Day: I did it!

Actually, it's night now, not day, but I had to report on this evening's run, which I didn't much feel like attempting as the rest of the family sat down to the meal I'd prepared with such effort and care (pasta with fresh-made pesto, and a quinoa/bean/veggie salad). But I put on my running clothes and my watch, and headed out. "I hope it doesn't start raining on me," I said. And it did. But by that point, I really didn't care.

I hadn't decided whether to do 10 or 12km, but of course, the further I went, the further I wanted to go, so I went to the 12.2km turnaround. I was pretty much exactly on course for 5-minutes per kilometre, which slightly bummed me out. Could I really not go any faster? My lungs were churning away, it seemed. So I decided to try to go faster. I pushed it even going up this very very long hill that's part of the eighth kilometre, and somehow managed to keep pace, and then I just got faster. It was weird. The last four kilometres were my fastest of the whole run. By the end, I'd run 12km in 58 minutes (I did note how long I had to wait for traffic and made those deductions; stupid traffic).

I'm still waiting for all of this to feel easy. (She says, smiling).

One good thing to report: my legs and muscles never felt tired. But that was balanced by my lungs feeling pretty much stretched to the limit. It makes me wonder: how do I improve my lung capacity? Is it just by pushing my breathing to its edge and staying there for as long as possible? Does it get easier? I also had the thought (realization) that no matter how much I train, my body is only capable of what it's capable of, if you know what I mean. I might be a 5-minute/kilometre runner, and that might be all that I can really do. Everyone has an end-point, no matter how much effort is put into it. I'm pretty darn certain I'll never be a 3-minute/kilometre runner. But I'd like to be a 4-minute/kilometre runner. That would be exciting.

The faster I ran, however, the more difficult it was to maintain control and balance. I tend to be a highly controlled runner. I run with a particular rhythm that involves breath and pace, and it's disconcerting to lose either. The two go together. It's very rhythmic.

Anyway, I arrived home a happy woman, excited by the accomplishment, and always, but always, dreaming of more. Why do I like to push myself so hard? I couldn't begin to tell you. All I know is, it's easier the further I run. The further I run, the more my conscious/self-conscious/worrying/can-I-really-keep-doing-this self gets pushed to the side, and some inner spirit takes over, a bit more reckless, a bit crazy, really. It's like digging down through layers until you've reached pure effort.

Day: lazy lie in

I felt lazy this morning, lying in until after 7am, while my husband and two oldest kids got up around 6:45 and went to the pool for a swim. But I also felt really proud of them for going--for the second time this week. My eldest (age 10) was proud to report that he swam 10 laps in a row without stopping. Husband (age 41) was proud to report making it three laps without stopping (he's still learning how to swim). Daughter, age 8, forgot her towel and was drying herself off afterwards with her sweater (aaghh!!) when a kind older woman offered to lend her a towel.

I felt slightly envious of their obvious energy as they burst through the front door. I could have set the alarm and run really early this morning. But I'm fighting a cold, and my Wednesday running partner is away for the day, and I didn't feel like going on my own again, in the dark and the cold. I plan to run tonight instead.

Yesterday, I ran 9.9 km (can I count that as 10?) in under 50 minutes, pounding around the neighbourhood streets. I guess I could have run out on my familiar trail, but it seems sort of isolated and dangerous when I'm running on my own and it's so dark. I don't mind running the neighbourhood loop, and I'm mostly able to run in the street rather than on the sidewalks, but one section of street is so slanted that I have to run right down the middle to feel comfortable, otherwise it's like running on an angle, and I feel it in my knees.

I also made it to an evening 90-minute hot yoga class. So glad I went. I almost skipped, due to feeling under the weather, but it was so good to go and sweat, and weirdly, I felt really strong throughout. It reminded me that it's a good general rule not to skip any workouts unless I'm actually feverish. Exercise boosts the immune system. I followed this rule last winter, reminding myself that if people receiving cancer treatments who feel really really sick can keep working out, then so can I. You don't have to feel in the peak of health to go for a run. You just might have to run more slowly, or go a little easier on yourself.

