Ran again yesterday. 20minutes this time. And again felt great.
Started
at 5:15/km but that quickly felt a bit hard, but I kept at it until my
body adjusted. At about 7:00 in I dropped to 5:00/km for the remaining
3:00 to get to 10:00, then dropped it to 4:50/km for 5:00 and finally
4:40/km for 5:00, total 4km in 19:57.
Then I stretched. A lot.
Same Rx today. Maybe 30:00 run. We'll see.
Friday, 30 March 2012
Wednesday, 28 March 2012
Around the Bay Road Race 2012
Racing is a very different beast indeed.
In a previous blog post I mentioned that in recreational running you race yourself, or the clock, rarely do you ever race against someone else.
Well this past weekend I did just that.
Never having done it before, the execution was far different than I had imagined. I made a number of tactical errors and they cost me dearly.
But even before race day I knew it would be tough. Much like Mark, the gentleman I was racing against, I only started training at the end of January, and ramped up my long runs rather quickly. I missed a large number of my scheduled mid-week long runs and had a hard time on many of my interval sessions. The week leading up to the race I had heel/Achilles issues and ran only once during my last week of taper and that was only 15 minutes. I didn't have enough mileage under my belt and too few runs.
More mistakes: I really should've brought my Garmin. I only had a watch and could figure out how I was doing at markers but never knew what my pace was at any given time. I should've brought gels instead of dates, which are much harder to chew at race effort than long run effort.
The race itself was great fun, well at least the first 21km were. Decked out in my Crossfit t-shirt and knee-high compression socks, while Mark donned his IM 70.3 Syracuse t-shirt and speed laces, we took off about 20 seconds back from mats and I immediately let Mark take the lead and set the pace. I knew I could let him get a bit ahead, as long as I kept him in sight. But I couldn't do it, I found myself continuously on his heels. I was scared that I'd lose him if I let him get to far ahead. He wasn't pushing the pace, which I was thankful for, because I did no warm up before the race and was starting cold.
Somewhere after the 9km marker I made my first mistake. I let my honour trump the goal of the race. I began to feel guilty for sitting back behind Mark for the whole race just to pounce at the last minute, so when I was feeling strong I decided to take the lead and set the pace. I blew past him and tried to shake his confidence, but I really hadn't thought far enough ahead.
Now what? I didn't know how far behind me he was, or what impact if any my burst had. Suddenly I was scare of the attack that was sure to come. But when? Would I be ready? I slowed to a pace I felt comfortable (too slow, having a Garmin would've helped here), and braced myself for an attack that never came. At one point a British accent right behind me thanked a spectator and I though: how stupid of Mark to give himself away like that, now I know he's right behind me. Well it wasn't him, but he was right behind me! So some bloke unknowingly blew his cover for me.
Around 15km I moved to the side to clear my nose and looked over my should and there he was, so he knew I knew, and I knew he knew I knew, and he knew I knew he knew I knew, so the game was up and he took the lead again. What a relief. He was finding his stride I tucked in behind him and got ready for the hills.
But at this point I was feeling weak, and needed some food, so at 18km I made my fatal mistake, I stopped running to eat some dates, I was sure I'd make up the time having given my legs a little break and some fresh calories to fuel them. But they took forever to chew and swallow at race effort (compared to long run effort). By the time I got running again I had lost sight of him and began to panic. I hammered the next 2km in the rollers and really trashed my legs.
You have no idea how many white shirt bald guys are on that race course until you need to find one in particular. I never saw him again. I passed the 20km mats 50 seconds behind him. But I was already hurting. By 22km I knew the race was over, but the spectre of my possible attack chased Mark right to the finish line, which was the whole point anyway.
I hit the 24km marker at 2:00 and realized I likely wouldn't even be under 2:30. I stopped a couple of times after that, to refill my water bottle and regroup after the big hill but vowed to run the last 3km no matter what, and I did. My legs have never hurt so much after a race, not even Ironman.
This was the most exhilarating and nerve wracking race I've ever run. I thank you Mark for seeing it the same way I saw it, and making so much fun. We played the trash talk and bravado leading up to the race really well, the whole experience was a blast. My hats off to you, you were the faster man that day. Congratulations. Enjoy your spud trophy, it was well earned.
