From the best running shoes to the warmest tights to the perfect face mask to just an old-fashioned pair of cool-looking kicks, Reebok has everything you need to keep the athlete in your life active this holiday season. Below, a selection of greatest hits, and please note: each product name is hyperlinked to the Reebok site where the goods can be purchased. Happy holidays!
The Forever Floatride Grow is one of the world’s first plant-based performance running shoes. Made with eucalyptus bark, bloom algae, castor bean oil and natural rubber, this shoe is crafted with both your run and our planet in mind. Because going sustainable shouldn’t mean compromising on quality, $150 CAD
Whether you’re circling the track or weaving through commuters on city sidewalks, these men’s running shoes are designed to do it all. A breathable mesh upper keeps your feet cool, and the lightweight midsole cushions each step of your long runs, intervals and everything in between, $160 CAD.
These women’s leggings are designed to complement your body’s unique shape. Motion Sense Technology provides targeted support that adapts to your movement. The fabric firms up during high-impact activities and relaxes during low-impact activities. The wide, high-rise waist offers full coverage and a flattering fit, $110 CAD.
Everything in its place. This backpack features two main compartments to keep your daily routine organized. A padded sleeve provides a place for your laptop while slip-in side pockets hold your wallet or a water bottle, $45 CAD.
The Reebok Club C 85 has been unapologetically authentic since 1985. Club C’s original look has endured for decades and is an iconic wardrobe staple of any trendsetter, $95 CAD.
Made with soft, breathable fabric the Reebok Face Cover is comfortable, washable and reusable for practicing healthy habits every day. This cover is not a medically graded mask nor a Personal Protective Equipment but can help prevent the spread of viruses and germs through droplet transmission, $28.
The global race director community is collaborating at absolutely epic proportions. Thousands of experts, the experts, in operations, health and safety, communications, emergency preparedness, crowd control and medical response — are working towards the safe return to racing. It’s impressive andif you’re a runner, you should be informed, hopeful, even optimistic.
Everything is different now. And pulling back the curtain feels like a necessary step to the safe return to racing. Race directors are trained, highly skilled and experienced event professionals who always put the safety of participants first. We just haven’t had to talk about it. It’s understood that when you register, you will have a safe route to run on and if you get a mid-race cramp or god-forbid something worse, trained medical personnel will be dispatched to help you. Our sponsors partner with us because they trust us to represent their brand and our municipal officials permit our events because they know we provide a service that benefits our community.
As we work towards the safe return to racing, these implied contracts are being tested. Organizers face many barriers, including but not limited to clear and consistent guidance from government and public health officials, stakeholder support and consumer confidence. Here’s five things readers of iRun can do—today—to ensure the return of their favourite races.
1. Register for virtual races, aka #runnow2runlater
The number one thing you can do to ensure your favourite race is there to go back to is to support that organization now. Heck, if you have the means, build in a couple of virtual experiences a month into your routine. To those waiting on the sidelines for in-person races to return and perhaps even vehemently against paying for a virtual race, with love, we wish you would reconsider. Remember early in the pandemic when we all agreed to do takeout once a week to save the neighborhood restaurant? And committed to buying local rather than from the big box store? Signing up for a virtual race is the equivalent of ordering Yami rolls from Hana Sushi or buying another set of PJs you really don’t need from Steeling Home (my two support local purchases this week). Race organizations are mostly small businesses and not-for-profits, such as the all-female not-for-profit team at Manitoba Marathon and the small family-owned business that employs 17 people across the country, Canada Running Series. We are trying to keep our doors open and awesome staff employed so we are positioned to hit the ground running when we can host in-person events again. Decades of staff experience and organizational continuity are how we put on exceptional, safe events.
2. Advocate for the safe return to racing
Remember how I told you the best minds in the business have collaborated on the safe return to racing? People WAY smarter than me. Well, folks… it’s working. Small, medium and even some larger events have taken place putting COVID-secure protocols into practice. A study by the Japan Association of Athletics Federations found that between July 1 and October 4, 787 competitions with COVID-protocols in place saw a total of 571,401 athletes and 98,035 officers and referees, and only one person was reported infected within the period. ONE! Going to a controlled outdoor event is not the same as a social gathering. If there is an in-person race taking place in your Canadian city or town (I can’t speak to other parts of the world), it’s very likely public health officials have reviewed the plans, feel confident in the protocols and are allowing it.
