The Iron Horse Ultra 100k is coming up in 2 weeks. I have completed my last long run, and am feeling pretty confident. There are a couple of reasons for this:
I have done my due diligence in training. I joined the Frank McNamara Wednesday night cross country race series. There is nothing quite like actually racing... it pushes me beyond what I would do if I was just doing intervals on my own. On Friday (2 days ago) I knocked off 30km, and then yesterday, I knocked off another 44km. I felt reasonably good after that 44km too, and so I'm feeling pretty confident about how training has gone. One note about the "Franks" races. There are a lot of really good and fast runners there. It's pretty remarkable how fit these guys are. I'm feeling pretty humble about my own abilities, and motivated and inspired by some of the performances that I've seen.
I tried a new endurance fuel by Tailwind Nutrition. With shipping, it was a little expensive, but I did not change anything about my training regime. In fact, I decided to try and keep a more aggressive pace than I would usually do, so that I could get tired more quickly. My goal pace was to stick right around 5 minutes per kilometer. For quite a while though, I was keeping things between 4:50 and 4:30. In the end, even with a number of brutal hills, and some pretty bushy singletrack, I was able to pull of 44km in 4 hours 8 minutes or something like that. Actually, I cannot find my gps to verify, and so maybe I'm remembering things a little better? Anyway, I was really happy with how things went. I'll definitely be using Tailwinds on race day. Thank-you to all those who recommended it.
My title this time around is not just solely about running endurance. I think I've had a number of experiences in life that have required me to be patient, to wait, and to trust that things will work out. In the mean time, life was not always glorious and beautiful either. Patience carries a price, and until I changed my attitude toward patience, that price was a difficult one to pay.
It may be a side effect of our "now" society. We have instant everything, and patience is generally not required. My good Wife is a great example of patience right now. Virginie attends school at the University of Alberta taking a BA in recreational sports and tourism. I think she's really found her passion, but she's so excited to apply it. She wants to be "out there", using what she has learned. Seeing the world, and experiencing people. She wants to leave her mark. Her enthusiasm is contagious. I'm really excited about how our lives will unfold.
But we have to be patient.
In terms of endurance running, patience is a an attribute that I'm not always aware that I'm using, but I'm using it non-the-less. Sometimes, I don't want to feel tired anymore, and all the scenery in the world won't change it. At those times, I just have to be patient. However, patience does not always have to be about "waiting". Perhaps it can also be about choosing? We wait regardless of what we are working toward, regardless of what our goal is. Perhaps patience is a choice to enjoy the road from point "A" to point "B".
I wish I could sum up in words, all the feeling of the heart on this topic. I think about the "two marshmallow" experiment.
Virginie and I often tell our kids to go for a "two marshmallow" solution. I get rolled eyes sometimes, but in the long run (no pun intended), I think the message is getting through.
I most certainly applies to myself though, more than anyone else, and so in conclusion I want to say that I will be "happily patient" in a couple of weeks, and I will NOT give up. In doing so, I believe I will find success.
I've thought a lot about what I would call this post. This probably sums it up better than anything. It's been a while and It would be nice to write something that really grabbed the readers attention, but this really sums up my experience this year with ultra running, so I'm sticking to it.
There has been lots of good advice offered to me over the years, but there are a couple of pieces that really stick out to me right now. I don't think they apply to just ultra running, but to life in general. They both come from dear friends, that have put friendship ahead of advice. I guess that's why I've listened to them so much. The first is that you have to make the pleasure more than the pain. This has been timely advice, but it was missing something. I discovered that something even before I raced. That something was commitment.
I've tried running 3 ultras this year. First was the River Valley Revenge Ultra 100K in June. I got to 55km and decided I hated running. It had been working up for hours previous to that. In spite of the fact that I was making good time, I headed back to the start line, and threw in the towel. I regretted it later. At that point, I figured that I was in no shape to finish Sinister 7, which was by then only 3 weeks away. The mental game was already starting. I was non-committal to the race with my comments of "I'll do my best", and "I'll run until I stop having fun... there is no point in running past that." At Sinister, I made it to the end of leg 4, and then copped out. 55 miles this time.
