"Running Is Not Something I Do", Lean Horse 2014, Race Report, Part 1

This is part one of Melissa's Lean Horse 2014 race report.  Melissa asked me to help edit her story, to reduce the length.  After a breathless first read and tearing up on the last several paragraphs. I advised her to just leave it be and let the words sing. They may be a little off key in places and raw in others but my-oh-my, that girl sure can hit the high notes! Her story soars. Part 2, 3, and 4 will be published on SMR over the next several days. Enjoy.

"Running is not something I do, it's more like something I am."
Melissa Budd

The weather forecast called for cold and rain.  At 18 C, humid and windy, this hardly seemed like the Lean Horse 100 I had known for the past 5 years.  Usually the daily high was between 30-35C and dry as a bone.  I suppose this was fitting as the Lean Horse 100 2014 was almost an entirely new course.    I was ready for an adventure!

As a teacher I’ve always treasured my summers, no marking, no lunch making and scheduling is minimal.   One of the things I most look forward to is  training for Lean Horse 100.  Running to me is not something I do – it’s more like something I am.  It is as much a part of my day as anything else, sleeping, eating, relationships….  At times, it is my comfort, my burden, my sanity.  I love the Paul Maurer quote below (The Gift - A Runner's Story) as it summarizes the rawness of running….

Running isn't a sport for pretty boys...It's about the sweat in your hair and the blisters on your feet. It’s the frozen spit on your chin and the nausea in your gut. It's about throbbing calves and cramps at midnight that are strong enough to wake the dead. It's about getting out the door and running when the rest of the world is only dreaming about having the passion that you need to live each and every day with. It's about being on a lonely road and running like a champion even when there's not a single soul in sight to cheer you on. Running is all about having the desire to train and persevere until every fiber in your legs, mind, and heart is turned to steel. And when you've finally forged hard enough, you will have become the best runner you can be. And that's all that you can ask for.        

"The best runner I can be" is not about PBs, PRs, or BQs. Don't get me wrong, I still run hard, give it my all on the hills, I push beyond what I think I can do. I love seeing how far I can go and feel grood when I improve my time. What makes me feel best however, is when I handle the stresses of running better than I did last time. I also love the feeling of losing myself in the run.

This summer I set out to train for Lean Horse.  I was excited about the new course and was looking forward to training with my running partner David.  David is one of the only people I know that doesn’t blink an eyelash when I ask him if he wants to go on a 40 mile training run on Saturday.  One of his best qualities is that he is always ready for an adventure.  

Unfortunately David, AKA my ultra-training partner, broke his collarbone at the beginning of July as he was making the transition to triathlons.  I suppose I could have been more supportive and not said to him, “serves you right….running is an angry mistress and will not put up with your cycling” but I’m a work in progress.   To David’s credit, he laughed and understood my disappointment.  He impressed me with how he maintained such a positive attitude while he was healing that I couldn’t help but to be inspired.  I know I would not have been so gracious and light of heart had it been me.

Without said training partner, I began to ramp up my mileage and quickly got to running 100 mile weeks.  I would run 8-15 miles 6 days a week (usually starting around 5am) and then one long run on the seventh day of 35-40 miles.  I did hills once or twice a week in the mornings with my great training partner Christine (who was battling with planters fasciitis  and ran way more miles with me than she intended to – but did it because she knew I was hurting for people to run with).  Scott Burton, one of the most well trained ultra-runners I know was wonderful with filling in many miles on those long runs that are so hard to do alone.  He, along with Tim Du kept me company and kept me laughing.  I also had a few special events to break up the regular training.  Scott organized the annual Slurpee run that David and I had done in the past, to include lots of people and 35 miles of fun and sugar.  I also did a few triathlons to switch it up a bit and found out I like swimming and am a pitiful cyclist!

By mid-August I was feeling strong, partially due to the fact that Christine kept telling me how strong I was (tell someone something often enough and they will start to believe it) and was anxious to get to South Dakota!

The ride down was great.  David graciously offered to drive down with me and be my crew. He wasn’t sure if he could pace me, but having someone on the course at every station, attending to all my running need was going to be a luxury I had never experienced.  I was sad for him that he wouldn’t be able to run but grateful for the company and the future help he would be giving me.

The pre-race meeting on Friday was filled with anticipation.  It was somewhat like a family reunion. This was my 6^th year at Lean Horse, and seeing familiar faces is always a comfort.  I was excited to see Mike, Loren and Al (Mike and Loren were running the 50 mile and Al was running the 100 mile on a relay team).  The race director, Royce, told us about the new course, how beautiful it was and how excited he was to have us finally here.  He warned us of the longer climbs, the elevation change of 6000ft and the altitude (although South Dakota is over 5000ft above sea level, I’ve never had a problem with the altitude).   He also warned us not to “poop” directly on the trail (move off and cover with dirt), I guess there has been some issues with this in the past.  I wasn’t too worried about this request as I am not a “trail-pooper” and prefer solitude and cover when engaging in that activity.