3. See an in-person race on the calendar? GO!
I apologize (as a good Canadian does) for being the bearer of bad news: mass participation events as you fondly remember them (the ones with 20,000+ people and all the fanfare deserving of finish line high-fives and hugs) are unlikely to be the same in 2021. In addition to being operational wizards, we are dedicated to innovation and building mega-experiences meant to thrill, entice and keep you coming back. The safe return to racing requires stripping the extras away and asking you to trust us and come anyways. It’s not realistic to go from NO events, right back to the events of 2019. We must crawl before we walk and walk before we run. Here are a few race terms you will be hearing next season: COVID-secure, flow-through, socially distanced, contactless event.
So 1) if you’re healthy; 2) you are confident in the COVID-secure plans you have reviewed, and 3) you don’t have a financial barrier, be an early adopter and sign up for your city’s ‘Welcome back 5K.’ Temper your expectation and give the organization constructive feedback, after all: we are all in this together.
4. Help grow the pie.
So many things have changed during the last eight months, many for the worse, and some for the better. The focus on mental health, longevity and wellbeing, less distractions and more time has led a lot of new folks to fitness. Your neighbour now walks 45 minutes a day, Uncle Joe bought a mountain bike, your wife started running again on the treadmill after the kids went to bed and your boss does Zumba in her living room between your morning team meeting and afternoon webinar.
There are a lot of new people enjoying the endless benefits of exercise. Encourage them, facilitate it by planning activity-based connections; heck, gift them a virtual experience this holiday season and take them to their first COVID-secure race in 2021.
Everyone benefits from a healthier planet of humans.
5. Share your #StartLineImpact through December 31.
Race withdrawal is real and with the 2020 season a write-off (with very few outliers), both runners and race directors are right to be concerned about 2021, especially given the current state of the pandemic, with increased cases and many parts of Canada in or about to go into another lockdown. Please note I am not advocating for events NOW, but when it’s safe again to manage.
One can argue that not delivering in-person races in 2020 was necessary because there was too much we didn’t understand. Not being able to erect start lines in 2021—despite COVID-secure plans—doesn’t make sense when people are meandering through grocery stores and kids are playing organized sport. Not having start lines in 2021 will have a significant impact on the long-term viability of many race organizations and there is research to support cases are not being linked back to controlled outdoor gathering with covid-secure measures in place.
According to the Canadian Endurance Sports Alliance (CESA is a race director driven association created as a result of the crisis to bring organizers together and have a unified voice in Ottawa), 65% of Canadian endurance events (triathlons, road races, cycling and ultra-events and experience events or fun runs) will disappear in 2021 should there be no additional funding or a path to the safe return to racing.The loss of start lines is having a very real impact on our small businesses and not-for-profits, not to mention the charities we support and the many amazing vendors, like timing, registration and swag companies that all work together in this endurance eco-system to help create the magic for you.As uncertain as that next chapter might be, the entire industry is working together to ensure, as Dave McGillivray of the Boston Marathon says, ‘The comeback is stronger than the setback.’
We hope you will join us. Keep the faith and keep on running on. And don’t forget to share your #StartLineImpact to December 31.
A year, like every other measure of time, is so arbitrary. Why do we so intently frame our lives around the precise time it takes our giant rock, travelling at great but somehow imperceptible speed, to make one loop around the sun?
There is nothing inherently distinct about any 12-month period. Hence my scorn at anyone responding to recent bad news with a social media post saying, “2020 strikes again!” or “It’s 2020: we should have guessed.” Events know no calendar. Bad and good outcomes do not organize themselves conveniently by year. Besides, were there no celebrity deaths in 2019?
And yet, as runners and humans we must have our start and finish lines. We must measure our progress according to some artificial line or barrier. We might as well draw a line somewhere, whether it’s January 1 or the start of a 10K race, and put another one down further down the road and use that as the basis for planning and measuring everything about our lives and our running. If we hadn’t created time, there would be no four-minute mile to chase, no two-hour marathon.
So here we are at the end of the most unusual year in recent memory. There’s no doubt that 2020 has had more than its share of surprises. Who among us would have predicted a year ago the cancellation of almost all the races in the world, including the Olympic marathon? Who would have guessed even six months ago, in the heart of the first wave, that events in 2021 would be in jeopardy as well.
The coronavirus has caused extraordinary damage, but the news is not universally bad. Another storyline has emerged, one of faith and hope and the strength of the human spirit. We have adapted. We have persisted. We have persevered. We have shown love and concern for others. In a fractured world, we have found a common purpose.
As runners, we have pivoted as quickly as the makers of personal protective equipment. We’ve joined virtual races and challenges. We’ve created our own events. We’ve raised money for important causes. And we have applied the lessons of endurance sports to all the other challenges of our time: home schooling, Zoom meetings, quarantining.
