speed or grace and he would always have to wait for me, never being able to attain his personal bests!

Like a dark tidal wave, discouragement yanked me down and I was swept out to sea. Every slow step was a crushing realization that I was just a sham. Here I was boasting of the distance and the early hours and how great I was when really, the credit goes to Stephen for uplifting me on every run for the past two years. I've been riding his coattails and he has had to put up with so much emotional crap for so long. He actually enjoys running, he talks about it all the time, he looks forward to the weekends, for our long runs, for the great bonding moments we'll experience and instead, he gets... me and my drama.

We were on the very opposite side of the city. There's was no way we would make it at the pace I was going. I was swarmed by demons and there was no way to rescue me this time. I did not have the emotional strength to reach out to some higher power or rely on the strength of my brother. I didn't look back as I boarded the bus, the tears blurring my vision and making my throat ache. Stephen doesn't deserve this, no one needs to hear about all my failures week after week. There is no inspiration to gain from this. I hate myself for quitting but I'm signing off. I don't know where this will take me from here but I cannot let those families down! Perhaps it's the case that I need to find my own path...

Not my strength

I guess I've thought a lot about what I would be writing in my blog. I sometimes suffer from perfectionism (write the most insanely amazing blog post, or don't write it at all). Truth be told, it's something I have to regularly do my best to manage. I have to keep reminding myself that if I don't try and control perfectionism, that it will likely try and control me.

On Tuesday's we always do intervals. Our training program goes like this:

• Tuesday: VO2Max workouts. This means we get our heart rate up to 100% as many times as we can, and keep it there for just a little bit. These are intervals where we are going all out. 
• Thursday: Lactate Threshold workouts. We get out heart rate high enough that we are going from that magical moment of burning fat (aerobic activity) to burning the glycogen stored in the muscles (anaerobic activity). The idea is to push that threshold up. For me, it's about 80-90% of my maximum heart rate.
• Saturday: Distance running. We increment 10% from the previous work out, if (and only if) we've recovered from the previous workout. For me, to avoid injury, it's really important to take the time and recover properly.

I'm often reminded when running that my strength is only temporary. I have a lot of will power, but eventually it does run out. At this point, I have a choice to make. I can stop, or I can trust that my strength is bigger than what I can understand it. It's almost spiritual at this point. I could blog about it, and it still might not make any sense, but suffice it to say, I'm convinced of a very kind being, greater than myself, that provides strength when I've exhausted my own. I remember during the Canadian Death Race last year, as we ascended Mount Hamil, that my legs were sooooooo tired. It was literally one step after another, reminding myself that the goal was still possible, if I could just believe. When Virginie and I summited about 3 hours later, I knew there was a higher power that had provided that strength when I needed it.

When it comes to boys with muscular dystrophy, I wonder sometimes what will power they have to develop? Do they also have to rely on a higher power when their strength is gone? One of the things I take for granted is being able to scratch my own nose when it's itchy. I asked Mathoni, one of Virginie's brothers, what he did at moments like that. He told me he just forgot about it. What self control! It serves as an inspiration to me. With a reliance on a higher power, and self control like that, I know that anything is possible.

Spring morning companions!

Tuesday morning with a little more sleep in us, life was a little easier to handle. The weather was warmer, only in the single below zero digits. My two younger children Baden and Mimi agreed to accompany me (riding their bikes) on my run since they were on Spring Break. The run was fun! I remembered that I enjoyed running because it made me feel good and it encouraged me to go outside, into sun and fresh air. I tried to stick to quieter roads so we wouldn't be hassled by cars or intersections. We ran up old Fort Road, past the Alberta Hospital and down Lehi's Lane. (It's not really named that, it's the road I was running on the morning my brother Lehi passed away. He was finally free from the body that had imprisoned him for over 20 years with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. Before returning home to his Heavenly Father he had announced that he was planning on running a marathon around the universe before settling down to whatever work they do up there.)  But with the construction of the Anthony Henday, (the highway that skirts around the city and promises to cut travel time by quite a bit) there's definitely an increase of traffic trying to dodge all the roadblocks.