The weather was cool, cloudy and very windy with a prediction of more cool weather in the morning and rain.  After Loren, Mike, Al, David and I had a quick supper at Subway (as a bonus, we had the privilege of  dining with Jeremy – who eventually won the race) – David and I retired to our rooms for a good night sleep.   In retrospect, I should have switched rooms with David.  His was at the back – very quiet and dark and on the inside.  My room was an outer room and I had trouble falling asleep due to anticipation and the sound of the relentless rain that gave me dreams of painful chafing and miserable cold.

Morning came quickly (although it was quick only AFTER I fell asleep – the time between when I got in bed and fell asleep seemed endless).  I got dressed, made sure I had everything I needed, had a bagel, a banana and a Coke, slipped on my rain jacket and by 5:20 am I was ready to go.  I was a little miffed when I heard  about what a good quiet sleep David had – but that didn’t last for long when I thought of how much help he was going to give me and that driving requires  more alertness than running.

We met at the Custer track.  Large lights illuminated the area and over 100 people were milling around nervously talking and laughing.  I met Brittney – a runner from Winnipeg who was doing her first 100.  Amazing that a young lady (early twenties) was attempting such a feat.  I asked her what her friends thought – she said most of them were impressed but thought she was crazy!  She told me her longest run was 45 or 50 miles….I felt a little inadequate and told her not to tell me such things!!  I was anxious to see my friends Peter and Yen – I knew they were signed up – but I didn’t see them at the prerace meeting.  Peter is from Texas and has a distinct southern drawl.  I heard him before I saw him (so I thought).  I walked quickly toward him and gave him a big hug.  I asked him how he was and said that David wasn’t running this year because of his accident.  He was smiling and nodding.  I called David over.  When David came over, he looked really confused.  I looked at who I thought was Peter, who was still smiling, and then made the realization that it wasn’t Peter.  Awkward!  “Peter” introduced himself as Bob.  He was incredibly gracious and said when a pretty lady comes over and gives him a hug – there is no way he would correct her. 

Silent Morning

Silent morning.
Holy morning.
All is calm.
All is bright.

I run early mornings when all is calm and all is bright. Time and space collide in blissful perfection as my bones move in cadence with heart and lungs. Heart and lungs and old bones dance gracefully, slowly, on dark Wolseley streets. My mind is calm, my thoughts are bright. 

I walk over the footbridge because it just so damn beautiful. Time slows as I scan 360  degrees and up and down. The stars above shine brightly, calmly, and offer hope for peace. The dark, jagged ice way below is foreboding. The long shadows of frazzle ice scare me and yet draw me in like a child peeking at a horror movie for the first time. Good and evil personified. The contrast of hope and fear, brightness and darkness,  jaggedness and calmness, is intoxicating. I am humbled in this moment, this paradox of life. I am, for a moment, at peace, yet fearful of what could be.

I search for words to anchor this time, to hold it as though time were a tangible commodity. I know this moment will fade, it always fades. We try to hold these moments of time, to tuck them in our back pockets for consumption at a later time, but they fade. We are left only with memories of time, memories of that beauty, that moment, that perfection. Mercifully, the memories sustain us. Thank be to to all of you for these memories. 

All is calm, all is bright on this Winter Solstice morning.

Aboriginal tradition teach us the path to peace. We must share our greetings, our names, our food, and then we must share our stories. We have much to learn from Aboriginal tradition and much to share.

Greetings and welcome. 
My name is Mike. 
This blog is my story. 

I wish you happiness. 
I wish you peace. 
I wish you calm. 
I wish you bright. 
I wish you silent mornings and silent nights. 

Long may you run.

It's a good day to be alive.

Mike

A note on the photographs. I sent this blog post to Greg McNeill asking if he had any stock pictures that would be suitable to accompany the storyline. He replied by suggesting a photo shoot to customize the pictures to the story. We met this morning a little after 7:00 AM. These are some of his pictures. Feeling kinda Hollywood-super-star-like! Thanks Greg, you are too cool for words.  Uncle Mike

Tuscon Marathon; A Guest Blog by Bridget Robinson

Bridget Robinson is an exemplary citizen. As race director of the amazing Point Douglas Run she promotes positive lifestyle opportunities for women living in poverty.  Her dedication towards this goal is spectacularly inspiring and brilliantly contagious. She fights a good fight and makes a positive difference in our community. Today, as Guest Blogger on SMR, Bridget shares her adventures of completing the Tucson Marathon. Long may we run Bridget, long may we run.

