post

Running For Autism: One Step At A Time

October 16, 2015 By

running for autism

Two days from now, I am running my annual half-marathon for kids with autism. You’d think that after doing ten half-marathons in the last six years, this would be old hat to me. I am familiar with the distance, and since this year is my seventh Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront race, I am familiar with the course. I know exactly where the hills are (not many, thank God, and none of them are exactly mountainous), I know where the halfway point is, and I know which sections of the course are more challenging for me.

The training, the period of Taper Madness and the race itself are supposed to get easier with each passing year, right?

Well…

This year, my family has faced some intense challenges. A series of unfortunate events culminated in my husband having just three weeks’ notice to vacate his business premises. This meant packing up and moving fifteen years’ worth of product, tools and heavy industrial-grade machinery. While this was going on, I landed a big contract for my own fledgling business that I couldn’t turn down. I was helping with the move during the day, working on my contract at night, and grabbing catnaps on the couch from time to time.

This left me no time for running. My half-marathon training called for intense speed work during the month of July. Instead, my training ground to a screeching halt, and I was only really able to get it going again halfway through August. By then, as much as I had tried to keep my work on an even keel, I had fallen so far behind that I was continuing to work late into the night. So although I was running again, I wasn’t running as much as I needed to.

Consequently, I am not as prepared for this race as I should be. I know I can complete the distance, but I do not expect it to be my finest hour. I don’t even have a goal time in mind. All I want to do is cross the finish line, get my finisher’s medal, and come home where I can sit on the couch and eat weird amounts of cheesecake. If I get a decent time – and I’m certainly not ruling that out – that will be a bonus.

My fundraising hasn’t gone as well as I had hoped either, for pretty much the same reasons. Asking people for donations makes me feel more than a little awkward at the best of times, and this year it has been particularly challenging. I haven’t had time or energy, and I have been operating in a fog of exhaustion and stress. I have fallen far short of the fundraising goal that I had set for myself.

But still – I have raised almost $300, and that money is going to make a huge difference to some kids with autism. It will provide art supplies, musical instruments, sports equipment or camp activities. It will give young people with autism opportunities and experience that might otherwise be out of reach for them. And I am more grateful than words can express to the people who have helped me reach that total.

I think, in spite of the circumstances, I have done all right. I feel excited about the upcoming race, and I feel proud to be doing my small part to make a difference to children and youth with autism.

It’s not too late to donate. If you would like to sponsor me, please click here. All funds go to the Geneva Centre for Autism, where they will be used to provide services for children and teens with autism.

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

Filed Under: autism, fundraising, Half-Marathon, running, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races, Training Tagged With: , , , , , , , ,
post

Running For Autism 2014: A Thousand Thank Yous

October 25, 2014 By

Today’s post is going to look a bit like a speech from the Oscars, only there’s no red carpet, I’m not wearing a ballgown accessorized with diamond jewellery, and I didn’t get a funny little trophy thing. Instead, there is the finish line of a race, a sweaty old running outfit accessorized with a space blanket, and a finisher’s medal. Just setting the scene so you can picture me as I start my speech.

<clears throat and waits for the audience hubbub to die down>

My 2014 autism run is now almost a week in the past. I have one day left of sitting on the couch doing nothing post-race recovery. The stiffness in my legs is gone, my knees have recovered, and the chafing from my sports bra is fading. Even the Ankle of Doom is feeling pretty good. I am almost ready to lace up my shoes for an easy run, and I have started thinking about my race calendar for next year.

I want to thank my mother, because people always start by thanking their mothers. And because my mom is awesome. She lives on the other side of the world, but I felt that she was part of the finish crowd cheering me on last Sunday. Thanks also to my brother, who is a loyal supporter and a great friend.

I want to thank my Dad, who was an elite runner in his youth and the first to fuel my love of running many years ago, in a previous life. Dad was a superb runner, and he always believed in me. He is no longer with us, but I still feel his presence when I run, and he was definitely with me on race day.

I want to thank the organizers of the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon, Half-Marathon and 5K for putting on a fantastic event. Everything was great, from race kit pickup right through to the post-race food. I enjoyed almost every minute of the race, and I even made it through my troublesome 18K patch better than I ever have before. I had enough energy in reserve at the end to really belt it out in the last kilometre, and the look on my face in my race picture tells you how I was feeling as I sprinted to the finish line.

