Going to the well

Sorry about the slacking on the blog post this week- will try to keep it consistent with weekend updates. 

This past weekend a group of us headed up to Ottawa to compete in the five and ten kilometre road races in the capital. It was a smaller group than years past, but it was still a great trip on the whole, and accommodations with the Andersen family were top-notch. 

The week leading up to the race was frustrating, mainly because I was afraid of doing any more damage but also feeling ansy. My IT felt tight Monday, so I went for a long walk. Tuesday I felt a little better, so I added in short jogs of 3, 4 and 5 minutes into my stroll. My 20 minute test Wednesday was a success so I attempted (and completed) the workout Thursday. Friday morning the same tightness and pain returned, and I was quite worried during the ride up to Ottawa. Liam Mulroy (who was generous enough to lend me his foam roller, which has definitely helped my recovery) wanted my bib for the 5K if I couldn't run, and given how I was feeling, it was probable he would get it. 

The car ride up didn't help, and I was feeling incredibly stiff and sore when I went to bed Friday evening. But I woke up Saturday morning feeling better, which coupled with massaging my leg periodically had me feeling good enough to try a pre-race warmup. 

About 10 minutes into the warmup Justin asked me how the IT band felt, to which I responded that I didn't really want to think about it, which was truthful; my leg felt stiff yet did not feel like it was deteriorating. When we hopped into the corrals a few minutes before the gun, attempting to jostle our way to the front of the mass of people, I felt confident enough that I kept my bib, with Liam joining Justin and I as a bandit. 

The start was somewhat chaotic, mainly the result of too many people at the front not belonging there, and thereby getting swallowed up immediately by faster athletes. A few hobby joggers hit the deck, but the rest of us got out clean. 

I'll have to be honest- the race itself was a bit of a blur. The kilometres weren't marked, so without having any real idea how fast I was going, I checked my watch every few minutes and guessed how long I had until I would be done hurting. And I was certainly hurting, even early on. For the entire race, I did my best to chase down the leaders, and like my last race at the Terry Goodenough Memorial Run, I believe I really went to the well effort-wise. There are days when you feel like you could have pushed harder. But with these past two efforts, I really feel like I've dug deep, and have come away satisfied as a result. And while I may not be running stellar times right now, if I can get into good shape and still tap into my extra reserves, those will fall into place easily enough. 

As it turns out, the five of us were all fairly satisfied with our efforts in our respective races, and Ryan Dos Santos, who make the trip up after racing in Woodstock that morning, had a very impressive double as a bandit in the 10k, making the group 6 for 6 on the day. Ottawa Race weekend is great trip regardless, but driving 6 hours+ and running well makes it all the sweeter. 

The plan for Sunday was to hop into the the half marathon and use it as a long run. With the way the course was set up, we were able to slip right in with the masses exiting the corrals in the first 400 metres, and set out running kilometres in the mid-fours range, with no real goal finish time. After feeling it out for a few kilometres and making full use of the aid stations set up on course, competitive instincts kicked in and chasing the 1:30 pace group became a priority. 

Prior to the run, I had told the guys that I would potentially have to drop out before the finish, given my struggles of late. But as we clicked on progressively faster kilometres, bouncing between being well ahead of the pace bunny to slightly behind after combinations of pit stops and aid stations, my IT never worsened, and so finishing became the minimum. After covering the first 10 kilometres in around 43 minutes, we finished in roughly by dropping an average of 8 seconds per kilometre off our pace through 10k. 

In the final 100m, our shirts went off in tandem, and the crowds lining the finish reacted in a way I didn't expect- they absolutely erupted! In response, we hammered across the line.

A fantastic weekend on the whole. And something to build on for me personally I hope. 

Sunday: 1:30 biking

Monday: 60 min walk 

Tuesday: 60 min walk with 3, 4, 5 min jog 

Wednesday: 50 min walk with 20 min jog in middle

Thursday: Bike warmup, 9x300 w/ 100 jog, 4x150 fast-float-fast, Bike cool down

Friday: 35 min am

Saturday: 12 min w/u+ drills, 16:04 Road PB Ottawa, 10 min c/d 

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

After cracking 80 miles last week and getting my foot issues sorted out, I was optimistic that I was ready to approach the century mark comfortably for this first time in a number of months. My body had other plans, however, and the week did not start off well with my IT band tightening up during the long run through Columbia Forest. I was able to finish the run, but I had to resort to hobbling around the house for a few hours afterward. 