The examples are plentiful. I’ve talked to people who have run farther than ever before, done things they never imagined. There are runners doing loops of their backyards and balconies. And there is a cohort of new runners, people who started the year going to the gym or swimming pool, but have joined our community. Welcome. And long may you run!
The great finish line we crave right now is still undetermined (when will I be able to hug my mom again, for example). But at least we are passing one milestone. The year in which this all began is coming to a close. The year when – fingers and toes crossed – most of us will get vaccinated is about to start. When you run a marathon without a watch or a mile marker, you may not know how close you are to the end. But at least you know every step gets you further from the start and nearer to the finish.
And whether we can savour it yet or not, we know that something special awaits us when we break the tape. We will exhale. We will celebrate. And we will remind ourselves of what we always say at the finish line: If I can get through this, I can get through anything.
Note: this photograph is of Chris Rivera, top, and Tony Leslie, in the Boston gear, and submitted to iRun from our Facebook group account. To join the community, and share your journey, please see Facebook.com/iRun’s Canadian Runner’s Group.
This was supposed to be a magical year in distance running, led by the sport’s warrior poet, Eliud Kipchoge.
In the past few years, Kipchoge has emerged as the embodiment of all that is beautiful about running — the Kenyan is wise yet ageless (in fact his actual age is the subject of much debate). In interviews, he’s plain-spoken and unpretentious, yet seems to transmit subtle profundities in simple conversations. His successes feel honestly routed in a one-to-one meritocracy that is unobtainable in virtually all other facts of life. Even though he is the only human in history to run a marathon in under two hours, his accomplishments seem mostly as if they are products of his monk-like lifestyle, work ethic, and modest demeanour, more so than his obvious genetic gifts. And his Yodaesque aphorisms (known as Kipchogeisms) cut elegantly through all of life’s bullshit and excuses, decluttering and laying bare truths that we often try to complicate and evade. Eliud Kipchoge is best summed up by one of his trademark marathoning strategies: when he feels pain late in a race, he chooses to calmly smile.
Going into 2020, it felt like Kipchoge was on the precipice of fully decoding the cypher that is the marathon, and was about to reveal how we, too, could be more Kipchogesque, and thus a more perfect version of our running selves. This year was supposed to be about further revelations in running, and the greatest of breakthroughs.
In April, Kipchoge was planning on facing off against his fiercest rival, Keninisa Beleke, at the London Marathon. The race was billed as a showdown to determine the greatest runner of all-time. The hype around the announcement last winter felt like a once-in-a-generation heavyweight fight—the two fastest marathoners in history, both at the peak of their powers, racing each other on the centrestage. It was billed as a moment that would elevate one of these two runners firmly into mainstream consciousness. Surely, Kipchoge would challenge his own world record, and there were even whispers of an attempt at a sub-two-hour marathon on a legit course. And then Kipchoge was planning on following up that race with the marathon at the Tokyo Olympic Games in August. It was all going to be so thrilling to behold. It seemed predetermined would yet again recast what is possible in the marathon.
There was a sense that, if Kipchoge could yet again deliver flawless performances in London and at the Olympic Games, he’d not only define himself as the best marathoner in history, but also perhaps the single-most dominant athlete ever. He was going to become the next Jordan, Serena or Messi.
Of course, none of that ended up happening. (At least, not yet.)
But through it all, Kipchoge’s presence is arguably more vital to the running community now than ever before. Sure, he didn’t set any world records in 2020, and didn’t even win the London Marathon when it was finally held on a closed course in October. Watching him fall off the pace in the final kilometres in London was more shocking than if he’d have run a sub-two hour marathon. That rather ridiculous expectation reveals just how much we rely on him to be great.
But even in defeat, Eliud Kipchoge is our sport’s greatest ambassador. He lost with grace and dignity, and was thoroughly comfortable revealing that, yes, he is in fact a mere mortal like the rest of us. In 2020, we learned many painful yet important lessons, including that even Eliud Kipchoge can have a bad day.
I would argue that his newly revealed fallabilty makes Kipchoge an even more compelling figure to cheer for — because now we know that, like us, he can make mistakes, have a bad run, and, as he will no doubt prove in 2021, persevere.
“If you want to enjoy sport,” Kipchoge said as he visibly trembled at the rainy post-race interview after he finished eighth in London, “You have to accept the results.” As with everything he seems to say, “sport” or “running” or “the marathon,” can be easily substituted with “life.”
