Radio Silence

On Sunday morning we were pretty quiet. I kept imaging where we should have been. Doug would be on Staten Island, I would be just getting up.

Doug would be heading to the start line. I would be heading out with my backpack and camera. I would be wearing my bright red Canada hoodie, ready to grab a coffee. 

Doug would be crossing the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. I would be walking up First Avenue to secure my spot at the base of the Queensboro Bridge at Mile 16. 

Doug would then head up First Avenue and I would head to Central Park for his big finish. 

We would meet up at the rendez-vous and head back to the hotel - Doug and I nattering away about our unique experiences of the day and everything we had seen. 

Instead we were sad. We were quiet. 

We packed up our suitcases and got them ready by the door. We had managed to change our flight from Monday to Sunday and needed to leave before noon to get to the airport. 

We headed out in search of muffins and coffee. It wasn't long before we saw people running. I saw a group of Asian runners heading towards us. A group of runners from another country were coming up behind us. The groups cheered when they saw each other. Maratón!!

We saw runners in their orange marathon shirts wearing their race bibs and timing chips. Some had their race bibs on upside down. As a joke? Or in protest? 

I fought back tears. Doug was somber. 

Some people chose to run the marathon route anyway - on their own and without support. 

Some people ran around and around Central Park until they had clocked 42.2km. 

Some headed to Staten Island to volunteer where they could. 

We walked the streets taking it all in and then headed to the airport. Because the tunnel was still closed, we had to take a slightly longer route which took us, of course, over the Queensboro Bridge. We hit it at just about the time Doug would have been running over it. The sun was shining. The weather was perfect. 

And we were heading home. 

There has not been any word yet from the New York Road Runners about what the next steps will be. No word yet as to whether runners get guaranteed entry next year. No word yet whether they will be reimbursed for this year's entry fee or whether next year would be free. No word yet to even acknowledge how many runners were affected by the way the decisions were made and the timing of their announcements. 

It has been radio silence. 

So we wait to see what the options are. Wait to see if we can go back next year and at what cost. And then I guess we decide if we want to. 

The Language of the Maratón

Saturday morning was sunny and beautiful.

We sat in bed for a while devouring every marathon story in every newspaper we could find. The same three messages were everywhere:

1. runners understood why it was cancelled
2. runners were (furious, upset, angry, overwhelmed etc) about the timing of the announcement
3. runners were even more (furious, upset, angry etc) that they had been told to come and then the decision was reversed.

We read stories about people who overcame huge odds to get there.

One woman was coming from Italy but there were problems with her flight. So she flew from Italy to Hong Kong and then to New York just to get there on time. She found out as soon as she landed in New York.

One group of runners from Europe had spent $30,000 to get there. They found out at the Expo that they should have stayed home.

We dressed and headed out. We figured we might as well enjoy our day in New York City. We strolled around exploring the famous spots. Some we had seen together in January - others we discovered for the first time.

Look who was in town for the race? Apparently he was NOT happy to find out their rules against running with sharp objects. 

Our midmorning snack was a muffin (or in my case a piece of baklava) and some coffee.

Notice Ebenezer's Eyelash Extension across the street? 

We made our way to the New York Public Library where Doug was supposed to join thousands of runners at 5:30am on Sunday morning. We talked about how crazy that would have been - up to a thousand busses were going to be needed to shuttle everyone. How much fun would it have been to watch that orchestration? 

We settled on a photo at the base of one of the huge pillars. Notice his orange gloves? The name of each of the five boroughs the race goes through are written on the fingers. A fun little souvenir from the Expo the day before. 

We're getting much better at the whole aim the camera and take a picture trick. 

We went for lunch. I was wearing my Medtronic jacket and was approached by a Spanish-speaking runner. He pulled out his Medtronic pump. I pulled out mine. We grinned. He explained that he was from Spain and was there with a group of 15 runners - all of whom have Type 1 diabetes. They came with a support crew of 15 others. They were part of a study of how long-distance running affects blood sugar. They were, of course, supposed to run the marathon. 

We walked to Rockefeller Centre which was all set up at Democracy Square in preparation for the November 6th election. 

A map of the US painted on the ice and American flags flying everywhere. Methinks there is an election going on. 

I met one of the candidates. He was so charming that I brought him back to my hotel. Was that wrong? 

We went to the Apple Store which had a line up down the street to get in. 

Apparently this little gadget is quite popular at the moment. 

We played with puppets. 

We marvelled at the size of candy bars in the US. 

If I ate these two peanut butter cups I would need to take 40 units of insulin to cover the 240 carbs in it. I get kinda panicky when I take more than 10 units at a time... 

We walked through Macy's, Times Square and the Art Brown Pen shop that we love. 

Everywhere we went we saw runners. Many wearing their orange race shirts. Every runner seemed in tune with every other runner. In a town that has drawn together because of Sandy, I felt like the runners were developing their own special bond. Marathon sounds a lot like maratón which sounds a lot like maratona. Mention the word and people responded with sad eyes as they pointed to themselves or the person they were with. 

Nobody was happy but, like it or not, we were in this together. 

Disappointment

"If you had to describe this weekend in one word, what word would you use?", I asked as we drove home from the Buffalo Airport at 11pm on Sunday night.

"Disappointing", replied Doug. 

And so ended his dream of running the 2012 New York City Marathon. 

Let's back up a few days though because there are lots of stories between now and then that really need to be told. 

Hurricane Sandy started it all. She hit and she hit hard. Particularly on Staten Island where the marathon begins. People on the mainland were flooded and lost power but people on Staten Island lost everything. 

The city was a mess and the marathon was days away. Runners from around the globe were set to travel in New York. What to do? What to do? 

On Wednesday night, Doug, and all 47,000 other runners received an email from the New York Road Runners. The race would go on. It would be dedicated to the recovery effort in New York and runners were encouraged to donate to the cause. We were going. We didn't know what to expect. We didn't know if our hotel would have power or if they would have to reroute the race but we were going. 