 The first part of the run was basically a long interval! Baden was leading the way with Mimi staying right behind me. They were pushing me to sustain a 5 minute/km! This was great training for me as I hadn't run in a week but I wasn't sure how long I could keep up this pace! From our house, down to the end of Lehi's Lane which meets at the highway was about 8 km. Mimi was starting to struggle and her pace was slowing drastically. I'm not sure at what point I realized that it was no longer a matter of training and simply getting home but I didn't want Mimi to stop having fun and never wanting to join me again. I loved their company so much! I offered to have her take breaks and walk for a bit but she seemed just as content to go off to her own little world. From a distance I could see her adorable animated face and her lips jabbering away. Baden and I would run ahead and then circle back to round her up. The sun and warmth was so enjoyable, I really wasn't in a hurry to head back home anyway. 

In the end, we had covered over 17 km! That's a pretty big distance for a little girl who hasn't trained all winter! What a heart she has! Baden wasn't phased at all and I knew he could probably have done double without blinking an eye! 

Run Happy!

After last week's rather uncomfortable run I was determined to run happy! We had enjoyed two wonderful weeks of Spring weather and I was almost convinced that we would smoothly transition right into summer! I was clearly living in denial; as a long time Albertan, I should have known better!

The morning didn't start out too well; waking up to a world of white, Stephen forgetting to put the lid on the Vita Mixer...twice and me suddenly remembering that I had left my Altras Zero-drop shoes outside a few days ago to air out. They were completely filled in with snow and frozen stiff! Breaking the cardinal rule of switching shoes every other run to decompress them, I only have one pair of running shoes. Unless you count my Vibrams which are out of the question in this crummy weather! So, I dug out my former Sauconys and shoved my feet into them. It didn't take me long to remember why I had long ditched them! My daughter's feet are more narrow than mine so she doesn't mind wearing them but my toes have enjoyed the extra roomy comfort and were not willing to go back. It didn't take long for the blisters to pop up.

We chose to run loops around Gold Bar Park where we had completed the 50km Fast Trax ultra last June. It's very pretty country around there; lots of up and down terrain dotted with trees and a tiny ravine, all snuggled under a blanket of snow. We were delighted to see the cross-country trails so nicely groomed. It made it so much easier to run on. Our goal for this run was 38 km. The first hour went by fairly smoothly, each lost in our own thoughts. I was letting my thoughts run free, following the advice of the influential martial arts instructor Bruce Lee: "Empty your mind, be formless, shapeless like water."

It worked for a while but it was so cold that the ice sticking to our eyebrows and eyelashes stung our eyes. It was too cold to take anything out to eat and refuel and our water had turned to ice in the bottles. Even through my baklava, I got an ice cream headache! My pace slowed as I struggled to keep up with Stephen. He was also struggling in his own way and we tried to make conversation to take our minds off. It's one thing to let your thoughts take flight with every breeze of fancy when you are running by yourself  but when you run with a partner, the dynamics change. You become aware of each other, you become conscious of their body language and their struggles. Unless we talk out loud, we can only infer what the other person is thinking and that usually doesn't bode well. For some reason, we always assume negatively. Training is some physical but mostly mental. Training ourselves to make conversation even through the times where we would really rather just be silent and get through it is just as tough as the physical efforts! I have a hard enough time sucking air into my lungs when I run but if I start talking too, it always ends up being a compromise between speed and conversation.

We both tried our best, struggling to reign in emotions and simply focusing on the task at hand. Run Happy! Run Happy! Run Happy! We concentrated on the reasons why we were doing this again; to spend time together, to raise money for families affected by muscular dystrophy, to touch something that is bigger than ourselves. I think the early mornings are finally getting to me and I was feeling exhausted emotionally and physically but I have made a commitment to some very special people and I can not let myself be overcome! So far our fundraiser has gone up to $325, every little bit counts! As Stephen mentioned in his earlier posts every effort, no matter how small ensures forward progression.

And at the end of the day, it is not the distance or the training that matters so much as the people who touch our hearts...

Good, better, and best

Okay, I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, commonly known as "The Mormon Church". I tend to wear my Religion on my sleeve, and have a firm belief in God, and certainly something greater than myself. I believe that there is a plan that involves me, and it grants me purpose and meaning in my life.

Life is not all rosy because of my faith though...