TOM POWER - Q
CBC Toronto. September 28, 2016
Photo by Dustin Rabin - 2737
Tom Power is a musician and radio broadcaster in one of the most visible roles in Canada media, the host of the CBC flagship art’s show, q. Power, who is 33 and from St. John’s and now lives—and runs—in Toronto, was moved by the feedback he earned when voicing his initiation into our sport. “I received something like 300 responses when I sent my first running Tweet,” marvelled Power, recently from his home. “I was just blown away by this community.” Ben Kaplan spoke to the runner-in-training for the Telly 10-Miler this August (whether or not the event will be virtual, remains to be seen).
Tom Power: You interviewing me about running is a lot like Mozart interviewing a kid learning Chopsticks. I’m not good.
Ben Kaplan: But that’s what makes you so endearing—you’re the Everyman runner, and we need more of that in our sport. You stoke joy.
TP: Five years ago I was on Reddit and learning about the “Couch to 5K.” I wasn’t feeling great about my body and the way I looked and I spent nine weeks on the treadmill, and I did my 5K. And then I stopped.
BK: That totally happens. You put so much on a goal and then when that goal is accomplished, it’s like—beautiful. I’m finished. Now I never have to do that again.
TP: Psychologically, I just was like, ‘Great, now I can’t stop thinking about it.’
BK: So what made you dust off the shoes again?
TP: Hypochondria, at the beginning of COVID. I got nervous about my lungs and my general health. I was ready to start running again.
BK: And this time it’s stuck?
TP: This time, it wasn’t about looking a certain way. It was about wanting to be in shape. We’re all under immense stress and I knew running could help.
BK: Of course, being at CBC, you’re in cahoots with our running friend, Matt Galloway.
TP: Oh, yeah, and when I talked to him about it, he was, ‘Of course, you have to lace up.’ He was sweet and encouraging, so I put on my sneakers and went to a little track up the road from my house.
BK: It can be hard, taking those first few steps.
TP: I was sorta ‘good enough.’ I started out walking a minute, running a minute. I just found my old sneakers from five years ago, and grabbed an old pair of shorts and an old T-shirt, from when I went to Spin classes.
BK: I find this so refreshing to hear because sometimes, me and my running cronies, obsess over the latest sneakers and watches and gadgetry and forget how simple the sport can be.
TP: I don’t want to disappoint you, but I have gotten more gear since I started. My sneakers haven’t changed, but my shorts changed, and I did get a watch eventually, over time.
BK: So what’s different this time, pandemic notwithstanding? How will you make running stick?
TP: I’m more forgiving with myself. Like I said, vanity was driving my first time out, but this time that’s not a motivator. I now have a better sense of my self-worth and have worked a lot mentally, through therapy, and overall I’ve just gotten myself to an OK place.
BK: Do you run a lot?
TP: A half hour three times a week, and I think maybe because of that 30 minutes, I might be doing OK at this lockdown. I like the feeling. Of course, I’d be lying if I said I like the feeling of being out there all the time. Matt says that once you get past 40 minutes, it feels incredible. I’m not there yet. I’m huffing and puffing at 30, 35 minutes. But I keep going. I like getting outside.
BK: I swear to God I’ve been running seriously for probably the last 20 years and I can’t remember a time when it’s ever felt absolutely so essential to my overall mental health.
TP: I really like what it’s done for my mental health. In September, I stopped again. I don’t know what happened, but it was getting a bit cold and so I started taking long walks, but I’d see other people running and wished I was going faster. It was like my body needed to get something out.
BK: I absolutely had that feeling when I first started running. It’s like you unleash this secret power.
TP: That’s it. And it was like I didn’t have a choice anymore. I restarted my running and I’ve been back at it ever since.
BK: So where are you at now? What’s the plan to keep running for the holidays and the ghastly grey February mornings?
TP: I have breaking news for you here—I bought a cheapo $300 treadmill off Kijiji. I went to a guy’s house in Vaughan. We were masked up and I tore the walls up in my apartment getting this thing down the stairs, but now I’m set for the winter.
BK: Do you like treadmill running?
TP: It sucks.
BK: Ha!
TP: It’s just not as good as running outside. It’s boring, so I’m trying to get out as much as possible while the weather’s still nice, but I have this problem, and it has nothing to do with masculinity or body image, but I’m not one for the tights. They keep falling down.
BK: Dude, they’re probably the wrong size.
TP: I was nervous to buy them and the store where I bought them from, the guy wasn’t nice about it. He wasn’t incredibly encouraging, so maybe they are sized wrong. I know I have to get the gear in order to keep doing this through the winter.