It's a good day to be alive,  

Mike
  

The full moon, the prickly pear and lucky number 13.

Phoenix in December couldn't be more different than the snowy, cold Winnipeg. The warmth embraced me and my first sight of a saguaro cactus with it's outreached, friendly, albeit prickly arms made me smile. I drove to the Superstition mountains, drawn there by the intriguing name and having several hours to hike before meeting my friend Lisa at the airport. She was flying in from London and we were running the Tuscon marathon. I hiked up the Peralta trail and although my hamstrings hurt afterwards, the views and close ups of the desert flora made every step worth it. I was surprised to see holly and a small waterfall that trickled down a black path it had carved in the red rock. The hillside was sprinkled with various pink, purple, orange and yellow flowers. The trail wasn't busy and when I passed a couple, they mentioned that I was as quiet as a deer and very hardcore for hiking in Converse All*stars. The view of the mountains and Weaver's Needle from the Freemont Saddle was incredible. On the faster trip downhill I marveled at the contrast between the lime green lichen, red rock and blue-grey shrubs. I saw a tiny fern with perfect minute deep green-leaflets that made my heart swell.

Bridget, such a fine ladybug. 

Lisa and I drove to the Hilton El Conquistador hotel and arrived after midnight. It was the official marathon hotel and on Saturday morning we enjoyed scouting out the small but interesting expo in the hotel ballroom. A Californian company had running dresses and bolero's in funky sixties psychedelic patterns and colours. I bought some natural prickly pear energy bars, the thought of being energized by the fruit of the desert while running through it was very appealing.

Later that evening we took a short drive to Catalina State Park and walked along a sandy river trail admiring the many different "family" groupings of Saguaros. Our waitress at breakfast had joked about "tree huggers" in Arizona not being able to hug their trees and I got a photo of Lisa pretending to hug a huge cactus. We gingerly balanced on precarious river rocks crossing a stream in an otherwise largely dry riverbed. The bright yellow autumn leaves were splashes of colour against the sand and the various red, greens and browns of the mountainside. Just when we thought it was impossible to be any more beautiful the sun began to set and and illuminated the red rock mountains. The colour in the whispy clouds deepened from a blush pink to a deep red and the full moon brightened; a witness to and a participant in the grandeur. The light and beauty was uplifting and energizing, it was impossible to believe anything but that all was right with the world.

We woke at 4:00 am on Sunday morning to prepare for the marathon. I felt strangely lethargic and achey, but was quickly cured by a large dark roast coffee. We drove to the start in the dark in a school bus, our common passion for running ignited a camaraderie between strangers. People shared stories of their many running adventures and different running clubs including "50 States", "Globe Trotters", "Marathon Maniacs" and "Fat Ass". The start was on a remote mountain top and as the full moon faded, dawn gently revealed the desert beauty around us. We chatted to a young first time marathoner from the mile-high city hoping to qualify for Boston. It was cool at the start and for the first several miles I ran by lonely, empty gloves that had been discarded as the sun climbed the brilliant blue sky. The course began with rolling hills followed by a gentle decline until a hilly out and back section along the Biosphere road. At mile four my calf protested having been hurt a couple of weeks earlier on an icy Winnipeg run. For a split second I considered stopping to avoid injuring it further, but remembered what my friend Kim had said about being able to do it and fortunately decided to soldier on. At one difficult point, as if he knew I needed encouragement a friendly man turned from his companions and told me I was doing great. I normally run with a well stocked fuel belt with pain killers, energy products and endurolytes but had decided on a more minimalist approach for this run and was mainly relying on the aid stations for sustenance. I was dressed  in a green sparkly skirt over compression tights with rainbow striped calf sleeves and silver wings on my shoes. Lisa, always more flamboyant, sported an elaborate bright pink flamingo hat, the flamingo in turn wore yellow slip slops and had a lei around it's neck. I had managed to squeeze two prickly pear bars into a minute pocket in the compression tights. Having no other pocket space I had stuffed some emergency toilet paper into my sports bra knowing that the porta potties en route often ran out. The toilet paper later disintegrated into a sweaty mess.