Best finish line shot ever!

Best finish line shot ever!

Thank you to the Geneva Centre for Autism, not only for being a constant source of support for my family since George was diagnosed with autism in 2007, but also for getting me off the couch and into my running shoes a little more than five years ago. It is a true honour to be affiliated with this organization that has given countless autism families the most precious of commodities: hope.

Thank you to all of the people who sponsored me. Your generous donations are going to make a real difference for so many kids. Thanks to you, children and youth with autism will be able to learn how to play musical instruments, participate in sports teams, attend social skills training, go to summer camps, communicate via iPads and much more. Opportunities are being created for my son and other kids like him, thanks to you. My appreciation for your support has no bounds.

Thank you to the runners in my life, who have always been there with words of advice and encouragement when I’ve needed it. You have celebrated with me after the good training runs this season, and you have commiserated with me when the going has been tough. You know what it’s like – the long runs on rainy days resulting in squelchy shoes, the uncomfortable chafey bits where you didn’t apply enough Body Glide, the runs that are just bad for no reason – and you always encourage me to keep going.

Thank you to all of my non-running friends, who tolerate my running-related social media postings: the race-time status updates, the moans and groans about sore muscles, the Instagram pictures of my training watch. You are kind enough to like and comment on my posts, you tag me in running-related things that you think I will like (and I do – I love all of them). Your messages of support and love last Sunday were overwhelming, and they meant the world to me.

Thank you to my husband, who holds the unenviable position of being the partner of a runner. Over the course of the season, he made sure I could get out for my long runs and races, and he tended to my aching muscles with the right combination of concern and humour. The night before the race, he sacrificed sleep so that I could rest undisturbed by children, and he got up early to make sure I got to the start line on time.

Thank you to my younger son James, my tireless supporter and cheerleader. He cheerfully saw me off for my long training runs throughout the season, and he always welcomed me back with a hug, even though I was stinky and sweaty. He is a fantastic champion for his brother’s cause: it was his idea for me to run in a cape last Sunday, to “get into the spirit for autism”. His energy is contagious, and I took a bit of it with me on my race.

The final thank you is reserved for George, my older son, my brave and amazing autism boy. George is my inspiration. He is the reason I get up early in the morning to run in the dark, the reason I do ten-mile training runs in the midsummer heat, the reason I am willing to get rain in my running shoes on wet days. George teaches me about life every single day. And when I am struggling through a run, feeling like it will never end, thoughts of George get me through. I tell myself that this kid lives with autism every hour of every day. That doesn’t stop him from being one of the most determined people I have ever encountered. If he’s not going to give up, then neither am I.

DSC_0356

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Finish line photo credited to Marathon-Photos. Picture of runner’s wall message credited to Kirsten Doyle.

Filed Under: Giving Thanks, Race, Race Report, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
post

Ice Buckets For Autism

August 24, 2014 By
The Reason I Run

The Reason I Run

Yesterday, I spoke about the aspects of the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge that bother me. At the same time, I acknowledged that this campaign has been wildly successful in raising funds and awareness for ALS. Although I have been nominated, I have declined to participate – not only because of the reasons stated yesterday, but because there is another cause that is nearer and dearer to my heart. I am not in any way diminishing the ALS cause, I am just saying that with my limited funds and more limited energy, I have to focus my efforts on a cause that directly impacts my family.

Every year, I participate in the Charity Challenge of the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront half-marathon to raise funds for autism services, and this year is no different. The money I raise goes to the Geneva Centre for Autism, a wonderful organization that has provided endless support not only to my autism boy, but also to his younger brother, my husband and myself. I can say without reservation that my son’s life – all of our lives – would be very different if it weren’t for the Geneva Centre.

The thing is, though, that fundraising is hard, and it gets more difficult every year. People struggle. They have difficulty paying their bills on time and providing for their families. Life in this day and age is not easy. And the people who do have funds to donate are increasingly selective about where that money goes, and rightfully so. There have been so many stories about donated funds lining the pockets of people who are already rich.

I can give my personal assurance that money donated to the Geneva Centre for Autism does not go towards ridiculously high salaries or swanky events. It is used for things like art supplies and musical instruments for kids with autism, job skills training for those leaving school, iPads for those in need of communication assistance, and summer camps for children and youth who need help with social skills development. This is money that is used to help real children and their families. It is money that genuinely makes a difference and can change the course of a young person’s life for the better.

