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Race Report: Tannenbaum 10K

December 5, 2012 By

Rain at the start-line!

It did not look like a good day for a race. Truth be told, it did not even look like a good day for getting to the race. It was raining, the start-line was a good 12K or so from my house, and the wipers in my car were broken. Public transit does not run early enough on Sunday mornings, so I had no option but to cab it to the race. An expensive proposition with Toronto cab fares being what they are.

Good thing the race registration fee was so low.

By the time the cabbie dropped me off, it was raining harder. This was not the gentle, drizzly kind of rain that I actually enjoy running in. It was real rain, the kind that gets into your shoes and soaks your socks before the race has even started.

Fortunately, shelter near the start-line was plentiful. The race started on the Martin Goodman Trail beside the lake, and there is a big gazebo-thingie that seemed to have room for everyone. I stood there drinking my water, looking out at the weather and thinking I must be mad to be voluntarily running in this.

But that’s runners for you. I’d have shown up to the race in a blizzard.

The race was a small event with a strong community feel to it. There were about 500 runners braving the elements, and because of the reluctance of runners to emerge from the shelter, I thought the race would start late. But with two minutes to go before the start, we all lined up, and right on schedule, the starting siren went.

I expected this race to be a bit rough. I had not run in a while, and for about a week I had been staving off a bug. In addition, this was the day after my birthday and I had a birthday-related hangover. That plus the foul weather would surely make this one of my most dismal performances ever.

Sometimes, though, an enforced rest can work wonders. I did a great deal of running this season. I ran a lot of races and clocked up a whole new set of personal bests. After my half-marathon in October, I was tired. The break from running was just what I needed.

As soon as this race started, I felt great. There was none of the stiffness I was expecting, none of the discomfort that sometimes takes a mile or so to ease off. I got into my rhythm right away. I wasn’t going fast, you understand. I was never going to achieve a personal best on this particular day. But I maintained a respectable enough pace while jumping over puddles. After 3K or so I realized that the rain had let up, and I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

I ran the first half nice and steady – not fast, but not slow either. I was staying more or less with the middle of the pack. Somewhere between 4K and 5K there was a giant puddle pond going right across the road. There was no way around it. The only course of action was to go through it.

Or perhaps over it?

I approached this body of water thinking that I really didn’t want to soak my feet. I kicked up my speed a notch, and while runners all around me were splashing through the water, I made myself airborne and took a balletic leap over the puddle. By some miracle I managed to clear the water.

Shortly after that I reached the 5K turnaround point. The aid station there was a welcome surprise – the race website had advised runners that they should bring their own water. I gratefully accepted a cup, chugged it down, and started my return journey.

By this point I was starting to feel a little tired, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to repeat my impressive leap over the big puddle. But I only had about 4K to go, so I just ran through the section that seemed to have the least water.

I ran on, maintaining a reasonably steady pace, and all of a sudden I found myself with just 1K to go. I pride myself on my finishing kick, and so I decided to belt out that last kilometre as hard as I could.

After running most of the race at an average pace of about 6:40 minutes per kilometre, I ran the last kilometre in 5:23. Seems like my recent break from running hadn’t adversely affected my ability to sprint to the finish. I crossed the line with a time of 1:06:03. Not my best time, but definitely not my worst.

Small races are sometimes surprisingly well-organized, and this was definitely one of those. The marshalling was fantastic, and the course was accurate and well-marked. The volunteers manning the aid station were cheerful and friendly even though they had probably been there in the pouring rain getting set up. For a very reasonable registration fee, I got a warm winter hat and a finisher’s medal that ranks among my favourites. I was even lucky enough to win a draw prize, which was presented to me by none other than Santa Claus himself.

I have been searching for a late fall/early winter race to round out my running season, and with this one, I think I have found a gem.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

Filed Under: Race, running, Tannenbaum 10K Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,
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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: , , , , , , ,
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Rain In My Running Shoes

October 3, 2011 By

I have never been one to let the weather stop me from running. While I prefer clear, cool conditions, I have been known to go out in the rain, wind and snow in order to rack up the miles on my running shoes. From time to time, the seemingly adverse weather conditions have worked to my advantage. It is amazing how refreshing a light shower of rain can be during a long run.

And so, when I woke up yesterday to the pitter-patter of raindrops against the window, I was not deterred. I had a long run planned, and nothing short of a meteor hitting my driveway would stop me. This was to be my last long run before my half-marathon on October 16th, so I really needed to get out there and get it done.

It was cold enough for me to abandon the running shorts in favour of my longer fall-weather running pants. I stuck to the short-sleeved tech shirt, but added a lightweight running jacket. Although the sun was not shining, I wore my hat: the peaked cap is a great way to keep rain out of my eyes. I stocked my fuel belt, cued my music, laced up my shoes, and hit the road for a 20km run.

