pace Archives - Running for Autism

Goodlife Toronto Half-Marathon: The Day The Wagon Lost Its Wheels

May 9, 2014 By Kirsten

Less than a mile to go…

I had such high hopes when I signed up for the Goodlife Toronto half-marathon. I spoke to a number of people who had run it beforehand, and for the most part, reviews were good.

It’ll be easy, they said. It’s all downhill, they said.

All righty, then. It sounded like just the race to kick off my season after a brutal winter of spotty training, mostly done on the treadmill. Maybe I would even be able to pull off a personal best.

For about a week leading up to the race, I was fighting a cold and dealing with seasonal allergies. I was popping Cold FX pills twice a day and drinking orange juice as if it was about to go extinct. I willed my body to hold off on getting sick, and it seemed to work.

And then, on the morning of the race, I woke up feeling as if a steamroller had driven through my head. I felt so congested that for a few moments, I debated with myself whether I should run the race. I talked myself into going. All symptoms were above the neck, so it was, according to the experts, safe for me to run. Besides, I had trained for this race, and come hell or high water, I was going to run it.

For the sake of my sanity, I tend to divide half-marathons into thirds. That way, instead of running 21K, I’m running three blocks of 7K each. 7 is an easier number to work with than 21, especially when your feet feel as if they’re going to fall off.

The first 7K went really well. I was tracking above my target pace, but that’s mostly because the biggest downhill sections were early in the race, and that lulled me into a pace that was, in retrospect, far too aggressive. That was even taking into account a nasty uphill section in the fourth or fifth kilometre.

Things started to get a little rough during the second 7K, but I wasn’t too concerned. I figured that I had just gone out too fast, and that all I needed to do was adjust my pace and I’d be OK. But instead of getting better, I started feeling worse. In spite of the wind, my body was starting to feel uncomfortably warm.

During the final 7K, the wheels completely fell off. I realized that I probably should have been hydrating more than usual because of my cold, and that my body was screaming for more fluids. I dehydrated to the point where I stopped sweating because my body just had no fluid to make sweat with. I got through about 3K by counting my steps. I was setting myself little challenges and giving myself rewards.

If you run for 40 steps, you can walk for 20.

If you run until the end of this song, you can walk for 100m.

Those few kilometres were excruciating. I stopped caring about what my finish time would be. All I wanted to do was push forward so I could get to the finish line. I wanted to be allowed to stop running.

With 3K to go, I stopped completely. I drank several ounces of water, followed by some Gatorade and then some more water. Usually I hydrate in sips. This time, I gave myself a downpour. I reset the shuffle on my music player, dug deeper than I’ve ever had to dig before, and I started running in the direction of the finish line.

My running wasn’t fast. My running wasn’t pretty, or efficient. My form was so bad that it could have been used in a textbook picture of “how not to run”.

But I ran. I focused on the music playing in my ears, and I ran. I ~~smiled~~ grimaced at the well-meaning spectators who were telling me how great I looked (I looked like crap, but it was nice of them to say so), and I ran. I thought about the finish line, the weight of a finisher’s medal around my neck, and the feeling of accomplishment that I would feel, and I ran.

After about four geological eras, I crossed the finish line. My usual finish line kick didn’t happen, and I barely had the strength for my finish line fist pump. But I had done it and I had the finisher’s medal around my neck to prove it. And my time – 2:23:01 – was not bad considering the circumstances. I’d actually been expecting a lot worse.

For the last five days, I’ve been nursing my aching legs and my bruised ego. I’ve suffered from self-doubt: if I had this much of a hard time during what was supposed to be an easy half-marathon, how will I manage 30K in August? But now I feel that I’m ready to move on. We can’t always have the race we want, and sometimes we have to have bad races in order to get stronger.

I am ready to lace up the running shoes again, to hit the road and get training again. And that 30K race in August? I’m planning to eat it for breakfast.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit: www.marathonfoto.com.

Filed Under: Goodlife Toronto Half-Marathon, Race, running Tagged With: cold, dehydration, downhill, finish line, half-marathon, kilometres, pace

Running For Autism 2013

October 22, 2013 By Kirsten

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 hat spouting weird hair…

… and a cape.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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: costume, energy, finish line, George, pace, personal best, rhythm, spectators, start-line, struggle

Race Report: Toronto Women’s 10K

August 31, 2013 By Kirsten

The night before the Toronto Women’s 10K, I realized that I did not have a strategy for the race, nor did I have any kind of goal. And since I had just carbo-loaded on beer and chicken wings at the pub down the road, I didn’t feel motivated to give my race-day plan any thought. I laid out my outfit, set my alarm clock and went to bed. As I drove to the race the following morning, feeling a little the worse for wear, I decided that my strategy would be to simply finish the race. If I could come in somewhere under the 1:05:00 mark, which would put me at my average training pace, then so much the better.