This year, for those who do have a few dollars to donate, I am adding an element of fun to my fundraising efforts. It is a variation of the ALS campaign, and I am calling it “Ice Buckets For Autism”. The premise is simple: for every $100 that I can raise for autism, I will dump a bucket of ice water on my head. In keeping with my concerns about using water wisely, I will dump it in such a way that it can later be used for something else.

There are no nominations and there is no stipulation as to how much each person should donate. People can simply donate if and how much they choose, and every time the hundreds digit of my fundraising total changes, I will drench myself and provide photographic and video evidence of the act.

I am hoping to be drenched many, many times.

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

Filed Under: ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, autism, Charity, fundraising, Geneva Centre for Autism, Half-Marathon, Ice Buckets For Autism, running, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
post

Training Roundup: Focusing On The Why

June 7, 2014 By
Why I Run

Why I Run

This has been an odd week for a variety of reasons. I attended a magazine and writer’s conference for most of the week, and that left me with very little time to do other things. But still, I was able to get some good training in.

On Sunday last week, I went out for an 18K run. I didn’t know how it would go, because I wasn’t able to do my long run the previous week. I feared that I might be a little rusty. It went well, though. I completed the distance in just over two hours – a very satisfactory pace. What made it even better was that it took me just four hours or so to recover. That afternoon, I was in the backyard with the lawnmower and just a tiny bit of stiffness.

I rested on Monday, even though I didn’t feel as if I needed to. Things caught up with me on Tuesday, though. I woke up with my bad ankle feeling – well, bad. I was supposed to do a tempo run, but I decided that an extra day of rest might be a good idea.

It turned out to be a good call: on Wednesday I felt fine. So fine, in fact, that I did my 6K tempo run as well as a full weights workout. Afterwards, I felt that pleasant all-over ache that you get after a good workout.

I didn’t have time for a proper workout again during the week, but I did manage to squeeze in a ten-minute run and a few weights on Friday afternoon. So although I didn’t get in all of my workouts, I count this week as a success.

The training was almost secondary to the other aspect of my running, though: the fundraising. I am, after all, doing this for my son George and other kids with autism. This week, I got to reflect on this as my fundraising page got hit with its first donation. I am aiming to raise $1000 this year – a lofty goal in these hard times. That money, if I can raise it, will go a long way to helping children and youth with autism. It can get them art and music supplies, sports equipment, summer camps and job training, iPads and all kinds of other things that can help in their cognitive and sensory development. This is all stuff that can really change the lives of some of these kids.

Sometimes, when I am on my long runs, I feel as if I don’t have it in me to take another step. I am exhausted and sore, and I just want to stop.

But then I think about George, who is going to live with autism 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for the rest of his life. He is brave and determined in the face of his challenges, and he is chock-full of love and sweetness.

If he can live with autism every single day while he brings such richness to my life, surely I can find the same strength and determination to run for a couple of hours at a time.

To sponsor me in this year’s Run for Autism, please click here. All proceeds go to the Geneva Centre for Autism.

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

Filed Under: running, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races, Training 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

8 Ways $1000 Can Help Kids With Autism

July 3, 2013 By

2013-06-09 14.50.00

This year, I will be running for autism for the fifth time as I take part in the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon. Although the race is advertised as “flat, fast and festive”, it is quite hard, and not only because it’s kind of far. It’s because there are long straight stretches with no left or right turns. In the last 5km or so, I keep imagining that the final turn to the finish line is right there, like a mirage in the desert.

This year, I expect the race to be even harder, because it will come just a month after I do the Ottawa Army Run, which is also a half-marathon.

The Scotiabank run is an important one, though, and I will never exclude it from my race calendar no matter what else I have going on. This race is my opportunity to give something to the autism community, to make the world a better and brighter place for my son and other people like him.

I am running for the Geneva Centre for Autism, and like last year, I have set myself a fundraising goal of $1000. If I achieve that goal, the Geneva Centre will be able to choose from some really cool uses of the money. Like these:

1. Art supplies for 40 individuals with autism. We could collectively unleash the talent of the next Stephen Wiltshire.

2. Sports equipment for 20 individuals with autism. Sporting activity has so many benefits for people with autism, apart from the obvious ones that apply to all of us. Athletics can help develop fine and gross motor skills, it can nurture problem-solving skills, and it give kids the “deep pressure” sensations that they often crave.

