I am so sore. I am downing bcaa's constantly. Epsom salt is running through my veins. I even resorted to buying tiger balm...a magic ointment of questionable origin that cures all. For whatever reason the past few days has left me struggling to recover. Might be nutrition and sleep. Might be mileage. Might be age. Probably is a combination of all and it is time to be diligent about the aches to keep them from becoming injury.
Today I started my run three times. The first time was on a trail with Peter so I hiked ten kms. Hiking needs to be part of my training as I will not legit run 300k. So I used it as a good tempo hike. But my legs hurt and I have a sore butt cheek and sore feet. I was aiming for a 15k day so this evening I aimed for a 5k around the lake. Five strides.. five...nope...back in car. I threw on a podcast and went to get a coffee. The podcast was on mindfulness and purpose based training. I got sucked into it.
The final part of it talked about joy. Clearly to achieve you must enjoy the effort. As I thought about this I realised how joyful running had been for me this spring. I haven't had a run I hated...quite the opposite. I have had amazing and beautiful runs that made me more alive and complete. As I listened and drove I realised that I am doing this huge run for good reasons.
I want a goal that scares me.
I want to feel stronger in my soul when I train.
I want to know that my limits are becoming more non existant.
I want to find out more about who I am.
Running and this insane goal run gives me all those. I gain on each of those statements every run. It's been so great doing ultramarathon training again. I love this type of training. I have actually not done a single run with music in nearly 500kms. That's wild to me. I just haven't needed it. There's a beauty in the solitude and the connection with nature. Saturday I ran 5k with Charlie in the stroller. I showed him Terry Fox and we ran wherever he wanted to go. His joy fed mine and we had a beautiful run. I had run 5k with him and a buddy in the morning too. He ran parts of it with us, told us stories, and got out to play in streams. I wish I could bottle those runs. So powerful.
So be joyful in what you do. It doesn't matter what it is. If you love it, embrace it and live it. Being mindful and purpose based is crucial, and one of the main purposes of movement is simply joy. Today a dear friend signed up for a half marathon...this is what it's about! Scaring yourself and reaching higher!
The third attempt at my run was a success by the way. I went to a road I have been eyeing for a while. Found a little singletrack off of it. Got rained on. Smiled the whole time. Remembered that I am so lucky to be able to have a passion and be able to pursue it.
Wednesday, 21 June 2017
Friday, 9 June 2017
Things that are and those that might have been
It's been an interesting day.
My grade sixes from six ish years ago punched their last day of school today. They were an amazing class. We had fun! We also learned a couple of things. It was a cool year. I absolutely cannot believe they are graduating! I feel geriatric...
I had three kids who I jokingly called my toenails. They were always close enough that they were stood on my toenails. They were smart and sweet kids and I loved teaching them and stayed in contact with them over the rest of their school time. One graduated from a sport school in Ontario with honours, one graduated from his hometown with both stellar sports career and academic performance. The third hit some obstacles that have temporarily knocked him down. It's like Ed Sheeran's Castle on the Hill where he relives where his friends are now. I can't lie...the third guy, he was one that was very special to me. I lived with him for five years in a parenting role and watched the obstacles hit him over and over. And today when I realised that they were done high school, I felt a watershed of emotions about them all, but he got the lion's share.
I remember moments with him, his wit and humour and kindness. I remember the innocence of the little guy I took fishing at 5am. I remember the better days and the hard days and I feel all the hope I felt for him when he was ten. I hope a path opens at a time that gives it clarity and that the amazing guy he truly is gets down it. All my students own a part of my heart...but he definitely has a bigger chunk.
I have punched through a few obstacles this year. Been a bit rougher. I had amazing support and pulled through. So I get it and I feel where anyone is who is struggling. Sometimes the path is obvious and sometimes ya gotta follow someone's lead. Luckily my trail buddy had the lead today as I reminisced and sighed over different times and memories of varying sentiment.
So please...bite off the scary stuff. It might make the other stuff less scary and more manageable. Look for a path and accept a guide sometimes. And sometimes, get lost. Learn from the mis-steps and misdirections so that the next wrong turn truly is the right way for you to be going at that time. And cherish all the memories. Beauty lies within them, there is a lovely elegance to mistakes and the places they guide you. Mostly, the hard patches let you see the glowing warmth of the ones you need after.
Thanks for reading. Also, hike the Portugal Cove section of the East Coast Trail. It's stunning.
