Archives for October 2013

post

Book Review: Grace, Under Pressure (Sophie Walker)

October 28, 2013 By

GraceUndrPresr_cvr2.indd

Being the parent of a child with autism can be a very lonely experience. Discovering that your child has a lifelong disability is a bit like being catapulted from your life into a kind of parallel universe where you don’t know what any of the rules are. You have to navigate the confusing maze of government funding and services, and at times you – and your child – are at the mercy of the whims and moods of the people who make decisions about what supports your child might qualify for.

As you wander helplessly in your parallel universe, not knowing where to turn, you might suddenly feel a hand in yours. Sometimes it will be a hand that gently guides you in the right direction. Sometimes, it will be a hand that reassures you, that lets you know you are not alone, that there are others in this same parallel universe who know what you are going through.

Reading Grace, Under Pressure by Sophie Walker had that effect on me. I started reading the book during a time when life seemed to be conspiring against me, and as I immersed myself in the story, I felt as if the author had taken my hand to keep me company through this journey.

Sophie’s life and mine have some strong parallels. Like me, she is the parent of a child on the autism spectrum, and running has been a salvation for her just like it has for me. Both of us run to raise funds for autism, and both of us live with the challenges of parenting a neurotypical child alongside a child with special needs.

In Grace, Under Pressure, Sophie tells the story of her life with her daughter Grace, who has Asperger’s Syndrome. Through wonderfully crafted narrative, we are taken through Grace’s early childhood, the struggle for answers and support, and Sophie’s evolution as a marathon runner. We get a balanced look at the ups and downs of special needs parenting, and the blood, sweat and tears of distance running. We see the laughter, the tears, the desperation, and the gut-wrenching relief when the light at the end of the tunnel finally comes into view.

This is a book about so many things. It is about a brave, bright little girl finding her way in a world in which she is different. It is about the unwavering dedication of a mother to her child. It is about the perseverance of an athlete striving to reach new heights.

Above all, it is about courage and inspiration, and the idea that no matter what, we should never give up hope.

Sophie WalkerAbout the author: Sophie Walker has been a journalist for over 15 years, reporting on events in such places as London, Iraq and Afghanistan. She lives in London with her husband and two daughters.

For more information about Sophie Walker and Grace, Under Pressure, please visit http://authorsophiewalker.com/home.

Many thanks to New World Library for providing me with a review copy of Grace, Under Pressure. All opinions expressed in this post are my own.

Filed Under: Aspergers Syndrome, autism, Book review, parenting, running, Sophie Walker, Under Pressure Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
post

Running For Autism 2013

October 22, 2013 By

There are few things more surreal than waking up on the morning of your biggest race of the season – the event that you have spent all year preparing your body and mind for. You know that this is it. This is what everything you have done this season has been leading up to – every race, every long run in the pouring rain or blistering sun, every gruelling session of slogging repeatedly up the same hill.

As I got ready for the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon on Sunday morning, I alternated between eerie calmness and frenetic nervousness. On the one hand, I felt ready. I had trained hard, and there was no question that my body would be able to handle the half-marathon – a distance that I had already run seven times in the last four years. On the other hand, I had just been through several months of the most mind-bending stress. My body was ready, but was my mind strong enough?

And would I be able to run 21.1km wearing a cape and a funny hat?

For the first time ever, I had decided to run a race in costume. This involved an autism-oriented logo…

A PLUS ca

… a hat spouting weird hair…

2013-10-19 20.32.15

… and a cape.

2013-10-20 06.57.08

The day before the race, I wavered on the whole costume idea. I was going to feel very self-conscious at the start, walking around among thousands of people with blue hair spouting from my hat. But then I remembered what I had written on the message wall at the runner’s expo – the reason I was doing all of this.

whyirun

As it turned out, I didn’t feel self-conscious at all. In the start area I saw several people wearing costumes. Besides, I was hanging out with Charlie, who like me was running for the the Geneva Centre for Autism. I was having too much fun to feel self-conscious.

2013-10-20 08.01.49

When Charlie and I made our way to the start line, we found ourselves further back in the pack than we had intended, and we felt as if we waited forever before we finally started to shuffle forward. I wished Charlie luck, stepped across the timing mats, and the race was on.

Right from the start, I felt marvelous. The costume didn’t bother me in the slightest, and I didn’t have any of the awkward stiffness that I sometimes feel during the first couple of kilometres. For a change I didn’t start out too fast. I ran the first 7K at a nice easy pace – fast enough to keep up a respectable average speed, but not so fast that I would run out of steam before hitting the halfway mark. About a third of the way into the race I kicked it up a notch, and by the time I ran over the 10K timing mats I was cruising along very comfortably.

20x30-TMAV1248

Three kilometres later, I reached the turnaround point, and I was feeling great. I was starting to tire and I still had eight kilometres to go, but I was now physically heading towards the finish line. I contemplated increasing my speed, but decided not to. I tend to struggle in the 18th and 19th kilometres of a half-marathon, and I wanted to make sure I would have the energy to get through that patch.

As I was running up the only real hill on the course, my fuel belt came off, and I had to stop to pick it up and secure it around my waist again. I was worried: my pacing had been so perfect, and this was just the kind of thing that could break the rhythm. But fortunately, I was able to get right back into it without losing more than a few seconds. I made up the time by sprinting for sixty or seventy metres, and then settled back into my regular pace.

As soon as I started the 18th kilometre, I hit my customary struggle. My legs started to feel like jelly and my brain started to tell me that I couldn’t do this anymore. Telling myself that this was only in my head, I ran on. I allowed myself to slow down a little, but I kept going. I got through that kilometre and the next one by counting in my head – a neat little trick I figured out that distracts my mind from what I’m actually doing.