Sometime during the second kilometre, I became aware that the gentle rain had intensified, and that raindrops were now hitting my face from the side, hard enough to feel like tiny little pellets. By the time I had completed 5km, I was running in a torrential downpour. The wind was buffeting me from side to side and I was wishing that I had brought my gloves. Worst of all, my socks were squelching inside my running shoes. I had to stop twice to pour water out of my shoes.

Still, I soldiered on. People driving by in their cars were looking at me with astonishment, as if to say, “You’re running in this?” I felt validated when, in the fifteenth kilometre or so, I saw a fellow runner braving the elements. It always helps to know that I’m not alone in my running insanity.

After more than two hours of running, I came to a stop in my driveway, having run my allotted 20km. My hands were so cold that I struggled to fish my front door key out of my pouch. Fortunately, my five-year-old son was waiting just inside the door for my return, so he spared me the necessity of actually having to unlock the door myself.

Twenty-four hours later, I am still hurting. My legs are chock-full of lactic acid, and my left ankle is aching. I feel as if I will never walk normally again (I will, of course, be fine by tomorrow).

There are those who wonder why I put myself through this, what possesses me to go out in dreadful weather conditions for the privilege of having sore legs for the next two days.

Part of it is the joy of the sport, the sense of freedom that comes with being out on the open road, the “Runners High”, and the sense of accomplishment when the run has been completed.

Part of it is that I don’t have a naturally fast metabolism like some people, and if I don’t stay active I fall out of shape very quickly. Running is the only form of exercise that really works for me.

The biggest part of it, though, is that I’m doing it for my kids. In two weeks, I am lacing up for my third annual Run for Autism. All funds that I can raise leading up to this event will go straight to the Geneva Centre for Autism, to be used for much-needed services for children and youth with autism.

It is services like the ones provided by the Geneva Centre that have helped my son achieve phenomenal things in the four years since he was diagnosed with autism. In order to see a continuation of the progress, we need a continuation of the funding. This facility really does help people with autism to touch the stars, while also providing support for their siblings and parents.

Ultiimately, I run so that I can do my own small part in making the world a better place for my children. I think that’s a pretty darned good reason to go running in the wind and the rain every now and then.

To sponsor me for my half-marathon, please visit my fundraising page. All sponsorships are being matched by a donor who wishes to remain anomymous, so any funds raised will be doubled!

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/13013135@N00/5879848337. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

Filed Under: autism, fundraising, Geneva Centre for Autism, Rain, running, Running for Autism, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , ,
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Running In The Rain

August 3, 2011 By

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: , , , , , , , , ,
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Whatever The Weather

April 17, 2011 By

This morning I woke up, somewhat hungover after yesterday’s party at which Gerard and I were the guests of honour, looked out of the window, and said, “Oh crap.” April 17th, and it was snowing. We’re not talking about minor flurries here – we’re talking about copious quantities of the white stuff falling out of the sky and settling on the ground.

I had a problem with this for three reasons. First, my wedding is less than two weeks away, and that doesn’t give the weather much time to get its act together. Second, I really wanted to get in a decent run today and I didn’t relish the idea of running in the snow and the wind. And third, I’m just fed up with crappy weather. Anyone who knows me knows that I turn into a pathetic crybaby at the slightest sign of winter.

Nonetheless, I needed to go running. I have a half-marathon six weeks from now and my training lately has not been up to scratch. So I waited for a couple of hours to see if the weather would improve, and then I got dressed, laced up my shoes and braved the elements.

As I stood at the end of my driveway waiting for the satellites to find my training watch, I thought, Hey, this isn’t bad. The snow had stopped, the wind had died down to a tame breeze, and it wasn’t all that cold. It actually seemed like perfect conditions for a run.

I set off down the road at a moderate pace, and after about three minutes, it started to rain a little. I don’t really mind running in the rain, but this was not normal rain. Normal rain does not feel like icicles against your skin. The air temperature was fine, but the rain temperature was bizarrely cold. I kept going, though. I’ve run in worse conditions.

As I was running over the Rouge Valley bridge, though, the wind suddenly kicked up about ten notches, and it started to hail. The  hailstones were tiny, the size of the gravel you get for fish tanks, but it hurt. Believe me, those little hailstones flying at you with a hefty wind behind them can feel like tiny but very effective jackhammers against your face.

I came very close to turning around at that point, but I kept going. I knew that I would not feel good about myself if I gave up on my run after just a mile.

The hail continued for the next 2km or so. After that it gave way to snow. Not the cute little snowflakes that gently drift to the ground like you see in romantic comedies. These were big fat snowflakes that were flying to the ground like missiles. I felt like I was in Space Invaders. A snowflake flew into my eye at high speed. It hurt.