I tried to keep things positive, and pitch things that I was happy with my race, but truth be told... I wasn't. I knew I could do better, and I had just allowed myself to do less. This became apparent when I woke up the morning of the race, and wandered up the stairs comfortably. I should not be able to do that!!!
So, with this frame of mind, and with another month of training under my belt, I set off to run the Iron Legs 50 miler in beautiful Kananaskis country west of Calgary. This race was different than the others, because it was set in a protected area, and on mostly single track trails. I don't know what it is about single track, but nothing says mountain run quite like a winding single track trail. I absolutely love it.
Winding single track trail through the mountain. It's just plain magical!
Start to Aid station 1
Start to Aid station 1 was easy. So was aid station 1 to 2, but at the end, just before I arrived at aid station 2, I hit a technical downhill section that I just got all caught up in. My quads were burning, my lungs were gulping in air as I flew past other runners. My feet felt nimble as they ever have, and so I felt confident in ripping down the section without a second thought.
Aid station 1 to 2
When I arrived at aid station 2, I changed my socks from my regular socks to my toe socks, but I began to cramp when taking my shoes off. I felt it in my hamstrings, and in my feet. Turns out, this cramping was going to follow me for a while. It's funny, when you're in the heat of race day adrenaline, you don't always think clearly. One can often ease cramping with some salt/electrolyte pills. I had some, but forgot to take them. I said "hi" to the family, and headed out for leg 3 (aid station 2 to 3).
Aid station 2 to 3 elevation
Leg 3 was one of the most challenging sections of trail. It was steep, it was rocky, and what relief you could find on the tree root and rock strewn trail would turn into a washed out section of trail. The race had to be cancelled last year, because the original trail was washed out from rain and flooding. The new course had an extra 1000 meters of elevation gain, which I figured would be challenging, but how hard could it be? I remember starting to cramp up pretty bad around 1/3 of the way through this section. I tried to stretch out, but in doing so, the opposite muscles would start to cramp. I just kept on running. "You have to make the pleasure greater than the pain" kept running through my mind. It was helping, but what could I take pleasure in? I've become very good at doubting myself. Would I start now? No... stop it Stephen, you've made a commitment, and your going to stick with it. Now keep on moving! This is where the other piece of good advice came in. It came in an hour of defeat, and it has helped tremendously. "Don't try to eat the elephant all at once". I ignored how much further I had to go, and concentrated on getting to aid station 3. Perhaps they had electrolyte pills there? Turns out, I did not have to wait that long. I wonderful runner came by and gave me 4. I took two and it helped a little. I say a little because the cramping did not stop, it just took the edge off. Time for some ginger pills for the nausea, and an Ibuprofen for the swelling.
I time, I could see a blue tent between the trees in the distance. Aid station 3!
Aid station 3 to 4 elevation
The map does not really do justice to it because when I started leg 4, I figured that I had already summited how many ridges? They would not take us over powderface ridge again would they? Turns out they would. I settled into a pace that was not fast, but comfortable. I mythodically placed one foot in front of the other. In time, the tree line dissapeared, and I was at the top of powderface ridge. All downhill to aid station 4. I kept taking the salt pills and downing my food which was a custom combination of Maltodexterin powder, dextrose, and vega lemon-lime electrolytes. I cannot stand solid food when I run. I does nothing for me. On the other hand, Watermelon has become my best friend. I would kiss it, but it was already in my stomach :).
On the top of Powderface ridge (the first time)
Arriving at aid station 4 was such a relief. I did not want to quit, but I was in some pretty major pain. I kept having to shove any ideas out of my head that quitting would be easy. "You will recover in time" I thought. It was nice to see my wonderful family, and feel of their encouragement. Virginie proudly announced "You keep coming in with the same group of runners!" That's good, I thought... If I'm keeping up with the people around me, I must not be doing that bad.
It's something I've been really working on the last couple of months. Positive self talk. I'll finish an interval, and I'll tell myself "Good for you Stephen, that was a tough interval, and you gave it everything you've got, and that's good enough! Well done!!!" You would not believe how far that type of thing goes. One interval after another, I felt my strength increasing.