Committed to hitting 100, I headed out optimistically towards Wilmot Line Monday morning aiming for an hour, but lasted 10 minutes before the band tightened up so it would be wise to go no further. I hobbled back home, and spent the rest of the day being annoyed at how my body had betrayed me once again. Despite my morning failure, my IT band seemed to loosen throughout the day, so in the afternoon I ran a relatively flat route and was pleased that it held up. Naturally I assumed my injury troubles were over. 

That is still not the case, however. The rest of my week can be seen in the log below- I couldn't handle one run per day, never mind doubles. 

When the plan for the week had us doing 400s on the track Thursday, I was pretty excited. Cross country is still the best season in my book, but there's something about having a workout consist of singular laps around the track that fires me up. I was therefore very disappointed when during the warmup the pangs of tightness were evident, and so I shut myself down. 

I'm hoping this sorts itself out quickly enough so that I can get back on the track. Watching the Oxy High Performance Meet Friday night fired me up even more, evening if the pacing in most of the races left something to be desired.

Sorry for the short post. 

Sunday: ~11.5 miles 

Monday: 2 miles am + 8 miles PM

Tuesday: 5 miles am + workout PM

Wednesday: 8 miles PM

Thursday: 30 minutes biking AM + Workout attempt and failure PM 

Friday: 8 miles PM

Saturday: 75 minutes biking 

"If You Can See Him, You Can Catch Him"

The Terry Goodenough Memorial Run was today. Weeks ago I elected to do eight kilometres instead of four for the race, and even when given the option of switching during registration, I decided to stick with the original plan. It didn't turn out to be an altogether terrible idea. 

The race started out at a reasonable pace. Derek Nakluski was up front and out of sight within minutes, but behind him a group of alumni and current athletes bridging three different eras of Warriors cross country worked together and chatted in the early stages. I tried to keep in contact with the pack but had to let them go before the 1K mark, and instead former captain Rob Bark and myself worked off each other for a full circuit around the course. 

At around 3K I found myself feeling more confident that I could latch back onto the Warrior peloton that was now comprised of Devon Briggs, Justin Spalvieri, and Waterloo legends Scott Arnald and Stephen Drew. I finally slotted myself behind them before coming into the hills on the backside of the course, and was content to sit until the start of the third lap, at which point I decided to move off the front to try and track down the 8K leader, alumni Kevin Smith. 

It was futile effort, as Kevin's lead only seemed to grow as I chased, but the pack behind splintered as Stephen and Devon fell off. Scott and Justin took turns leading our 3-man pack as we moved into the final lap. The pace seemed to slow mercifully as we approached the hills in the final circuit, and I was hoping to save a little for a dash to the finish. Justin had other ideas, making his move much earlier than expected coming into the first hill.  "Go get him Scotty…" was all I could muster as we headed towards crab apple hill. Scott was evidently as taxed as I was, and I put a few strides between us as we rounded the pine trees heading down to the long finishing straight. Justin's stride rate had noticeably increased towards the finish, so I focused on something more realistic- keeping the distance between Scott and myself. A hard finish to the line and I made my way to the pasta salad table- exhausted yet satisfied. Not a bad effort, but better things to come. 

Before the race, there were a number of speakers that talked about Terry before the unveiling of the plaques on the course dedicated to him. Most of us were noticeably choked up. One thing that really struck me was how consistent every description of Terry was with my own. I wrote the following earlier in the week (I don't care if it doesn't flow with the rest of the blog), and nearly all of it was referred to by former team members this morning: 

I wish I could write something about Terry that would do him justice. The bottom line is that he was just a remarkable human being. Take away how great of a coach he was and you would be left with no less of a man. But I think it's important to speak about that side of him because that is how I knew him best. Every running coach I've ever known has had their quirks. Terry's quirks were his total lack of aggression and overwhelming positivity regarding the ability of his own athletes. He'd mention some crazy time that you would be running in the 1500 by the summer and you'd laugh and nod, but he'd insist you were capable of it. With that small bit of confidence he had just instilled in you, you'd be ready to attack the next workout with vigour. 

When talking race strategy, Terry had a simple mantra: "If you can see them, you can catch them!" We still like to joke about that advice. But when it came down to the later stages, having Terry speak softly under the crowd, "you can catch him!" put a bit of fire in the belly when the legs were ready to give in. 

He took guys like Chris Hartman who had under-performed their entire CIS career and turned them into OUA All-Stars. I can remember asking Chris back in first year about what he thought of Terry, and his response being simple but earnest: "Terry's a great coach." 

