Last Tuesday night, I met the group of women I’ve been coaching in a “Learn to Run” clinic for the last time.

Ten weeks ago, they sat on benches before me, faces flushed with disbelief and fear when I told them that the goal of our clinic was to run 5km.

Last Tuesday, I shouted and cheered for them, so very, very proud, as they crossed that barrier. They did it.

As in any journey, there were hard days. About halfway through was the toughest time. A few of the women had gone on vacation, the weather seemed to be constantly set to “cold drizzle” and 5k seemed very far away. There were hard runs, but I tried to stay positive for them. Be proud of yourself, give yourself the credit you deserve for doing this, I’d tell them. Be kind to yourself, don’t beat yourself up about the one run that didn’t happen, congratulate yourself for the three or four that did happen.

As we stretched afterwards, their faces sweaty and flushed and happy they exclaimed, Who would have thought?! Who knew we could do it? And I smiled and said, Me. I knew all along. And I did, I believed it from the beginning.

Coaching this clinic has been all I had hoped it would be. The discovery of strength is an experience so powerful that it transcends all aspects of your life. I know, because I’ve been there. To believe in yourself? Is unlike any other feeling in the world. When you push past your (physical, mental, emotional) limits, doors that you never knew existed are opened to you. Because of you.

It didn’t matter what I knew ten weeks ago; it matters that they know it now.

Each of us, we are strong and wonderful and beautiful. It’s looking in the mirror and believing it that can be the hardest part.

I wake early on Sundays, tip toe down the stairs and change into my running gear. I eat breakfast in silence, crunching quietly as possible, trying to let the two children upstairs sleep.

Brush teeth, lace up sneakers and I’m out the door just as the morning sun starts to glow warm yellow on the world. Key in ignition and the car rolls out of the driveway – I have a date with myself.

As I near downtown, the car veers left into the road that rolls high over the harbour then dips below the bridge. I turn up the music. Sometimes it’s Fleetwood Mac, sometimes it’s Pearl Jam, sometimes it’s something in between. Roll down the windows and let the spring air rush into my lungs. I breathe deep.

Downtown is abandoned this early on a Sunday and the parking spaces are easy to find. I am an hour early for the run clinic I coach, just enough time for my own run.

The route takes me down a main road, loops around the hospital and then up, up, up the largest hill. I stop at the top when it’s sunny and look out beyond the town clock and over the sparkling harbour. Inhale. Peace – I’ve found it. Down the hill and loop back to the store for a quick stretch before my group arrives and the day’s machinery begins to grind.

Afterwards, I head home to my husband and daughters, they have also been running this morning. The dog and kids run to greet me at the car while my husband waits on the front step, coffee in hand. There are small voices squealing at me and the dog is barking and above their heads, we lock eyes and smile at each other.

Our life six years ago was very different than our life now. Little by little, as the years have passed, we have lost much of our free time. There are rarely lazy mornings or late nights. Children and careers and university classes and a nasty habit of training for very long runs have snatched them away.

I sit beside my husband in the sunshine. Two girls scramble to get between us, the dog settles and lays down on the grass. I sip his coffee and smile because, oh, it’s all so very worth it.

“For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction”

Lord Byron

GRANT: I’m outraged.

VICKY: Why is that?

GRANT: I just watched Prefontaine and Without Limits back to back.

VICKY: You didn’t like them?

GRANT: Oh, they were okay.  The running scenes were well produced, but they are perfect examples of everything I hate about film.

VICKY: Not enough sex?

GRANT: Yes that, and they feel no obligation to the truth.

VICKY: Examples please! I know you haven’t read the book yet.  I still have your copy.

GRANT: Well, I don’t know which one tells the truth or maybe neither but both tell different versions of key events of the story.  Yes Prefontaine goes off to Oregon to run, runs in the Olympics and dies in a car accident, but how he gets recruited, how he meets his girlfriend, how he encounters Bill Bowerman; they are all told in completely different ways.  Someone is not telling the truth.

VICKY: Relax, they are just movies.

GRANT: I know, but why do movies have a totally different standard towards the truth?  Imagine if you read a biography, but the author changed around all the major events so that it was more dramatic.

VICKY: I guess you have a point.  I hadn’t thought about that.

GRANT: It’s getting so that when I watch a movie, “based on a true story” I assume that 95% of it is fiction.

VICKY: Yeah, like Titanic, how much of that was true?

GRANT: That’s funny, but seriously, why is film held to a completely different journalistic standard then books are.  Currently I’m reading Bowerman and the Men of Oregon, by Kenny Moore.    This is a very well researched book which stretches from Bowerman’s childhood, through his service in World War 2 in Italy, through his years coaching at the University of Oregon and at the Olympics.  Is there any way that Moore is going to change details around in this story to make it cooler or more entertaining.  Hell no.  He assumes that his audience is intelligent enough to be interested more in the truth than in cheap thrills.  Ironically Moore co-wrote Without Limits.  Go figure.

