By: Magi Scallion

I got to spend a very lovely weekend in Revelstoke, BC, this fine September. Revelstoke has long been a winter destination for skiers and snowmobilers with legendary back country and deep powder, but it’s now becoming a mountain bike and trail running destination in the summer months.

A lot of the recent summer hype has been around two amazing, epic trails that were recently build or rediscovered. The Frisbey Ridge trail runs through the Monashee mountains, on the west side of the famous Columbia River, and is a panoramic 26 km out-and-back run. The trail was recently refurbished and gives the feel of front-country trail running: limited rocks and routes with great panoramic vistas. The trail involves 7 km of climbing right out of the parking lot (which means 7 km of descending back to the parking lot) so put on your best suffer smile and get to it: it’s worth it. I, personally, did not do this run, but got the report from a few friends who did it the day before I arrived.

The trail I got to enjoy was Keystone Standard Basin, which falls on the east side of the Columbia River, on the edge of the majestic Selkirk Mountains. This trail, similar to Frisbey is about 45 minutes of driving from the Town of Revelstoke. Don’t complain about the drive because it takes you several hundred feet above the valley floor (which means less self-propelled climbing).

To be perfectly honest, I enjoyed the Keystone trail as a cyclist, not a runner. I did the Terry Fox Run in the morning (a hard 10 km effort with a bunch of young guys) so was feeling the need for some seated afternoon exercise. There were plenty of runners on the trail, though, so I can assure you that it is spectacular no matter what form of exercise you choose.

The trail head has lots of parking and also an outhouse: a great feature considering it’s a 45 minute drive from town! I was warned that the first 25 minutes of the trail was all climbing… hard climbing. I was exhausted from the race in the morning so was not really looking forward to this. Let me tell you how happy I was to crest the worst part of the climb within 10 minutes. I am not superwoman: it’s really not that bad. You do continue to climb for about 30 minutes but it’s more of a benched climb with some flatter rest sections. Not as bad as you think!

Once you get the climb over with, you enter into some sublime alpine meadows, which sums up the rest of the trail. It’s 11 km to a lake and small cabin, along a trail that runs around a spectacular basin. The views to the Monashee mountains and deeper into the Selkirks are amazing. Take a camera because you cannot take a bad picture of this area! Rumour has it that the flowers are waist high in the mid to late summer months: that must make for some beautiful colours!

There are lots of viewpoints and features along the way, including a few small streams. You can bring your dog along (best to have a well trained or on-leash dog, in case you encounter some animals). The trail was designed for hiking but the bulk of users are now mountain bikers and trail runners, who have a very symbiotic relationship.

There are lots of great places to stay and eat in Revelstoke – it’s a cute mountain town – so make a weekend of it! I highly recommend:

Camping: Williamson Lake Campground (A lake for swimming and decent tent sites)
Coffee: La Baguette (also a great place for cheese… mmmm cheese)
Greasy Spoon Breakfast: The Frontier Restaurant (who doesn’t love recovery food?)
Wine: Benoit’s Wine Bar (Good wine selection and food)
Beer and Burgers: The Village Idiot (It’s got character and beer…)

It’s inevitable, some day it’s bound to happen. You might have a mental lapse of judgement during a race, or might not have trained up to your potential. You might (like me) just be getting older, slower, less focused on “the time” and more focused on “the finish”.  We all as runners want to do our personal best, we all want to set goals, train for, and then meet them.

This preamble leads me to a very cute story and an awakening of sorts…let me explain…

While running the Creemore Vertical Challenge 25k trial run this past year, I heard for the first time the term “Chicked”.  Now, this is a term used to describe “the act of getting passed by a stronger runner, who just also happens to be a woman”.  In this specific case, I was passed by my buddy’s girlfriend ( who in my defense is half my age, and runs like a gazelle ).   Let’s call her “Catherine”…and yes, that is her real name.

Now Catherine had never run this race before and I give her all kinds of props for running on that specific day as the course was very muddy and technical…lots of steep single track, mostly up hill…some back roads and open fields…a small creek,  in fact, if truth be told, she almost backed out of the race because the footing on the course when it is in perfect condition is a bit iffy, and it had poured rain an hour before the race, making the single track a slippery, muddy, mess.

I was feeling pretty good that day, I had a really good run, and in fact, had shaved about 14min. off my best time, running this race three times before.  Having said that…here’s what happened.

So when my buddy, “Conar”… yes that’s his real name…so when I came up to the 21k aid station, Conar was volunteering at this station.  I had asked Conar how Catherine was doing…his response was “ya, she’s already through, you’ve been “Chicked” by her, I laughed an awkward laugh and trying to stay positive, I said, “good on her” and continued to run the final 4k of the race…  I was really OK with it…honest, and let me tell you why.

There are some awesome runners out there who I marvel at …both male and female.  The runners who run so fast that by the time I am half way through a marathon, they are finishing, doing a victory lap, and enjoying the spoils of being first at the food table.

I know I am never going to be that fast…truth be told, the average male runner has been “Chicked” every race they have ever run unless they are at the front of the pack.

So take from this blog a lesson on both humility and reality…and I say “Bravo Ladies…Bravo”.

This week I went to the mall. Typically this isn’t a noteworthy event unless I find a great sale or have a particularly awesome Orange Julius. This trip was memorable for all the wrong reasons. The problem started when I entered the dressing room, an annex of judgement and humiliation which no woman should have to endure for at least six months postpartum (a full year is better).