3. Instruments for 15 musicians with autism. I have had the pleasure of listening to the music of Michael Moon. Music enriches his own soul and those of his audiences. If he hadn’t had access to a guitar when he was younger, that potential within him might never have been unlocked.

4. Job training for 15 young adults. The biggest worry in the minds of most autism parents is whether their kids will be OK as adults. Will they have the life skills they need to live independently and have jobs? The job training programs provided by the Geneva Centre can make a real difference to the lives of young adults.

5. Field trips for 10 individuals with autism. For most kids, field trips are an opportunity to go somewhere fun and miss a few hours of school. For kids with autism, field trips are an opportunity to learn life skills in real-world settings, and to generalize existing skills to places other than the classroom.

6. Summer camp for 4 individuals with autism. People with autism are often unable to participate in activities that are designed for the neurotypical world. There is, however, an opportunity for them to attend camps for special needs people, or to attend the regular camps with extra support.

7. 2 iPads loaded with autism-friendly apps. It has been shown time and time again that kids with autism can benefit greatly from using iPads. They can learn life skills, social skills, academics like reading and math that can be hard to master in a classroom setting. There have been reports of kids with autism who have gone from non-verbal to fully conversational with the help of iPad apps.

8. One piece of state-of-the-art sensory equipment. A lot of kids with autism are sensory-seekers. They like deep pressure, textures, movement, sounds and patterns. One piece of equipment that meets sensory needs can go a long way in centres that accommodate groups of children.

Every cent that I can raise will make a lasting difference to the life of someone with autism. Whether we help kids discover a talent or a passion, prepare them for life, or simply make it easier for them to tolerate their environment, we have the power to change the world.

It takes a village to raise a child. It takes a village of extraordinary people to raise a child with autism. If you are able to, please be a part of my village.

To sponsor my 2013 Run for Autism, please visit my fundraising page.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle. This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle.)

Filed Under: autism, Autism Services, fundraising, Geneva Centre for Autism, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,
post

133 Days To Go

June 8, 2013 By

HPIM1044_web

In 133 days, 10 hours and 20 minutes (give or take a few), I will be starting my fifth annual run for autism. I run several races each year, and all of them mean something to me. Each race has its own story of struggle and triumph. Every race – even the ones that I don’t do particularly well in – is a victory.

There is no race that brings a tear to my eye in the same way as the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon. This is the race that I dedicate to my son George, my amazing child who is so brave and determined in the face of his disability. As I cross the start line of this race, it is with the thought that while I will be done with the run in a little over two hours, George has to live with the challenges of autism every single day for the rest of his life. For him, there is no finish line. He does not get to stop and rest.

He has plenty of triumphs, though. Some of them would go unnoticed in “typical” households, but for us, they represent growth and a step towards independence. There is no such thing as a “small victory” in my family. That is one great thing about having a child with autism. You develop the ability to truly appreciate what others might regard as “the little things”.

I believe that the more help George gets now, the brighter his future will look. So my husband and I do everything we can to provide him with opportunities for living and learning. For me, that includes doing my part for the autism community, in an effort to make the world a better place not only for George, but for other people with autism.

And so I run, and I raise pledges. All funds that I raise go to the Geneva Centre for Autism, where they are used to provide much-needed services for children and youth with autism. Examples of things purchased with the money include musical instruments, art supplies, sports equipment, iPads, summer camps, job training and much more.

Today, I am excited to announce that pledges are open for my 2013 run for autism. At the moment, my fundraising goal is a cool thousand dollars, but I am really hoping that I can surpass that and up my target.

If you have any dollars to spare, please consider sponsoring me for this run.

Together, we can make a real difference to the lives of kids with autism.

To donate, please visit my fundraising page.

 

Filed Under: fundraising, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races, Wordcount Blogathon Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
post

On Running

June 6, 2013 By
With Running Room founder John Stanton, right after one of my autism runs

With Running Room founder John Stanton, right after one of my autism runs

My friend Phaedra posted some running reflections on her blog today. She ended her post with the question: “What has running brought to your life?”

I started to draft a reply on her blog, but it started to get kind of wordy, so I decided to just make a blog post of my own on the topic.