Iron Legs 2014 - Course Map
Aid station 4 to 5 was without a doubt the hardest section of trail I ran (or did not run). About 1/3 of the way into the leg, their was a bail out spot. The volunteer asked me if I wanted to take the 5km trail out to the finish line. I did not have to even think about it. In spite of the pain, I told him "Not on your life". I wanted to finish at least one ultra this year. Quitting was not an option. If I had to crawl across the finish line, if I got sick, if it rained and I got hypothermia and they had to evacuate me, I would take pride that I did not quit, and I was not about to quit now. I put on my headphones and listened to this song over and over again.
The words were inspired. I've said it a lot in this blog post already, but I refused to give an inch to doubt and worry. I ended up walking all the way to aid station 5. There waiting for me was my wonderful family. They had hiked into the aid station without complaint, and even had my favorite. Veggie Delight from Subway waiting for me. I munched it down with some water, massaged my legs and re-made my commitment to continue on.
Aid station 5 to 6 - Elevation change
The rest of the story involves my new best friend in the world, Josette Caissie. She was up ahead limping, but moving ahead. I caught up and we began to talk. We talked about race day experiences, goals, and about how ridiculous of a thing we were doing. I'm not sure if she hated running at the time, I know I sure did! Still, we talked and eventually started to laugh together. I enjoyed her company so much, that we stuck together the rest of the race. I was my little miracle for the day.
On the summit of Moose Mountain
Aid station 5 to 6 brought us up to the summit of Moose Mountain. It was not an easy climb, but much easier now that I had someone to share with it. It's one of the miracles of ultra marathoning in my opinion. All of ones social walls and protection is left 20 or 30 miles back. No one holds anything back anymore, and speaking for myself, but equally confident it applies to other, sufficiently humbled. We move ahead with a trust in our bodies, that they know something the mind doesn't something that is greater than us. 35 to 40 miles into the race, I began to discover that with Josette. We summited together, all the while, my feet cramping. We gingerly came down the steep trails, one foot at a time, but starting to make good time. By the time we had reached aid station 6, we were smiling and laughing. We were sore, and it was starting to rain, but we had visions of the finish line in our heads. There was no stopping us now.
6 to finish - Elevation change
Our pace was pretty slow when we first departed from aid station 6, but we were both in good spirits. For us, each uphill was a chore. Each downhill cause for care on sore quadriceps. The trail was beautiful. Eventually, we ran into Florin Panaitescu, and he joined our duo. We ran into my daughter Natasha about 4km from the finish line, and she joined us the rest of the way as well. By then night had fallen and we had our headlamps guiding our way through the dark.
Signs of "What are your legs made of?" and "Iron Legs", as well as cheers greeted us as we rounded the last corner and crossed the finish line. Because I had people to share it with, it was better than it could have ever been had I crossed on my own. Thanks to Florin, and especially Josette. One of the things that brings the most joy in life in my opinion is service to others. At church yesterday I learned that true service is something that you do for someone, that they cannot do for themselves. I want Josette to know that you did a true service for me. You helped to provide an atmosphere that I could recover, and prosper in. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you.
Final official time? 15:35:04
So, the moral of the story? Never give up. Never give up on your hopes and your dreams. You will get them, but they may be harder than you ever thought. I cramped for 50 km on those mountain trails, and even went into shock after I had a chance to sleep for a bit. I broke out into a fit of nausea, and a cold sweat. Virginie got me some smoothie, and after sipping for a bit, I felt better. Times will get rough, but they always get better, better perhaps because we have had a chance to sink so low. How can we gauge our progress, if we have no low point to start from?
My race season is not done yet. Iron Horse 100km, October 4th. I was thinking of the 100 mile, but honestly, I'm going to be humble and work my way up. Till then, happy training!
I mean back writing in my blog. I had wondered if I would continue to write after Sinister 7 was over, since the theme "When we love someone" was for all those boys with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy that I was running for, but over the last 8 months, it's become even more meaningful to me. This blog has become a place where I can speak without fear, without trying to impress someone, or trying to be someone that I am not. It's become a place where I can share, and perhaps set expectations. I'm planning on sticking with it. Writing has become a dear friend.