Terry was great. I can't believe it's been two years that he's been gone...

Sunday: ~13 miles- Wilmot- Foot very sore

Monday: 3.5 miles (30 min) am, bought new shoes in PM 

Tuesday: 4.8 miles am, 2.5K w/u + 2x(4x4min w/ 1 min jog b/w), 2.5k c/d- New shoes helped a ton

Wednesday: 7.5 miles am + 8.4 miles PM

Thursday: 4.8 miles am + 4.8k w/u, 2x(600, 200 jog, 4x300 w/ 100 jog b/w) with 200 jog b/w sets, 4.5k c/d

Friday: 7.5 miles am + 7.5 miles PM

Saturday: ~2k w/u, 7.8k race: 27:32, 2.5k c/d 

Total: 83 miles (short of 100 mile target, but satisfied now that foot is coming around). 

- Patrick 

Story time: Charizard was awesome because it was rare

For those that can't be bothered with the personal anecdote in this blog, here's my training summary for the week:

Sunday: 70 minutes in Dundas Valley (9 miles)

Monday: 4 hour bike ride around KW in the rain

Tuesday: 4.8 miles am + 15 min w/u, drills, 5x(3 min on, 1 min jog, 5 min on) w/ 4 min jog b/w sets, 18 min c/d (slow) ~26k total

Wednesday: 60 minutes am (8 miles)- foot was sore at turnaround until finish

Thursday: 30 min w/u, 2x(600, 200 jog, 3x300 with 100 jog b/w) 200 jog b/w sets- missed first 600, had to run it at end of workout

Friday: 60 min am (~ 8 miles) + 60 min bike PM

Saturday: Off

The IT band issue from last week seems to have resolved itself, so instead my foot felt like complaining on Wednesday, and has continued to do so since. I also had a first for my running career: I showed up at the wrong workout venue, which meant the warmup was longer (and faster) than expected Thursday, which resulted in me missing the first interval. The rest of the workout went predictably terrible- while I might have been able to hang on Tuesday at threshold paces, Thursday I was exposed for what I currently am- woefully unfit for track racing. Running Friday morning was a bad idea, as the foot pain crept up after 20 minutes. I woke up with my foot still bothering me today, so I decided I needed to play it smart for once and shut it down for the day while doing my work term report.

Personal anecdote time:

When I'm this out of shape, I can barely imagine being competitive in a race, never mind attempting to win one. Which really is unfortunate, because I've won so few as it is. As a result of an unfortunate combination that includes bad luck, poor race selection, and lacking fitness at the right times, I can count on two fingers the number of times I've won a race in my life. This is coupled with a rather cruel twist of fate that Sileshi Sihine can appreciate: I've lost count of the number of times I've finished second in a foot race. When I was in the 12th grade, I finished second three times in two days at my local association meet, even after trying to steal a win by making bold move with 600m to go in the 1500 (I was mowed down in the home straight). Naturally, finishing runner-up is nothing to complain about, but when you win so little, it's understandable that you might be a little miffed when some random out of town guy shows up to steal your glory at the local Hanukkah Hustle.

The side effect of this exclusion from the winner's circle is that when I do win a race, I'm pretty amped up about it. The rarer the flower, the sweeter it smells, or something like that. I imagine you might forget the details of some of your victories if you stack them up like blocks in Jenga, but since I can't even fill one row with mine, I can remember them pretty clearly.

In the 9th grade, as might be expected, I was pretty green about the sport of running as whole. I somehow qualified for OFSAA cross country in a weak conference for my year, and after stating my pre-race goal of top 100 in the province, I crossed the line in 101st (but as they say it on Letsrun- I did it in trainers! Gotta be worth 10 spots, right? No, not likely). Following that performance, I turned my focus to badminton for a while before gearing up for track around April.

I can remember doing one or two meets that spring before getting ready for GHAC, our conference meet. By this point, to go along with my new light-as-air Brooks spikes that replaced the trusty New Balance trainers, I had decided that I had a rival in running. I'm not quite sure where the need to proclaim someone was my rival stemmed from, but regardless of the catalyst, I decided that Thomas Faulkner, a small Notre Dame Burlington kid who had qualified first ahead of Acton's Matthew Bigg and myself at GHAC in the fall, was the chosen one.