I got to start area, picked up my race kit and got myself organized. I checked my bag, and with half an hour to go before the gun, I impulsively decided to warm up. This was a giant departure from my usual pre-race routine. Usually I arrive at the start area in a mad flap and spend half an hour in the Porta-Potty lineup before rushing to the start line as the gun is going off. The concept of taking the time to warm up is a novel one.

I ran a slow 2km, and then lined up at the start line with ten minutes to spare. The warm-up appeared to have worked, because when the race started I felt nicely loosened up. I didn’t have to spend time finding my rhythm. However, as usual, I went out too fast for the first three kilometres or so.

My usual strategy would have been to just keep running at a faster-than-wise pace until running out of steam, and then to huff and puff like the Big Bad Wolf for the last two or three kilometres. I have a pattern of maintaining a fabulous pace for the first three-quarters of a race and then letting it all fall apart at the end.

This time, I deliberately slowed down a little for the fourth and fifth kilometres. That gave me the opportunity to catch my breath and pick up the pace again for the second half of the race. I was able to keep up a good pace throughout, and even managed a big smile for the firemen who were manning the aid stations. When I started to feel rough during the 9th kilometre, I kept my mind on the prize. Not the finisher’s medal (although I was looking forward to that too), but the chocolate that was waiting for me on the other side of the finish line.

Passing the final kilometre marker in a race is always a boost for me. I know that at that point, with just one kilometre to go, I only have a few more minutes of running left. I usually have a great finishing kick, probably because I know that the faster I go, the sooner I can stop. The end of this race was even better than most. I ran the last kilometre in less than six minutes, finishing in a time of 1:02:13.

Considering my choice of beverage the previous night, I was very happy with this. After collecting my finisher’s medal, I happily sat on the grass enjoying my post-race snack.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle.

Photo credits:
Kirsten Doyle approaching finish line: Ryder Photography
Chocolate shot: Kirsten Doyle

Filed Under: Race, Race Strategy, running, Toronto Women's 10K Tagged With: beer, goal, pace, pre-race routine, too fast, warm up

Race Report: Niagara Falls Women’s Half-Marathon

June 3, 2013 By Kirsten

When I am planning my race calendar each year, I tend to stay close to home. This year, I decided to break from tradition and register for not one, but two out-of-town races.

I tend to be quite laid-back when it comes to packing for a weekend away. My attitude is that if I forget something, I can just buy it when I get there. Factoring a race into my packing was a new experience for me. I had to make a list, check it twice, and obsessively check my bag of running stuff a gazillion times before we hit the road.

I headed down to Niagara Falls with my family on Saturday morning, and we drove straight to the race kit pickup area. I was given my bib and a canvas bag, and then I had to move down a row of tables while volunteers put things into the bag. I got the usual tech T-shirt (which is a little ill-fitting, but I like it and will wear it because it bears the word “Empowered”) and the usual running magazines and flyers for races and foot doctors. I also got makeup, a variety of toiletries, a miniature first-aid kit, and best of all, a bottle of wine.

This was the best race swag I had ever received.

On Sunday morning, I was a little pressed for time getting to the start line. The hotel we stayed in was fantastic, but they managed to screw up the breakfast vouchers. After a small amount of stress, I was able to grab my peanut butter toast and coffee, and I got to the start line with about forty minutes to spare.

All forty minutes were spent in the porta-potty lineup. This surprised me, since the race website had made a big deal of promising an abundance of porta-potties. In reality, this was the slowest-moving porta-potty lineup I’d ever been in, which I guess makes sense because this was a women’s race and everyone knows that women take longer. When I was done, I ran to the start line and then just kept running because the start siren went off.

It was an overcast day and just a little bit cool, but I could tell that it was going to get warm and humid. I was glad that I had decided on shorts and a short-sleeved shirt with no jacket. Before the end of the first kilometre, I was warming up, and about two kilometres later, the sun was starting to peek through the clouds. The race took us past the Falls not just once but twice, and the mist given off by the thunderous fall of water provided a very refreshing cool-down.

