running Archives - Page 4 of 17 - Running for Autism

The Butterflies In My Stomach Are Having A Party

October 17, 2013 By Kirsten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle.

Filed Under: Race, running, Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Races, Taper Madness, Tapering Tagged With: countdown, energy levels, pre-race nerves

A Young Athlete’s Journey Of Discovery

October 8, 2013 By Kirsten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Filed Under: Athletics, Cross-Country, life, parenting, running Tagged With: advice, discovery, expectations, natural form, race, strategy, team, technique, try-out

Magical Moments

September 29, 2013 By Kirsten

Yesterday’s post was all about the poor hand that life has been dealing me lately. I feel as if the Universe read my post and decided to make some recompense, because today has been absolutely amazing.

It started with a run early this morning – a run that, funnily enough, I was a hair’s breath away from bailing on. I didn’t sleep well last night, and I woke up feeling – to borrow a wonderful phrase from a book I read – rough as a badger’s arse. I certainly didn’t feel up to running for 18km. But I knew that if I didn’t go, I would regret it. I would go through the entire day feeling a sense of incompleteness that would only be satisfied by running.

So I dragged my badger’s arse out of bed, blearily had some coffee and peanut butter toast, and hit the road. As soon as I started running, I felt better – helped no doubt by the perfect autumn weather. I decided to just enjoy the run without caring about my pace, and perhaps because of that, I clocked one of my best-ever times for a run of that distance – 1:59:43 for 18.23km. My legs were killing me, but I felt absolutely fantastic. I’d lost quite a bit of confidence in my running in recent weeks, and this run was just what I needed to restore some of that.

Later on, when I was showered and fed, I lay on my bed with my husband watching TV. Usually this doesn’t last for very long: I tend to be all antsy and wanting to get up and get things done, but today I was content to just relax. My husband and I sat there for ages, drinking cups of coffee and chatting about the contestants on The Voice, which we both enjoy watching. Neither of us was in any rush to go anywhere or do anything. We were content to just be with each other. With all the stress that’s been going on lately, there has been some inevitable discord, but today our frames of mind were in perfect harmony.

Eventually, we got up because the kids wanted us to put up their bouncy castle in the backyard. This involved first finding the bouncy castle, which hadn’t been used since March. After some rooting around in the garage and the garden shed, we located it. Miraculously, we found the motor in the same box, and then we were in business. For the next hour or so, the kids happily bounced around, and I basked in the sound of their laughter.

It’s the best sound in the entire world. How could I not be happy?

Since this morning, there has been a series of magical moments strung together to make a perfect day. It is impossible to dwell on the negative on days like this. Instead, I find it very easy to feel truly grateful for all of the richness in my life.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit: Ali Smiles 🙂. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.

Filed Under: family, life, Moments, running Tagged With: autumn, bouncy castle, confidence, grateful, kids, laughter, relax, The Voice, TV, universe

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

10 Awesome Things About The 2013 Durham Quarter Marathon

August 6, 2013 By Kirsten

Crossing the start line - there I am, wearing number 7!

Crossing the start line – there I am to the left, in the pink shirt and white hat!

1. There was free undercover parking just a block away from the start line. It was refreshing, not having to walk half the distance of the race just to get from my car to the start.

2. The race kit included some nice goodies, including a water bottle (runners can never have too many of those) and a super-cool race shirt that actually fits properly.

3. The cause is just too worthy for words. This race benefits The Refuge, which helps homeless youth. Runners were given a practical way to help: the race kit was packaged in a sturdy cardboard box, which could later be filled with donations like food and diapers, and returned to The Refuge.

4. This race was a fairly small event – about 600 participants. This gave it a strong community feel, and it meant short Porta-Potty lineups.

5. The course is fantastic. The unusual distance (10.549km) appeals to my quirky nature, and most of it is run on park trails. The course doesn’t lend itself to crowd support, but it is scenic and has plenty of natural shade.

6. The finish line is at a lower elevation than the start line, meaning that most of the run is downhill. It’s not as easy as it sounds, though, because most of the downhill bits are in the first half. There are a couple of monster hills in the second half. Last year I was able to power up the first of these hills, but faded going up the second one. This year, I paced myself more sensibly in the beginning of the race, and I was able to tackle both hills head-on.

7. This year the finish line was moved to the parking lot. Runners veered off the lakeside trail and ran in a loop around the parking lot to the finish. The layout lent itself to great crowd support at the finish, and the show-off in me appreciated this. The extra cheers spurred on a great finishing kick.

8. There was a lot going on in the finish line area – enough to keep tired runners fed, hydrated, massaged and entertained – but not so much that it was overwhelming. I didn’t have to fight my way through crowds to get what I needed, and I enjoyed meandering around the various displays while I ate my post-race banana.

9. All of the volunteers on the course, and at the start and finish areas, were so nice. One in particular – the lady who retrieved my bag from the baggage check – engaged me in friendly conversation, and seemed genuinely thrilled that I had had such a good race. That little interaction added a nice personal touch to the event.

10. The shuttle bus was not a school bus, like it is at many other races. I always feel sorry for the kids who have to ride on those things every day. They have to plunk their bums on a seat that’s as comfortable as a two-by-four, and then get bounced around like jelly-beans. At this race, I got to ride back to the start line area in a bus with comfy padded seats.

Thank you to the organizers, volunteers, police officers, spectators and fellow runners for making the Durham Quarter Marathon such a fun event. I will be back next year – this race has earned a permanent place on my annual race calendar.

This is an original post by Kirsten Doyle. Photo credit to the Durham Quarter Marathon.