I was entered on the two longest flat races on the track, the 1500 and 3000, like any distance donkey would be. The 1500 was up first, and was an altogether lacklustre affair on my part. Despite thinking I was good for second or third, I finished 5th, a full 5 seconds behind Faulkner, who was himself 3 seconds behind Bigg. I qualified for the South Regional meet, but otherwise it wasn't much to write home about. But since I was the first Hamilton Catholic finisher, I got a medal- instead of awarding medals to the top 3 finishes, GHAC had an odd system of giving medals only to the top finisher from Halton (both public and catholic boards) and the top Hamilton Catholic finisher (the public board raced in a different association…I'm not sure how this made any sense but it remains this way to this day). If you won the race outright, you also received a GHAC medal, identifying you as the overall champion.

Following the 1500, I had the rest of the day free since the 3000s were on Day 2. The meet schedule was set up so that immediately before the 3ks, the 800s would be run. My self-appointed rival, Faulker, was racing both, and started off his ambitious double by once again losing to Bigg.

Now normally you might think that I would look at the fact that Faulkner had just run a hard 800 and say to myself "hey, he's tired- if I take it to him early I can maybe steal this thing". But that wasn't my thinking at all. I was scared- I still get nervous for races, but in high school I was an absolute basket case. I might have called him my rival, but I knew he was much better than me. It was going to be plainly obvious once we took each other on over 3000 metres.

The fields for the the midget and junior men's 3k's were small, so the meet officials decided to run us all at once to save on time. As a result, I don't remember much about the early laps after the gun had gone off- I settled in with the rest of the guys and tried to hold on. I do however remember being completely conscious of who I had to beat to qualify for South Regionals.

When the faster junior runners took off, I was unable to move with them. Faulkner opened up a gap, and as the race wore on it got bigger. Coming into the final lap, I knew I was good for second despite feeling incredibly tired. If there's one thing I can remember about my early high school races, it's that every race, no matter how big or small, I always seemed to run to the well- I was always hurting badly, so much so that my pre-race nerves were compounded with the fear of how much I was about to hurt myself.

As I finished the penultimate lap, I looked around the bend to see that Faulkner was slowing. I began to churn the legs quicker, spurned on by the bell. I was chasing down the back straight, oblivious to the junior runners around me- I was focused on one back, and one back only.

In the final straight, I accelerated again. While it might be funny to those that know me as a complete distance donkey now, I actually had a somewhat reasonable kick when compared to others my age at that stage of development, so much so that my ridiculous bursts at the end after letting gaps open during races became known as "pulling a Patrick".

As I blasted towards the line, I became excited by the prospect that I could beat him- but it was going to be close! 50 metres out, still gaining, 40 metres, yup, closer now, 30 metres, alright I'm definitely getting you, 20 metres, we're even, now we're not, 10 metres from the line, I've got you beat, I've won it, I've won it!

The exultation of that moment has mostly stayed with me, only dulled a bit by the years that have passed. It wasn't perfect, to be sure- to the causal onlooker, I had finished behind 3 others, those juniors that had broken away. And with my surprise finish, the stadium announcer had missed that I was the top midget, and instead announced Faulkner as the champion immediately post-race (which would be corrected later).

But a victory was a victory, and this was my first. One of my coaches later told me that she was seated in the bleachers facing the home straight and that it was the most exciting finish she'd ever seen. I doubt she knew who Billy Mills was, but I was on cloud nine and happily took her comment in stride.

The next week, I spoke with Thomas at South Regionals. I noticed that he had scratched from all his races- had he hurt himself in training that week or something?

"No, I tore a muscle in my calf on the last lap of the 3k at GHAC."

…darn.

 - Patrick

Returning

I know I said this blog would be about running, but since my academics are tied so closely to my running, I figure I need to address one of my classic school-term "rituals".

For anyone that knows me well enough, the fact that I crawl into a hole and disappear without a trace for weeks on end during exams comes as no surprise. If I believe my academic outlook is positive, I leave the house for practice or easy runs once a day, then descend back into my basement room to study during the remaining time. During terms where I am more concerned about my grades (and this is the majority), I completely disregard physical activity and by extension usually get fat- I am no monk when it comes to choosing between running or school, as school will win every time. This is followed by a period of about a week where I try to start running again, hating myself for being so out of shape, while worrying intensely about my grades and appealing to all the higher powers in the universe for scholastic mercy.