BK: I understand you have a running goal.
TP: Every August in St. John’s, there’s the Telly 10 Mile race, and it’s a real community event. When I was young, everybody knew somebody who was running in it, and I’d walk the streets eating a slice of pizza—watching it. I’ve always wanted to do it.
BK: That’s a great goal.
TP: I don’t know. I can’t seem to get past 5K.
BK: Have you done 5.3K?
TP: Yeah.
BK: So that’s the way, just a little bit further every three weeks. And maybe go a little bit slower when you know you’re trying to break new ground in terms of total distance. You can do this.
TP: The running community has been incredibly encouraging and I’ve made some really good running playlists. Songs with 180-beats-per-minute, like The Middle by Jimmy Eats World is exactly my running pace.
BK: That’s a great running song. Can you take us out of here with just one last story about the love you’ve received from our community?
TP: It’s not a great sign when you doing any kind of physical fitness becomes the news.
BK: It’s because people love you.
TP: The expectations around me, are like: ‘Really, running? This guy?’
BK: No.
TP: It’s been overwhelming. From professional runners and Olympians to all these people around the country that run, people have been encouraging and helpful.
BK: I love that.
TP: It’s funny because there was a time when I thought this community was scary. I’d go for a walk to get a beer and 40 runners would run past me and I’d get scared, but it’s been cool seeing how warm and wonderful and welcoming the community is.
BK: Well, we’re glad to have you in our community and wish you all the best, and will be cheering you on as you get ready for your big race.
TP: Thanks, man. And thanks to all the runners. You know, I often hate getting out and sometimes even hate being out there, but I never regret having done it. I guess I’m learning the appeal of the sport.
“Eldoret is a city of champions,” David Mutai says with a beaming grin spanning across his face as he describes the place where he trains. Eldoret has indeed birthed and nourished the careers of Eliud Kipchoge, Felix Cherono, and Wilson Kipsang, all of whom David has trained with at least once.
Mutai is humble and doesn’t explicitly name himself among the champions of Eldoret. When he introduces himself, he starts with his titles of husband and father, but he still can’t hide his boyish grin when he proclaims: “I would say that I’ve won a race in every country I’ve run in.”
Mutai recounts, rather matter of factly, “In Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, that was my first race in 2010. I feel a lot of gratitude because it was my first international race that I won. There is a race in Singapore, the MSIG 50K, and I won it in 2017. In Macau, I have done three half marathons and I have won twice. In the Philippines, there’s the Adidas King of the Road, which I won twice. In Thailand I have won a few half marathons and in Indonesia I have won several races as well.”
Beyond the many exotic locales in which he’s broken the tape, Canada has also proven itself a goldmine of brilliant performances for the man who calls himself an “eternal tourist.” In 2019 alone, Mutai racked up 7 wins across five Canadian provinces. Of those finishes, two were course records.
Waterloo, 2:33:47 — 1st (April 28)
Mississauga, 2:27:08 — 1st (May 5)
Manitoba, 2:27:10 — 1st (June 16)
Saskatchewan, 2:22:09 — 1st (May 26)
Edmonton, 2:20:07 — 1st (Aug. 18)
Rimouski, 2:29:17 — 1st (Sept. 8)
Montreal Rock & Roll, 2:23:46 — 5th (Sept. 22)
Quebec City, 2:25:31 — 1st (Oct. 13)
The original plan for 2020 was a return to Canada, first for Hamilton’s Around the Bay Road Race, but the pandemic changed that. Mutai is at home in Kenya when we spoke on a Zoom call, which still didn’t quite feel like such a normal part of life when we spoke over the summer, balancing his time between training and caring for his two children.
“It does affect it a lot,” Mutai admits of the sudden shift brought on by COVID. “I will wake up around 5 a.m. and do a long run by 7 or 8 o’clock. But now sitting in the house for the rest of the day, you don’t have the same movement you used to have and you get some stiffness.” Mutai adds again with a laugh, “When you’re at home, you also eat more.”
Mutai forged his special connection with Canada in 2017. Mutai says, “I actually came to Canada in November just as fall began and it was quite a challenge. In 2010, when I started running in overseas countries, it was usually in warmer climates.” He adds, “It was too cold for me when I first arrived in Toronto. I just came with light clothes but it was already so cold. Just changing climates was difficult but I had to catch up.”
Mutai’s early performances in Canada were enough to catch the notice of the Running Room, which saw his potential and supported registration and occasional accommodations as he raced across the country. Otherwise, Mutai remains an unsponsored athlete, supporting himself in getting to different events.
