A new beginning

What part of BC are you guys from? I asked, just to spark a conversation. “BC maaaan” was the drawled reply from one of the bearded objects slouched in the car. “Hey, this is our home maaan” the other blurted. “We are just moving into another room, maaan”. (throaty laugh all round). And so the conversation ceased. I was thus duly introduced to the official world of ‘Couch Surfing’; another day in the Slocan Valley, giving two modern day Romany’s a ride nearer to their chosen destination. I love giving rides to the ‘thumbers’ of the world, and even Natasha has been known to open the passenger door to a stranger. This is despite my attempt at hitch hiking the other week proved completely unsuccessful, resulting in a hurt pride retiring home till a lift could be secured the following day to retrieve a newly repaired truck.

Spring has sprung, the bees are getting fitter, the daffodils poking their yellow heads up through the sodden soil. The swamp land below us is slowly drying up as the trees produce their pollen laden catkins in preparation for their green display. For the last 10 days, post Vancouver marathon running has been on hold as we entertain and keep busy two wonderful WWOOFers, young and energetic at 19 years of age, who have opted to grace us with their presence lending us their muscle and charm in exchange for board and lodging. In reality, in addition to the welcome social company, they have ensured much needed progress in that messy post winter / pre summer phase, where trees are cleared, wood split and stacked, exterior painting undertaken and vege plots prepared for planting. Sarina stayed for a week, and her friend Brigid one extra - a win / win scenario if ever there was one.

So, where does my running fit in to all this? It took me till this sunday to look into my post marathon goody bag  - my medal ended up in the recycling bin but the crowning turd in the trifle was my 'technical running shirt' - the right sleeve some 20cm shorter than the left! I also realised with horror that I still have a plastic bag full of ‘near end of date bargain bin’ SIS energy gels sent to me by some Ottawa bicycle shop.  What to do with them? Peter recommended a bargain bin store donation, but that would be contrary to the challenge laid down by my 3.37 marathon. On the return flight home last week, my ‘never again, what’s the point?’ changed to ‘maybe, sometime someday, somewhere’. Slowly my head and heart realised that I need a sub 3.30. Natasha needs me to do it as well, for her peace sake. So, the date has been set – October 7^th, venue Victoria. Marathon day. Natasha has also jumped into the canyon by entering the half marathon with a pledge to bear her previous time set in Sheffield, that of 1.41. So, Tim sub 3.30, Natasha sub 1.40. A big party for sure if success is secured.

Last Sunday saw us both run the local 5km fun run. My legs did not find any of it fun, nor did Natasha find any amusement in the solitary hill. But she finished a credible third in her category of being female and I had my success by complaining that males did not get a finishing flower at the end. Flowers were soon handed out to all finishers, and there was much rejoicing! My local vet, Mr. ‘100 dollar’ Bill surged ahead of us, with 2km to go and was pleased as punch with his run. He was clearly worried at the start of the run when he declared a concern as the advertised event wording had changed from ‘run’ to ‘race’. Local events – you can’t equal them.

So, my official Victoria marathon training starts on June 1^st, and I now have something regular to write about. There will, hopefully, be much rejoicing later on. After the inevitable pain.

The perfect race

It was strange being at a mass participation event, where families and friends were all together, supporting each other – and me on my own. It was fun being an onlooker, watching the occasional like minded stray wander, a bit lost in the organised mayhem and buzz of the Vancouver marathon. On the other hand, I found it had less of an attachment to me – maybe a good thing. I was there to run as hard as I could – no smiling for the cameras, no keeping an eye out to see if I recognized anyone I knew on the course. It was me and 26.2 miles.

The lead up to the race was perfect. I found the two weeks wind down very odd – it was like having your legs taken away from you. From full on commitment to virtually nothing. But I stuck to my training programme, religiously, like I have all along. The journey down to Vancouver was excellent as the weather was clearing, the sun was shining and snow adorned the peaks. I drove the 2hrs 15 mins to Trail airport – a wonderful outfit where you sit only metres away from the aircraft you fly in. On the return journey, I noticed with amusement that the waiting room was the field itself, with passengers sitting in sun chairs, waiting the order to board. So small, so informal. I love it. I dozed for most of the hours flight to big city.