I certainly learned a lot and to do it again would do a number of things differently, but I don't think it'll ever be quite as much fun as this one, being the first and all.
Although a rematch is definitely not out of question, maybe a half marathon or a 10km instead. Or maybe a beer mile... hmm...
In a previous blog post I mentioned that in recreational running you race yourself, or the clock, rarely do you ever race against someone else.
Well this past weekend I did just that.
Never having done it before, the execution was far different than I had imagined. I made a number of tactical errors and they cost me dearly.
But even before race day I knew it would be tough. Much like Mark, the gentleman I was racing against, I only started training at the end of January, and ramped up my long runs rather quickly. I missed a large number of my scheduled mid-week long runs and had a hard time on many of my interval sessions. The week leading up to the race I had heel/Achilles issues and ran only once during my last week of taper and that was only 15 minutes. I didn't have enough mileage under my belt and too few runs.
More mistakes: I really should've brought my Garmin. I only had a watch and could figure out how I was doing at markers but never knew what my pace was at any given time. I should've brought gels instead of dates, which are much harder to chew at race effort than long run effort.
The race itself was great fun, well at least the first 21km were. Decked out in my Crossfit t-shirt and knee-high compression socks, while Mark donned his IM 70.3 Syracuse t-shirt and speed laces, we took off about 20 seconds back from mats and I immediately let Mark take the lead and set the pace. I knew I could let him get a bit ahead, as long as I kept him in sight. But I couldn't do it, I found myself continuously on his heels. I was scared that I'd lose him if I let him get to far ahead. He wasn't pushing the pace, which I was thankful for, because I did no warm up before the race and was starting cold.
Somewhere after the 9km marker I made my first mistake. I let my honour trump the goal of the race. I began to feel guilty for sitting back behind Mark for the whole race just to pounce at the last minute, so when I was feeling strong I decided to take the lead and set the pace. I blew past him and tried to shake his confidence, but I really hadn't thought far enough ahead.
Now what? I didn't know how far behind me he was, or what impact if any my burst had. Suddenly I was scare of the attack that was sure to come. But when? Would I be ready? I slowed to a pace I felt comfortable (too slow, having a Garmin would've helped here), and braced myself for an attack that never came. At one point a British accent right behind me thanked a spectator and I though: how stupid of Mark to give himself away like that, now I know he's right behind me. Well it wasn't him, but he was right behind me! So some bloke unknowingly blew his cover for me.
Around 15km I moved to the side to clear my nose and looked over my should and there he was, so he knew I knew, and I knew he knew I knew, and he knew I knew he knew I knew, so the game was up and he took the lead again. What a relief. He was finding his stride I tucked in behind him and got ready for the hills.
But at this point I was feeling weak, and needed some food, so at 18km I made my fatal mistake, I stopped running to eat some dates, I was sure I'd make up the time having given my legs a little break and some fresh calories to fuel them. But they took forever to chew and swallow at race effort (compared to long run effort). By the time I got running again I had lost sight of him and began to panic. I hammered the next 2km in the rollers and really trashed my legs.
You have no idea how many white shirt bald guys are on that race course until you need to find one in particular. I never saw him again. I passed the 20km mats 50 seconds behind him. But I was already hurting. By 22km I knew the race was over, but the spectre of my possible attack chased Mark right to the finish line, which was the whole point anyway.
I hit the 24km marker at 2:00 and realized I likely wouldn't even be under 2:30. I stopped a couple of times after that, to refill my water bottle and regroup after the big hill but vowed to run the last 3km no matter what, and I did. My legs have never hurt so much after a race, not even Ironman.
This was the most exhilarating and nerve wracking race I've ever run. I thank you Mark for seeing it the same way I saw it, and making so much fun. We played the trash talk and bravado leading up to the race really well, the whole experience was a blast. My hats off to you, you were the faster man that day. Congratulations. Enjoy your spud trophy, it was well earned.
 |
| Me (right) congratulating Mark and handing over the spud trophy (it's long story). |
I certainly learned a lot and to do it again would do a number of things differently, but I don't think it'll ever be quite as much fun as this one, being the first and all.
Although a rematch is definitely not out of question, maybe a half marathon or a 10km instead. Or maybe a beer mile... hmm...