For most of the race I ran at a consistent pace of around 6:30 minutes per kilometre. I felt good: I was reasonably confident that I would hit my target of 2:20:00. Somewhere around the halfway mark, I was feeling so good that I increased my pace quite substantially. I paid for it when I hit 15km or so. My legs suddenly turned to Jello and I started to struggle. I wouldn’t say I crashed and burned, but I definitely slowed down for the next 4km.

With 2km to go, I picked up the pace again, knowing that I only had about 13 minutes of running left. At the final aid station, volunteers were handing out mini-donuts and candies. I grabbed a little cup of jellybeans and munched them down. Not my usual race fare, but at that point I knew that I could really do with a sugar-rush.

Shortly before the 20km mark I slowed to a walk just for long enough to drink the last couple of mouthfuls of my Gatorade. I started to run again, and after what felt like an eternity but was only about six minutes, I crossed the finish line. I was absolutely spent but still had the energy to raise my arms in a victory salute.

My time was 2:17:52 – just 20 seconds off my personal best. It was a performance that gives me great hope for new personal records this season. I even had an extra little sparkle at the end of the race: for the first time ever, I heard my name announced over the loudspeaker as I crossed the finish line.

As always, I am immensely grateful to the race organizers and volunteers for putting this event together. Apart from the shortage of porta-potties, the race was very well organized. The aid stations were well-run and the route was fantastic. I am also grateful to the people who took time out of their day to stand on the sidelines and offer much-needed encouragement to the runners.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

Filed Under: Niagara Falls Women's Half-Marathon, Race, running, Wordcount Blogathon Tagged With: jellybeans, kilometre, mist, Niagara Falls, pace, porta-potty, swag, wine

Toronto Womens Half-Marathon: Getting By With A Little Help From A Friend

May 28, 2012 By Kirsten

I am participating in the 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, which means one post every day for the month of May.

Phaedra and I, sharing some post-race happiness

I am always a jittery mess leading up to races, and yesterday’s Toronto Women’s Half-Marathon was no exception. If anything, I was more nervous than usual. I had trained hard, coached by my friend Phaedra, and I wanted to realize the fruits of my efforts. As I wandered around the starting area eating my pre-race peanut butter sandwich, I thought back to my season of training. Instead of thinking about all of the great runs I had, my mind stubbornly focused on the not-so-good. Like missing my very first week of training due to a stomach bug, and having to take an emergency trip to the other side of the world during my second and third week. I thought obsessively about how my training went a little pear-shaped a month ago, due to circumstances beyond my control.

I knew that these nerves would vanish as soon as the starter’s siren went off. The slight stuffiness in my nose would disappear and the tightness in my right calf would magically loosen up. I would be lifted by the collective energy of the 1500 runners around me, and I would be spurred on by my natural tendency to compete with myself.

Seeing a couple of familiar friendly faces right before the race started helped immensely. My friend George from the Geneva Centre for Autism was there to cheer on his girlfriend. Phaedra was there too, already lined up at the start. I squeezed my way into the crowded corral and waited for the siren.

And then we were off! I was forced to start at a moderate pace: this invariably happens when 1500 runners are competing for space on a narrow park trail. It is at times frustrating to be trapped behind slower runners with no immediate opportunity to pass them, but it can be enormously beneficial to be forced to keep the brakes on, particularly early in a long race.

I was aiming for an average pace of 6:30 minutes per kilometre, and for the first few kilometres, I hovered between 6:34 and 6:40. I was OK with that. Usually I increase my pace over the course of the distance, so starting slower than my goal doesn’t worry me.

The course was a challenging one. The entire race took place on park trails that at times, were barely wide enough to allow for the two-way traffic on the out-and-back segments. The trails were mostly paved, which was nice, but in places they were uneven, so I had to watch my footing very carefully. While the course was not as hilly as, say, the 10K race at the Toronto Zoo, there were enough undulations to create a challenge – most notably, the hill leading up to the bridge going over the railway line.

At about the 5K mark, I was running the out portion of an out-and-back segment, and I saw Phaedra coming towards me, running the back portion. She was looking strong and moving fast, right near the front of the pack. We cheered each other, did a high-five, and went on our way.

The kilometres ticked by. I marked the little milestones as I passed them. 7km – a third of the way there. 10.5km – halfway there. The 12km milestone is always a big one for me, because it means I only have 9K to go, and I am counting down single digits.