VICKY: Nice rant.

GRANT: Thank you.  And now I’ll encourage all of you to watch Saint Ralph, a Canadian made movie which takes place in Hamilton and shows the Around the Bay race and the Boston Marathon.  It is definitely and delightfully fiction.

VICKY: Good one.  Let’s find out from the readers what their favorite running movie is?  And the worst movie they’ve ever watched?

GRANT: The best answer gets a prize.

Anyone else experience a flurry of emotions this passed weekend?

What a weekend, I am blown away by the fantastic job that the Race Weekend organizers  and volunteers did.

I experienced Joy and Happiness for such a smooth weekend with exciting races from 2k to 42.2 k!

I would love to tell you about my race and describe some of the emotions!  I ran the 10km on Saturday night and I was lucky to have the opportunity to suit up next to some of the world’s best in the elite section!  Sure I may be almost a foot taller than Mr Merga but boy is he intimidating. I was grateful to have one of Canada’s best distance men there beside me (Reid Coolsaet) he is always smiling and wow what a pace bunny!  Reid was using the race as a training run so he was running at his marathon pace and he is something of a metronome.

The plan was to go out and run 3:10 min/km, simple enough right?  Well let’s look at kms 1 and 2…Over excited and slight downhill so 3:oo and 3:02 respectively…opps.  Somehow missed the 3km split but then it was bang on 3:10 until km 7 when things got rough!  Kms 7 and 8 are a little up hill and I started really noticing the heat, I was ready to shut (pain) it down by the time we got to Pretoria bridge during the 8th km and Reid obviously knowing this says “Hey dude this is where you make yourself a man”.  Right I’m suppose to give up after that (pride)?! So after a dismal 3:25km in that portion of the race I fired up the last km and let loose any and everything I had left and ended up 31:48!  A personal best! 16th Overall.

http://sportstats.ca/display-results.php?lang=eng&racecode=46317

It was a great race and I was in awe, there wasn’t a 5m stretch without a screaming fan.  I was really excited to see how popular running truly is in this city!

The next morning I went out to cheer on friends and family in the marathon.  Flashback to Saturday post race I was in rough shape, I didn’t sleep and spent a lot of time in and around the bathroom.  The combination of going all the way to the well in my race and lack of sleep put me in one hell of a mood Sunday.  I kid you not I road my bike up along side the marathon saw a woman crying and hugging someone on the side of the road and shed a couple of tears myself right then and there.  There was just something overwhelming about that sight, I couldn’t for the life of my figure out why the hell any one would do that to themselves.  Luckily, Chef and I got a lot of “I Run” statements at the Expo so I do know why people do it but I’m still baffled at why we put ourselves through that pain.  For me I think it’s just all I know at this point, pain and perseverance.  I’d love it if any readers post below and tell me why they do it.

Anyway I’ll say it again what a great weekend and congrats to anyone who was out there I hope the weekend was an emotional roller-coaster for all of you as well.  I know some of the above aren’t all emotions per se but you get the idea!

Keep doing what you do,

Josh

P.s stay tuned I may have video of the finish! Chef?

2:02:04, the best 45 seconds of which involved stopping to plant a kiss on my girl.

Yep, this means I beat my (admittedly totally arbitrary) time goal of 2:04:25 by more than 2 minutes. If we’re going to operate in the spirit of full disclosure, however, I must confess that I’d really hoped to bring it home under 2 hours. And in the spirit of full-full disclosure, I must confess that I might have gone out a little fast and found myself chasing a 1:55 until about the halfway mark. Ah, newfound wisdom I’ve supposedly gained since becoming a mom – where were you this morning?!

Still, I have no regrets about chasing an aggressive goal – except maybe for that brief, totally delusional period where I ran the first 3k in about 15 minutes (!) – since it means I know I left everything out there, and am still the same Beastie Boys-loving, pace-bunny-hunting, racing fool I used to be. And, for all I like to believe in race-day miracles, where the speed fairies descend from the heavens to plant kisses on my shoes that make me capable of running about a minute faster per kilometer than I did in training, in reality, you get the race you train for, and today was no exception. I raced as hard as I could on the training I’d done, and when I started to bleed time in the second half, rather than becoming discouraged or panicked about my tiring legs, I turned my thoughts to seeing my husband, my baby girl and my best friend waiting for me at the 20k mark. I actually felt a weird relief when the 2 hour bunny finally passed me, since it meant I wouldn’t feel rushed stopping to hug and smooch them. After all, no time goal can trump seeing little Alex beaming at me from her Baby Bjorn, with an expression that clearly meant, “I have no idea where you came from or what you’re doing, but I sure am glad to see you, Mom! Hey, what do you MEAN you’re not stopping to feed me? You better run, woman!”