We arrived at JFK airport on Friday at 11am. We took the Airporter to Grand Central Terminal and walked about 12 blocks to our hotel. Police officers were stationed at every intersection to control traffic because there was no power. We walked past 3rd Avenue - no power. Fourth - no power. Fifth Avenue - the most famous street in NYC - no power. It was full of people but eerily quiet as all stores and restaurants were closed with signs saying, you guessed it, no power. 

At Seventh Avenue, there was power. Our hotel was between 8th and 9th and, with a sigh of relief, we discovered that we had power and running water. The lobby was crawling with runners. There were signs posted in Flemmish (?) and French as apparently a contingent of 30 runners from Belgium were staying in the hotel. As were runners from Germany and France. We unpacked and headed to a little café for lunch were we found ourselves sitting between people from New Jersey. They had made the trip to Manhattan because they had been without power and running water for several days and needed a shower. One guy was a massage therapist who couldn't work because his office had not power. He had several full days of massages booked with marathon runners. None of them were going to get their pre-race massage - from him at least. 

After lunch, we headed for the Expo.

It was Friday afternoon and it was throbbing with excited runners. We heard so many different languages and saw huge groups of people who had obviously come from all over the world to be there. They had team jackets made. They were buying up all the swag at an alarming rate. Alarming for me but not for Adidas I'm sure. 

Doug got his race packet and his orange race shirt. 

We explored the expo, nibbled on chia bar samples and chatted with, oh yes my friends, the Tel Aviv Marathon folks. I was thrilled to see them and proudly informed them that I would be running the 2013 half. They were in turn pretty excited to hear that.  

Gillette is the main sponsor - maybe we get free razors or leg shaves before the race??

We marvelled at the number of people there and commented on how the race organizers had made the right decision to go ahead with the marathon. If for no other reason than the surge of money that the runners and their families bring in to the city. 

We walked back to the hotel, excited and chatting about everything we had seen. 

Doug settled at his laptop to reply to a few emails. I settled on the bed with all the race books to go over every tiny bit of instruction for Sunday - like the 8-step process for attaching the timing chip to your shoe. Halfway through the first book I logged in to Facebok and spotted our friend Cathy's post: "New York City Marathon will not be held this weekend. We heard this 20 minutes after we picked up our bibs." 

WHAT!?!?

We hopped on the internet. We turned on the television. We discovered very quickly that this was not a joke. 

We were stunned. We were so sad. We completely understood why the decision was made but were upset by the timing. THEY said it was on. THEY told us to come. WE came. 

If they had announced it on Wednesday - thousands of people would not have made the trip. By announcing it on Friday - most of the runners were already in town or en route. Runners began hearing the news at the expo, on the street, on the internet, in their hotel lobbies and from friends. 

Runners broke down and cried. Runners were furious. Runners were relieved and sad and hurt and...disappointed. 

It might have been the right decision but it was not handled well. 

We called and changed our return flight to Sunday afternoon. We headed out for dinner. We saw runners and their families everywhere we turned - looking lost and upset. We sent emails to let people know what was happening. 

We went to bed. 

Staten Island Cries

Start spreading the news (ba ba da ba ba)

We're leaving today (ba ba da ba ba)

We want to be a part it.

New York! New York!

That's right folks. Just a few days after Hurricane Sandy shut down the New York subway system and wreaked havoc at the airports, we're heading to NYC. It was touch and go for a while and they only made the official decision to hold the race late Wednesday night.

They changed the deferral regulations to allow runners to defer as late at Saturday night at 11:59pm. There will not be 47,000 runners and there will not be 2 million spectators. They may need to change the course. They still haven't confirmed how they will get everyone to the start line since the subway system is still not up and running. But there will be a marathon

I'll be cheering.

Doug will be running.

Coming in to the finish at the Hamilton marathon last November, the race where he qualified for an automatic entry into New York with his stellar 3 hours and 38 minute run. 

It's a controversial decision to hold the race. A lot of New Yorkers have been hit really hard by Sandy and a lot of New York is still trying to recover and will be for weeks. As of Thursday morning Central Park was still closed as well as most of the subway system and La Guardia airport. Many people think that holding the race after such destruction is rather tasteless. Many others think that it sends a message of perseverance and resilience. Others think that the influx of runners and spectators will bring much needed money into the city.

We have decided that we are going. Our flights and hotel have been booked for months and Doug is ready to run. I'm bringing my camera to take photos and a strong back in case we have to help clear trees out of Central Park. It might not be exactly the race we've been imagining for the last year for but it will certainly be memorable.

We'll be back next week and I'll have a race recap on Tuesday or Wednesday.

See you on the other side!

Another Hero in the Family

My races are done for the year.

I get to spend the next two months running simply for the joy of running. No training schedules on the chalkboard. No required distances to run.

I also get to pack my bags because we're going galavanting again.

This time, Doug gets to be the hero.

One week from now, we'll be packed and ready to head to New York City so my marathon man can do what he does so well and check one more fabled race off his bucket list.

In the past three months, we have gone cycling for a week in Québec. We travelled to Minnesota for Global Heroes. Doug also gave up Saturdays and Sundays so he could support me through two triathlons and one half marathon.

Oh, and somehow he found the time he needed to train for a marathon.

He managed to run five days a week. He managed to run for 3+ hours, multiple weekends in a row. He managed to squeeze in his hill training as well as weekly swims and bike rides.

Now it's his turn to wear the hero cap. And it's my turn to chase him around the running route and scream my head off at the finish line. To take his pictures and carry his dry change of clothes. To slowly walk with him back home after the race, make sure he drinks his water, rub his legs and feed him electrolytes.

I can't wait!

This video made me cry when I first saw it years ago. Watching 45,000 people running across the Verrazano Narrows Bridge from Staten Island to Brooklyn was jaw-dropping. Little did I know I would get the chance to watch my own marathon man join the ranks of the NYC marathon runners.

November 4th 2012. Exactly four weeks after I had my hero weekend, Doug gets his turn.