14km – two thirds of the way there. At this point I was really starting to hurt. A twenty-year-old ankle injury was acting up, no doubt aggravated by the uneven path. There was no way I was letting myself stop, though – I had only 7km left. 7km is like a walk in the park to me.

At 16km I hadn’t quite managed to hit my target pace, and I found myself having to revise my “A” goal of beating 2:15. I mentally shifted to my “B” goal – a personal best time. I had to beat 2:19:46 and I thought that I was only just in for a shot at accomplishing that. All I had to do was ignore the burning in my legs for half an hour or so.

18km – there are the firefighters! Sadly, none of them had their shirts off, but they were absolutely gorgeous. They were a welcome sight at a point in the race when I always start to struggle. There was no way I was going to slow down. I had to show off for the handsome firemen. I wasn’t exactly looking my best, so I had to impress them in other ways!

At 19km I saw two things: the chocolate station and Phaedra, who had finished her race and run back to meet me. I guzzled down a chocolate bar, desperately in need of the sugar rush, and then set off for the last 2km, with my friend running beside me, not letting me give up, reminding me that the prize of the finish line was just minutes away.

I was hurting, really hurting. My legs were begging me to stop, or at least slow down. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, Phaedra said, “Come on! You have five minutes left! You can do anything for five minutes!”

All of a sudden, I rounded a final bend, and there it was – the finish line. I have a strong finishing kick, and it didn’t let me down. Phaedra hopped off to the side and I charged to the finish, crossing the line in a time of 2:20:11.

I missed my personal best time by 25 seconds, but considering that my personal best time was set on a much easier course, I was satisfied with my time. I was particularly pleased that my final kilometre was by far my fastest, at 5:56.

It is worth pointing out that before Phaedra helped carry me for the last 2km, she had finished the race fourth overall, and first in her age group.

I am already looking ahead to my next half-marathon, my autism run in October. It is perhaps a good sign that as I sipped my wine and soaked my aching legs in a bubble bath last night, I was reading my copy of The Art Of Running Faster.

(Photo credit: Phaedra Kennedy)

Filed Under: 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, Phaedra Kennedy, Race, running, Toronto Womens Half-Marathon Tagged With: finish line, firefighters, pace, park trails, phaedra, race, race report, running, Toronto Women's half-marathon

Outrunning My Expectations: Toronto Yonge Street 10K

April 23, 2012 By Kirsten

I am participating in the Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, in which I publish a post every day for the month of April, based on health-related prompts.

April 23 – Health activist choice day 2: Write about whatever you like.

I was nervous leading up to yesterday’s race. I was not unduly challenged by the distance (10K) or the course (mostly downhill), but during the week prior to the race I had felt a cold coming on. Starting on Tuesday, I started stuffing myself with vitamin C and oil of oregano. I consumed zinc lozenges like they were candy and drank cups of my special tea that combats colds. I drank fluids like they were about to go extinct and got as much rest as my busy schedule would allow.

As God was my witness, I was going to run this race. There was no way I was letting a stupid cold stop me.

I woke up on race day feeling a little stuffy-nosed, but otherwise not too bad. I threw on running clothes that I thought would be appropriate for the weather: shorts, light technical T-shirt, lightweight running jacket, and just for the fun of it, a bright red hat. I gathered up my stuff and drove into the city, enjoying the next-to-nothing traffic on the highway.

When I got to the start, I immediately started to worry about what I was wearing. It was freezing and I was very aware of my shorts-clad legs and gloveless hands. My teeth were audibly and visibly chattering while I was doing my warm-ups, much to the amusement of a nearby police officer.

By the time the race started, though, I was not noticing the cold at all. Either it had warmed up by then, or – the more likely explanation – the start-line buzz had worked its usual magic on me. As the race got underway, I forgot all about my stuffy nose and the fact that my legs had turned purple, and I turned my sights on the finish line. I was hoping for a new personal best time, which meant that I would have to push myself, even if it was a downhill course. Because of the pesky cold virus, I thought I would do well to beat 1:03:00.

When I race, I’m rarely fast out of the starting blocks. I tend to be overcautious in the beginning out of fear that starting too fast will make me fizzle out before the end. My first two kilometres passed in the predictable fashion.

Kilometre 1: 6:31
Kilometre 2: 6:38

As usual, my body kind of automatically picked up the pace after that. The only uphill stretch of note was at about the 3km mark, and I barely noticed the incline as I floated up. I slowed down again in the fourth kilometre, mostly because of a bottleneck at the aid station, but after that, it was all systems go!