My grade sixes from six ish years ago punched their last day of school today. They were an amazing class. We had fun! We also learned a couple of things. It was a cool year. I absolutely cannot believe they are graduating! I feel geriatric...
I had three kids who I jokingly called my toenails. They were always close enough that they were stood on my toenails. They were smart and sweet kids and I loved teaching them and stayed in contact with them over the rest of their school time. One graduated from a sport school in Ontario with honours, one graduated from his hometown with both stellar sports career and academic performance. The third hit some obstacles that have temporarily knocked him down. It's like Ed Sheeran's Castle on the Hill where he relives where his friends are now. I can't lie...the third guy, he was one that was very special to me. I lived with him for five years in a parenting role and watched the obstacles hit him over and over. And today when I realised that they were done high school, I felt a watershed of emotions about them all, but he got the lion's share.
I remember moments with him, his wit and humour and kindness. I remember the innocence of the little guy I took fishing at 5am. I remember the better days and the hard days and I feel all the hope I felt for him when he was ten. I hope a path opens at a time that gives it clarity and that the amazing guy he truly is gets down it. All my students own a part of my heart...but he definitely has a bigger chunk.
I have punched through a few obstacles this year. Been a bit rougher. I had amazing support and pulled through. So I get it and I feel where anyone is who is struggling. Sometimes the path is obvious and sometimes ya gotta follow someone's lead. Luckily my trail buddy had the lead today as I reminisced and sighed over different times and memories of varying sentiment.
I got on the trails and found some new beautiful locations. I realised that the trail is simply somewhere that cleanses me. It remakes me as a whole again and gives me fuel to process. The peace, the textures under foot, the sounds, the smells - the whole package is a sensory cleansing and a human reboot. I felt a massive appreciation for my body, my capacity, and that I was able to choose the trail as my goal this summer. No matter the outcome or level of ridiculousness of this goal, the purpose has been exceptional and positive.So please...bite off the scary stuff. It might make the other stuff less scary and more manageable. Look for a path and accept a guide sometimes. And sometimes, get lost. Learn from the mis-steps and misdirections so that the next wrong turn truly is the right way for you to be going at that time. And cherish all the memories. Beauty lies within them, there is a lovely elegance to mistakes and the places they guide you. Mostly, the hard patches let you see the glowing warmth of the ones you need after.
Thanks for reading. Also, hike the Portugal Cove section of the East Coast Trail. It's stunning.
Tuesday, 30 May 2017
Grind: To crush and smoosh things out of being hard
Grinding. I do it to coffee beans. That makes me happy. Mostly though, I like to grind outside.
For me, the grind is the happy place. It's the spot you get to when things reach level:suckalot and you have to push through. Grind is what you do when you want to stop. When the urge to call for a ride hits hard, you have to grind. And when you grind back to your house, your car, a coffee place, or the end of the task set, that's when you feel the good stuff. Relief. Pride. Hunger. All wicked feelings.
Because I am a moron, I am training to through run 300k of the East Coast Trail in September. Don't ask why. I have no good answer. Not that involves words anyway. So last Saturday I ran with my bro Ben after he rode his bike for 100k in basically sleet and slob ice. FYI that's the only way I run with young males. They must do a minimum of four hours of disgusting training before. I will also attempt if they are hung over, but that's not always proven effective. 40 something women should train with dogs and other 40 something women...unless they like the suffering aspect of the grind. Which I do. Anyway, Ben. So luckily on that run, he was hurting. Me, like a dumbass, told him that these runs were the good ones. They were the ones that count. The difference makers. I assumed he wasn't listening based on his chin drool. Wrong. Fast forward to last Saturday. Met Ben after 110kms on the trainer with sprints (checked in order to ensure he was gonna be slower than me) hoping to do 15k with my weekly milage of 90k looming ahead. I suffered gloriously. I whined. I drank out of a green fuzzy culvert (best water ever). I freight train breathed and stopped to poop twice. I cursed skinny people who passed me. And what did he say to me?? Sue, these runs are the runs that count. These are the difference makers. This is such a good run for you. I was too covered in chin drool to be amazed that he heard me the week before. So I ground on beside this amazing athlete who was quoting my own brand of kool aid. Thanks bro. I still hurt but you got me there.
The grind is what gets you better, even when you feel like you were farted out of a dying whale carcass. The grind is what puts money in the toughness bank account so you can make withdrawals on race day. The grind is what lets you know on shitty days that you can push through anything. I love the grind. It helps me fight my demons and reach goals that make other endurance athletes look at you with a tilted head and blank expression. Every day requires some grinding people.