Once the grades do come in, I partake in what has become a silly and slightly embarrassing tradition since first year: I commence admitting to everyone I've previously told that I'm going to fail that I've instead somehow managed to pass the term and won't have to take 8 months off. Everyone I tell responds with something like "I told you so" or "you worry too much" or "why do you always think you're gonna fail?". Frankly, after 4 years, the entire routine is getting a little old. But as long as I stay afloat academically, I'm willing to let it play out.

I imagine I'd be less concerned if I'd entered into a program that emphasized my strengths, whatever those are…but instead I picked engineering when calculus was my weakest subject in high school. Because, you know, you don't need that much math in engineering.

As punishment for my decision, the gods of academia allow me to pass on the grounds that I become fat and slow every exam period. It's a fair tradeoff, but not one conducive to becoming a better runner. A return to running means everything aches, and what once was an easy 40 minutes becomes a slogfest. I feel like a factory-farm cow suddenly forced to graze; weak legs and excess weight are in abundance.

Running will not be altogether enjoyable for at least a couple weeks, but I'm making progress. I went from averaging 5-10 miles per week over a period of about a month to around 50 last week, by increasing the time on my feet by roughly 10 minutes daily. I had a slight hiccup on Friday, when my IT band decided I needed a day off, but recovered with my longest run in quite some time the next day. I plan to be hitting over 100 miles per week in two weeks time. That may sound like a recipe for injury, but I believe listening to what your own body tells you trumps the 10% rule.  If the body doesn't protest, I don't worry. If it does, I listen. Simple. Running is simple.

I'm hurting today though. My foray back into running last week did not include workouts since even-paced slogs were difficult enough. Today workouts were re-introduced in a big way: 5x(3 min, 1 min jog, 5 min) at threshold pace with 4 minutes jog between sets. I struggled mightily from set #3 onward- Devon and Justin were stallions dragging me along North Campus. Add in the fact that I did an easy 40 minutes this morning, and…well…it hurt just to eat dinner afterwards.

Last week's log:

Sun: 60 minutes

Mon: 56 minutes

Tues: 30 min AM, 45 minutes PM

Wed: 37 minutes AM, 46 minutes PM

Thur: 40 minutes AM, 45 minutes PM

Friday: IT band hurt- nursed it all day

Sat: 90 minutes

- Patrick

You have to live like a monk if you want to be in the monastery

I told myself that if I somehow managed to pass the term that I would start a blog. Regrettably, bound by that criteria, I had to wait until now to get the site up and running, which means I am once again behind Charly and Michael (http://urbanbunnyproductions.blogspot.ca)- but that isn't shameful in the slightest so let's get this thing going!

This is my (mainly) running blog. You are here because you have some sort of interest in running. If you don't, I once again direct you to Charly and Michael's blog, which will provide a taste of high art, hyperbole and humour that I simply can't generate.

The title for this entry is, to my knowledge (and Google's), original. It sums up my current philosophy about training, and is something I have muttered once or twice to some people I have run with. Sacrifice is necessary for anyone who wants to live a certain lifestyle- a separation from the average person on the street. In running, that might mean going to bed earlier than anyone else you know, or waking up early on a Sunday morning hungover and grumpy to trudge 15 miles in freshly fallen snow. Regardless of the method, it is all surely madness to those who are content with mediocrity. But for the University of Waterloo Cross Country team, I have higher hopes than mediocrity this fall.

For my part, my primary goal this summer is to run more miles cumulatively from May to the end of August than I have run previous. I hope that for myself and the people I am training with, this will result in a physical separation from some of those who were close to us in races in the past. I also hope to have some success on the track…success being entirely subjective based on my own estimate of fitness. Where the blog comes in stems from the motivation I often get reading the blogs of other runners who make great gains from modest beginnings. On my own wannabe semi-sub-elite level, if I can motivate someone, especially those from my own team, in any way, I will consider this endeavour a success.

I have to be honest- I have some anxiety about writing about myself since I don't have any particularly good stories (à la Rob Watson) and I don't race nearly enough to fill my blog with race reports alone. But I'll give it a go and keep it up as long as I can. If I check out of the blog game any point, I'll let you know- I can't stand it when someone has a blog and suddenly disappears off the face of the earth without a keystroke to explain why.

For those that are interested, I plan to open up the spring season on May 12th at the Terry Goodenough Memorial Run in Waterloo, and quite frankly I care far more about the meaning of the event than I do about the race. I will be fat and slow and getting crushed by former  and current team members, and it will be lovely.

Finally, I'll try to log my training every week here so that it's available to view for those that care.

Thanks for reading.

- Patrick