One of the things I hear the "brethren" or leaders of the church talk about is the difference between "good, better, and best". I admit when given a choice, anything less than the best is often not good enough. I've always seen myself as hopelessly not good enough. Truth be known, that's actually true. I'll explain why in a second.

When it comes to training, Virginie and I certainly have good run's, then better run's, and then the best runs. Yesterday was just "good". You know, I suppose that some are not even good. Think of good as eating a healthy snack that you hate... but it is healthy, and so you do it because you know even though your taste buds hate you, you body is likely thanking you. That's what yesterday was like for me.

We were up early in the morning. 3:00 am to be exact. The day was going to be a busy one.

• 9:00: Drop off one child for swimming lessons
• 9:30: Drop of another for Violin lessons. Take time to stretch
• 10:45: Pick up the swimmer
• 11:30: Get chores done
• 1:00: Meet with our campaign organizer

Note that there are no meals in there. For me, I burn about 3500 calories per marathon that I run. That is about 4 full meals for me. It means that after our 42.2 km training run, I would be behind perhaps 3 (if I eat properly during the run). That gave around 3:45 to about 8:45 to get our 42.2 km done. I felt 5 hours would be pretty close. I tend to run faster than Virginie and it's tough for me, because I constantly feel like I'm demotivating her. It's easy for me to run fast. I don't feel winded, but my muscles scream at me. Because I tend to handle the muscle discomfort well (I've been running for almost 10 years), I get the feeling Virginie starts to wonder what she is doing, and if she's just holding me back. I try to encourage her, but it's often not too effective. 

It's funny... training seems to be a small part physical for me, and I'm assuming it's the same for Virginie. The big part of training for a 100 mile race is the emotional and mental training. If you are exhausted ... keep running. If you are frustrated or angry ... keep running. If you feel misunderstood ... keep running. I'll think to myself, "If I just get to the end of the run as quickly as possible, it will be over". The thing is, I cannot get myself to the end of the run as quickly as I want. Virginie is such a strength to me in so many ways, and so I must choose to accept her frustration and her pain as my own. To genuinely look outside of myself as a feeling and caring husband and allow her to feel and work out her own "demons (as she's begun to call them)" on her own. I allow her to rely on me, only when she is ready and able. If she's not ... keep running! I think this is what I pulled from the run yesterday. Yes, we did finish, and yes, it stunk, but that day, I'm just choosing good, and that will be good enough. 

You know, when I met Virginie's brothers Lehi and Mathoni, I remember that they could no longer walk. They spent all day in their wheel chairs by that point. Virginie would tell me stories about them though. When they were young, they would climb up the stairs by sitting on their bum, and using their hands on the stair above, pushing up until they could sit on the following step. They would repeat the process until they were at the top of the stairs. They were always exhausted when they got to the top. Perhaps yesterday, I can empathize a great deal better with them that I ever could. Perhaps this is what takes my run from good to better, perhaps even best? It's the realization that when you are at the end of your rope, you still have a choice ahead of you. It's a choice to improve, or to regress. I believe that just "staying the same" means your actually regressing. A choice to accept being "good enough" is actually a choice to be complacent. Lehi and Mathoni lived life with a constant focus on improving themselves, and living each day like it was their last. Lehi was awarded the award of fortitude for fulfilling all every single cub merit badge requirement. Yes, he received all of them. Lehi and Mathoni became very good at Unreal Tournament. One boy would play the movement, the other the aiming and rotation. I could scarcely get out of my hideout without getting shot when I played against them. Working together, they would get a head shot almost instantly when I was visible to them. Frankly, after a while, I stopped playing them. It just was not fun anymore.

Super Cub Scouts - Lehi and Mathoni Sanson

My conclusion? Things are not always as we see them. We do good, and that's good enough, because good paves the way to better. Good makes you appreciate best. Good get's you thinking outside of the proverbial box. Don't ever think good is not good enough. It is!

Sweet. We've lived in Edmonton for 10 years, but I never knew about this tunnel going under Anthony Henday Drive. This opens up a whole new world of potential roads and trail!

At the half way mark (21.1 km). We had wanted to run on a new trail, and we've never run on this one before, but we arrived at the trail head, just as we were supposed to be turning around :). Oh well!