The first time I start running seriously, I was a 26-year-old couch potato with a 30-a-day smoking habit. I didn’t really care for the idea of exercise very much, but I wanted to quit smoking, and instinct told me that in order to accomplish that, I would have to fix other aspects of my lifestyle.

So I cut back on the caffeine, traded junk food for healthy home-cooked meals, and started to run shuffle along at a snail’s pace. A few months later, I smoked my last cigarette and my shuffling started to look like actual running. To my surprise, I discovered that I actually liked it. My dad, a former elite athlete who had long suspected that there was a runner lurking somewhere within me, merely said, “Told you so.”

During that time in my life, running was much more than just a means to quit smoking. I badly needed some self-affirmation back then. I had no self-esteem to speak of. I felt completely worthless, and when I started running, I realized that I had found something I could actually do. I didn’t claim to be particularly good at it, but I wasn’t looking for something to be good at. I was merely looking for something that I could do without failing.

The combination of stopping smoking and starting running allowed me to start feeling as if there was some validity to my existence.

The second time I started to run, I was a 39-year-old mother of two and I hadn’t touched a pair of running shoes in over six years. Some aspects of my life were very similar to the way they had been the first time round. Although I was no longer a smoker, my lifestyle had become sedentary, and once again, I was grappling with severe depression.

This time round, it was the idea of running for a cause that gave me the kick in the pants that I needed. The Geneva Centre for Autism had decided to enter a team in the charity challenge of a major Toronto running event, and they were looking for parents to participate. And somewhere deep inside me, underneath all of the layers of depression that were crippling me, a flame was lit. I registered for the half-marathon there and then, without giving myself time to think about it.

Six months later, I stood at the half-marathon finish line with a finisher’s medal around my neck. I had gone the distance, all 21.1km of it, and every inch of it had been for my son. It was an intensely emotional experience and the tears flowed unchecked.

Since then, I have run six more half-marathons and a number of races of other distances. One half-marathon each year is dedicated to my son and other children with autism, as I fund-raise and strive to make my small contribution to the autism community.

Once again, running has been a salvation for me, a form of self-affirmation, and a way for me to feel truly alive. When my running is going well, I feel as if I have it in me to get through any challenge and achieve any goal I want.

And when it’s going badly, all I have to do is think of my son. If he can live his entire life, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, with the challenges of autism, then I can run for a couple of hours to make the world a better place for him.

 

 

Filed Under: autism, Depression, running, Running for Autism, Wordcount Blogathon Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
post

Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon: 2012 Run For Autism

October 17, 2012 By

It is raining and I am starting to get cold. I have already surrendered my jacket to the baggage check tent, so I am standing in this foul weather with shorts and a short-sleeved T-shirt. There is no shelter and the only thing keeping the rain off my face is the peak of my hat. This is good. I cannot abide water on my face. The line-up for the Porta-potties – a standard feature of the starting area of every race – inches forward too slowly.

Soon I will be toeing the start line of my fourth Run for Autism, and I feel more than a little emotional as I think about the reason I am running this race. Every mile is dedicated to a child with autism, but really, this run is for all kids with autism everywhere.

I wrap my arms around myself and shiver, both from cold and anticipation.

It is starting to rain harder.

The morning of the race was a little chaotic, made worse by the rain. We had circled around city blocks for about forty minutes in search of somewhere affordable to park. As a result, my designated warm-up time was taken up by the Porta-potty line, and when I had done what I needed to do there, I warmed up by jogging from the Porta-potties to my place in the start line. The massive scale of this event meant that this was a reasonable jog – enough for me to satisfy myself that my tight left leg and niggling back pain wouldn’t hinder me during the race. At some point right before the race started, I noticed that the rain had let up, and the conditions were now perfect for a run.

A fair distance ahead of me, I heard the starting siren go off, signalling the release of the runners in the first corral. My friend and coach Phaedra was somewhere in that group, and I silently sent good wishes to her through the ether. I knew that by the time I crossed the start line, Phaedra would have done at least two kilometres, possibly closer to three.

The siren went off again, and the second wave of runners was off. My corral was next, and I shuffled forward with the crowd. Just as the anticipation was building up to an unbearable level, the announcer counted down to the start, the siren went, and we were off.

The course was different this year. In prior years, half-marathoners ran down to the Lakeshore and stayed there for most of the out-and-back route. This time round, the route took us around more of the city streets before turning onto Lakeshore. I like some variety in my routes, and I really enjoyed the changes.