Running log for Wednesday, March 28th
Well as history has already recorded ATB wasn't my best performance, but I enjoyed the experience tremendously.
Today I ran for the first time after destroying my legs at ATB and was pleasantly surprise. I only went 15 minutes, because I really wanted to do some mobility work, I could've gone on much longer. Did 5min @ 5:24/km, 5min @5:15/km and 5min @ 5:00/km and felt fantastic.
Mobitily on my shoulders and chest went well, I tried a couple of light shoulder presses (45#) and my form was better than ever (maybe rested from no Crossfit all last week helped).
Back at Crossfit next week.
Today I ran for the first time after destroying my legs at ATB and was pleasantly surprise. I only went 15 minutes, because I really wanted to do some mobility work, I could've gone on much longer. Did 5min @ 5:24/km, 5min @5:15/km and 5min @ 5:00/km and felt fantastic.
Mobitily on my shoulders and chest went well, I tried a couple of light shoulder presses (45#) and my form was better than ever (maybe rested from no Crossfit all last week helped).
Back at Crossfit next week.
Friday, 23 March 2012
Running log for Friday, March 23rd
<sigh>Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh</sigh>
Ran.
15 min (of which 10min was at race pace), felt wonderful. Could still feel my heel but it wasn't an impediment.
Stretched for a full 40 minutes. Full hip extension, calf extension, glute extension, deep hip flexion, with and without aductor extension.
Tomorrow will tell whether the heel will be a problem or not.
Game on.
Ran.
15 min (of which 10min was at race pace), felt wonderful. Could still feel my heel but it wasn't an impediment.
Stretched for a full 40 minutes. Full hip extension, calf extension, glute extension, deep hip flexion, with and without aductor extension.
Tomorrow will tell whether the heel will be a problem or not.
Game on.
Thursday, 22 March 2012
Running log for Thursday, March 22nd
Heel doesn't feel tight and doesn't feel
painful, not even to the touch. Right now it feels itchy, like it's
knitting itself back together.
I'm really torn. I had a 6km run on the books yesterday, but didn't do it for fear of making my heel worse, but today, since there's no pain, I want to try.
I have so much pent up energy it's driving me crazy, no Crossfit since Friday, no running since Saturday.
Can I really go into a 30km race without a single run in the week leading up!?!?!?!?
I'm really torn. I had a 6km run on the books yesterday, but didn't do it for fear of making my heel worse, but today, since there's no pain, I want to try.
I have so much pent up energy it's driving me crazy, no Crossfit since Friday, no running since Saturday.
Can I really go into a 30km race without a single run in the week leading up!?!?!?!?
Monday, 19 March 2012
"What's wrong with your eyes?!?"
Looking around the corner of the bathroom door I was telling Clarisse to do something (likely to hurry up), when she blurted out: "What's wrong with your eyes?!?"
I find it hard to fathom that in her nearly twelve years of life, she never noticed I was cross-eyed.
Technically I'm not really cross-eyed, or lazy-eyed. I suffer from fourth cranial nerve palsy. The nerve that controls the muscle that pulls my eye downward doesn't fire, so the muscle never got the signal to control the eye's position. So when I look to the right, my left eye shoots up into the corner since the muscle meant to control it's ascent is essentially absent.
In this lack of alignment, my brain has two images that are too far apart to reconcile into one, so my mind either juggles both, giving me double vision, or ignores one. The later, most common option exacerbates the problems as an eye who's image is ignored need not be controlled, so the muscles aren't activated properly.
I've always been extremely self conscious about it and developed crafty ways to mask it as much as possible. I turn my head a certain way, I tilt it to one side, I squint a lot. Either it has been working, or not everyone pays close enough attention to even notice; my own daughter being a case in point. (Or as Aunty Carol just made me realize, some are polite enough not to mention it!)
Slowly over time, the muscles pulling up have shortened and the alignment of my eyes is getting worse. And apparently my left eye has decided to assert itself forcefully displaying it's oft neglected image into my brain, resulting in more frequent double vision than ever before in my life.
After living with it for over 35 years, I've decided to put my faith in medical science and next September I will have one of the muscles pulling the eye up severed. This procedure is meant to correct the problem when looking straight ahead. It is unclear what will happen when I look side to side or up and down, but really how much worse can it be than it already is.