Hindsight is always 20/20. A week after the race, I understand clearly what happened, and what I'm going to do about it. Basically, my mind got the better of me. It's totally understandable... 75% of the male soloists that entered the race dropped out. Only 25% completed. That's pretty mental.
When I dropped out at the end of leg 4, I got into the van and we headed back to our host. I was so happy with the way things went, and even more happy to not be running anymore! I slept the night expecting that I would not be walking in the morning. I was wrong. I expected for sure that the following day I would feel stiffer. When we got to my Parents place in Magrath, the following afternoon. I was still feeling great. There was something not right about that. I had run 55 miles, and I would expect that I should be totally spent! Why was I not? It was around that time that I started to think that perhaps I have been underestimating myself. Perhaps it's the case that I really do have a talent for running. Perhaps I've been blessed with the right body type, the right metabolism, the right environment (thank-you Fast Trax!) to nurture my passion. I'm supposed to be taking the week off to recouperate, but I already felt recouperated on Monday night.
When I arrived in Magrath, I sent a text to my childhood buddy. I asked him for his number, because I wanted to talk to him. Here is a guy who has finished a couple of 100-milers now. I wanted to hear his wisdom. He responded back with his Magrath number! What was this?!? I had to clarify. Texts flew out and sure enough, he was on vacation and staying only two doors down. This is a coincidence that I sorely needed. I needed to talk to someone about my disappointment, but revel in a common passion. We talked for over an hour. It was wonderful. We talked about how you cannot try to eat the entire elephant at once. It becomes overwhelming. We talked about races we've run. We talked about emotions during an ultra. We laughed about how we both felt annoyed sometimes at aid stations. At one point during Sinister, I arrived at an aid station with a sore tummy. I looked at the food they were offering. I thought "Yuck... disgusting.. Wouldn't touch it with a 10-meter cattle prod..." He talked about being offered pretzels at an aid station and exclaiming "Do I look like I want pretzels???". We laughed at the idea of "What part of aid station do you not understand?"
As we talked, I remembered how much I enjoy the company of like-minded people. People who love to move. People who love adventure. When all was said and done, I had committed to run a very exciting race, in a far away land, and I'm super excited about it. What can I say? If you don't succeed, try try again. So, Monday night, three of us went out for a run. We ran all over town. We talked, we laughed, we relived, and we thought ahead. It was as wonderful as any run could have been. It was something I had been waiting for.
Thank-you you two Gentlemen.
So, I've signed up for the Iron Legs 50-mile race next month. It's going to be tough, but I'm ready for it. I'm feeling confident now, and ready to live in the moment. Success is near. I don't get a lot of time to train because I am first and foremost, a Husband, and then a Father. Following that, well... I am an employee, and then a runner/plumber/carpenter etc.
Virginie is going to come running with me at Fast Trax tomorrow. We're not planning on running together. We have very different styles. However, we'll both be able to enjoy the company of others, and that's what I'm most excited about.
Well, my mission is accomplished. Perhaps not quite in the way I had originally imagined, but finished none-the-less. I chose to pull out of the race at the 50 mile mark, and I have almost no regrets. I use the word almost because there are always those twinges when you wonder what could have been. Truth is though, I'm extremely pleased with myself. Here is my story:
The race did not really start for me until I arrived at leg 3. Leg 3 is known as death valley because it's hot. It's almost always run in the afternoon when it's hot, and the heat zaps the strength right from you. Leg 3 is open for almost the entire leg. Trees provide little shade, and the heat radiates off the trail so you get it from the top and the bottom. It's also known as Satan's Sack because it's shaped like a giant testicle. :).
Leg 2 was amazing, but also tough, so I began to hit a low spot when I headed up for leg 3. The advice "slow the pace and you will rebound in time" is correct, but I had no idea the time required for me to rebound. I did not until I was finishing the 36 km that leg 3 required. While running an ultra, nutrition and calories are extremely important, so I was using "Hammer Perpetuum". It's a drink that provides not only complex carbs, but good fats and protien. I drank lots of it, but eventually, my stomach became upset. I became bloated, and eventually had to start walking, suffering through the cramps and heat. The whole experience was completely miserable. By 25km into leg 3, I realized I had better duck into the forest or I would be sorry. I was in the forest for about 15 minutes before I felt like I was good again.