“Traveling has given me so much. There are places I loved like in Montreal where I got to visit some museums. In every province I have been to I have made friends even among my competitors and they become tour guides and take me around. I especially love the Canadian runners,” Mutai says.
What the pandemic hadn’t changed was an apparent sense of optimism and excitement that permeates Mutai’s very being. Though he only ran with Eliud Kipchoge once, Mutai seems to have adopted the former’s Yoda-like playful humour and zen, an almost total detachment from the worry and expectation as he boils life down to the simplest of philosophies.
Mutai flashes his smile again when he explains the secret that’s enabled his success through a more grueling marathon schedule than most could fathom. Mutai says, “I will speak to my mind that I am capable of doing it. The moment I tell my mind the body will accept it. I will speak to my mind that I am going to win a race.
Whenever I am training I know that I already won.
Mutai feeds his mind with positivity and in doing so is already secure in the knowledge that he will succeed, making the actual work of training a matter of validating his already anointed nature. “I am a devout Christian. I get my inspiration from the Bible and there is nothing impossible to one who believes. And what is not possible today may be possible tomorrow. I always read inspirational books and I spend my time watching people who have achieved a lot. By the time I feed my mind with positive things, I will achieve them.”
With the exception of a few well-known names who might make their way to Canadian soil to race, the elite Africans at the front of the pack are often viewed as the biped equivalent of thoroughbreds rather than people with backstories and personalities–journeyman athletes earning their way.
David Mutai’s accomplishments across the globe are astounding on their own, but looking deeper into the man that is David Mutai brings one to the understanding that the numbers aren’t just numbers, but the manifestation of a deep belief in possibility, faith in oneself, and the audacity to travel to parts unknown in search of the best of yourself and a better life for his family.
Things started hitting North America quite hard in mid-March. One of the first races to be cancelled was the New York City half marathon, scheduled to take place on March 15. I had planned to be on the start line but withdrew within the week ahead of the race. A calf issue had started in late February and despite being able to accomplish some great workout sessions, and bike on the trainer to give the calf a rest in between these efforts, it was just not calming down enough for me to hop on a plane and know I could give it my best. When the race was cancelled I drew a sigh of relief knowing that I wouldn’t be at home watching from my laptop with palpable envy, and as race after race continued to be cancelled or postponed it was easy for me to rehab knowing I wasn’t missing out.
The focus was now on my rehab. The MRI had shown there was inflammation of the bone where the soleus tendon attaches to the tibia. Tendons aren’t the quickest to repair and that remained true in this instance. Much of March was spent on the bike waiting for the tendon to be ready for more impact. I was spending 11-16 hours on the trainer each week, thinking that I would still have to be ready to run a marathon in August — an important marathon. But then March 24th came and it was announced that the Olympics would be postponed until 2021. This was an immense relief as Team Canada had already withdrawn from the 2020 Games whether they were going forward or not. It was a stressful announcement to think that I could be watching the Olympic marathon at home while other countries lined up for the event. The postponement ensured that wouldn’t be the case.
Practicing patience was easier than usual with no races on the horizon. By April I was peppering in more runs while keeping the biking up. By the end of May my running volume had progressed to 130K and we decided to keep it around that area for the summer. I reduced my biking only slightly (6-8h/week) since my newfound obsession with Zwift kept me hopping on for more badges (if you know, you know).
So although I was back doing workouts, running, and biking a substantial amount each week, I didn’t feel particularly focussed. I participated in a few virtual races, but nothing serious that I was targeting. In a way I don’t think this was a terrible use of my summer training time. Mentally I felt relaxed: I did workouts I wanted to do when I wanted to do them, but the sheer volume of hours spent training kept my strength up and my fitness, though not peaked, wasn’t suffering terribly.
But every season comes to an end. Eventually we knew we had to shift the focus back to some serious training, no more noodling about on the bike or running moderately hard on a whim. As September shifted to October I had to think—what would make me motivated to get out there and work hard? And with that, I also wanted to train for something that I could more easily time trial if it came down to that. So, influenced by the recent endeavours of Lionel Sanders (a Windsor-born Canadian triathlete), I chose to target a new 5K personal best. My current personal best stands at 16:12 from 2011 when I ran the 5K leg at the Chiba Ekiden in Japan. My goal now, almost 10 years later, is to run under the 16 minute mark. It’s an exciting prospect and I know it can only help my marathon. I’ve never focussed intensely on this type of training, and have often shied away from the speed side of things—so it’s all very new to me and with that it’s motivating to see progress each week while I run times I have never seen myself run before.