Vancouver was as vibrant as ever. So cosmopolitan. Cyclists, skaterboarders, roller blades, runners, joggers, walkers, dog owners, the compulsory party of Japanese tourists and the pack of beautified young women out in their pack pouncing on poor unsuspecting seemingly single men… I escaped, but I thought of you Bryan! The weather was set to be sunny, if a little warm for the big event on the Sunday. I felt good, confident even, but not overly so. Just focused. The Sunday sun broke the cloudless sky, and I was out of the flat I was staying in (thanks Missy and Mitch) by 0630. I had downed my meager breakfast – the same as it has been for the past 3 months, and very relieved that I had performed on the toilet (three times no less). So all was set, all toilet queuing potentially avoided. Focused. The stage was set for the perfect race, unless you were a leader as the course is too windy for ultra fast times. But for us mere mortals at the back of the good pack, a few extra turns would do us no harm at all. Perfect preparation, no injuries, great weather and confident. What could go wrong?

At the start, I failed to spot my 3.30 ‘bunny’ pacemaker. One minute before the start I noticed a pair of 3.30 ears way back, milling around with the 3.45 ears. I decided there and then to run my own race, and tag on if they joined me. I paced myself well, if a little quick but not overly so, over the first 30km. I felt somewhat claustrophobic in amongst the high-rise buildings, but the sun and the light cool breeze took my mind off it. I marveled at the shapes, sizes and techniques of all the runners around me, taking an instant dislike to all the loud mouth braggers who I seem to be forever tagged to in these events. Stanley Park arrived, the half way point. Up to now I had been having a bit of a problem spotting the km signs – they had been placed too low and were blocked by spectators. My gps Garmin was playing up as it could not locate the satellites in amongst the tall buildings, so I was having to work hard at maintaining the correct pace. The water stations were not perfect either – well intentioned water providers were simply standing too close to each other, so if you missed one or the station was too crowded, you were stuffed. I missed two, but no real biggies, as it was not that hot and I was well hydrated. The other annoying thing was that we were getting a bit confused between the half marathon and full marathon distance markers – not a big issue in itself, but when you are working hard and concentrating, small distraction like that do not do you any good. Half way came and watches read. And then it arrived again, to our surprise – another half/full marathon marker confusion. Oh well. What did I left in the bank?  I was really enjoying the run by now, happy with my pacing. But at the arrival of 30km, I did think to myself a big cautionary ‘uh-oh’. By 32 km I knew that 3.30 was off the cards, and I just wanted to get home. The last 10km were long and hard, trying to stave off cramp. The well intentioned cries of 'You're looking good' prompted the silent response 'but feeling crap'. But I was determined not to walk, which I didn’t. I finished in a lackluster 3.37. The perfect race had been set for me, but I had failed in my attempt to run sub 3.30. I did not even look at the medal given to me by some smiley girl. I collected my food, picked up my bag, , got changed, alone, and wandered off to the nightmare of the train station steps. My legs were not happy, but I was strangely not too tired. My body had not been pushed, my head fitter than my capacity to run, my determination to finish carried my pride, but barriers had not been broken.

Too fast too soon? Maybe, but nothing too untoward. Should I have stuck with the 3.30 race bunny? Maybe. I was only up on my 3.30 time by 2 mins at the half way point, hardly a mass uncontrolled sprint. The simple truth of the matter was not enough long miles in my legs for a 3.30 time. Pacing myself slower would have been a 3.30-3.35 run, as opposed to an ugly 3.37. Will I attempt another one? Don’t know. Undecided.

I had a fantastic weekend however, the travel was exciting and it was great to be part of a mass event with lots of razzmatazz. I really enjoyed my winter training and its great being fit again. Ill keep the running going, but maybe concentrate on a good half marathon time. Three and a half hours is just too long to pound a tarmac road. A mountain trail would be different, however.

