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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…

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… a hat spouting weird hair…

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… and a cape.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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: , , , , , , , , ,
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Running for Boston: Toronto Yonge Street 10K

April 22, 2013 By

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There is something very strange, and very uplifting, about standing at the start line of a race less than a week after a marathon was targeted in an act of terror. Especially when you are one of several thousand participants, most of whom are wearing special bibs declaring their support for the city that the bombing happened in.

To say that the atmosphere at Sunday’s Toronto Yonge Street 10K was amazing would be a gross understatement that does not begin to describe what it was really like. Start-line energy is phenomenal enough as it is. Add in the fact that thousands of runners are all banding together in solidarity for those affected by the Boston bombing, and you have something truly spectacular.

For that reason more than any other, I was mentally ready for this race. I should have been nervous, considering that my worst race ever was just two weeks in the past. I had not exactly had a resounding start to the season. But instead of being nervous, I was excited about this race for days. Judging by the fact that you could almost reach out and touch the atmosphere at the start, my 6000 or so fellow runners were excited as well.

Not only was I mentally ready for the race, I felt physically ready as well. Just a week before the race, I had gotten my training back on track, and I had also moved back to a cleaner way of eating. I was realistic enough to know that I probably wouldn’t make a personal best time, but I thought I had a shot of beating a pace of 6:30 minutes per kilometre, which would have given me a time of 1:05:00. That would be enough to set me up for a good solid few weeks of training leading up to my next half-marathon.

As is my custom, I placed myself quite far back in my corral, and so when the race started, I found myself boxed in by runners slower than myself. For the first kilometre or so I kept having to slow down and dodge around people. I didn’t mind – in fact, I counted on it. If I didn’t get slowed down at the start, I would go out too fast and run out of gas before the first aid station.

As it happened, my first couple of kilometres played out exactly as planned from a pacing point of view. Sometime during the second kilometre, I found my space to run and I settled into my pace. In spite of the fact that most of the first 7km or so are downhill, I deliberately held back for the first half of the race. Downhill running can be easier from an exertion point of view, but if you’re not careful, it can be absolute hell on the knees and quads. Apart from that, I feared that if I went nuts on the downhills, I wouldn’t have anything left for the last 3K or so.

I made the halfway point in a little less than 32 minutes. I was happy with that. I was going at a pace I thought I could maintain for the second half, and I was on track to beat my goal time. I had a buffer of a minute or so, which would come in handy if I started to fade near the end.

Instead of fading, though, I ran the second half faster than the first. I was tiring physically, but absolutely uplifted mentally. The crowd support along the route was fantastic. There were little kids holding out their hands to high-five passing runners, people cheering us on by name, and folks holding handmade banners that said things like, “Run for Boston!” It occurred to me that coming out to support the runners in the aftermath of the Boston bombing was as much of a big deal for these people as running the race was for me. In a sense, I was running for them, for these wonderful folks who were showing solidarity with the running community, and I couldn’t let them down.

And so I sped up. I smiled and waved at everyone who cheered. I high-fived the children who stood there with their arms stuck out like traffic policemen. I gave a thumbs-up to the people holding banners. I drank in the positive energy that they all offered, and before long, I was sprinting for the finish line, where spectators and runners alike were cheering loudly, not only for the victory of runners crossing the finish line, but for the triumph of a community absolutely united against violence and fear.

In the end, my time was 1:02:48 – more than two minutes faster than my target, and only 68 seconds off my personal best. Not a bad showing at all.

During the winter and the early weeks of spring, my mojo went into hibernation.

I’m pretty sure it’s awake and ready to go for another season.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

Filed Under: Boston Marathon, Race, running, Toronto Yonge Street 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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8 Things Runners Should Do The Day Before A Race

May 26, 2012 By

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

This time tomorrow, I will be about an hour and a quarter into the half-marathon I’ve been training for since February. If things go according to plan, I will have a little less than 10km to go. I will have been injected with the mental boost that comes from passing the halfway mark, and I will be mentally preparing strategies to overcome the energy crash that usually happens at around 18km. I will be visualizing myself crossing the finish line, hopefully with a personal best half-marathon time under my belt.

But that’s all tomorrow. Today I have to get through my final day of pre-race freak-out. I am a bag of nerves and my body is trying to play its usual tricks on my mind. And somehow, while these butterflies create havoc in my stomach, I have to get myself organized for tomorrow, and make sure my body has the nutrients and hydration in place to go the distance.

I have run my share of races, so I have been through this enough times to be in a position to share a few hard-earned points of wisdom with runners who suffer from pre-race jitters.

1. Your body is thirsty. As athletes, we all know that we’re supposed to drink x-number of glasses of water a day. But some of us aren’t as diligent about it as we should be. If I was better about my general hydration needs, maybe it would kick up my race performance a notch. It would certainly be better for my overall health. As lax about it as I am, I always make a special effort to hydrate properly the day before a race. It does mean more trips to the bathroom, but going into the race with at least a day’s worth of proper hydration behind me really does make a difference.

2. Watch what you eat. This one seems obvious. We want our bodies to be properly fueled for the big event. Don’t go nuts on the carbs: it’s actually better to do your carbo-loading two days before the race. The day before, you want to keep your diet simple and healthy. My pre-race day nutrition consists of lean protein, very little fat, and a small amount of carbs. That is what works for me, and it is important to note that something quite different could work for someone else.