Kilometre 3: 6:09
Kilometre 4: 6:36 – because of that aid station congestion.

My body seemed to take on a life of its own during this race. From the fifth kilometre on, I was running well beyond my target pace, and although I kept waiting for my legs to run out of oomph, it just didn’t happen. After a while, I decided to simply let my body do whatever it wanted and enjoy myself. Occasionally I would attach myself to another runner, but inevitably, I would speed up and pass them.

The kilometres were passing almost in a blur, faster than I thought I was capable of.

Kilometre 5: 5:52
Kilometre 6: 6:06
Kilometre 7: 6:13 – and that was only because I slowed to a walk at the aid station, to avoid getting water all over my face.

When I ran this race two years ago, I fizzled out in the eight kilometre, so this time round I was paying close attention to my pace to avoid fatigue. I needn’t have worried.

Kilometre 8: 5:48
Kilometre 9: 5:58 – and that was because I made a quick diversion to a garbage can to throw out my now-empty water bottle.

Usually the final kilometre of a race presents me with immense psychological challenges, and I’m not sure why. My usual pattern is to hit a patch of unaccountable exhaustion right after the start of the final kilometre and slow down significantly. Then, in the last 400 metres or so, I pick up the pace to sprint over the finish line.

I wondered what would happen this time. Would I find myself starting to fade as soon as I saw the 9km marker? Would my legs fade out on me as I was running over the bridge towards the final turn?

Or would the last kilometre be as great as the rest of the race had been? The pace of my finishing kick says it all.

Kilometre 10: 5:26

Total time: 1:01:40.

Not only did I beat my previous 10K best time by about two minutes, I brought the sub-one-hour 10K within reach.

This was the best 10K race I have ever had, and it follows close on the heels of my best-ever ten-miler. My next race is a half-marathon at the end of May. Will that be another “best” for me?

If I have anything to do with it, then yes it will.

Filed Under: Health Activist Writers Month Challenge, Personal Best, Race, Race Strategy, running, Toronto Yonge Street 10K, WEGO Health Tagged With: 10K, cold, pace, personal best, racing, running

2011 Run For Autism

October 17, 2011 By Kirsten

It is 8:55 on a cool Sunday morning. I am standing on a street in downtown Toronto, with about 15,999 other people. The atmosphere is buzzing with the collective energy of the crowd. As the national anthem, performed live, comes to an end, the crowd breaks into cheers and applause. And then, at 9:00 sharp, a siren sounds and the crowd surges forward as the race begins. This is it. My 2011 Run For Autism, the event that I have been training for all season. As I cross the start line, I am choked up with emotion as I think of the reason I am doing this run. My son George, my boy with autism and tons of love, my inspiration.

When I started training for this race in the Spring, I had a goal to finish in less than two hours. I knew that this would be ambitious: last year, I clocked a time of 2:22:38. Knocking 23 minutes off would be a tall order indeed. But if I formulated a good training plan and then stuck to it, I might just have a shot.

It has been said that life is what happens while we’re making other plans, and that was definitely the case with this season’s training. In the Spring I had a bout of bronchitis that put me out of action for a few weeks. I also had to deal with events like the brief hospitalization of one of my kids and a shoulder injury that sidelined me right in the middle of the season. Not to mention the fact that I got married in April.

Still, I somehow managed to salvage something resembling a training plan about six weeks before the race. I ran a couple of interim races and did OK, and then, right when my training was supposed to be peaking, I caught a nasty cold. I considered running through the cold: conventional wisdom is that it is safe to run as long as all symptoms are above the neck. But I knew from prior experience that running with a cold would slow my recovery and could jeopardize my race. So for once I exercised common sense and rested. Following the advice of my friend Phaedra, who is the kind of runner who wins in her category, I adjusted my training plan and made it to race day more or less in one piece.

It was obvious to me that two hours would not be doable. I considered following the 2:15 pace bunny but when I worked out the average pace that this would require, I realized that I would likely drop further and further back and just waste energy on being stressed. In the end I came up with a goal of 2:20. This struck the perfect balance between being achievable and being challenging.

I started out with the strategy of running the first 5km at an easy pace, without worrying about what my average pace looked like. If I fell behind my target pace, I would have 16km to make up the lost ground. I needn’t have worried: I was running at my goal pace by the 4^th kilometre. I was running tens and ones – meaning that I would run for ten minutes and then take a one-minute walk break. During my ten-minute running stretches, I was getting ahead of my goal pace, and this provided me with enough of a buffer to stay on target during the one-minute walks.