Filed Under: Durham Quarter Marathon, Race, running, The Refuge Tagged With: cause, community, course, downhill, finish line, hills, parking, race kit, shuttle bus, volunteers

Farewell, My Friend

June 26, 2013 By Kirsten

What do you do when you receive word that a friend has died? What do you do with the memories that flood your head and collide with the cruel knowledge that you will never see that person again? How do you stem the endless flow of tears, and how do you deal with the hurt of loss?

When do you start to believe that they are really gone?

My friend Fran had cystic fibrosis. In her almost 41 years, she never experienced the feeling of being healthy. Intravenous antibiotics, nebulizers and hospital stays were a regular part of her life. None of that stopped her from living, though. Fran was not one to let chronic illness slow her down. Life was one big adventure to her.

There are so many things I could say about Fran. I could talk about the fact that she had one of most fascinating jobs I’ve ever heard of (she fixed helicopters). I could talk about the beautiful music she made and how honoured I was that she played the flute at my wedding. Or I could talk about the epic phone conversations we had from opposite ends of the country, and when we got together, the late nights of talking and drinking wine.

Or I could talk about the running.

Yes. I think I will talk about the running.

Fran started running in earnest shortly after she moved to Canada, and I kind of became her running mentor. A few months later, she flew to Toronto for a few days to celebrate Easter with me and my family. During her stay, we ran a race together. This race, a scenic lakeside 5K, was her first. Throughout the run, Fran kept having to slow to a walk to rest her lungs. At times she would have to stop entirely while she had violent coughing fits lasting for several minutes. When she was able to catch her breath, she would grin and start running again.

Fran finished the race in about 45 minutes. She was exhausted and her face was purple, but she had an enormous smile on her face that lit up the space around her. She was glowing with her accomplishment, and I was so proud of her.

Two days later, Fran woke up wanting to go running again. We laced up and I took her around my neighbourhood, letting her set the pace. We stopped often, sometimes because Fran’s lungs would go into spasm, and sometimes just to chat. I don’t remember what we were talking about as we ran the final stretch back to my house, but we were laughing so hard that we had to stop running to prop each other up as we walked towards the driveway.

It was with this image in mind that I went running just three days after learning of Fran’s passing. I hesitated for a minute in the driveway, and then set out, retracing the steps that I had taken with her. It didn’t take long for the tears to start streaming down my face as I remembered the conversations, the sound of Fran struggling for breath as her lungs constricted, and the special way she had of embracing life so completely.

I shed many tears while I ran, but in the last kilometre, something very strange happened. The music playing from my running playlist abruptly stopped mid-song, and a different song started – a Celine Dion song that’s not even on my running playlist.

Let the rain come down and wash away my tears…

How had this happened? My screen lock was on. How could the music spontaneously change?

Hush now, I see a light in the sky…

Was it really possible for loved ones to send messages from wherever it was they went?

I can’t believe I’ve been touched by an angel with love…

As I ran towards home, a new picture filled my head. I imagined Fran running beside me, healthy and strong, the way I like to think she is running now.

Filed Under: Death, Friendship, life, Loss, running Tagged With: Celine Dion, chronic illness, coughing, cystic fibrosis, embracing life, Fran, memories, race, song, tears

On Running

June 6, 2013 By Kirsten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Filed Under: autism, Depression, running, Running for Autism, Wordcount Blogathon Tagged With: charity challenge, couch potato, geneva centre for autism, half-marathon, lifestyle, running reflections, self-affirmation, smoking habit

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

Running for Boston: Toronto Yonge Street 10K

April 22, 2013 By Kirsten

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: atmosphere, Boston bombing, crowd support, downhills, energy, goal time, mojo, pacing, solidarity, start-line

My Message To Runners

April 16, 2013 By Kirsten

To my fellow runners,

There are no words to describe how I feel following the events in Boston yesterday. It hits very close to home for us runners. Our beloved sport – our refuge and escape, the thing that keeps many of us feeling safe and grounded when things are hard – has been targeted in such a violent way. This has affected the entire running community – not only the runners themselves, but race organizers and volunteers, and those people who make races truly special and memorable: the friends and family members who stand on the sidelines cheering us on as we race for the finish line.

I cannot imagine what it must have been like for those of you who were there in Boston, running the race. To those of you who crossed the finish line, I hope that amid the chaos and the sadness and the shock, you can hold onto the fact that you accomplished something incredible. Don’t let the perpetrators of this terrible act take the victory away from you.

To those of you who were forced to abandon the race, I hope you will be able to return another day to finish what you started. The Boston Marathon will be back – I hope you will too. Claim that victory that you so richly deserve.

To those who were injured, whose loved ones were injured, who are now having to say goodbye to friends and family members who lost their lives, my heart breaks for you. You are all in my thoughts as you try to rebuild your lives, recover from the injuries and adjust to a whole different life.

The people who did this want us to be afraid. They want us to either abandon our races or approach finish lines with fear. They want us to give up.

Clearly, they underestimate our ability to band together and fight back. They forget that we train our bodies and minds to accomplish great things no matter what obstacles lie in our way. They don’t factor in our stubbornness, our absolute determination to get ourselves across that finish line, no matter what.

Afraid? Don’t be ridiculous.

Let’s come back from this stronger than we’ve ever been before. Let’s train harder, race stronger and celebrate more joyously when we cross the finish line. Let’s make it clear that we will not let anyone bully us into hanging up our running shoes. Let’s make sure every race is full to capacity.

My friend Phaedra, who ran the Boston Marathon yesterday, said this: “A marathon is supposed to be about the triumph of the human spirit, not about senseless violence.”

We can and will make the human spirit rise up and lift us above this tragedy. The people with the bombs are cowards. We are the ones with the strength and courage.

And we are the winners.

Regards,
Just another runner

Filed Under: Boston Marathon, Race, running, Tragedy Tagged With: accomplish, afraid, determination, fight back, finish line, human spirit, injured, runners, stronger, triumph, victory