Although the gradual downhill was conducive to opening up and cruising, I nursed my calf putting into practice what Kim had taught me about the chi style of lifting ankles as opposed to pushing off on the balls of your feet. It hurt but I was determined to finish. Gradually I noticed the friendly man running towards me as if he'd materialized from a mirage. He laughed and said "cat's out of the bag, I'm part of a relay team, you're doing great, you're ahead of them", once again I was encouraged by his kind words. At mile 10 I rewarded myself with a prickly pear bar and savored the taste while running by the multitude of live prickly pears scattered at the foot of the mountains we were running by. A volunteer passed on a bike, he didn't have painkillers but kindly gave me a half bottle of water which I ran with the rest of the way, refilling it with a mixture of water and gatorade at each aid station. At mile 17 my spirit lifted and I was filled with energy, possibly from the endurolytes and pain killers a kind volunteer had given me, but it seemed more like the stunning desert landscape empowered me and added a figurative spring to my step. I almost didn't want the run to end . . . .. almost. At mile 19 I traded a GU for a caffeinated one, and in turn traded that for a protein bar, recalling that after lengthy activity your body sources protein from your muscles, failing an external supply. I relished the bar, somewhat repulsed by the thought of the alternative. At one aid station the volunteers literally applauded my sparkly skirt and not long after a traffic cop cheerfully asked "How's it going sparkly?". There was one last uphill trudge and then I rounded the corner and happily made it to the fire station finish. We were rewarded with giant salty pretzels and peanut butter tortillas. Lisa, myself and Eddie "Barefoot Bandito" got a ride to our shuttle bus on a golf cart. As we left I said "adios" and the bus driver playfully said "adios chiquitas" and we all laughed with endorphin fueled bliss en route to El Conquistador having conquering the Tuscon marathon.

My 13th marathon was a lucky one, filled with good fortune, warm exchanges and many kindnesses. 

Long may we run!

Bridget Robinson

Fat Ass Full Frosty Beaver Moon Trail Half Marathon 2014 (2nd annual)

Won't you hold my hands over my heart?

I want you to close my eyes when it grows dark.

We go over the mountains and under the stars.

We go over the mountain and under the stars.

Bow and Arrow by Ruben And The Dark

Seventy runners gather in the atrium at the Forks on a blustery Friday evening for the return of the Fat Ass Full Frosty Beaver Moon Trail Half Marathon. Nervous chatter permeates the room as the assembled check in, adjust headlamps and mill about catching up with old friends. This much anticipated event attracts the spirited runner, the rogues, and the adventurous ones of the running community.  It's an off-the-grid, low key, no fee, no schwag, no medal, no bib, no timing slow dance through gorgeous technical city trails.

Rheal Poirier, event organizer addressing the assembled runners.

Last minute instructions... don't get lost!

See Mike Listen for Instructions.

This year's Full Frosty attracts double the number of runners from 2013. Local runner and Manitoba Runners Association board member Bob Nicol predicts the Full Frosty will exceed one hundred runners in 2015.  Dwayne Sandall of the Manitoba Trail Runners provided support by expertly marking the trail with reflective flags making getting lost, if not impossible, less likely.  Dwayne also provided sweep duty and advised the crowd "If you come up behind me on the trail you were surely lost".  

Dwayne provided sweep on the trail "If you come up behind me you were surely lost"

We move from the comfort of the atrium to the chilly start line next to Esplanade Riel.  Dwarfed under the beauty of the Canadian Museum for Human Rights we dance nervously from foot to foot and pose for smiley pictures. The full moon glimmers momentarily between breaks in the thick cloud as if to reassure we mere mortals that all is well. On Rheal's good word we surge forward together as one, over the river, under the moon, through the woods. Together, seventy souls, one spirit.

All is well, all is good, all is alive... under a big old moon.

In time and space we slip into our own groove and follow the rhythmic beat of our heart. Lone runners silently lost in contemplation, large groups chat incessantly and punctuate the darkness with contagious laughter, friends relish the time together and grow closer.  Head lamps slither snake-like along the trails. The moon is shy tonight and the wind is sharp on our faces as we crunch, crunch, crunch along the gravel trail.

Over the river, under the moon, through the woods.

Esplanade Riel

Dwayne's reflective flags are strategically located on the winding dark trails. We learn to watch for them and yell "flag" as they are spotted.  Three flags side by side mark the optional, yet enticing, single track trails. The single track trails hug the river bank and wind impossibly through thick bush making 'running' a relative term.  I use my tiny hand held flashlight in addition to my head lamp to light these ancient trails.  Our run slows to a calculated walk on the sharp twists and turns.  The lead runner yells "branch" or "careful" to warn those several paces behind.  It's breathtaking and exciting, and exhilarating.  It's a sublime evening to be alive under a moonless sky, dancing along a Red River monkey trail.

