Scotiabank Vancouver Half-Marathon

I decided to give back a little to the running community.

After having run in a couple of dozen races, I decided to volunteer for one.

I've always held admiration for the race volunteers.  They wake up early, cheering runners on through rain, sleet, or snow.  Their reward?  A shirt that says "Volunteer" on it.

I wanted to volunteer for a bigger race, but it had to be one that I didn't plan to do... SVHM would be perfect.  I ran (not raced) it couple of years ago and enjoyed it, but because of the significant downhill section, I have reservations about it being a "true" half marathon.  Some people may disagree, but this is my blog ;)

Prior to the race, I found out many of my friends/acquaintances were running it, this would make cheering and watching out for them, even more fun.  Let's see... Shawna, Eric, Dennis, Amanda, Jen x2, Adrainna, Tricia, Joe, Wynne, Tomoko, and Stella.  I'm probably missing some people, and even the above list, I still didn't see more than half.

Earlier I said that volunteers only receive a shirt.  But hardly.

I had a great time at the race.  Many of the racers would take a moment to say "thanks" or give me a thumbs up.  I even had some people cheering that chose to stand with me.  The couple at the beginning were waiting for their daughter and then for the 2nd half, a group of 3 came out with hand-drawn posters that the racers all smiled and/or laughed at. "No Wimps", "Running is better than therapy".

But perhaps best of all, I had two friends come by to support their fellow runners.  Sue brought me a coffee, which I certainly needed since I only had less than 4 hours of sleep.  Sue is a great runner friend.  She's always willing to help you out and inspire/motivate you to do better.  She used our location as a launching point to pace her/our runner friends.  Nancy came by too.  She was out for a 12k run, and only 2k in when she stopped for a visit.  She's been on a very slow road to running recovery, so it's always nice to see her out.  She too paced some friends.

Running is beautiful.  It's elegant in its simplicity.  One leg in front of the other, repeats a few thousand times.  But its beauty is in the diversity of people it attracts.  Nearly everyone can run.  It brings out all body shapes, the lean Kenyans, the sedentary couch potatoes.  The young and old.  Some are hoping to beat records, some are just out for a good time, and some are out there to enjoy camaraderie.

When the race ended, the bus dropped me back at UBC and as I walked, I thought to myself.  "I love to experience things that grow me, and volunteering today, is one I will cherish."

"Nothing measurable matters." - EE Cummings

Too Tired

Not sure what happened.

The clinic run was 10x400m.  John asked that I target a 91sec pace.  The first 3 were fast, too fast... trying to keep up with Sue wasn't the best decision.  The next 7 were slow.  On the last lap, I hit 94s.  I don't think I could have gone much faster if my clothes were on fire.

I gave it all I could, and it wasn't quite enough.

I really don't like that feeling.  I went home, feeling very melancholy.  The next day, I felt drained.  I tried/wanted to perk up, but just seemed unable.

When I chatted with John after the run.  He mentioned that he no longer competes because he's tired of it.  When he competed, he ran 12 times a week.  He won the Vancouver Marathon in 1978.

At first, I didn't understand why he stopped, but then I thought, it makes perfect sense.  How much longer would you want to be pushing your limits?  There's no cruise control when running/competing.  It's always a constant push for better/faster/longer.

I'm lucky.

I know I can motivate myself beyond this, I'll willingly suffer pain and humility when I know it is getting me closer to a tangible goal.

My dad used to say he was a dog, beat him, and he'd still come back for more.  That's tenacity!

Father's Day

I kissed Colette afterschool the other day and she said, "your whiskers are owie!"

That's one of my many childhood memories of my father, every time I kissed him, I felt his bristly whiskers.  I'm pretty sure I said something similar to my dad.

My dad was strong.  Physically and mentally.  He owned a grocery store, and as such, lifting/carrying sacks of potatoes and boxes of canned soup, was the norm for him.  He started working before 10AM and finished at midnight.  Not Monday to Friday, but everyday of every week of every year.  I'm still amazed at his single-mindedness.

As he got older, he changed from running a grocery store to a laundromat... how stereotypical can you get?  But it meant there would be lot less lifting, and fewer hours.

He was the proverbial underdog.  Living in a foreign country, couldn't speak the language, and uneducated, but he pushed through all that crap and by any standards was a success.

I try to take on some of these attributes. 

I know I'm getting older too.  I'm pondering if I should be getting eyeglasses, I have crows feet starting around my eyes, and I have enough grey hair to wish they still made Grecian.

As time is working to slow me down, it's also giving me an opportunity to get faster.  Every race I'm in, is marking a new PB.

I'm a lot like my dad, and also very different.

He never took time for himself.  He never had the luxury of exercising and he rarely watched what he ate.  I don't know if he had made those changes, would anything would have been different.  In the end, I guess it doesn't really matter.

Father's Day is in a few days.  It'll be bittersweet day for me.  I love being a father and watching my girls as they change from infants, to toddlers, to young girls, but this time also gives me pause to reflect.  I'm sad that I don't get to enjoy my dad's company and I'm really sad that my kids will never get to see him.

It's the Journey, not the Destination

I try to take in life with a more Zen-like view.  To immerse myself in the moment and finding intrinsic value in whatever I'm doing.

During the last two weeks, I did some self-reflection.... more like I was forced to.

Last week I mention to John that I get pretty anxious before tempo runs.  He doesn't like the sounds of that.  He says I'm running all wrong... I need to relax and just go out there.  He says, "the last thing you want to be is another P!"  He goes on to say that during the clinic/intervals, P does great, but come race time, he bombs.

Then this week, I mention to Amanda, the new girl, that after I qualify for Boston, no more running for me.  She replies, "Really?!?!  You're not serious?"  But I was.

I started thinking, that maybe I'm putting so much focus on my goal, I'm forgetting that I really need to enjoy what I am doing to get there.  I do enjoy running.  As a matter of fact I am very passionate about it.  The long slow runs let me take in the sights of  Vancouver while chatting with a buddy or three.  The tempo runs, I honestly like the way I feel... it makes me feel alive.  The interval runs are probably the least enjoyable, but after finishing, I'm feeling pretty darn euphoric.

I don't want to lose my focus but at the same time, I'm going to take it down a notch and really enjoy the road I'm on.

I was out for my Sunday run with TLT when we bumped into some of her friends at the beach.  We chatted briefly and one of them said to me, "nice day for a run."  I replied, "any day I can get out for a run is a nice day."