Looking forward to this evening's run. It will still be light out, so I hope to hit my familiar trail. And then I'll banish this feeling of laziness.

Day: swim, swim, swim

Started the week with a swim. Wonderful. I swam the first 1500 metres relatively on pace (approximately 10-11 minutes per 500 metres), and then found myself slowing down for the last 1000 metres. I counted this morning. I think 2500 metres is my new norm. I can do it in under an hour, and hope that down the road, with increased fitness and assuming my stroke continues to improve, I can get to 3000 metres in an hour. Well, it's a big goal.

One weird thing about this morning's swim: it was really really busy, with a Master's swim club churning the place up. And in the lane next to mine, I kept seeing what looked like a mirage: a teeny-tiny figure at the bottom of the pool. It must be really deep down there, or the water really distorts perspective, because someone was swimming right at the bottom of the pool and he looked like something I was making up in my imagination. He (could have been she, come to think of it) would dive down to the very bottom and then swim the entire length along the bottom, and then surface. I get a creepy kind of feeling when I pass over things in a lake--like logs or fish or unidentified buried objects, and this made me feel a bit creepy, too. Not sure what that feeling is, nor how to describe it with precision.

Day: long(ish) run

Swam Friday morning. Did nothing on Saturday except stand in the kitchen all day making and canning pearsauce. I could have gotten up early to run, but I just didn't feel like it. I kind of regretted it, but on the other hand, I was so tired after being so busy all week. I needed that hour of extra sleep.

Yesterday was a long day, with fun events in the evening that included beer and wine. I partook, but not too heavily. Still, I didn't wake up in the mood for a long run, as I'd planned. But I put on my running gear, ate some breakfast, and headed out. The first couple of kilometres it felt like my body was not in the least bit interested in the prospect of running. I was glad I wasn't attempting a half-Ironman (which was being run today not too far from here). I went slowly and just appreciated the fact that I'd gotten out.

For the first time ever, I had to stop and pee in the bushes along the way. I'd barely gone three kilometres! But I felt much better after that, and started to enjoy the run. The weather was beautiful. There were lots of runners and cyclists out, and I ran all the way out to the countryside. I wish I could always run that far, and then I wish I could just keep on running (and maybe get a ride home ... because the problem with running out is that you have to, at some point, turn and run all the way back again).Fields and sky. Perfect.

On my way home, I knew when I hit the mark where I was 6 kilometres from home, and I was feeling so good that I figured I could try to push the pace a bit. So I ran as fast as I could manage, noting my time at each kilometre-mark (this is a route I know very well). I ran the first three kilometres in 14 minutes, which pleased me to no end, but then I started to feel not quite so perky after all. I made it 5 kilometres in 24 minutes, and then let myself walk briefly in order to take a quick drink, and then started up again. I didn't feel like I'd run that last kilometre very fast at all, but I still made it home with a time of 30 minutes for those last 6 kilometres. It was nice to know that I could run that far at that pace, after having already run what turned out to be just over 11 kilometres. But I wouldn't want to suffer at that pace for another seven, which is how much further I'll have to run in the train run in a few weeks. Still, I ran 17.2 kilometres in an hour and thirty minutes, and felt very comfortable for 14 of those kilometres.

All in all, it was such a happy run, and I was so glad to have made myself just get out there and try.

Good news: I've found a babysitter to come here to be with the kids on race morning, now just need to find some rides for the big kids to their soccer tryouts.

Day: Back in the pool!

First of all, I had such a good run yesterday evening. Fifty minutes of booting it up and down hills on lovely shaded trails, in the company of a ton of other runners. The hills were alive! I have no idea how far I went, but I got faster as I went (I ran a loop, so I could see that each loop was progressively faster), and it felt much more effortless. Not entirely effortless, of course, but as effortless as running can feel. I didn't want to stop, but my daughter's game had already started, and I didn't want to miss any more.