But still, I kept going.

At around the 6km mark, I suddenly realized that I was enjoying myself. The weather had righted itself without me really noticing it. There was no snow, no hail, no rain, and no wind. The sun was even peeking out from behind the clouds. I had a lovely time for the next 3km or so.

Right after I had completed 9km, a gust of wind came from nowhere and almost blew me away. If I’d had an umbrella I would have looked like Mary Poppins. This wind was unbelievable. It was blowing straight at me with such force that it actually took my breath away.

I still had 2km to go, which in the scheme of things is almost nothing, but when you’re running into wind that feels like a solid wall, it’s a long way. Those last two kilometres were really, really tough. I had to slow my pace because the wind was so strong and I’m not a Kenyan.

By the time my aching legs carried me back into my driveway, I was absolutely spent. My time for the 11km run was not great, but it was well within the range of what it should be. Most importantly, though, I had done it. After several weeks of poor training that had made me wonder whether I still had the right to call myself a real runner, I was once again the kind of runner I love to be.

The kind of runner who goes out and logs the miles, whatever the weather.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/hanspama/4199315435/)

Filed Under: running, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Whatever The Weather

April 17, 2011 By

This morning I woke up, somewhat hungover after yesterday’s party at which Gerard and I were the guests of honour, looked out of the window, and said, “Oh crap.” April 17th, and it was snowing. We’re not talking about minor flurries here – we’re talking about copious quantities of the white stuff falling out of the sky and settling on the ground.

I had a problem with this for three reasons. First, my wedding is less than two weeks away, and that doesn’t give the weather much time to get its act together. Second, I really wanted to get in a decent run today and I didn’t relish the idea of running in the snow and the wind. And third, I’m just fed up with crappy weather. Anyone who knows me knows that I turn into a pathetic crybaby at the slightest sign of winter.

Nonetheless, I needed to go running. I have a half-marathon six weeks from now and my training lately has not been up to scratch. So I waited for a couple of hours to see if the weather would improve, and then I got dressed, laced up my shoes and braved the elements.

As I stood at the end of my driveway waiting for the satellites to find my training watch, I thought, Hey, this isn’t bad. The snow had stopped, the wind had died down to a tame breeze, and it wasn’t all that cold. It actually seemed like perfect conditions for a run.

I set off down the road at a moderate pace, and after about three minutes, it started to rain a little. I don’t really mind running in the rain, but this was not normal rain. Normal rain does not feel like icicles against your skin. The air temperature was fine, but the rain temperature was bizarrely cold. I kept going, though. I’ve run in worse conditions.

As I was running over the Rouge Valley bridge, though, the wind suddenly kicked up about ten notches, and it started to hail. The  hailstones were tiny, the size of the gravel you get for fish tanks, but it hurt. Believe me, those little hailstones flying at you with a hefty wind behind them can feel like tiny but very effective jackhammers against your face.

I came very close to turning around at that point, but I kept going. I knew that I would not feel good about myself if I gave up on my run after just a mile.

The hail continued for the next 2km or so. After that it gave way to snow. Not the cute little snowflakes that gently drift to the ground like you see in romantic comedies. These were big fat snowflakes that were flying to the ground like missiles. I felt like I was in Space Invaders. A snowflake flew into my eye at high speed. It hurt.

But still, I kept going.

At around the 6km mark, I suddenly realized that I was enjoying myself. The weather had righted itself without me really noticing it. There was no snow, no hail, no rain, and no wind. The sun was even peeking out from behind the clouds. I had a lovely time for the next 3km or so.

Right after I had completed 9km, a gust of wind came from nowhere and almost blew me away. If I’d had an umbrella I would have looked like Mary Poppins. This wind was unbelievable. It was blowing straight at me with such force that it actually took my breath away.

I still had 2km to go, which in the scheme of things is almost nothing, but when you’re running into wind that feels like a solid wall, it’s a long way. Those last two kilometres were really, really tough. I had to slow my pace because the wind was so strong and I’m not a Kenyan.

By the time my aching legs carried me back into my driveway, I was absolutely spent. My time for the 11km run was not great, but it was well within the range of what it should be. Most importantly, though, I had done it. After several weeks of poor training that had made me wonder whether I still had the right to call myself a real runner, I was once again the kind of runner I love to be.

The kind of runner who goes out and logs the miles, whatever the weather.

(Photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/hanspama/4199315435/)

Filed Under: running, Weather Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Rain and Orange Jackets

January 4, 2011 By

On New Years Day, I woke up feeling a little tired, but without any trace of a hangover.  This has less to do with any miracle cure than with the fact that our festivities (a word I use very loosely for lack of a better term) were somewhat restrained in nature.  I got dressed in my running clothes, and while the rest of my household was still sleeping, I drove out to Whitby to take part in the 2011 Resolution Run.