In Spades

It's that time of year again.

The leaves are starting to run. Apple cider is being sold by the jug at every roadside fruit stand. Cravings for homemade soup and hot chocolate are starting. My nose drips every time I go outside.

And my marathon man is in training mode.

It's definitely autumn in Ontario.

The next six weeks are rather busy. I have two races coming up. Doug has one (New York). Two if you count the fact that he's my Global Heroes running buddy but I don't really count that because I don't think it's called racing when you have to slow your pace down on the day of the race. It's more of a recovery run for him...

Anyway, let's take a look at long runs for a minute, for a bit of perspective. Long runs are those Saturday morning runs that build build build over the race preparation period and then taper towards the end. Over the next four weekends, I'm going to run 20k, 16k, 10k and 21.1k for a grand total of 67.1k.

Remember, we're only counting long runs here. Not weekday runs.

During that same period, Doug is going to run 32k, 16k, 35k and 25k. A total of 108k. Then he still has a 15k long run followed by his 42.2k marathon.

During the week - I run twice. During the week - he runs four times.

The man is a machine.

You would never guess by looking at him that he's at the hardest part of his training. Not because he doesn't look fit and fabulous - because he does. But because he looks the same as he always does. Long-limbed, full of energy, a constant bounce in his step and an impish twinkle in his eye.

He thrives on this level of activity and, other than an extra yawn or two in the evening, he's good to go.

I used to be impressed by that. Then I tried training for my own marathon. Now I am in absolute awe of it.

Yesterday I wrote about fitness.

Doug has it in spades.

A Different Kind of Marathon

Last year - I was all about the marathon.

The 42.2k marathon to be exact.

You know, the one that you complete by running?

Well, now I have a new kind of marathon bebopping around in my head.

The marathon swim.

For those of you who don't know - a marathon swim is a long distance swim but the distance varies. And, if you watched the Olympic marathon swim, you may have noticed that Canadians are apparently good marathon swimmers. We won the bronze for swimming 10k in under 2 hours.

I am more and more drawn to open water swimming and am more and more drawn to longer distances. But, like running, it should be done one step at a time. You don't go from 5k to 42.2k. You go from 5k to 10k to 21.1k to 30k to 42.2k.

Same idea with swimming I would guess.

I swim between 2-3k three times a week. So I'm guessing that 5k would be next...and then 10k?

Which, in swimming terms, is a marathon of sorts.

And, based on my current swim time, it would take me 4-5 hours. Kinda like my predicted running marathon time.

It's appealing to say the least.

All Kinds of Crazy

'If god invented marathons to keep people from doing anything more stupid, the triathlon must have taken him completely by surprise.' P.Z. Pearce

I laughed at that last year when a friend posted it on Facebook. I was training for my first marathon at the time and nothing seemed stupider than running a marathon at that point.

Now I am exactly 32 days away from my first triathlon.

I should know better by now not to laugh as things that seem crazy. I often find myself doing them.

Speaking of crazy, we're off to Nova Scotia today for the Cabot Trail Relay Race!

Since we'll be busy flying, driving and last minute planning, Running on Carbs will most likely be quiet for a few days. Don't worry though - I'll be back with TONS of pictures to help tell the tales of the Mojitos on the Rocks.

Stay tuned!

Choice

The concept of choice is one that is fraught with all manner of pressures, both internal and external.

In my line of work, choice is something that we often give people. In my humble opinion, it's often given in a way that is unfair and that restricts their right to (real) choice. Asking: 'do you want to stay home or go to Tim Hortons for coffee?' is not the same as asking 'what would you like to do today?' Asking: 'do you want pizza or pasta for dinner' is not the same as asking 'what do you want for dinner?'.

But I don't want to talk about work today - I want to talk about choice.

Today is Boston marathon day. There are very few things in the running community that compare to today. Runners have trained, sometimes for years, for the opportunity to simply qualify to run Boston. That alone is a feat few of us will ever accomplish. Once qualified, runners begin training for the race. Being a spring marathon means that runners train over the winter. Runners living in cold climates must run 3+ hour runs through the cold, the wind, the snow and the ice. Through is all, they dream of joining the ranks of those who have run before them. When they head home after the marathon, they will be the owners of a blue and yellow Boston medal and they will most likely have a bag of Adidas running clothes that bear the logo and the recognizable colours that signals to other runners that yes, they have run Boston.

This year's race is a little different.

The weather is calling for heat. Thirty degree heat. In April.

Because of the predicted heat, on Saturday, the Boston Athletic Association made an unprecedented announcement. Runners, should they chose, can opt out of racing and defer to 2013. In order to do this, they must pick up their race bib in person (i.e. they can't have already dropped out for injury or other reasons and use the heat as a way to get into Boston next year), they cannot run the race (or part of it) and they must let the BAA know they are deferring.

Can you imagine?

Before the option of deferral, runners had two choices: run the race or not. If they chose not to run, they might never have another chance at Boston.

Now they have two different and (I believe) more difficult choices: run the race or defer.

Some people argue that runners, real runners, should be able to run through anything. It's wimpy to drop out because it's hot. Suck it up princess. Be a man. Run the damn race or move your sorry ass out of the way to let the real runners through.

I argue that it's that kind of thinking that gets runners into trouble.

Running is a hard, uncomfortable sport. Every run we do pushes us into an uncomfortable zone and we have to push back and keep moving forward. We get used to pain, to discomfort, to heat, to cold, to nausea, chafing and all sorts of other things that seem ridiculous to non-runners.

The trick is knowing when it's time to push through and when it's time to back off.

Most of the time, the answer is to push though. But sometimes, the answer is indeed to back off.

Boston would not offer the option of deferral if the weather were calling for high winds, driving rain or snow. Runners run through that stuff and they suck it up. Heat is different. Heat can be deadly.