And that brings us to today, where I am still working towards that 5K personal best. Tentatively, we will do a time trial at the beginning of December (to check the progress) and the ultimate one at the beginning of January. I’ll let you know how they go but whatever the case, I know this fall has forced me to work on my weakness, and provided me with an opportunity to take this “gift” of extra time and use it to my benefit so I can come out the other side of this weird year of 2020 as (hopefully) a faster runner.
Jean-Paul Soucy, with the Dalla Lana School of Public Health, is an expert on the COVID-19 caseloads and projections, and also a huge advocate of the benefits of running and exercising outdoors. Ben Kaplan caught up with Soucy before the holidays to better understand if we’re finally bending the curve, how to keep our families safe and healthy, and when and if we’ll see the light at the end of the tunnel of this very difficult pandemic year.
Ben Kaplan: Where are we right now as a country in battling this disease?
Jean-Paul Soucy: Like any good story, pandemics have a beginning, middle and an end. We’re quite solidly in the middle—with an end in sight.
BK: That sounds like good news.
JPS: It is, except that, unfortunately, in many ways this is the most difficult part of the pandemic. With winter, you have everyone inside, plus, everyone’s exhausted having gone through this since March.
BK: But you can see an end?
JPS: We have a vaccine in place with distribution sometime in Q1 in Canada for priority populations, and certainly throughout the rest of the year for the rest of the population getting vaccinated. So really, now is the most difficult challenge.
BK: Winter and the holidays?
JPS: We know this virus spreads well indoors compared to outdoors, and it’s really cold outside in Canada. You know, we do have a crystal ball to see what could happen here if we don’t listen to the health experts. In Europe and parts of the US, we’ve seen tidal waves of people in hospitals, in Intensive Care Units, and they’ve had to impose very strict lockdowns as a result of their numbers.
BK: I heard you on TV saying Canada has some advantages over Europe in terms of our capabilities for fighting COVD-19.
JPS: Canada is effectively an island compared to Europe (because we have only one land border, and it is closed). And Canada being like an island is an advantage (it’s easier to control travel). But we have some disadvantages, too.
BK: Like what?
JPS: Europe and the US both have a lot more hospital beds, especially compared in a per-capita ratio with Ontario. Our hospitals run at, or over-capacity, during the best of times, and now we’re trying to deal with surges of COVID and keep up elective surgeries, and it poses an immense challenge to our healthcare system going into winter. But again, we do have an end in sight.
BK: I love that you keep saying that.
JPS: It does it make it easier for us to unify around the sacrifices we have to make. We have to get through this winter.
BK: I like that you use the term, “making sacrifices.” It gives us the power.
JPS: The virus is going to force us to make sacrifices. We can be reactive, or make them on our own terms. We can see how quickly things can deteriorate. Manitoba went from having a relatively low caseload throughout the pandemic to having more active cases per-capita and more hospitalized cases per capita than any other province. That process took a month.
BK: What does that tell you?
JPS: No one is immune. No place is immune.
BK: So, the holidays. What concerns you the most?
JPS: We have lockdowns in Manitoba. Lockdowns in BC, Alberta, Toronto, Peel. We should take strong action proactively before being forced to take drastic action reactively. The nature of exponential growth and trying to keep cases at a manageable level is dancing on a knife’s edge—it’s easy to tip over and see the cases spiralling out of control.
BK: What would you like to see happen across the country?
JPS: A plan to keep numbers down after the lockdown, so we don’t just yoyo back and forth between shutdowns. We need a world-class system for testing, tracing and isolation, and to allow people to take paid time off of work if they’re showing symptoms. Remember: if we’re seeing a wave of COVID hospitalizations, these are people who contracted the virus weeks ago. We can’t react to hospitals. If you do, you’re reacting to cases from weeks and months ago. We need to be proactive in our fight against this disease.
BK: I’m a parent and I miss races and I miss bars and restaurants, but I really want to see my kids stay in school.
JPS: If we can build a robust system for testing, tracing and isolation, I think we can close other things and keep schools open. There’s a hierarchy of closures and schools are high up there, but it’s wishful thinking, I’m sorry to say, that there aren’t transmissions happening in schools.
BK: I know.
JPS: Look at Quebec. Look at Montreal. It’s clear transmission is happening in schools and filtering into the communities. Schools don’t automatically make things worse, but they amplify community transmission. They add fuel to the fire.
BK: You’re a runner. Maybe a lapsed runner, but still a runner. Can Canadians continue running outside?