Throughout the run, I was following my Dad’s strategy of “fishing for runners.” It’s a simple but effective strategy: you pick a runner about 200m ahead of you, reel them in by gradually catching up to them, and then run in their slipstream for about 500m before passing them and finding another runner to fish for.

For a while, I worried that I was matching my goal pace too easily. Either my energy would run out long before the distance did, or I had seriously underestimated myself during training. I tried to rein myself in but my body wouldn’t let me. I felt good, and I just had to go at the pace that my legs were dictating. It was only in the 18^th kilometre that I started to feel the exhaustion. By then, I had less than 3km to go. I was faced with a choice: I could let my mind trick me into slowing down and missing my target time, or I could dig deep and just find the energy to keep going.

I chose to dig deep. I thought of my son George. He has to live his entire life with the challenges of autism, I told myself. The least you can do is run for another fifteen minutes.

All of a sudden, I was turning onto Bay Street for the final stretch and I had just 500m to go. Both sides of the street were lined with hundreds – maybe thousands – of spectators. My personalized bib was allowing people to cheer me on by name.

300m to go… I am exhausted and my legs feel like jelly, but I can see the finish line right up ahead of me. The closer I get, the louder the cheering is.

200m to go… a little bit of vanity takes over. I want a good finish line photo, so I start positioning myself in such a way that I will cross the line without being obscured by other runners.

100m to go… someone yells out, “Congratulations, Kirsten!” I raise my hand in acknowledgement and sprint for the finish, just metres away now. As I’m crossing the finish line, I somehow find a smidgeon of energy to raise both arms in the air in a gesture of triumph.

I have done it. I cannot believe that I have done it. I have run this race, beaten my goal time, and set a new personal best time for myself.

2 hours. 19 minutes. And 46 seconds. Every single moment of it dedicated to George.

Filed Under: autism, Race, Race Strategy, running, Running for Autism, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races Tagged With: autism, George, half-marathon, pace, postaweek2011, race, scotiabank toronto waterfront marathon

Running In The Rain

August 3, 2011 By Kirsten

This morning I woke up to the gentle pitter-patter of rain against the window.

Actually, that’s a lie. I woke up to the alarm on my phone going off, making a blaring, raucous noise that set every single one of my nerve endings on edge.

Once my central nervous system had gotten over the initial shock of being awake, then I heard the gentle pitter-patter of rain against the window.

Damn.

I wanted to go running, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to run in the rain. Thanks to all of the dental goings-on of the last few days, it had been about a week since I had run at all. I was not in the mood for dodging puddles and having rain drip into my eyes. I was in the mood for a nice, uncomplicated run that didn’t require any actual thinking.

Who’s in any fit state to think at five in the morning, anyway?

I had a choice to make. Don’t run at all, run in the rain, or run on the treadmill.

I knew that not running at all would lead to a day filled with angst and guilt, and I had no desire to see the inside of a gym (almost a month of showering in the gym due to our dearth of hot water at home has left me a little gym-weary). So that left me with no choice but to run in the rain.

I threw on my running clothes and added a hat as a measure against the rain. Music cued, training watch set, and off I went. Following the logic that the faster I went, the sooner I’d have this over and done with, I set off at a hearty pace.

The run went surprisingly well. Not only did I find the rain to be refreshing and soothing, I actually managed to maintain the pace that I set at the beginning. Usually when I charge out of the starting blocks like a racehorse on steroids, I kind of peter out after three kilometres or so. Today, though, I finished my 5.65km in just a touch over 31 minutes, at a very respectable pace of around 5:42 minutes per kilometre.

I really should wake up more often feeling half-hearted about running. These runs always turn out to be the best ones.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/angee09/2264408983/. This photo has a creative commons attribution license.)

Filed Under: Early Morning Running, Half-Heartedness, Rain, running, Weather Tagged With: early morning, fast running, pace, postaweek2011, rain, refreshing, running, treadmill, water, weather

2011: Aiming for 1:59:59

December 30, 2010 By Kirsten

Today is the first anniversary of my pinched nerves. I am almost tempted to go out and buy a cake with one candle, in recognition of the day I went to the chiropractor and left with a bundle of pinched nerves in my neck and going down my left arm, that put me out of action for three months. I would not want to celebrate the incident itself, but the fact that I got through it and am now in the process of planning out my 2011 running season. Or maybe I just want cake and I cannot come up with a better excuse.