This is a classic Alberta run, running in front of the Strathcona refinery.

Git on home!

Git on home!

It would be unfair of me to share only the good, fulfilling runs. I wish every run were like that but unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Mental and emotional training are just as important as the physical training and I might dare add that they are even harder because reality is perceived in the mind of the beholder. I have run all day and all night before during the Canadian Death Race but my demons come out with a vengeance when I am emotionally weak; and they are ruthless! To my credit though, this is the first time they have shown up this running season. Every training run last year was plagued with them. I don't remember a time when I didn't break down in tears at least once during our long runs. But I became resilient and mastered the art of slaying them down and keeping them at bay. So, when they attacked yesterday, I realized I had let my defenses down. 

It started on Friday after having a sinking feeling that I had flunked a midterm in one of my favourite classes. Negative self-talk is very destructive and I felt sorry for myself all afternoon so when the alarm went off at 3 am yesterday morning I was already starting my run on empty. My husband tried to be so loving and encouraging but after a few hours, he became annoyed at my constant "sandbagging". I would have become annoyed at myself much sooner than that! We had found new paths to run on and the scenery was fresh and new but I could not snap out of my lethargy. My pace was unbearably slow so my husband was forced to either run at his regular pace or risk injury. It wasn't long before he was a speck in the distance but he would always wait for me to catch up. It was a rather mild morning but when you work up a sweat, it doesn't take long to shiver if you stop. Stephen suffers from Raynaud's (In medicine, Raynaud's phenomenon is excessively reduced blood flow in response to cold or emotional stress, causing discoloration of the fingers, toes, and occasionally other areas. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raynaud's) 

1. so this constant stopping and waiting was challenging for him. 

For a while, I was somewhat successful at running ahead of Stephen because I knew he would be nipping at my heels and I did not want to slow him down. But my biggest challenge is still trying to keep up on my calorie intake. Trying to breath and chew and swallow all at the same time drives me to a near panic and so I don't eat. But it drastically slows me down as my energy wanes. Stephen is great at reminding me to carb up again. The general rule is 15 oz every 15 minutes. For those of us who love to eat, this a a great excuse to eat all the time! Last year we ran on Cliff bars and gels. But let me tell you, I am so sick of eating them I can't even stand the thought! We prefer eating whole foods like peanut butter and honey sandwiches, pieces of fruit, nuts and green smoothie. My favourite is plain macaroni with a little bit of olive oil and some half and half salt. It practically slips down right to the stomach. 

Stephen is always saying that there is nothing better than doing something you love with someone you love. But I didn't feel that I deserved his love this morning! My demons were howling with pleasure and I felt completely trapped in their talons. There was a dualism playing out in my mind, a childlike whimpering persuading me that I could not take another step and another firm and confident voice, more familiar convincing me that I would make it. I chuckle a little while writing this. The distance covered this time was marathon distance, 42 km. I had successfully completed over three times that distance last year! Why is it that humans are so forgetful?! 

With only five ridiculous kilometers left, I suddenly stopped in my tracks. I couldn't do it anymore! I broke down in sobs. Stephen was way too far ahead to notice, there was no one else around, no one to come pick me up. The training distance had to be covered if I wanted to succeed. That firm, steady part of my brain finally got angry! "Look, stop being a crybaby! You know you're better than this! Smarten up and git on home!" I thought of my brothers with Duchenne's muscular dystrophy, trapped in a body that refused to do their will. There was no one to come rescue them from their physical ailments, there was no end in sight to their daily struggles, no place for them to finally stop running and take a sigh of relief. I only had a few more kilometers before I could finally rest, Lehi and Mathoni had had a lifetime ahead of them before they could finally rest. And they had done so with style, grace and humour. "So dry your tears, catch up to Stephen and git on home!" 

I found something deep inside to get me going, I did catch up to Stephen and completed that horrible distance! The last 100 meters, Stephen offered me his hand and we walked back to our van. Fresh tears of gratitude and love for this man pricked my eyes. He declared that the best remedy right now would be to come home to a Ginger, a cuddly companion with soft brown eyes and warm golden fur to bury your face in, a true friend who would love unconditionally, no questions asked. Oh, how I miss her terribly! Animal therapy is God's secret weapon...