JPS: We should be promoting outdoor exercise as much as possible. And if you have to meet people over the holidays, it’s vastly preferable to go outside and take a walk together than doing something in your home.
BK: What about running outdoors?
JPS: Absolutely. And I think we’ll see a resurgence of popularity in running this winter now that people won’t have access to gyms or treadmills.
BK: That’s good to hear.
I think if there’s anybody who ever wanted to try running, now is exactly the time.
BK: What makes you most hopeful for the start of a new year?
JPS: We’ve gone in a year from having a disease that no one ever heard of to already having multiple vaccines in the pipeline with around 95% efficacy. It shows the incredible power of science and these vaccines, as far as we can tell, are more effective than in our wildest dreams.
We’ll talk to a runner who started feeling pain in his chest on a run. Fortunately, someone was there to help him. Also, Jessica Shaw, an elite runner and teacher, who is working on the front lines of the coronavirus pandemic and finds so much relief in being able to go out for a run. And Fitz Koehler, a finish line announcer in the United States, has just put out a new book about recovering from cancer. It’s an incredible story about how she was going to work at events while undergoing chemotherapy.
Fitz Koehler is one of the world’s most prominent and compelling race announcers. She boldly fought breast cancer in 2019-2020 without missing any of the dozens of events on her calendar. The following is an excerpt from her new memoir available wherever books are sold. Signed copies available at Fitzness.com come with a bonus gift.
March 24, 2019. Sunday.
This was one of the most emotionally taxing days of my life. My alarm went off at 4:30 a.m., so I could get ready and head directly to the finish line of the Los Angeles Marathon. Since this race is a point-to-point course that takes our runners from Dodger Stadium to the Sea in Santa Monica, Rudy and I are separated at the beginning of the day. He works the start line alone and I wait for our initial athletes at the finish line. That’s because some athletes can complete the course before a car can get from start to finish. Our first finishers, by the way, are our speedster wheelchair athletes. The hand cyclists can crush 26.2 miles in a little over an hour, so we divide and conquer to ensure everyone gets a warm welcome. Putting on make- up and fixing my hair in the morning was harrowing. Hundreds of hairs were falling to the bathroom floor and I was falling apart. My insides were twisting while my heart was breaking. I was trying desperately to control my emotions because I didn’t want to have an ugly puffy face all day on my stage. But those efforts verged on futility. I was alone and I was melting down, all while telling myself I had to be a big girl and get myself to work. On a whim, I decided to document this experience on video, describing what it was like to have my hair fall out. Remember: I don’t like sadness. But for some reason, I chose to put some key moments on camera in case I wanted to share them down the road. The video I captured as I choked back the tears is still gut-wrenching to watch. You can find it on my social media channels @Fitzness.
I arrived at the finish line with a fake smile on my face, greeting fellow staff members and volunteers cheerfully. I’m sure they would have allowed me to cry on their shoulders had they known what was going on, but that wouldn’t have accomplished anything, and I had a job to do. A really fabulous job.
As the day went on, we had a really fun time welcoming in our athletes. We also had a really hard time because our windy beachfront stage, located about 10 feet up in the air, was soon covered with long blonde hair. It was coming out nonstop, and when I wasn’t being cheery on the microphone, I was sobbing on Rudy’s shoulder. It was devastating. Poor Rudy was working overtime to try and support me. When I was focused on our finish line, he was frantically sweeping piles of my hair off the stage so I wouldn’t see them. He was also trying to deflect my attention by dancing silly and telling lots of jokes. It was the most schizophrenic day ever. I was genuinely joyful when distracted by runners and genuinely heartbroken when I was off of the mic for even a few minutes. Fortunately, my sunglasses ensured nobody saw my tears or had any clue I was struggling.
At some point, my hair loss got so frustrating that I wanted to call a local stylist to just come and shave my head right there on the stage. It would have been wacky, but I was desperate to get it over with. The only thing that stopped me was the promise I made to Ginger that I wouldn’t cut it without her. Losing my hair was a real sore spot for her, because she really liked having our long blonde hair in common. Unlike most teen- age daughters who’d try to distance themselves from their mom, she was proud to be connected and that melted my heart. So I suffered through the experience and planned to deal with it when I returned home. At 3 p.m., our sound system was cut off and we were cut loose. I was certain that all 25,000 of our athletes went home with a beautiful medal and a single strand of Fitz hair.
Edited excerpt from My Noisy Cancer Comeback: Running at the Mouth, While Running for My Life.To follow Fitz on Instagram, YouTube and Facebook, please see @Fitzness. Her website is Fitzness.com.
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