Either way, I am oddly superstitious about this day. I feel that if I can get through today without incident, I will be fine. I just have to avoid walking under ladders and avoid the cracks in the sidewalk. I am planning a treadmill run at the gym later on, on the assumption that I am not tempting fate.

Be that as it may, my running has taken a little bit of a dive over the last few weeks. I had a bout of bronchitis that sidelined me for three weeks, and getting back into it has been surprisingly difficult. It’s not that I’m in bad physical shape. It’s that I came back from my illness setting ridiculous paces at the start of my runs that I can only sustain for 5km or so. I’ve always been perfectly happy to start slow and build up to my target pace. Why the sudden need to be a speed demon? It’s not like I’m winning the Olympic Marathon anytime soon.

My poor pacing has the effect of making me feel a bit despondant about my running. I fade at the fifth or sixth kilometre, and one of two things happens. Either I finish my planned distance a lot more slowly than intended. Or I simply cut the run short. Neither scenario goes well with my psyche. Both make me feel like I have a big red L on my forehead.

It is time now for me to pick myself up, dust myself off, and start running again properly. That means proper planning, proper pacing, proper nutrition, and not being too lazy to take five minutes to stretch at the end of each run.

I have just gone online to order the 2011 Runners World calendar. This calendar is amazing. It has gorgeous photographs of “Rave Runs” – beautiful trails and paths that people run on. It has race listings, running tips, inspirational quotes, and space to plan. Simply having this thing on my wall on 2010 has been a great motivator for me.

Now I am planning my racing calendar for the year. I am going to start out this coming Saturday, New Years Day, with the Running Room Resolution Run. This is really more of a fun run than a race. It is not chip timed, and I don’t even think the course is officially certified for the distance. But that’s OK. What better way could there be for a struggling runner to start off the new year?

My next racing event will be Harry’s Spring Run-Off on April 2nd. It is only 8km, but the location – High Park – has so many big hills that it will feel like 10km. I am doing this race specifically to have hills to train for. I need the discipline, and when I am registered for races, I am actually pretty good at sticking to the right kinds of training programs for them. Here is a promo video for the race.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n839HkpWaHA&feature=player_embedded]

Usually I would do the Sporting Life 10K down Yonge Street on the first Sunday in May, but since I am getting married the day before this year’s event, I should probably give it a miss for 2011. So my next run will be the Toronto Women’s Half-Marathon in Sunnybrook Park. I am really looking forward to this, not only because a fellow member of my running club is running it with me, but because the water station manned by shirtless firefighters. Not to mention the chocolate station.

After that, I will do either the Acura Ten-Miler (which I hated in 2010, and feel the need to conquer) or the Midsummer Nights Run 15km (follows the same course as the Ten-Miler, so it will be just as much of a victory).

In late September I will do one of my favourite runs ever – the 10km Oasis Zoo Run. I had a blast at this event a couple of months ago, and it has earned a permanent place in my annual racing calendar. I cannot find a promo video for it, but here’s a montage of pictures I found of the 2009 event.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8obrOiK_Uk]

Then, on October 16th, I will run in what is by far the most important event in my race calendar. It is the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon, and this is my reason for running. This is my Run for Autism, the race I do for my son George who has autism, and his little brother James, who is experiencing the challenges of being sibling to a child with autism. This event is loaded with emotional meaning for me. Every step I take is for my boys, these beautiful people without whom my life would be empty. Here is a nice video showing some highlights of the 2010 event.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_QDvwb28914&feature=player_embedded]

I have a lofty goal for this year: to break two hours for the half-marathon. That means shaving 22 minutes off my best time. I’m going to have to train my ass off. Literally. With the amount of training I will have to do, I have no doubt that part of my ass will indeed come off. Which is a good thing.

Anyway. I am excited about the new year. Just planning it out is helping me break out of this funk I am in.

I would like to take this opportunity to wish everyone all the best for 2011. Aim high and whatever you want to achieve, go for it.