Thanks to Buff for the entry sponsorship and Natasha for race weekend cash. Till next time. But what shall I write about now?

Lacking imagination...

I described todays route to Natasha as ‘lacking in imagination’. Our house, New Denver and return. 32 km, 20 miles. My last long run before the Big Day. How wrong can one be? We sometimes go through our daily lives living as if we can’t see. My buddy, Tony, once said to me years back that he encouraged his school students to look up whilst walking along the High Street – as it’s above the modern shop fronts where the old architectural beauty lies.

I have been trying to get up at 6am to have breakfast and to do my training run at 0730 to emulate the Big Run day. Got to get my body used to sitting on the toilet at that time! Today was no exception and success all round. Armed with nutrition in my stomach and goopy gels in my running pouch, off I set exactly on time. My eyes soon lifted up from the road to the surrounded beautry. The mountains and lakes breezed by, no cars, no people, only nature and a man made highway. The water was mirror flat, the mountains mirrored as if they were looking up at you as opposed to towering over. Two Canadian geese, chatting quietly by the roadside decided to take flight before I overheard their secrets. Their path left me in awe of nature, this run which ‘lacked imagination’. The birds opened their wings, and glided effortlessly down to the snowy reflection, some 20 metres below. Feet outstretched, wings backbeating everso, landed in amongst the images. A camera could not have captured what the eye had seen and the mind interpreted. If you are a bird, then spring has arrived, but elsewhere winter still lingers; nights still below freezing, daytime rarely in double figures, the sun rarely seen. The snow line hovering just above us, the grey earth still camouflaged with its white shroud.  For on this run which lacked imagination, nature was around me in all its guises provided I just opened my eyes.

The kilometers clicked by, my body working hard. I was pleased with my run as my legs are tired, aches and pains rearing their ugly head and I was determined to put heart and soul into doing as best I could. Time to slacken comes now as I taper off my mileage, gathering strength for the Big Day. I managed the return leg from New Denver in exactly the same time as the outgoing time, and the highway has some energy sapping hills. I was worried in case the outgoing mountains which had breezed by, would crawl by on the return, but I need not have worried. Nature continued to marvel and entertain as Spring battles with Winter to dominate.

I finished my 32km in 2hr 39 mins, which is everso slightly slower than my target Big Day race plan. However, I am happy with my effort. My mind now turns toward keeping injury and illness free, which up to now has been the case. Natasha marked the end of winter training with a house spring clean. My tired legs and mind struggled with assigned jobs, but our lovely house is now fit for the year ahead. My new bees arrive this week, so all hands on deck to ensure new homes are ready for my Kiwi girls. I also discovered a rare breed round here – another runner. I passed a young lady on my way out to New Denver and again on my return. She had done the same route as me, also training for the Vancover marathon. Small world. I had never seen another runner before whilst out training – nor had she. ‘See you there!’ I exclaimed enthusiastically, ignoring the odds.

Glad the hard work is now behind me and the Big Day looming closer.

Route stats:

http://connect.garmin.com/activity/78485506?sms_ss=email&at_xt=4da28fe9c149b0b1%2C0

Tim

Birthday Blog

Actually, it’s my second birthday, today being April 2. My proper birthday is March 28, (which for 44 years I believed was also my mother’s birthday, until she told me recently that it could be the 27^th. Does it matter? Makes me smile.) Last week I was in Canmore, $ working with my virtual training partner Peter, who is relocating his Buff empire to Canmore (www.buyabuff.com). But today I am back home at our lovely house in Hills, BC, with Natasha and the dogs.

So, I am now officially 46, not 47 as I had originally thought on my birthday proper, so I feel as if I have gained a year. Fantastic. Senility arriving early for me I think.