Most Boston marathoners are elite, hardened athletes. Most of them will run the race today and be fine. There are 5,000+ runners in Boston who are not seasoned marathoners. They got in the race for reasons other than qualifying - they raised money, they were given entry bibs etc. Many people will take 5+ hours to run. Many people have medical conditions. Many people are not conditioned to running in extreme heat in the middle of the day. Many people probably shouldn't run.

Last Friday, if they chose not to run, they had to walk away from their Boston dream. In other words, without the option of deferral, many people would chose to run, whether they should or not, because it might be their only chance.

On Saturday, that changed. Now they could make a decision based on knowing their fitness level and their ability to run a marathon in the heat. And they could decide knowing that there will be another chance to run Boston.

Personally, the thought of training for four months and then not running is heartbreaking. I trained for 3 1/2 months before I was forced to drop out of my marathon - and that broke my heart and nearly broke my spirit along with it. Imagine sitting in a hotel room in Boston yesterday trying to decide if you should run or not? Imagine wondering if running a marathon is worth the risk to your heart? To your body? Imagine going home and having to tell everyone you decided not to run after all? Imagine having to train all over again next year?

Most of the 25,000+ runners will be out there today despite the heat - and I will watch with respect and awe.

A few runners will have made a conscious choice not to run - and part of me will respect them even more than I respect the runners who are running. They chose their health over a race, the race of all races. They chose for themselves despite the little voice in their head saying 'suck it up it's Boston'.

To all Boston runners - those who are running and those who are not. You are all heroes today.

NYC...Encore Une Fois

We're going to New York...again.

My first trip ever to New York City was a few short months ago.  I loved it.  I knew I would but I didn't know I would love it that much.

Happily - we get to go back - in November.

November 2nd to the 5th to be exact.

And it's all because of my marathon man.

This picture was taken last November at the Hamilton marathon.  Doug had set his sights on the NYC marathon for 2012 but didn't want to have to enter the lottery to get in.  The only other option was to get a qualifying time which, for those of you who don't know, is actually a stricter time than the one required for Boston.  To go to Boston, Doug needed to run a 4:00:00 marathon.  To get a guaranteed entry into NYC, he had to run a 3:45:00. Last April, he ran a 3:47:00 in Boston so he needed to shave a few minutes off that time.

He decided the tackle the Hamilton marathon and, by the time he crossed the finish line, he had shaved more than a few minutes - clocking in at 3:38:00.  The picture was taken about 50 metres from the finish.  If only we could all look so strong at the end of a race eh?

A few weeks ago he sent in his request to the New York Road Runners.  Last week, once they had verified his time, he received an email telling him that he was accepted into the NYC marathon.  No waiting, no lottery and no mad rush to book accommodations in April when the winners of the lottery are announced.  In fact, we've already secured our hotel which is a huge relief when I think of the thousands of people who will be descending on the Big Apple that weekend.

Did you know that over 100,000 runners apply to run NYC every year?  And just under 40,000 get in.

Check out this promotional video if you want to get a sense of the size and scale of this event.

The marathon is pretty historic and the route takes runners through all five boroughs (Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Manhattan).  The race starts on Staten Island, at the toll booths of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge.  Runners are divided into three waves based on previous race times or their predicted finish time.  One wave runs on the lower level of the bridge, the other two run along the top.

The best of the best have run this race.  Grete Waitz, a Norwegian marathoner, famously won the race nine times between 1978 and 1988. Plenty of famous people have run it too.  Ed Norton, Anthony Edwards (Dr. Green from ER), Alanis Morissette, Katie Holmes, Lance Armstrong and Mark Messier have all crossed the finish line in Central Park.

Oprah did not, according to my research, run NYC (I thought she had).  She ran the Marine Corps marathon in 4:29:00 which has since become the unofficial time to beat for countless marathon runners.  Apparently "I just want to beat Oprah" is a fairly common phrase at start lines.

I'll be there on November 4th.  Watching the elite runners sail across the finish line and doing my share of celebrity spotting.  But there is only one runner I'll be scanning the crowds for and I can spot his gazelle-like gait even in a crowd of 40,000.

Hopefully this time I can refrain from screaming like a madwoman long enough to take his picture.

This Is War

Don't be put off by the title of today's blog post.  It's actually the title of a pretty cool song.

I am reaching the end of my stress fracture recovery program and, as such, things are ramping up a bit.  I am now running thirty minutes but I'm also running more days per week.  Last week I ran four days a week, this week I have to run five.  Two 30 minutes runs, two 35s and a 40.

I wouldn't have said this in August but I'll say it now - that's a lot of running!

So I dusted off my iPod shuffle this past weekend.  I haven't run to music since last October.  Mostly because I didn't run for 10 weeks.  Partly because, when I did start running, I was not running for very long so it seemed silly to drag out the tunes.  And a teeny bit because I used my music to motivate and inspire me during marathon training and I wasn't sure I would want to hear the songs I used to run to as I gingerly trotted along for 15 minutes.

Saturday morning, I popped in my ear bud and headed out the door.

Shuffling music is fun because sometimes you get a bunch of songs in a row that are pretty benign.  Other times, you get a bunch in a row that all trigger emotional responses.

Saturday I got a bunch of songs that were nice, easy listening, keep your feet moving kinda songs.

Sunday, the first song that came on brought me right back to last summer.

This is the song:

I first heard the song when a friend posted this link to a Harry Potter YouTube video.  I love Harry Potter and was pretty moved watching the video because the creator used music and video clips to tell a powerful story.  A story of courage, pride, fear, despair, loneliness, friendship, giving up, and overcoming.

It's a powerful summary of the Harry Potter story.

It's also the story of running a marathon. All of those emotions, and a few more, become familiar friends by the time you have completed all of those long runs.  Every time the song came on, no matter how exhausted I was, it inspired me to keep moving forward.  I remember one run in particular.  It was hot and I was hurting.  I had run 28k and there were still two more to go before I reached the car.  I just wanted to walk it in and had lost the energy to fight with myself.  The I heard the first few notes of the song and I, to quote Lady Macbeth, was able to "screw my courage to the sticking place".  I hit repeat over and over again until I made it to the car - running.