I am very excited by the prospect of looking someone straight in the eye without the anxiety of knowing my eye will wander upward and inward despite all my effort. I won't have to quickly look away to hide it before they notice. It's a small thing really, but I look forward to it.
Maybe I'll be able to see those three dimensional images in the patterned drawings, or even a 3D movie, or pour a glass of milk with proper depth perception, or catch the car keys when Kiza tosses them to me.
The possibilities are endless.
I find it hard to fathom that in her nearly twelve years of life, she never noticed I was cross-eyed.
Technically I'm not really cross-eyed, or lazy-eyed. I suffer from fourth cranial nerve palsy. The nerve that controls the muscle that pulls my eye downward doesn't fire, so the muscle never got the signal to control the eye's position. So when I look to the right, my left eye shoots up into the corner since the muscle meant to control it's ascent is essentially absent.
In this lack of alignment, my brain has two images that are too far apart to reconcile into one, so my mind either juggles both, giving me double vision, or ignores one. The later, most common option exacerbates the problems as an eye who's image is ignored need not be controlled, so the muscles aren't activated properly.
I've always been extremely self conscious about it and developed crafty ways to mask it as much as possible. I turn my head a certain way, I tilt it to one side, I squint a lot. Either it has been working, or not everyone pays close enough attention to even notice; my own daughter being a case in point. (Or as Aunty Carol just made me realize, some are polite enough not to mention it!)
Slowly over time, the muscles pulling up have shortened and the alignment of my eyes is getting worse. And apparently my left eye has decided to assert itself forcefully displaying it's oft neglected image into my brain, resulting in more frequent double vision than ever before in my life.
After living with it for over 35 years, I've decided to put my faith in medical science and next September I will have one of the muscles pulling the eye up severed. This procedure is meant to correct the problem when looking straight ahead. It is unclear what will happen when I look side to side or up and down, but really how much worse can it be than it already is.
I am very excited by the prospect of looking someone straight in the eye without the anxiety of knowing my eye will wander upward and inward despite all my effort. I won't have to quickly look away to hide it before they notice. It's a small thing really, but I look forward to it.
Maybe I'll be able to see those three dimensional images in the patterned drawings, or even a 3D movie, or pour a glass of milk with proper depth perception, or catch the car keys when Kiza tosses them to me.
The possibilities are endless.
Sunday, 18 March 2012
Bath time
Aside from a small gap of a few years between Clarisse and Delilah, I've been giving baths almost nightly for over fifteen years.
That's a lot of baths.
When the older kids' mom decided to breastfeed, I decided I would be the bath giver. Even though I was quite young (I was twenty five when Caleb was born), I knew physical contact and one on one time was essential to bonding.
So I paid close attention when the nurses showed me how you bathe him and I just took ownership of it.
Fifteen years later and I'm still at it.
When Delilah came along, Kiza would also be breastfeeding, so when it came to bath time, I told her: "I've got this".
I have only a few years left I guess. Sometimes it's been a burden, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I imagine I'll miss it when the time comes for Dexter to take responsibility for his own bathing.
It's funny, baths have so far been synonymous with parenthood for me. I've been a bath giver as long as I've been a parent, but that won't always be the case. As I approach fifty in a few years and that scary milestone of being a parent longer than not, the counter on bath giver will have stopped.
Then I guess I'll be just a parent.
That's a lot of baths.
When the older kids' mom decided to breastfeed, I decided I would be the bath giver. Even though I was quite young (I was twenty five when Caleb was born), I knew physical contact and one on one time was essential to bonding.
So I paid close attention when the nurses showed me how you bathe him and I just took ownership of it.
Fifteen years later and I'm still at it.
When Delilah came along, Kiza would also be breastfeeding, so when it came to bath time, I told her: "I've got this".
I have only a few years left I guess. Sometimes it's been a burden, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. I imagine I'll miss it when the time comes for Dexter to take responsibility for his own bathing.
It's funny, baths have so far been synonymous with parenthood for me. I've been a bath giver as long as I've been a parent, but that won't always be the case. As I approach fifty in a few years and that scary milestone of being a parent longer than not, the counter on bath giver will have stopped.
Then I guess I'll be just a parent.
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