This morning, I got up early and went swimming. Back to the pool! I haven't been in the indoor pool since June, and it was dark and it felt like the right place to be. The lane distance is terribly short, and I still don't have a good turning around method, but other than that, it was an entirely pleasurable swim. My stroke felt solid, and my technique has definitely improved over the summer, and I just basically swam for an hour. I'm contemplating dropping one early morning swim in favour of the triathlon class on Wednesday evenings. I'm not sure I can do more than three (very) early mornings a week. We'll see.

I swam for what I estimate was 2500m, or an hour. My goggles get really foggy, which was terrible for lake swimming, but kind of nice in the pool, though I couldn't see anyone until I was actually upon them. I also pull the swim cap right over my ears, so it's like being in a sensory deprivation tank (or so I imagine). And it's lovely. I had some good ideas for my new character and book. I didn't count laps until the end, so I'm only estimating my distance, but I was swimming in the same lane with a friend, so I guessed based on what she swam, plus what I counted when she got out of the water.

A good start to my Friday!!! But I'm going to need a nap, that's for sure. Time to go wake these children for school.

Day: trying to remember what I've done

I was not regularly at my desk during the final two weeks before school started. Almost never, actually, so my handy spreadsheet didn't get updated until today. And I couldn't for the life of me even remember what I was doing last week ... it already seems so long ago.

Last Friday, I ran for the fifth day in a row, and it was really hot, and I ran in the early afternoon, and I suffered. It was brutal, really. I was getting chills by the second half of the run. I did not go 12km as planned, but cut my run short and made it about 10.5km. My time wasn't good either. I was just trying to make it home, by the end. So there may be such a thing as too much training. I'm wondering about trying to train more efficiently, working more sprints into my runs, or something like that, rather than just doing these steady runs at different paces.

Anyway, I've felt slow all this week, too. I took the weekend off, and started back with the daily running on Monday, just forcing myself to get out of bed and go on Monday morning. I didn't go fast for the first half of the run (which was only 7.5km), and then felt happy pushing myself faster for the second half, but I tried to look at my effort positively, even though it wasn't a whole-hearted effort. At least I got out, when I didn't much feel like going.

I haven't been swimming for a very long time (since the cottage), so I hope to do that tomorrow, and I'm also hoping to run tonight at my favourite place to do trails (my daughter has a game, rain or shine). I've gotten up early twice this week, and plan to get up early again tomorrow. I'm still working naps back into my schedule, having gotten out of the habit of early work-outs over the summer. Not sure whether I'll swim twice a week, or add in an extra run instead of a swim. It might depend on the weather. When it got really dark and cold last winter, I loved going to the pool in the early morning. But while there's still some light in the morning, I like running instead, and being outside.

I'm also aiming to get to one or two yoga classes every week. One is doable. Two is doubtful. But boy do I need the stretching. Writing all day is hard on my back and I have to remember to take breaks and stretch, here, too.

Day: running trails at soccer

Ran yesterday morning with my friend for 8.5km to put me at a total of 56km for last week. And tonight ran for what I estimate was about 10km. Unfortunately, lacking a GPS device (okay, that would be a cool Christmas gift), I can't accurately map the trails to figure out how far I went. But I ran as fast as I could for 52 minutes, which, factoring in the steepness of the hills and the heat, should add up for about 10km. Sometimes I can't believe how light I feel as soon as I start to run. All of the heaviness of the day drops away. I was feeling sluggish today, tired, tired of being home with kids all day, tired of cooking and baking, and not getting time to think, and the instant that I picked up my feet and ran, I felt light as air. All of that tiredness dropped away. Yes, it returned during the run, but in a completely different form. I felt like I was working hard, my lungs were digging, my muscles were burning (on steep uphills mentioned before), and the tiredness I felt was there to be pushed through, or pushed against, as if by responding actively I could conquer it.

And get somewhere else.

My daughter was playing soccer tonight, so after 50-odd minutes I ran directly to the field and watched the rest of the game. Now that was hard. It's so much harder for me to stand on the sidelines than for me to run through a fairly high level of discomfort. All it takes to keep on running is ... well, it's just not stopping. But standing on the sidelines, I can't do anything but watch. I can't affect anything happening on the field.

I'm not good at watching. I need to be doing.