Sunday morning, as I stepped out the door to do my 30 minute run, the song came on.  I was tempted for a brief moment to skip ahead to the next song.  I hadn't heard This is War for months and wasn't sure I wanted to hear it yet.  I forced myself not to skip ahead and, within a few seconds, was bounding down the road with a huge grin on my face.

You see, the song worked perfectly during marathon training but it works quite well now because the last few months have also been about fear, despair, hope, friendship, loneliness, giving up and overcoming.  Injuries, as it turns out, are just like marathons.

They're hard but you survive.

Road to Hope

The Hamilton Marathon was fabulous!

It was a gorgeous sunny day.  A bit of a nip in the air which called for a Tim Hortons coffee stop part way through to warm up but otherwise, no complaints.

Doug and I arrived at the start line in plenty of time.  Especially considering that the race start was delayed by 10 minutes to allow time for all the buses full of runners to get from the finish to the start line.  Apparently there's a lot of traffic in Hamilton on a Sunday morning.

We met up with Scully who had come out to cheer as well as Barb, Cathy and John, some pretty amazing runners from St. Catharines.

Once the gun went off, our race stalking plan went into action.  We raced to the 8k spot where we met up with Erin.  Hi Erin!  Despite the fact that we were freezing, Doug and Barb handed off vests and jackets when they passed.  I guess standing around doesn't burn quite as many calories or create quite as much heat as running does.

Next stop - right at the top of the Red Hill Expressway.  That's where we caught up with Klari with her perfectly coordinated Boston attire and matching cowbell.  We were at kilometre twenty-two and as soon as the runners passed us, they turned right, ran down the on ramp, ran on to the expressway and headed down down down the escarpment to the beach strip.  No wonder Hamilton Marathon is one of the fastest races in North America with such a huge downhill stretch.

Doug, right before heading on to the Red Hill.

It's hard to believe they shut down a highway for five hours.  

Our plan was to race down Centennial Parkway to catch the runners again when they came off the highway at kilometre thirty.  Well, apparently all roads in Hamilton are pretty busy on a Sunday morning because, by the time we got there, we had missed Doug.  Off to the finish line we went. 

Standing at the finish line of the Niagara Falls marathon a few weeks ago, we saw all sorts of runners who were in obvious pain and distress.  But we were watching the runners who were running a marathon in over four and half hours.  Many of them were running their first marathons and, even for experienced runners, running 5+ hours is hard on the body.  The finish line after 4 1/2 hours is not always a pretty sight. 

Standing at the finish line of a marathon waiting for four people who, combined, have run over 80 marathons is a whole different ball game.  They know what they're doing and they make it look (almost) easy.  

Doug was hoping for a 3:45 finish time.  He got a 3:38, placed first in his age group and got a guaranteed entry into the 2012 New York Marathon 

John finished in 3:57. 

Cathy ran a 4:03

And Barb did a 4:04. 

But the craziest thing of all was this kid who beat the pants of all of them. 

There was some confusion as to whether he was 13 or 15 years old but, either way, holy bananas!  He finished in under 3:30.  

I have yet to stand at the finish line of a race and not feel all sorts of conflicting emotions as I watch person after person complete whatever journey they were on to get there.  

Hamilton was no different.  

My Marathon Man

It's marathon weekend.  Again!

This time, we're heading to Hamilton.  Me with my trusty camera - Doug with his trusty Asics.

My marathon man is at it again but things are a little different than they were in April.  On Sunday, instead of taking part in the ancient tradition of the Boston marathon, he's taking on the three year old Hamilton marathon.

This time, instead of taking hours and hours to wander through the Boston expo, we will probably take 15 minutes to wander through the Hamilton one.  Apparently it's in a tent by the finish line.

Instead of 26,000 runners, there are 2,500.

Instead of throngs of spectators lining the streets and screaming for hours there will probably be long stretches with no one other than police officers holding back cars at traffic lights.

Police officers...and me and my posse - ready to collect excess clothing, refill water, hand out lip balm, cheer, scream and take lots of pictures.

Cause that's what we do for the people we love.

It was an interesting summer with both of us training for marathons.  Maybe because it was my first but all summer long I felt like my entire life revolved around my running schedule.  I was always in some phase of running - planning a run, getting ready for a run, running, recovering from a run or cross-training to prepare for the next run.

Doug, who did the same training I did plus an extra month's worth, didn't seem at all phased by the whole thing.  Perhaps because he's done it before but he made the whole thing look easy (though I know very well that it's not).

I would hardly know he was running a marathon in two days except that it's on the calendar.

I've been at the finish line now for three of Doug's marathons.  Each time I've had to follow him in my mind, looking at the clock and sending him courage as I waited at the finish - scanning every runner until I spotted his familiar gait.  It's fun, exciting but emotionally draining too.  Especially when I see runner after runner limping, grimacing in pain, collapsing, crying or looking downright ghastly.  One gets to see some pretty nasty things when they hang out at the finish line of a marathon.

Doug is a great runner and I'm not really worried about him but I always feel better once I've got him in my sights.

This time will be different. This time I get to stalk him. There's one long stretch where he's on his own but I'll still get to plant myself at 2 or 3 spots along the route.  Provide support should he need it and reassure myself that yep, he's fine.

Only then will I race to the finish, find the perfect photography position and stare down the road willing him to appear.

He always does, looking the way he always looks - strong and steady.

A few hundred metres from the finish line of the Niagara Falls marathon (3:35)

Coming up the home stretch of the Cleveland marathon (3:42)

Stay tuned for next week's photos and recap of the Hamilton Marathon.

Niagara Falls International Marathon

This post is being posted a little later than usual but yesterday was a really busy day and there was no time to write.  It was a weekend to experience.

The Niagara Falls International Marathon was yesterday so the entire weekend seemed to revolve around a race that I was not running.  But one that I was determined to experience in whatever way I could.