Natasha and I had a fabulous visit to the UK, and thanks to everyone for making us feel so welcome and at home. It was a streamlined friends and family tour and, as ever, many missed out. Next time. The weather was beautiful, no rain, only sun. We struggled with our inner selves as to our relationship with our mother country, whether we return sooner or later. What is clear is that we once again saw England through rose tinted spectacles which we thoroughly enjoy wearing. The countryside was a vibrant green, skipping lambs scurried with no purpose around fields, amber nectar poured from casks, dry stone walls asking to be touched. The list goes on. And so does my marathon training.

I had the delight of running through the English countryside and managed to do so with three good friends: Kevin lead me through the rolling Dorset hills from Hardy monument to the sea; Tony chatted non stop around Carsington reservoir in Derbyshire; Bryan’s satellite tracking watch beeped us along the river Tyne in Newcastle. Natasha and I even managed to squeeze in a run together. All good. I upped the mileage too, now hovering at about 35 per week, due to be over 40 this week. My triumph run was from Hugh’s house in Matlock which was a stunning 18 miler through undulating lands owned by my nemesis, the Duke of Devonshire. This did my confidence no end of good.

But now the nerves are beginning to set in. I am starting to create a check list of ‘things to do on the day’ in my head: Bryan’s unpleasant toilet story at the start of his recent Barcelona marathon was harrowin.. Get the pace right. Energy gels – what to use? Will I make the flight home after? What about my belongings? Stick with the 3:30 race hare (‘bunny’). 3:30 might elude me. Devastating. Perhaps 3:20 might be possible? Don’t even think of it.

The snow is now melting which is a blessing, but we now have the aftermath – mud, water and mess. The field at the bottom of our property is now one vast network of rivers and lakes. Pretty amazing. Last week I was training in snowy Canmore so that thankfully is now behind me. Tomorrow’s run is another 18 miler on open roads, but this time armed with my new birthday toy from Natasha – a Garmin 305 satellite tracker watch. I can now annoy myself with my very own beeping noises, waving at the occasional car, staring at wonder at the beautiful countryside we live in, imaging what Race Day will be like.

On a personal note, thanks Peter for your hospitality this last week in Canmore. Hope your illness has not set you back too much for your Mallorca cycle race training camp. I’ll do my utmost to make sure your Buff marathon sponsorship does us all proud! 

UK tour pictures – http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=347331&id=792629362

Garmin personal training data - http://connect.garmin.com/activity/77020606

28 days to go and I’m nervous.

The long hard road.... (with apologies to Ron Hill)

It’s a funny old game, this ‘training for an event’ malarkey. You put all your eggs in one basket, as opposed to adjusting your training to fit a particular race.

In a ‘regular’ running program, the mileage and variety would be akin to a sine wave: big mileage one week interspersed with a bit of variety and conditioning, lower mileage another but focused on quality and speed. But with my training for a specific race, May 1^st, with a background of ‘good, basic but nothing in particular’ fitness, that line is a steep incline!

Illness, injury, skipping sessions are simply not on. Tricky when the entire Kootenay population seems to be suffering coughs and colds and those who aren’t, go playing in the mountains on skis.

Let me give you some examples.

1. Injury

I was helping to set some cross country ski tracks over the weekend, and in my enthusiasm to do a ‘good job’ I managed to get the skidoo stuck. Well, jammed is a better description. Jammed in setting concrete and even though the machine was only 2m from the perfectly good trail, it was positioned at right angles to it, buried. What had I done? Tried to turn the darn thing around to give the trail another good beating. My perfectly innocent actions cost me nearly four hours of toil and a strained back.  Down but not out, fortunately.

2. Playtime

I was lucky enough to be called into Natasha’s school for some much needed work last week. Thoroughly enjoyed it, but in chatting to some colleagues one was spending the weekend in a hut some 20km off the highway with some buddies (why is this not me? I wondered to myself) and another was skiing up from his house, into the mountains for some play. Would I like to join him? Is the Pope Catholic? Does Natasha like plain, greasy crisps? What a stupid question. YES! But on reflection, I had to tamper my enthusiasm. ‘Bin the training or do it’ was the advice from my virtual training partner, Peter. ‘But don’t reschedule’. Made perfect sense. Could I afford to bin my 12 mile run on Sunday? The steep training mileage incline image burned in my mind, with the May 1 deadline getting perilously close. I declined. Damn.