Shopping for running apparel is especially problematic. Technical material, while wonderful for keeping sweat away from delicate areas never meant to fester in pools of bodily fluid, tends to emphasize every lump, bump and wobble (Side note: Doesn’t Lump, Bump & Wobble sound like the name of a great kid’s musical group?). So I knew what I was getting myself into, however as I’m still nursing my five month old, I’ve discovered my pre-baby running bras aren’t necessarily as efficient as I need them to be (imagine trying to stuff a quarter-pound hotdog into a breakfast sausage casing). If I was going to find a new one in time to test it out before my half-marathon in just over two weeks, the time had to be now.

I selected a few options, squeezed the stroller into a dressing room and began trying them on. No sooner did I have the first one on, Little Dude began to cry. Not a little whimper that slowly escalates, but rather the type of immediate, ear-shattering wail that sends passers-by scrambling for their phones to speed dial Family Services. I tried everything: a soother, rocking the stroller, covering him with my coat, outright pleading and singing a verse of Bohemian Rhapsody, but his complaint only intensified. I knew what had to be done and I had two options: get dressed, put the clothing on hold, leave and come back later, or just feed him there. I had the room and I was already topless. The math was pretty simple.

Fortunately the dressing room had a small stool so I was able sit down. Fortunately so I thought in the moment. The room also happened to come equipped with a three-way mirror on one wall, and a big, full-size mirror covering the opposite wall. I know the implications. The makers of spandex products want you to think long and hard before you dare venture out in public wearing their clothing so they make sure you can verify at every angle that this is, in fact, an appropriate purchase. Not-so fortunately, this meant that while breastfeeding, I had views multiplied as far as the eye could see and several minutes of unobstructed time with which to scrutinize myself.

Normally when I see so much skin revealed in a mirror, I’ve just gotten out of the shower and I’m standing upright and sucking things in. I’m also near the end of training for my half-marathon. Such factors had mistakenly led me to believe I wasn’t doing too badly in the post-baby body department. Fortunately, when you’re willing to pay $92 for a pair of workout pants, you get a free reality check included with purchase.

I’m still carrying an extra 10 to 15 pounds of weight I didn’t have last year during the same race, a fact that hasn’t escaped me. And while I try to remind myself that it could be much, much worse, every article I’ve ever read explaining how each extra pound of weight contributes to slower running times continues to echo in my head. I will spend the next two weeks leading up to the race reminding myself that I should be grateful to just finish the distance rather than convince myself a new PR is necessary when I’m not necessarily in top physical form. I’m still healthy, strong and hopefully ready to achieve a goal I set barely after the second pink line appeared in the test window.

Back in the dressing room, I wrapped up the feeding ten minutes later, looked down at the face of my now-peaceful son, said a silent prayer of thanks for a healthy child, proceeded to find what I originally came searching for, and vowed to start a letter-writing campaign lobbying retail locations to include at least one dressing room equipped with  shoulders-up only mirrors.

Find me on Twitter @TamIWas

The last drink I had was on January 14 2010 and if I am being completely transparent (and why not be honest, the cat’s outta the bag) it was more like 18 drinks…near as I could count.  I had a farewell party to myself.

The next day and the days and weeks that followed were filled with discomforts that I never want to relive and that I never want to forget. Forgetting would be disrespectful. Detoxing was hard on my mind and my body. I am afraid if I minimize the torment I felt, I risk pouring that first drink that will send me spiralling back into the world of lager and ale.

So, I remember, I respect and I run. It has been working.

When I run, it’s usually full speed ahead, just shy of what should be a 5 or 10k race pace. I like the punishment; it keeps me in the moment, so I won’t forget how far I have come. My mind understands that running so hard, so often is one of the reasons that I go from one injury to the next, but the part of me that needs punishment goes out too fast every time no matter  what common sense would dictate.

Another part of me craves performance success, and that’s why I push so hard. It’s as if constant improvement, seen by posting decent and faster times might prove that I am good at something other than emptying wine bottles. I need to prove that I can still do something with the bit of running talent I had at one time. I am driven to prove that I can do more with running than just “running” a tab. I have squandered much time, money and talent and none of it can be retrieved but the time, money and talent I have left are going to be spent on running harder, faster and longer.

So from where I stand in these running shoes, punishment and vindication through pounding the pavement are what keep me on the straight and narrow.

Let’s face it, we runners are a “strange breed”. Now keep in mind that when I use the word “strange”, I do so with the best of intentions…strange is good, so let’s just embrace our strangeness an move forward. We do things that on the outside appear to be “a little different”, or as my non-running friends are oh so quick to point out… “just plain crazy” !

So, for no other reason to salute runners of all levels, and in the tradition of Grammy award winning comedian Jeff Foxworthy, here is my version of

“ You might be a runner ”

If you have ever driven 5 hours, for the privilege of running for 4 hours…

If you pay more than $ 5.00 for a pair of socks…

If you “love the sound of Cow Bell in the morning”…

If you have found a way to take “Manscaping” to a whole new level…

If you know what Body Glide is, and have applied it to parts of your body  too personal to mention in an iRun blog…

If your idea of “PB” does not include jam…

If you have ever gone up or down a flight of stairs backward out of necessity…

If you are the owner of a “utility belt” but are not in the “crime fighting” business…

If RICE is something you do, as well as something that makes a tasty side dish…

If you have ever applied bandages to your nipples…

If you have ever paid the price as a result of forgetting to apply bandages to your nipples…

If you find “black and blue” toenails in any way sexy…

If you are not prone to giggle when someone yells the word “FARTLEK”…

If you have ever uttered the words “my new watch is GPS enabled”…

If “tens and ones” means more to you than “change for a twenty”…

If you have ever asked a salesperson “how well does this garment wick away moisture”…

and finally…

If you have ever proclaimed “ I am never running this distance ever again ” while in the middle of a subsequent race of the aforementioned distance…you just might be a runner.