3. Now is not the time for experimentation. If you just bought a new pair of six-inch heels, wait until after the race to break them in. Especially if you’re a dude. Keep that new jar of miracle wonder-vitamins in your medicine cabinet with the seal intact. If you’ve never had super-hot Thai curry, don’t eat it today. Everything you wear today should be something you’ve worn before, and everything you eat or drink should be something that you know from experience is tolerated well by your body.

4. Remember that your training is done. Going out for “one last speed training run” is going to serve absolutely no purpose, and may in fact do you harm. It is easy to worry, on the last day, about whether you have done enough training. You start to obsess about the week you had to take off due to a cold, or the fact that you had to cut short your last long run because you turned your ankle on an uneven paving stone. Remember that training is not an event, it’s a process, and you will have built your base long ago. The best thing you can do today is loosen up with an easy run around the block, and then rest for the remainder of the day.

5. Do stuff you like. You are tense and nervous, and you need to relax. Don’t worry about the things you should be doing. They can wait. Keep yourself busy with activities that will relax your mind and help you chill out a little. For me, it’s writing and messing around on my laptop. For someone else, it might be reading or watching TV. If you actually enjoy washing dishes and doing the laundry, knock yourself out. Come and do mine while you’re at it.

6. Prepare your running outfit. You don’t want to be fiddling around with safety pins and your race bib while you’re lined up at the start line ten minutes before the siren goes off. The day before the race, you actually want to put on the clothes you will be wearing, along with your heart rate monitor and whatever fuel belt you will be using. Then you can pin your number to your shirt, and experiment with ways to make the number work with everything else you are wearing. Men and flat-chested women have an easier time of this, simply because they have a larger available flat surface. For women like me who are more rounded on top, more coordination is sometimes required. Don’t wait until race day to figure it out.

7. Pack your bag. Most races have bag check facilities, and it’s well worth taking advantage of them. My bag typically contains several bottles of water for before and after the race, the pre-race snack that I eat right after I get to the start (about an hour before the run begins), a light jacket and track pants to put on after the race, and an alternative set of running clothes just in case I get to the start and find that I have miscalculated the weather. Your race bib usually comes with a bag check tear-off strip at the bottom. Remove this from the bib and attach it to your bag.

8. Get plugged in. Charge up your training watch, your iPod, and any other electronic gadgets that you are taking. Getting to the race and seeing the “battery low” message flashing on your watch can be very disorienting. Leave your goods plugged in for the day, and then unplug them and leave them with your race clothes before you go to bed.

Pre-race jitters are normal, and in some ways they are beneficial. They give your adrenaline a handy boost leading up to the race. Don’t fight the jitters, embrace them. Coexist with them as you go about your final race day, getting yourself ready.

And then, when it’s time to line up at the start, enjoy the run and visualize how great it will feel to cross the finish line.

Filed Under: 2012 Wordcount Blogathon, Pre-Race Jitters, Race, running, Taper Madness, Tapering Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
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Race-Day Etiquette: Ten Ways To Be Nice

October 26, 2011 By

So you’ve been training for weeks, and the day is finally here. You are excited, you are ready to go, and you can already feel the weight of the finisher’s medal around your neck. The start-line energy is so intense that you’re practically levitating. As the crowd of runners surges forward and crosses the start-line, your focus turns inward as you concentrate on your game plan for this race.

As much as you’re focusing on your own race, it doesn’t hurt to spare a thought for the people around you. Here are some points of race-day etiquette that are worth passing along. They are listed in no particular order.

  1. Bandits begone! If you did not pay for the privilege of taking part in the race, graciously step to the side and get off the course. Run the route later. And definitely, definitely do not cross the finish line.
  2. Many races these days feature personalized race bibs that allow complete strangers to cheer for you by name. If a spectator takes the time to call out your name in encouragement, give them some acknowledgement: a thumbs-up, a smile, a wave – something.
  3. If you are, like me, a tens-and-ones runner, give other runners a heads-up that you’re about to take your walking break. Move to the right side of the course and raise a hand to indicate that you are slowing down.
  4. If you are a faster runner approaching from behind, an “Excuse me!” or “Coming through!” called out to the slower runners will alert them to your presence.
  5. Corollary to #4: if you are a slower runner and you hear the words “Excuse me!” or “Coming through!” coming from behind, move over so that the faster runner has room to pass safely.
  6. Porta-potty lineups should stay off the course, or if that’s not possible, as close to the side of the road as you can get. Runners should not have to trip over people who are waiting to take their bio-breaks.
  7. You know how you grab a cup of water at the water station and drink half of it before tossing the rest? Look before you toss, otherwise the runner coming up behind you might get drenched.
  8. While we’re on the subject of water stations, please remember to thank the volunteer who hands you your cup. Yes, you are tired. Yes, you have been running for two hours straight and your legs are turning to mush. But none of this could happen without the people who stand there for hours on end making sure you don’t get dehydrated. A small thank you goes a long way, and might even encourage the volunteer to help out in future events.
  9. If you see a runner in need of assistance, help them out. Whether it’s in the form of offering them a word of encouragement as they’re flagging towards the end of a race, or picking up something that you have seen them drop, it can make a big difference to their day, as well as making you feel great about yourself.
  10. When you cross the finish line, keep moving. Move as far down the finish line chute as you can. The runners coming in behind you are trying to get the best times they can – don’t make them slow down before crossing the line.

Runners? Any more tips to add to the list? Feel free to add them in the Comments section!

(Photo credit to the author.)

Filed Under: Being Considerate, Etiquette, Race, running Tagged With: , , , , , , , , ,