3. Illness

Natasha has had a cold this last week. She is not alone. It was inevitable that I succumb at some point. On Thursday I was duly dropped off at New Denver golf course to run home. 9 miles. Fartlek. I was up for it. But within 30 seconds I knew in my heart of hearts that not only fartlek out of the question, it was going to be a case of ‘get home as best you can’. I felt lousy. After, my legs were a soreness I had not witnessed for a long time. Muscle soreness you get after a very long run or a race. Painful to walk downstairs. But only 9 miles? Odd. I could not put my finger on it. On Sunday I ran a blazing 12 miles. Back on track. My legs? Tired but not sore at all. But I had the makings of a rasping cough and got me banished to the couch for the night. Illness.  Affects us in so many different ways. Peter has had to stop his training for a few days – I feel spared. I hope, though, for sprightly legs until 10.29.59 on May 1^st. Only then can I be ill and legs stop working.

To quote Kevin:

Yeah, some days you go out with the best of intentions but you just

have a crap run. Other days you start off feeling like s**t but 

recover to have a good session. Running is a funny old game.

Sure is!

I’m trying a home made energy mix: 1/3 banana, 1 tsp honey (home produced of course). Yum. The challenge is the dispenser and how to carry it. Ideas welcome. My head is turning toward our UK visit, my runs, my training, how to fit it all in, but how to be flexible enough to incorporate running with mates. I’ve got to keep that inclined mileage line going….

Get up and go

Fartlek is a word which still, at the aging age of approaching 46, I find funny. Makes me smirk – it’s my boy humour. However, do it properly and all bets are off. Smirks are replaced by grimaces, car drivers thinking you are either sprinting for Olympic Gold or asking themselves as to why you are near walking and what are you doing in the middle of nowhere?

Sometimes I get confused in remembering the difference between ‘anaerobic’ and ‘aerobic’ – try out the former and you soon remember. The pain, the empty lungs, the sweat, the challenge, the tired legs and not forgetting the big question: ‘Is this all worth it?’

Fartlek = Speed play – work hard, recover quick. Repeat until…. I’m convinced someone keeps increasing the distance between those telegraph poles. Jog one. Fast one, faster one, sprint one. Jog one…. 6 miles of it.

My Canmore buddy Peter is also training for a pedal jaunt in the UK – well, hardly a jaunt: Lands End – John o’ Groats race.  We have become virtual training partners which is a great incentive, as if one slacks you know darn well that the other will make your guilty life even more miserable than it already is. Training is certainly ‘all pain, no gain’ mentality – if you don’t put the time in, then the body can’t perform on the day. But it’s also about being kicked up the backside by those you love and respect and an interest shown in what you are doing. All runners of all shapes and sizes spend hours pounding the road or trail, or running machine and someone egging you on is a necessary evil.

I’ve been following Bryan in South Shields in his attempt to break the four hour marathon. Stubborn bugger and all power to him on Barcelona marathon day. May your commitment and home made energy gels power you across that finish line! Then there is Kevin in Wells – a rower in his time, but loves running. Taken up ‘hashing’ in his local area and loves it. So does his dog. But he keeps adding miles to his shoe soles, determined to be better in the next race. Peter in Spain – a former runner and skier, now a committed hiker in his local hills. His blog brings his local stories and jaunts alive – it feeds my imagination.

You guys keep me training, and its amazing the strength it gives me when I lace up my shoes to step out into the frigid air. Thanks. When is Spring? -10C this morning and a fierce northerly.