Filed Under: autism, running Tagged With: 10km, Acura Ten-Miler, autism, children, distance running, fundraising, half-marathon, Harry's Spring Run-Off, illness, injury, kilometres, New Year, Oasis Zoo Run, pace, race, resolution run, running, scotiabank toronto waterfront marathon, training

Running into 2011

November 18, 2010 By Kirsten

2010 did not start off well for me, especially from a running perspective. As I rang in the New Year with Gerard, I was high on Percocet that was barely making a dent in the pain I was in. Two days previously, a chiropractic adjustment had gone horribly wrong, and damaged a bundle of nerves in my neck and going all the way down my left arm. For the next six weeks or so, I was in unspeakable pain. The next few weeks were a blur of doctor’s visits, emergency room visits, nights of crying myself to sleep in agony, and many, many drugs. A series of physiotherapy appointments gradually got me back on my feet, and almost three months after the original injury, I was finally allowed to try running again.

The first post-injury run did not go well. I was only able to run for about one kilometre, and it took more than eight minutes. I kept getting shooting pains going up and down my left arm and I had to keep stopping for walk breaks. The following day I needed about an hour of intense physiotherapy. But I was officially on the road again. I had graduated from injury status to rehabilitation status. My next run two days later was a lot better, and from that point on, the improvement was exponential. Still, it would be several months before I could say that my rehabilitation was complete. Even now, I get the occasional twinge in my arm, which I am trying to resolve with the help of a sports massage therapist.

Despite the rough start to the year and the hammering that my average pace took as a result, I ended up having a busy running season. Here is a list of the races I took part in:
– Early April: 10km waterfront race in Pickering. It went OK, especially considering that this was just two weeks after I had started running again.
– Early May: Sporting Life 10K down Yonge Street. I enjoyed this event and I was happy with my time of 1:05:00. Sadly, though, when I got home from the race I got word that my friend and fellow writer Tim had lost his battle with cancer.
– Late May: Whitby half-marathon. Despite some pre-race concerns about the organization of this event, it went really well. Gerard and the kids, along with some extended family, were cheering for me at the finish line. My time was just over 2:25:00. This was just over two months after my first post-injury run – I was thrilled just to be able to finish a race of that distance.
– Mid-July: Acura Ten-Miler in the Distillery District. The less said about this, the better. It was not my finest moment. Life had gotten in the way of training, the course was mentally challenging and offered almost no shelter from the midsummer sun, and I pulled a hamstring. I finished the race in less than two hours, which is a miracle considering all that was wrong that day.
– Late September: the main event – my 2010 Run for Autism, the Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Half-Marathon. I cannot put into words the emotional high I was on when I crossed the finish line. It was phenomenal. I managed a negative split, and beat my time from the previous year by a full six minutes.
– Mid-October: 10km zoo run. I did this race purely for the fun of it. I had no expectations whatsoever. I had an absolute blast and got a respectable enough time of 1:06:00 to boot.

All in all, not a bad year. I put in almost 90km in races, and hundreds more in training. I overcame a debilitating injury that I had at one point feared would sideline me for good, and I am looking forward to another great season in 2011.

So what does next year’s race calendar have in store for me? I will start with the Resolution Run on New Years Day – just a fun 5km event that’s not even officially timed, but that does throw in a nice running jacket with the race kit. After that, I’m thinking of doing an 8km race in High Park in early April. There are lots of hills in High Park, and they’re big hills. It will be a tough run, but it will force me to be disciplined about hill training.

I have to give the Sporting Life 10K a miss because it’s happening the day after I get married. I don’t think my new husband will be too pleased if I jump out of bed to go to a race at six in the morning.

At the end of May I will be running the Toronto Women’s Half-Marathon. They have a chocolate station and a water station manned by hunky shirtless firefighters. I will be a married woman by then, but I am still a woman. And chocolate is chocolate and shirtless firefighters are nice eye candy.

I’ll skip the Acura Ten-Miler, because my experience with it last year was enough to put a huge mental block to it in my head. I am thinking about the Midsummer Night’s Run 15K instead, but that follows most of the same route. I may have to figure out a summer race later on. I may even have to find one I need to travel to.

At the end of September I will do the 10K zoo run again. I had way too much fun to even consider missing that. And then, in October, it will be time for my 2011 Run for Autism. I have big plans for that – to break two hours. That will mean chopping at least 22 minutes off of this year’s time, and that’s a massive chunk. But I am nothing if not ambitious, and assuming I don’t start the year with an injury, I think it might be possible. Especially since I am doing it for my boys.

There is no time for slacking. Right after the Resolution Run on January 1st, I will be diving straight back into training mode.

Filed Under: Medical, running Tagged With: 10km, distance running, fundraising, half-marathon, injury, pace, race, recovery, running, scotiabank toronto waterfront marathon, training