First stop, the race expo on Saturday.  I wanted my damn shirt but that meant that I had to go through the entire rigamarole of clearing customs (it's an international race so they check your passport before you get your bib number) and picking up my race number.  I couldn't just sneak in, grab the shirt and sneak out.  I had to face everything.  The excitement of all the runners, the words of encouragement from all the volunteers, the endless "Are you running the marathon" questions - to which I answered 'yes' because I didn't know what else to say.  And all the jackets, hats and shirts that I was going to buy but didn't because I hadn't earned the right to...yet.

Doug went with me and we didn't get there until around noon.  I figured that, by then, most of the people I knew would have already come and gone.  Not that I don't love them, I just didn't think I could hold it together if I had to face the "I'm so sad for you" look.  As it was we had to make several detours into quiet corners so I could get the emotions back under control.

My race number would have been 244 which, for anyone who knows me, is about as perfect as it can get.  My name was spelled right but, as usual, they forgot the accent.  It's Céline!

I got my race shirt and my crazy black and neon yellow toque and we headed home.

I had texted Scully earlier to offer her a ride to the start.  I figured she'd appreciate not having to take the bus PLUS having someone counting on a ride would mean that I could not back out of going to the race if I had second thoughts.

Race morning dawned cool, crisp and beautiful. Scully, Dan and Steve met me at 7:15am and we headed off Buffalo. I had declared myself the unofficial official Runners' Edge photographer and, from 8:00am until 3:45pm, I chased runners around and tried my best to document their day....

...and live the race through them.

It was everything a good race should be.

It was fun and full of energy.

It was emotional.

It broke my heart to see people I cared for struggling.  Yet it was amazing to watch the troops rally around a struggling runner, give some words of encouragement and send them off again.

I didn't see everyone on the route but I heard the stories.  The story of Geoff who ran out to find some of the last runners and run them in, holding their hands and kicking their asses.

Angie and Alain, who planned to run together but, after 30k, knew they would have to finish it alone. Angie was running a great race and went on ahead in tears.  Alain struggled through his own tears as his body and spirit broke.  Then he put the pieces back together and finished the race on his own terms, beating down some pretty tough demons to do it.

Scully got to the start line after a nasty night fighting the diabetic gods.  She was already in trouble before the gun even went off.  She ran the entire race on her own and we saw her go through every emotion.  We saw her focused, happy, in tears and completely nauseated and exhausted.  And we screamed and cheered as she crossed the finish line - rocking her insulin pump and looking no worse for wear.

I'm so glad I went.  

Being on the route and being part of it all was cathartic. 

The moment that got me? 

When Mike rounded the last corner, saw the finish line and was overcome. 

I was proud, I was honoured to be a witness and I tried my best to capture it for him...

I shed tears of joy and of solidarity...  

...and a few for what might have been. 

Fourteen Days

Two weeks ago today, I hobbled in from a 20 minute run in tears, knowing that Niagara was not going to happen.

Two weeks ago, I could hardly stop crying as I weighed the pros and cons of trying to run or dropping out.

Two weeks ago, I took down the training schedules and the 42.2 stickers that I had posted in my kitchen and at work because the sight of them was enough to cause another breakdown.

Two weeks ago, I was really really sad.

Two weeks ago, I could not imagine having the strength to go watch the Niagara Marathon.

One week ago, my ankle still hurt despite a week of not running.

One week ago I told my family what was going on and cried on the back deck while they listened to the story.

One week ago I had just had my first go at pool running and swimming lengths.

One week ago, I wanted to be as far away from Niagara Falls on October 23rd as I could get.

Today I can talk about the race without crying...well hardly crying anyway.  

Today I can swim one kilometre.

Today I cycle three times a week and swim three times a week and my body feels great.

Today my ankle feels about 70% better and I can walk up and down stairs without pain.

Today I decided that I will be going to the race expo to pick up my package and my shirt (or coat or whatever we get).  Because I got close enough to see the start line and I want my damn shirt!  Even if I have to write "I almost ran this race" in permanent marker on it.

Today, for the first time, I think I might want to go watch the marathon and cheer on my friends who ARE running.  Because even though my goal has been postponed, theirs has not.  It's real.  It's looming.  It's exciting and terrifying.  I know because I was close enough to feel it too.

They are my heroes.  They overcame every challenge, climbed every hill and battled the worst heat and humidity that summer could throw at them.

Scully, my type 1 friend, did her runs on her own.  All of them.  She ran hundreds and hundreds of kilometres by herself with her diabetes paraphernalia, her cell phone and the heart of a lion.

Brian, my superhero, struggled in the heat.  Struggled with self-doubt.  Struggled with challenging run after challenging run.  And won.  Not only won but kicked ass.  A few more days sir and you will be a marathoner.

Nancy and Christine worried about their pace.  "Are we too slow?" they asked.  "They're going to close down the race before we finish.  This is hard.  This is too hard."  And yet here you are, mere days from the start line.  You did it ladies!

Darlene and Mike.  You did what you always do.  You ran beautifully.  You looked on the bright side.  You were grateful for the runs that were wonderful and you learned from those that weren't.  You made it look almost easy.  You will be fabulous on race day.

I am proud of all of you.  

I am proud to be your friends.

And I will be signing up to run all the way Around the Bay in 2012.

Who's with me??

C'est Fini

It's over folks.

My running shoes have been put away and I am officially on the disabled list.

My run on Tuesday was proof positive that I am not in any condition to run 10k let alone a marathon.  I could push and try to survive race day but the damage I would do is just not worth it.

Apparently that decision makes me a very wise woman.

Hopefully I will feel wise once I've had a few days to get used to the idea.  Right now I just feel empty and really sad.

What's the plan you ask?

Six to eight weeks of no running, an appointment with my MD, hopefully an MRI or ultrasound to see if I've torn something and lots of r.i.c.e.

Rest

Ice

Compression

Elevation

Good news:

I can cycle.  In fact last night I headed out on the country roads all my myself for a 30k ride up and down the escarpment.  It felt really good to push my body after two weeks of not pushing anything...other than my luck.