Thanks for reading. Get outside and grind...it always makes you better if ya got a little grind in your day!
For me, the grind is the happy place. It's the spot you get to when things reach level:suckalot and you have to push through. Grind is what you do when you want to stop. When the urge to call for a ride hits hard, you have to grind. And when you grind back to your house, your car, a coffee place, or the end of the task set, that's when you feel the good stuff. Relief. Pride. Hunger. All wicked feelings.
Because I am a moron, I am training to through run 300k of the East Coast Trail in September. Don't ask why. I have no good answer. Not that involves words anyway. So last Saturday I ran with my bro Ben after he rode his bike for 100k in basically sleet and slob ice. FYI that's the only way I run with young males. They must do a minimum of four hours of disgusting training before. I will also attempt if they are hung over, but that's not always proven effective. 40 something women should train with dogs and other 40 something women...unless they like the suffering aspect of the grind. Which I do. Anyway, Ben. So luckily on that run, he was hurting. Me, like a dumbass, told him that these runs were the good ones. They were the ones that count. The difference makers. I assumed he wasn't listening based on his chin drool. Wrong. Fast forward to last Saturday. Met Ben after 110kms on the trainer with sprints (checked in order to ensure he was gonna be slower than me) hoping to do 15k with my weekly milage of 90k looming ahead. I suffered gloriously. I whined. I drank out of a green fuzzy culvert (best water ever). I freight train breathed and stopped to poop twice. I cursed skinny people who passed me. And what did he say to me?? Sue, these runs are the runs that count. These are the difference makers. This is such a good run for you. I was too covered in chin drool to be amazed that he heard me the week before. So I ground on beside this amazing athlete who was quoting my own brand of kool aid. Thanks bro. I still hurt but you got me there.
The grind is what gets you better, even when you feel like you were farted out of a dying whale carcass. The grind is what puts money in the toughness bank account so you can make withdrawals on race day. The grind is what lets you know on shitty days that you can push through anything. I love the grind. It helps me fight my demons and reach goals that make other endurance athletes look at you with a tilted head and blank expression. Every day requires some grinding people.
Thanks for reading. Get outside and grind...it always makes you better if ya got a little grind in your day!
Reruns are always good to occupy your mind...
I tried blogging before. It was a hoot! My rather entertaining German Shepherd Peter (see above) was a big help. I talked a lot about being inspired and taking chances and trying new things. It was really kinda fun and probably five or ten people really liked it. I also talked about wine. So yeah, I got shut down by the large regional health authority I worked for as a healthy living consultant because I mentioned wine. Well, good news! Don't work there anymore, and still drink wine! Currently working in child and youth care...that's a story for another day.
I had any interesting chat with a fantastic yoga/pilates/life coach buddy today who encouraged me to write...after a chat on a run with my two fave running pals who encouraged me to write a book (clearly not one on life advice...not my strength...maybe a what not to do type thing). I got to chewing over returning to my 12 reader blog glory days. And so here I am! For those of you who don't believe a glass of wine is therapeutic, go elsewhere. I personally do. Preferably in a bathtub. After running for three hours, or riding for 4 hours, or swimming some stupid workout, or all of the above in the same day...
So I am an idiot...I am a long distance triathlete and ultra runner. I do long boring things that to those who function normally think are a bit insane. They would be right however this is me. Therapy has convinced me I do it to run from bad guys. Possible. I don't like bad guys and Peter is not helpful. My friends just think it's my brand of crazy and a brain scan would be neat. My mom tells me to curl or play chess. But I believe secretly they all have an unusual amount of faith in me. That's tough cause I do dumb shit. Last week I cut off my own cast after a trail running fall. Case in point.
I live with a tolerant woman who loves me, her four year old who runs a kilometre with me and wears shorts to daycare in the snow cause Sue does, as well as the furry inhabitants - Peter the world's handsomest and most mentally challenged GSD on the planet, and Kya the Death Rat Terrier. We are in St John's Newfoundland, where fog, rain, and wind are made.
That is me. No more and no less. This blog will share my thought process, highlight people that get me up in the morning and drive me onward, and will hopefully make you laugh and ideally...well in a perfect world...it might inspire you to try something that scares you. I hope.
Thanks for reading. Now get the hell outside and do something fun!
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