All of a sudden, I saw what I had been waiting for – the marker indicating that I was now in the 20th kilometre. Just like that, my mind cleared and my jelly-like legs started to feel strong. I had just over two kilometres to go – less than 13 minutes of running. I could do this. I told my legs to go faster and they willingly obeyed. With one kilometre to go, I slowed down briefly to remove my ear buds. I didn’t need music now. There were crowds of spectators lining both sides of the road – they would carry me to the finish.

20x30-TMAD5283

500 metres to go. About ninety seconds from now the finish line would be in my sights. Spectators were cheering for me by name and I was smiling and waving cheerfully, loving every moment. With 300 metres to go, I put every ounce of remaining energy into my legs and a mental picture of George, my son and inspiration, into my head.

I crossed the finish line with a time of 2:16:42 – a new personal best time. My legs were hurting, but my spirits were absolutely flying.

20x30-TMBF4562

When I got home, I gave my finisher’s medal to the person I was doing all of this for. The smile on his face mirrored the feelings in my soul.

2013-10-20 16.29.19

This year’s race is done, and I am already looking forward to next year’s event.

Filed Under: Geneva Centre for Autism, Half-Marathon, Race, running, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
post

The Butterflies In My Stomach Are Having A Party

October 17, 2013 By

Raceinfo

Since September 2009, I have run seven half-marathons, four ten-milers, two 15K races, two quarter-marathons, twelve 10K races, one 8K race and three 5K races. That’s a total of 31 races covering more than 400km.

You’d think I’d be OK with pre-race nerves. And yet, as I sit here now, three days before my 8th half-marathon, I’m in absolute flitters. I cannot sleep, I cannot eat, I cannot concentrate on anything apart  from the countdown clock on the race website. Which, in case you’re interested, currently reads 2 days, 18 hours, 59 minutes.

The biggest cause of the problem is Taper Madness. This is a real condition – so real that there’s a website devoted to it. It happens during the last two or three weeks before a distance race, when you reduce your training mileage in order to rest your body. The reduction in physical activity plus the pre-race jitters result in you prowling restlessly around the house in search of something to do with your overflowing energy levels.

Not only is this not fun for me, it’s not great for my family either. My constant fidgeting and nerviness has them on edge. I think they were somewhat relieved yesterday when I told them that my training schedule called for a short run.

“Get out,” they told me, “and don’t come back until you’ve run for at least thirty minutes.”

That run did me the world of good, although I went somewhat faster than I was supposed to. I couldn’t help it. It was either that or explode from the pent-up energy. For the remainder of the day, I was calmer and less antsy, and generally nicer to be around.

This morning, I’m back in bounce-on-the-ceiling mode, and I’m likely to stay that way until the start of the race.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle.

 

Filed Under: Race, running, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races, Taper Madness, Tapering Tagged With: , ,
post

A Young Athlete’s Journey Of Discovery

October 8, 2013 By

17173-767-17412713

Tomorrow, my 7-year-old son James will be trying out for his school cross-country team. As a runner, I am delighted. As the daughter of a former elite marathoner, I am downright thrilled. From wherever my dad is now, on the other side of the mortal divide, I’m sure he is smiling down on his grandson and namesake with pride.

Tomorrow’s try-out won’t be James’ first exposure to running. He ran his first race when he was just 5 years old. It was a 1km run for kids aged 5-12, meaning he was one of the youngest participants. He finished right around the middle of the pack, in seven minutes. It was a very good showing for a 5-year-old running his first race. About a year later, he ran another 1km race. He finished it in just under seven minutes, in spite of a large hill and the fact that there were hundreds of kids taking part. Then, this Spring, James made the relay team at his school.

So he is no stranger to athletics, and even at 7 years old, he kind of looks like a pro. Almost everyone who sees him run comments on how magnificent he looks. He has a beautiful natural form, a balletic fluidity that I can only envy. There is no awkward shuffling or ungainly loping. When James runs, he truly looks as if he was born to run. He is like Mother Nature’s model of perfect engineering.

What James has in pure physical technique, though, he lacks in strategy – at least where cross-country running is concerned. Strategy is something that is gained from experience, and he just doesn’t have enough of that yet. And so he makes the same mistake that I sometimes make, even with all of the miles I have on my legs: the mistake of taking off like a rocket and then running out of steam.

I have been trying to counsel him ahead of tomorrow’s try-out.

“Start slower,” I say, “And then you’ll be able to keep going for longer.”

But it’s so hard for him to understand. To a 7-year-old’s literal mind, it’s hard to reconcile the idea of going more slowly with the reality of racing. And my gut is telling me to go easy on the advice and give him enough space to discover for himself what his true running style is.

It is easy for me to be emotionally vested in the outcome of my son’s athletic efforts,  because it creates a link that unites him with the grandfather he never got to know. But I need to remember that he is not doing this for me. He is doing it for himself. He made the decision, without any prior discussion with me, to go for this try-out. It would not  be right for me to start having expectations, or to behave like the scary moms in shows like Toddlers And Tiaras.

I have already equipped James as best I can. I have advised him on strategy and pacing, and now it is up to him to go out and find his own way in his athletic endeavours. Maybe he’ll burn out in the try-outs and discover that he is better suited to sprinting. Or maybe he will find his rhythm and earn a place on the cross-country team.

No matter what happens, this is not my journey of discovery, but James’. I hope that he can learn from his failures and embrace the successes.

I already know that he has the legs of an athlete. Now it’s up to him (with Mommy close by, of course) to develop his athlete’s heart.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit to the author.

Filed Under: Athletics, Cross-Country, life, parenting, running Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,