For the first few kilometres, I comfortably stayed ahead of my target pace. I restrained myself from going out too hard, and I felt good. I had initially pondered the idea of running with a pace bunny, but I quickly dismissed that idea. I always worry that if I run with a bunny I will be running their race, when I really should be running my race. This season in particular, I have become a lot better at running smarter as well as faster, so I really didn’t need to pace myself against another runner.

Which is why I am somewhat baffled that when I unexpectedly found myself alongside the 2:10 bunny just before the halfway mark, I decided to stay with him. I was so caught up in the excitement of the day, and at that point I was feeling strong, and those two factors together probably sent any sense of logic out the window. As good as I was feeling, I had never intended to run this race at a 2:10 pace.

It worked for about 3K, but then I started to fade. I drifted to the other side of the road and let the bunny go, and for the next 5K or so, I was able to maintain my original pace.

The bad news is that the damage had been done. My efforts to stay with the pace bunny had made my tight left leg flare up, and the nagging little pain in the small of my back started to extend down my left buttock, where it intersected with the pain in my leg.

The good news is that by this point I only had 2K to go. My body was screaming at me to stop. I felt as if my leg was on fire, but the thought of all of those kids with autism, including my own child, kept me going. I was going to stop at nothing to finish this race.

The final kilometre can only be described as agony. My left leg was actually twitching and I was running at a limp. The finish line kick that I usually pride myself on was replaced with a series of stops and starts, but I did still manage to run across the finish line.

If victories are made sweeter by how hard you work for them, then this one was the sweetest of them all. Of all the half-marathons I have done, this one was definitely the hardest.

In spite of how tough those last kilometres had been, I still ran a personal best, crossing the finish line in a time of 2:17:31. I actually cried as the finisher’s medal was placed around my neck.

Tears of pain. Tears of joy. And most of all, tears of love for my son who is my inspiration.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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

2012 Run For Autism: Starting The Journey

June 10, 2012 By

Many of you already know the story.

You already know how I was a runner way back when, and then stopped and completely neglected my physical health after the birth of my kids. You know how I always wanted to get back into running, but never found the discipline. You know how I became completely comfortable as a couch potato but never quite got rid of that residue of regret.

You also know how an email landed in my inbox one day that completely changed everything. The email was an invitation for me to join the team being put together by the Geneva Centre for Autism for the forthcoming Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront races. Participants could run the 5K, half-marathon or marathon, and in the process raise funds for services for children and youth with autism.

It turned out to be just the motivation I needed. Within 24 hours I had made the transition from couch potato to speed demon extremely slow runner. Six months later, I had dropped almost sixty pounds and I was standing exhausted but triumphant at a half-marathon finish line, clutching my finishers medal and sobbing with emotion.

Here I sit, three years later, getting ready to embark on training and fundraising for my fourth Run for Autism. Since that first half-marathon in 2009, most of the weight has stayed off, my half-marathon time has improved by almost ten minutes, and I have raised over $2000 for the Geneva Centre for Autism.

This year’s race is on October 14th. My fundraising goal is a cool thousand dollars. This means that for the next four months, I will be shamelessly asking people for money – friends and family, complete strangers, and everyone in between. The money will go towards supplies and services for children and youth with autism. These are services that can provide skills that will last a lifetime, enabling people like my son George to lead happy, productive lives as fully integrated members of their communities.

Some examples of what $1000 can do are as follows:

  • Art supplies for 40 children and young adults
  • Sports equipment for 20 children and young adults
  • Musical instruments for 15 children and young adults
  • Job training for 15 young adults
  • Field trips for 10 children and young adults
  • Summer camp for 4 children and young adults
  • 2 iPads loaded with apps for individuals with autism
  • 1 piece of state-of-the-art sensory equipment

This list goes to show that every single cent really does make a difference. If you have the ability to, please consider sponsoring my Run for Autism and contributing to this incredible cause for my child and for other people with autism.

To donate, please visit my fundraising page.

It takes a very special kind of village to raise a child with special needs. Today, I invite you to be a part of my village.

(Photo credit: Brightroom Professional Event Photographers)

Filed Under: autism, Autism Services, Finish Line, fundraising, Geneva Centre for Autism, Half-Marathon, running, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Next Page »