Once that ordeal was over, I was dehydrated and weak. I began to drink, and then gradually introduced pertetuum again. Over time, it's true, my strength began to rebound, and I began to fell better. That's when I met up with Virginie, the Kids, and my parents.
At that point, I suggested that we modify the goal, so it's actually achievable. Then, I have something to rejoice in. I've not done many 50-milers, and it's a good starting point on ones way to a 100-miler. Running without Virginie was harder than I imagined. I love that Woman dearly, and as a result, being with her strengthens me. I suggested, that I would run a 50-miler, and that everyone should cheer like I am actually finishing. Everyone was on board.
Leg 4 was tough, but I felt strong and satisfied. When I arrived at the transition area, I arrived running strong, but I was slowing down. Each leg was requiring more time.
I admit, I was sitting on the fence somewhat about continuing on. I felt strong again, but I was going on into the night, and I was so tired! Most of running ultra's is the mental game. Keeping ones mind in check. This is always the hardest part of my game. By stopping, I was choosing to stop on a high point. A good experience at a race will provide such motivation for the next one. By continuing on, I ran the risk of not finishing, and becoming totally defeated. Something I'm a little vulnerable with right now. It's been a tough year of training (or lack thereof). I'm proud to have set a new goal, and achieved it.
The great thing is, is to see the congratulations of people on Facebook. People didn't to say comments like "maybe next time" or "so sorry about...". Everyone was proud and congratulatory. That means a lot to me. Frankly, I realize some of my running was about "people pleasing" and trying not to be broken. As I combat this paradigm and choose to pick a goal that works for me, and still see acceptance and admiration from peers, I come to realize the inherent good in people. Little by little, I am learning to trust people more and more.
How about the fund-raiser? Well I've made my offering and I did my best. Nobody knows suffering like those boys, but they never complain about it. I don't think they know how to complain. At least none of the ones I met, and I can tell you, what kind of offering would a battered runner be? I whole heartedly believe too, that they would want me to do by best, and end when I'm all "funned out" :).
I want to thank my Wife for believing in me, and for all of those friends out there who have followed my blog and been with me through this whole experience. Even though it's just a day later, I can tell you that my story is not complete yet. I'll still continue to run and do my best. Especially the ultra distances. Each experience we have carves us, and makes us who we are. This one has added to my depth as a person, and especially my compassion. I will relieve this day with fond memories for the rest of my life.
Finally, thank-you the Muscular Dystrophy Alberta and Rachel Chan for all her support in getting our message out. Virginie and I could not have done this without you.
I have been off the radar for quite some time now, lost in the darkness, disoriented by the storm clouds brewing inside a bleeding heart but I've found a shaft of light and I'm ready now to follow it through.
When I first started on this fundraising journey my intentions were to repay my brothers for all the love and compassion they had given me throughout my short life with them. But they had big shoes to fill and I kept tripping over them until I was so battered and bloody that I couldn't find the strength to stand up again. That's when I realized that I will never be able to fill their shoes. They were giants stuffed in frail human frames and no one will ever be able to come anywhere close to measuring up to them! I have discovered that I am better suited to wearing shoes in my own size but I can still follow in their footprints.
Of all things, I have been delightfully surprised and inspired by the posts my husband has shared. I had no idea he could write so well and so eloquently describe the inner chambers of my heart kept secret for so long. I guess that's the attraction of blogs; the social permission to write more intimately, more vulnerably. A blog often contains an inner conversation that could never be shared in any other social situation. And with that certain anonymity, that delicate balance point where a fragile heart can open just wide enough for others to catch a glimpse, those who have responded have touched our hearts so deeply.
Today marks our 15th wedding anniversary. I think of all the figurative miles we have put in together and I can't help but be amazed that after all that, I am even more in love than the day we said "I do!". Despite, or perhaps because of all the mountains we have had to climb and the valleys we've had to hike together, our hearts no longer have anything left to hide. When one gets to this point, it truly becomes a divine masterpiece!