I will also be researching the hours at the local pool and we'll see how well I do swimming lengths and pool running.  Never having tried either, it should be quite the learning curve.  And I have no idea how the hell I'm supposed to get all my hair in a swimming cap?!?

Wonder if it comes in purple??

As for race day - I am glad that the decision has been made.  It's been an emotional two weeks and at least now I can focus on doing things that are going to help me heal rather than focusing on what I need to do to survive marathon day.

I am so proud of all my friends who will be running.  I wish I was there running with you.

I want to say that I will be out on the course with my bike and my camera.  I hope to be.  I want to be.  We'll see as it gets closer as to whether I feel like I can do it with a smile on my face rather than tears in my eyes.

I'll try - I promise

To be honest, I cannot wait for October 23rd to be over.  Even though I will not be running that day it is still looming large and I want it behind me.  

I want to look to the future but it's hard when the immediate future holds a day that I've been working towards for four months.  Get over that day and the slate is clean again.

Then I can start checking out 2012 marathons and deciding which one will be the one I choose as my first.

Stop The Ride - I Wanna Get Off!!

This is a graphic representation of what the healing process for my calf should be:

This is a graphic representation of what the actual healing process has been like:

If you would like a graphic representation of the emotions that accompany this healing process, please look again at the picture above.

Bloody hell!

What a roller coaster these past 2 1/2 weeks have been.  

Every run since my 30k has been a complete unknown.  Sometimes I try for 6k but can only hobble through three.  The run two days later feels great and I run 6k no problems.  Two days after that I run 15k - again no major issues.  Three days later, I head out for 8k and am back to hobbling for three.

What the hell?!?

I get a bit better.

I get a bit worse.

I give up on the marathon.

I get excited because it looks like I'll be able to do it.

I give up on it again.

I have no idea what happened between Saturday's 15k and Tuesday's 3k but my ankle was not happy.  I ran one loop of my neighbourhood, stretched out my calf and ran a second loop.  At that point I gave up and headed home.

Tonight, I'm heading out for a bike ride.  I've been holding on to the hope that I'd be able to increase my running distance but running 3 to 5k two days a week is not going to keep my cardio up and my body in shape.  So I'm hitting the road on a bike and riding up lots of hills to keep my heart pumping.

If the trend holds, I'll hobble around a bit today, feel better on Thursday and be able to run 20k on the weekend.  Next week, I'll hobble through 3k again, cry, give up, wake up the next day with no pain and then feel the faint glimmer of hope reignite once again.

Up

Down

Up

Down

I'm glad there is only 2 1/2 more weeks before race day.  Come what may, once the day is over, the pressure will be gone.  The pressure is self-created of course - I just want to be in good enough shape to run my first marathon.  If I can't, then I can't but, until race day, there's always the hope that I can.

Also, once race day comes I won't have to run those damn loops around my neighbourhood anymore.  I've run that 1.5k loop 24 times in the past two weeks.  The neighbours are starting to wonder, the same dogs bark at me every time I pass their house and I'm beginning to feel like a stalker.

Or perhaps one of these little guys

Why Are YOU Running?

October is marathon month.

That means two things:

• everything in our running store is 26.2% off (yay!)
• there are a hell of a lot of marathons going on this month

I have a lot of friends running marathons over the next three weeks.

Some are running Chicago this Sunday.

Others are running Toronto in two weeks.

A whole bunch of us are running Niagara Falls in 19 days.  Oh yes folks, we have gone from 126 days to a mere 19.  Yikes!

We may not have been there together for every run but we were all training together and the support in person and online has been tremendous.

Now that we are so close to race day(s), the posting of inspirational running quotes, posters, photos and videos on Facebook has started and will continue until the last of us cross the finish line.

Many, like me, are running our first marathon.  Some are running because this year is a special birthday year (40, 50 etc) and they want to run a marathon to celebrate.  Others are doing it to cross it off their bucket list.  Some are running because the marathon happens to fall on their wedding anniversary (hi Brian, hi Nancy!) and what a great way to celebrate.  Some jumped on the marathon bandwagon and figured what the hell?  I'm sure a few are asking themselves why the hell they ever thought this was a good idea.

I am running Niagara because of this poster:

I saw it when Doug and I were in Boston for the marathon.  He ran the marathon - I took pictures.  Well, except that I missed taking HIS picture which I'm still being teased about.  "I was just so excited to see you I forgot to take a picture!"

Back to the poster.  This picture does not do it justice in terms of how huge and dominating the poster was.  I just stopped and stared up in awe when I saw it.

I was already caught up in marathon fever - it's hard not to be when you're in Boston on marathon weekend.  I had been mistaken for a marathoner several times already - hard not to be when you're walking around in running gear.

I looked up, saw the poster and decided then and there to try a marathon.

I don't know if I'm a marathoner the way some people are.  I know several people who run multiple marathons every year.  They are always either training, tapering or recovering so that they can start training again.

Am I a marathoner? I won't know until I try.  My first race of any distance is usually pretty challenging and yet I've always wanted to do another one when I crossed the finish line.

I may fall in love with the marathon.  I may curse it forever.

What I do know is that I fell in love with the training.  The distances that felt so overwhelming are now no big deal.  I am so much stronger than I was back in June when this craziness started.

The training has already won my heart.

Let's see what the marathon does.

Tilt-Shifted

Have you ever seen a tilt-shift lens?  I don't have one but they're pretty cool.

Here's what they look like.

Tilt-shift lenses are neat because they let you change how you focus on a subject to create all sorts of interesting effects.

Here's an example:

Here's an even cooler one:

I feel like my life has been tilt-shifted the past two weeks.  The focal points aren't where they were, things that took centre stage were pushed off into the wings and things that I took for granted are no longer even in the picture. 

Things I took for granted two weeks ago: 

• I was running a marathon on October 23rd
• This marathon would be hard and I would struggle but finishing was never a question
• Diabetes management was just as important as running fitness and both had to be worked on with equal dedication. 