I won’t unfortunately get a training session in with Peter before Natasha and I depart for the UK next month as winter still has its grips on the roads. Ice and skinny tyres don’t mix well… but hopefully we can hit the gym the morning of our flight, as we stay over with him the night before we fly. Kevin has promised me a pasting across the Dorset Downs, meeting at Hardy's Monument, 10am on the 16^th: 12 miles, Tim, he says. 6 miles down to the sea, and 6 miles back up. Bring it on! Bryan will have done his marathon so doubtless we will just sit, drink beer (migraine pills easy to hand, of course) and shoot the breeze. Natasha’s parents have just moved to Penrith, so the thought of running the mountain trails in the Lake District is akin to Bonny and Tasky waiting to be given their bone.

I love it. Power to you all. I hit my half way training point today – its been ‘easy’ up to now, but next week the serious work begins. Natasha continues to encourage - thanks love!

Tim

Working life

I have so many blog entries in my head its got to the point of ‘what is the point?’. Life has continued in its time honoured fashion of downhill skiing: ‘out of control and loving it!’ (but in a controlled sort of way, cos that’s the kind of guy I am).

Before I get too deep and philosophical, my marathon training is going well. May 1^st is still some time off, but not in training terms. My maximum road pace is still slower than my 18 yr old training pace, but that is to be expected; I have a head of grey hair to show for it. My tolerance for the indoor revolving rubber is 6miles, so anything beyond that is outdoors. The weather makes for a cold run, but wrap up well and you are soon warm. Two choices face me each time I venture out: 1. turn right (downhill and then uphill return) or 2. turn left (uphill and then downhill return). Two is my favoured option and I’m not complaining, yet. My mileage average is only about 20-25m per week, but I like to think that it is quality 20m. I’m focused, I’m committed. The marathon distance does not worry me, but my target time of sub 3.30 does.

My severe economic state required a drastic stimulus, so four weeks back I headed back over to Port Hardy. The town has been kind to me, for it housed and entertained me for a year in ’92, and for Natasha and I later in 2006 / 09. Worryingly, I reckoned on landing once again at their tiny airport that I have probably used this airport more times than any other in the world. Doors which I had not knocked on for a long while were opened to me, and I caught up with stories and events - some tragic, some challenging, some funny. Once again it served as a reminder that even though I feel that am continually working to keep friendship doors open, that is not to say that any are, in reality, closed. I worked and trained hard, leading a somewhat nomadic existence for two weeks but left with a warm glow in my heart knowing that I had helped a good buddy of mine out, got some money and reaffirmed old acquaintances. Thank you to all who took me in (and for the massage, Cindy!) But oh, the weather! I spent the entire time in four layers struggling to keep warm in the damp, cool winter climate whilst working with others wearing simply a T shirt. Natasha was very pleased to see me – she had become chief snow shoveler and dog walker on top of full time work.

So, back at Smiling Hills farm, Sanderman becomes Farmer Tim. We have somehow been granted farm status on the basis of my bees. I did tell them 2010 saw a 75% mortality rate and no income, but the powers that be obviously needed to keep their farm numbers up. I can now get an official ‘F’ number plate for the truck. F standing for, naturally, FARM. The B&B saw its first winter guests last weekend, three grown men heading up into the mountains for a weeks ski touring. Very jealous. I do hope for an increase in custom over this next year, and less bee kill.

The snow keeps on coming. The pile to the left of me right now is half way up our living room window. It’s fun, yet challenging. I need a machine to help clear it all and hopefully next year Farmer Tim will have his tractor. But for now, I need to sell my garden tractor snowblower, keep my brand new blower from breaking down, repair a faulty new generator, get the new fridge to work properly. To top it off, Tasky killed three chickens yesterday.  Natasha continues to find work challenging in so many ways and I need a job… need I go on? Get the drift?The grass is starting to look a little greener on the other side, but that may just be temporary. Time will tell.

So, cancel your gym memberships and use the money to get yourselves out here. There is plenty here to keep you in shape!

Natasha, the author blog - http://aliveinthekootenays.blogspot.com/

Paul, the cycling brother website - http://www.pedallingpsychology.com/

Peter, the sports photographer blog - http://www.cuetophoto.com/blog/

 Tim