In a previous post, I had mentioned that I quite often need to measure my worth by my actions. When my calves became injured and I could no longer run, I dropped out of this whole adventure, feeling that I no longer had a right to post or participate since I felt that donations coming in were based on the exchange of dollars for miles. Having run for over 10 years now, I definitely felt that I was mourning the loss of a very dear friend. Running had become my identity, my bosom buddy, my mantra, my connection with the divine. But my body (injured calves) had betrayed me, yet again and was further proof that I cannot trust ANYONE! Not even myself! The past few weeks have been a time of intense darkness and emotional pain for so many more reasons than just running. And in the past, running was what had kept me sane. I was now a shipwreck about to happen, swallowed by the tidal waves of a raging sea...
A few days ago, my family and I spent a lazy morning watching family running videos and reminiscing about the glory days. We came across the Canadian Death Race video from last year and my heart ached so much, I thought it would burst! So many emotions tumbling together in my mind that only a runner can truly relate to. I have always felt a sense of belonging in the trail running community. Whether one has taken 100 steps from the couch or a 100 miles from the starting line, every runner has a story to share. The courage it takes to lace up one's shoes and step across that line is the foundation of the running community, no matter what age or shape or size. That is what I missed! My heart ached to belong to something bigger than myself, to belong to a camaraderie of people who welcomed you in, no question asked, to stand under a flag of unity where one's position along the journey was discounted because we were all in this together.
My thoughts turned to our solo finish last year where I had unexpectedly come third in my age category. "Solo" is a wholly inadequate word. I could never have successfully finished if that word is to be properly respected. The support of Stephen, his parents, our children, dear friends and countless others who may not even know it... and my brother Mathoni, who's picture I had pinned to my hat; all contributed to my accomplishments and yet most will never be awarded their proper credit. A runner's support crew often remains in the background, in the chaos of transition areas and in the countless hours and toil of training during the many months leading up to race day. The similarities to families affected by Muscular Dystrophy are so similar, it would be ludicrous not to make the connection! I propose that they be counted as full members of the running community because without them, a runner will truly be running solo and setting themselves up for failure!
With only 2 days away from the finale of our fundraiser, I thought I would share some words of advice by Jack Cook, owner of Fast Trax Run & Ski Shop. His words ring true, not only on the trail but wherever life may take us!
Mental Game
If you can focus on the positive and turn any set backs into positives you will be so far ahead come race day you cannot imagine. Focus on the positive completion of your leg or race and use every set back along the way as a reminder of how hard you have worked and nothing stands in your way.
Once your run begins take each moment as it comes and stay in the moment not focusing on the outcome and your event will be enjoyable the entire way. Once you focus on the outcome that is when things become overwhelming.
There will be moments of weakness and fatigue but if you slow the pace and focus on working through, the period will pass and you will rebound in time. The disappointment of stepping off the trail is far harder at the end of the day than working through a rough patch and waiting for your energy to return.
It's been a journey, this time training for an ultra marathon. To recap, we started out methodical and strong, but quickly frustrated. Virginie struggled with trying to find her place in our running relationship. This went on for months, and before long, became all we could see in front of us. Running became a chore. It became a frustration, and it became demotivating. We stopped talking, stuck behind the paradigm that we were ultra marathon runners, and without the label, we were in and of ourselves, of no worth.
It's okay, self worth has never been my strong suit, and I can imagine all these people responding to my post, ensuring me that I'm an inspiration and to not listen to negative self talk. I can imagine me wondering how to reply to them, not knowing what to say. Consumed by the self imposed requirement to respond with perfect eloquence.
Perhaps there are those who can relate to my struggles. Those who know what it was like to be bullied while young. To feel helpless and alone. To learn to not trust anyone, and to isolate myself from people, because in the end, they would only use me to advance themselves socially, and that requires them to demean, insult and ostracize.
Then running came along.
It gave me an identity, it saved me from the chronic depression that runs in my family. I was able to get off medication, and felt I had something to offer people socially.
But I wasn't social still.