Add a tilt-shift lens and suddenly reality looks very different. 

• I have no idea if I'll be running a marathon (or any distance) on October 23rd
• If I do start, finishing is not a given.  In fact, I may have to drop en route if my ankle decides to have a blowout. 
• Diabetes management gets tossed to the side when an injury enters the picture. 

During the past three months, I have become a walking diabetes experiment.  Every long run was as much about learning what I needed to do to keep my blood sugar under control as it was about building strength and endurance.  I would try things out during a 22k run, learn the hard way about something, tweak my plan and test it again at 24k.  I would learn a few more things and try again during 26k and 28k. For 30k, which I ran two weeks ago, I decided to pretend it was race day and do everything the way I would during the marathon.  

Things worked well and I learned a few more things I wanted to try during my longest run - 35k.  

Add an injury to the mix and things changed focus...completely. 

I never did run 35k.  That means that the most important training run never happened.  My body was never put to that test.  My marathon diabetes management also never got that final trial run either.  

During the past two weeks - every run was an unknown.  I would go into them with a distance in mind but often came home before hitting it.  Some runs went from 10k to 3k.  Since different running distances and different running intensities require different diabetes management tricks - it's been a challenge.     

What did I do?  

I did nothing.  

I did not lower my basal rates.  I did not change what I ate or adjust my bolus insulin.  I just brought lots of food with me.  If I only ran 2-3k, I didn't have to do anything.  If I ran 5-6k, I would have a date or two part way through.  On Saturday I ran 15k (yay!!) but didn't know if I'd be able to.  So every 5k I had a gel to get me through the next 5k.  Not the best way to do it but unknown distances mean that I can't use my tried and true tricks. 

During the past two weeks, as I focused on my injury, my diabetes routine took a back seat.  That means that, by race day, I will have lost two weeks of running AND two weeks of diabetes experimentation.

It's going to be quite the ride.

The Plan Worked - Sort Of

I pushed my body and it pushed back.

Saturday, Doug and I drove to the Niagara Parkway to run 30k.  We did an out and back route which allowed me to run 15k of the race route.  Enough to give me a good sense of what race day might feel like.

The course, at least that stretch, is lovely.  It's flat which is a major bonus.  The Niagara River runs along one side and huge, beautiful homes line the other side.  The Niagara Falls skyline looms far off in the distance - like a beacon guiding us home.

I decided to pretend it was race day.  Normally, when I stop to check my sugar, eat a snack etc etc - I stop my watch.  I stand still.  I do what I need to do.

Sadly, on race day, they do not stop the clock for chronic diseases.  Seconds tick by and, while I'm not expecting to quality for Boston, I would love to finish in under five hours.  Which means I need to keep moving forward.  So I decided not to stop my watch during the run.  Instead I would walk briskly while checking my sugar and eating my snacks.

Finally, unlike some runners, my race pace is pretty much my normal pace.  I do not pick it up on race day and adrenaline does not push me to run faster.  I am very much a one pace wonder.  I decided to see how hard it would be to run according to my 'race day plan'.  My plan (which may or may not work but it's a guide for me to follow) is to run a pace of roughly 6:30 per kilometre during the race. I don't know if I can sustain that the whole way but I'm hoping to be able to do it for the first four hours.  That should get me to about 36k in four hours meaning that I only need to run 6k in the last hour to meet my goal.  That should (hopefully) allow time for unforeseen problems...

So, based on my plan, I figure every hour I will run approximately 9k (including one hourly stop for diabetes maintenance).

Back to Saturday.  We headed to Niagara Falls just after 7am.  I leaned my head against the window as we drove thinking "I can't believe I have to run for 3 1/2 hours" over and over again.  When you have to run but haven't started yet, it's best not to think too much about what you're about to do.

We parked the car, topped up our water and hopped around trying to warm up.  It was cold!  Then, with a high five and a barely concealed look of mild panic (from me), we started running.  I took it easy and tried to find my groove.  It took about 8k but I found it.  At 9k I checked my watch.  It said 56 minutes.  I slowed to a brisk walk, checked my sugar, ate a date and drank my water.  Exactly 60 minutes.  Perfect!

I kept up the pace and felt pretty good.  By 16k I was getting a little tired but the thought that I could slow to a brisk walk in 2k was enough to keep me moving.  Eighteen kilometres = exactly 2 hours of running.  Crazy!

I decided not to stop at 27k because I only had to do three more and didn't want to lose momentum.  I did peak at my watch though and discovered (with surprise) that I hit 27k in 3 hours. Now, I didn't stop so I would have probably hit it at 3:05:00 if I had but still, pretty good.

Unbelievably it was 3:21:00 on my Garmin when I trotted in to the parking lot.  Done!  My fastest 30k ever and I didn't stop my watch when I walked.

I was exhausted.  I drank my chocolate milk and leaned my head on the window as we drove home thinking "I can't believe I ran for 3 1/2 hours" over and over again.  As soon as it's over, it's almost impossible to imagine that I moved my body that far.

I proved that my race day plan is actually within the realm of reality.  That did wonders for my confidence. But it knocked my socks off.  We came home, stretched, showered and ate lunch.  That was it.  I fell into bed and fell sound asleep for over two hours.  When I woke up I felt pretty good but after walking around for a bit, I discovered that my left ankle was not happy - at all.  My ankle bone hurt - kinda where my shin usually hurts except it felt different.  Putting pressure on it hurt, climbing stairs hurt more.

Uh, oh.

A few ibuprophen, a few stretches and a bike ride on Sunday helped loosen things up.  It's still there but much better.  Hopefully after Monday's day of rest things will be back to normal.  We'll find out soon enough on Tuesday's run.

I pushed my body and it pushed back.

C'mon legs - we only have a few more weeks left until race day.  I promise I will give you a few weeks off after we run 42k.  I won't make you run one step, get up before 6am or do anything you don't feel like doing.  Hold on - we're almost there.