The weather was absolutely foul.  It was cold, and there was so much rain that when I got to the venue, I almost needed a canoe in order to cross the parking lot.  On a day like that, I was grateful that the event was starting and ending at a community centre with enough real washrooms to accommodate the crowd.  This is a big deal for female runners.  I mean, have you ever tried peeing in a Porta-potty while it’s raining cats and dogs?  If you haven’t, don’t.  It’s not pleasant.

I was struck by how many runners there were.  This was New Years Day, the day after what was, for many, a long night of hard partying.  Among a couple of thousand runners, there must have been more than a few hangovers or, at the least, people feeling totally exhausted.  And it was cold.  And raining so much that at the end of the 5km my shoes were squelching.  All of the runners who were there were showing some pretty incredible insanity obsession dedication.

I was also struck by the sea of orange.  Every year, the Running Room gives away running jackets to Resolution Run registrants.  The jackets are always different: this year, they were orange.  And because the vast majority of us were running in our new jackets, the crowd as a whole looked kind of – well, flourescent.  We were probably visible from the moon, like some kind of beacon.  I felt sorry for anyone with a hangover who had to look at that.

The jacket is really very nice, though.

The run itself went well.  It’s been a long time since I ran in a 5km event, and it was kind of nice to just be able to go hell-for-leather and not worry about pacing strategies.  I finished the run in just over 32 minutes, which I was happy with considering what the weather was like.  Hell, I was happy to just get out and run, considering what the weather was like.  If I hadn’t been registered for this event, there’s no way I would have gone out for a run.

What did you do on New Years Day?  Were you nursing a hangover or starting to make good on your New Years Resolutions?

Filed Under: hangover, New Year, running Tagged With: , , , , ,
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Questioning my sanity…

April 8, 2010 By

While I was out for my early morning run today, I seriously contemplated the possibility that I was going mad.  I actually pondered out loud, to the bemusement of a pair of young men who were standing in a bus shelter.  I was muttering about how I must be crazy to be doing this, and how normal people were tucked up in their nice warm beds at that hour of the day. Although to be honest, the hour of the day wasn’t bothering me as much as the God-awful weather I was trying to run in.

Since I got all serious about my running about a year ago, I have openly told people that I will run in any weather.  And I will.  The hot sun is not a deterrent as long as I am wearing a hat and keeping myself hydrated.  Even though I am now Canadian, I am from Africa.  I am a child of the sun.  I don’t mind the rain – in fact, a light drizzle of rain during a run can be extremely comfortable and refreshing.  Snow?  No problem, as long as I watch my step and take care to avoid slipping.  Even sub-zero temperatures will not deter me.  I have good quality winter running gear.  All things being equal, I prefer to run in clear, warm conditions, but that is certainly not a prerequisite to me hitting the road.

The hour of the day isn’t a big factor to me either.  If I had my way, I would run at about ten in the morning.  But since I have not yet made my millions publishing my first novel or won the lottery, I have to get to work in the mornings, so any weekday running is done either before or after work, or during lunch.  My preference is before work because of all that feel-good stuff about starting the day with an accomplishment and not having the go through the day all tense about when I’ll get to go running.

So for today’s run, I dragged my sorry butt out of bed at 5:15 a.m.  Because I didn’t think to look out of the window while I was getting dressed, I was completely oblivious to what was going on outside. As a result, when I stepped outside at 5:30 and beheld the dark and the mist and the rain, I was completely taken by surprise. No problem, I thought, as I quickly ducked back into the house to grab my running jacket.  I set off on my way, and got halfway down the road before I realized that the rain was actually heavier than I had thought.

Still, it wasn’t too bad.  I’m not scared of a little rain.  It’s only water falling out of the sky.  I maintained a fairly brisk pace for three kilometres, and despite the weather I quite enjoyed myself.  During the last two kilometres, though, the weather abruptly changed.  What had been a gentle breeze suddenly kicked up to a full-on wind that I was running straight into, and the rain really started pelting down.  The temperature plummeted, and I realized that there were little bits of ice in the rain, hitting me in the face like lots of tiny hammers.

That is the point at which I asked myself if I was crazy.

You would think that these awful conditions would slow down my pace, but I actually kicked it up a notch.  The faster I ran, the faster I would be able to get home and get inside. When I rounded the final corner, I sprinted home, and embraced the warmth of indoors.  Looking at the run stats on my computer, I was not surprised to see that I had run the final kilometre in less than six minutes, such had been my desparation to get home.

Am I crazy? Probably.  Will I run again in those conditions?  Most definitely.

My name is Kirsten and I am a runnaholic!

Filed Under: running Tagged With: , , , , , , ,