I could see that the changes were only skin deep. My running served as a means to prove to the world that I am not broken. That I have worth. I began running hundreds of kilometers per month. Literally thousands per year. There were people who told me that it was unhealthy, but I was too vulnerable to listen. I felt that their solution was to deprive me of the one thing that was providing me hope and healing. I felt they wanted to take away my running.
This past weekend something wonderful happened as I watched my one and only best childhood friend push beyond his own limits to conquer a difficult 100 mile course. His efforts, and enthusiasm for the sport have been an inspiration for me. I think my kids get annoyed hearing me talk about him. Seriously though, I had one friend until grade 9. That was him. Our friendship was something that held me together as a child.
The last couple of weeks, I have decided that I really do love to run. I love the sport, and I love the people. I started running intervals with the Fast Trax run and ski shop the last couple of weeks. The friendship, comarderie, and enthusiasm brings to my mind one word in particular.
... Healing ...
Nobody will ever know this, and sometimes I hope nobody does, because I don't want to be treated differently, because I have been so insecure in the past, but honestly, all you folks from the shop are restoring my faith in friendship. Something I have denied myself all my life.
This weekend looks like it will be very hot for the Sinister 7. Perhaps 30 degrees. If that is the case, it will be a very difficult run. But, with that said, I still plan on going out there. It's truly different this time. I'm not going out to impress anyone. I'm going out to take part in an event because I'm not only passionate about the sport, I'm passionate about the people.
Runners: thank you for all you do for me. Seriously. This means anyone who has got off the couch, tied up their shoes and put one foot in front of the other, repeating the process for whatever length of time until you arrive at your destination. I don't esteem myself above any of you. You are all an inspiration to me. This includes all those boys out there who would run, but can't because their bodies simply won't allow it.
When Virginie and I first moved to Edmonton we visited the West Edmonton Mall to look around and get a feel for getting around in it. While there, we were admiring the paintings in one of art stores. There was one in particular that caught my eye. It showed a dimly lit wetland area surrounded by a shadowy boreal forest. In the foreground a nervous elk cast his eyes heaven ward, there to see a looming black sky. The elks mouth opened perhaps announcing it's warning to nearby friends to seek shelter right away. I was enthralled. I could feel the electricity in the sky. I could feel the cool breeze shoving it's way through the heavy moist air. I could hear to unnerving rumble of approaching thunder.
Virginie and I have often talked about that picture. As avid storm lovers, we both would love having a chance to go to the central States, and have a shot at seeing a real tornado. For now though, it's the storm before the calm for me. All of those questions that naturally pop up prior to a big race.
- Did I train hard enough?
- Will everything go okay?
- Will it be hot? (I'm hoping for cooler)
It's the storm before the calm. Frankly, when I line up and the gun goes off, my energy can finally be directed. Then I feel calm and free. The excitement of race day is contagious. If you can, come out to the crowsnest pass and see for yourself. There is a magical energy.
Really, it's all tapering from here. I'll do a half marathon tomorrow, then intervals Saturday morning. Then next week, only enough to keep me from going stir crazy :) I'm not sure what that will be, I am planning on listening to my body.
Last year at the Death Race, Virginie and I set expectations as: Enjoy the journey, don't go for the finish line. The strategy seemed to work well for us. We did not want to loose the focus that if we stressed about the finish line, we would miss all that happened in between.
As I look at the weather report, it keeps bouncing between hot and cool for race day. Hopefully it will be cool. It's what I am trained up for.
I want Lehi and Mathoni, my brothers in law that have passed away from duchenne muscular dystrophy, to know that I love them. Oh, how grateful I am that you are in a better place. How I hope for Cedric, for Shad, for Nicholas and Benson, even for the healthy Elijah, because he will take on the role of the caretaker older brother, for Spencer, because he's is the protector older brother, and for Sam, dear Sam. If there ever was an older brother to be proud of, who quietly helped, hoped, loved, and protected unconditionally, it is you my friend. I hope that with all of the wonderful technology that we have been blessed with in this day and age, that my offering, how big or small will provide some hope to you, and to your families. I've said it a lot in my blog before, but I know that things will get better. We will have good times and bad times, but as assuredly as the sun sets, and then rises again, so will new hope, new treatments, and new technology. I hope the best of these will find you.