Gabrielle Roy Trail Head 

The finish line is perfect.  We cross over the Assiniboine River on the converted wooden railway bridge leading to the Forks.  The bridged is decked with hundreds of coloured lights blowing wildly in the stiff wind. There's no gantry, no timing mat, no crowds, just a single volunteer at the end of the bridge greeting us with a most welcoming high five.  Tired and thirsty, we head to Finn McCues for a suitable refreshment. Smiles and hugs abound.

Thank you Rheal and Dwayne for your time and energy. This trail run is surely one of the finest urban trail adventures in the land.

It's a good day to be alive, dancing under a shy moon.

Mike

(Photos kindly provided by Gregory C. McNeil...except for the blurry, out of focus last one, that was taken by a runner called Mike).

Give it A Rest; A Guest Blog by Cynthia Menzies

Give it a rest, you deserve it!

By Cynthia Menzies

Cynthia Menzies

It’s a Wrap

Well, here we all are, at the end of the running season. How did it go? Did you have fun?  Did you achieve personal goals? Did you overcome an injury or become injured along the way? Travel back in your memory and think about the words you used to call your season. Did you say something like, “That’s a wrap!” Maybe you exited early with joy (“I am done!”) or with regret (“I AM, done”)? Or, mid-way through, your running season texted with the words, “WE are done!” Maybe none of this applies to you right now and you are still racing or maybe your season never started and you are gearing up for your 2015 debut.

Life is Good

 I called my season after the Winnipeg 10 and 10 race and to be honest it wasn’t an easy decision. I was fully aware of the great fall race line-up and my goal to run a PB half-marathon race in October. But my body was tired on a very cellular level and it was time to call it. Once the declaration was made, an immense amount of relief came over me and I began to think about active-recovery and all the fun ‘non-run’ specific things I could do like yoga, mountain bike riding, trail walking with my dogs and time in the gym. Life is good when cross-training is a big part of it!

Slow Down

Calling your season is a helpful way for you to officially announce that you are switching gears from full on to slow down. To call your season means saying to self and others that you are done competing and training toward a goal race. In other words, you are giving it a rest and beginning the very thoughtful journey of intentional active recovery.  If you don’t call your season with assuredness, you could get caught in the just ‘one more hard effort workout’ or ‘one more race’ syndrome and this is not a good place to be in. The grind of always ‘training’ and ‘racing’ weighs you down. Accepting the fact that there are many more races and events than any one person can do any year helps with letting go as well. Just breathe into it.

Joy in Endings

According to The Running Times (2013), runners may also reach a performance plateau after a few races and fall well short of their true running potential, simply because they don't allow a proper recovery phase.”  Sometimes we are forced to end the season early due to injury, burnout, finances, scheduling, personal loss and trauma. Honestly, calling the season can be very hard for people because it means letting go of the training and race calendar and returning to ‘everyday life’. If you are like me, the high you get from training and racing helps to carry you through the harder times. For example, training and racing with intent is often accompanied by travel, the potential for personal bests, competition and fun networking with friends. When your goals suddenly change, it can feel isolating. The good news is that it doesn’t have to be that way and there is joy to be found in endings especially when new beginnings are just around the corner!

Off Season

                  While talking with my coach he shared his thoughts about the off season. His insights made a lot of sense and involved the idea that there is no such thing as an ‘off season.’  Good news for those of us that like to keep active all year round! In fact a heavy and structured training schedule should give way to an activity load with substantially less structure. This means that activity should not stop but should be reduced in volume (how much you do) and intensity (how hard you do it) and maintaining a routine is important.  This brings us back to why cross training and participating in multiple activities during different seasons is important. Having a written training plan to focus your active recovery efforts is helpful too.  

Active recovery, as opposed to passive recovery (which means complete rest from exercise) helps prime your body’s metabolic pathways of recovery.  The psychological benefits of active recovery are apparent as many people feel better when they exercise daily. Movement has the capability to elevate mood among other positive attributes. Listed below are 7 active recovery ideas from Blake Wood, Certified Strength & Conditioning Specialist, Certified Exercise Physiologist and Kinesiologist from Pure Lifestyle, a popular Winnipeg gym.  The active recovery ideas carry a low risk of injury and agree with most trainees:

1. Self -Myofascial release (SMR) – Foam rolling is one form of SMR: the objective is to use implements such as foam rollers, lacrosse balls, and other specialty items (the stick) etc. in an effort to “massage your muscles.” Consistent foam rolling may improve range of motion.  On your off day, try passing over all major muscle groups with a foam roller. Aim for 30 seconds on each large muscle group, avoiding joints and bony areas. Focus a little extra time on problem areas and pinpoint troublesome areas by using a lacrosse ball. Monitor your pressure; remember, the goal is to feel better after foam rolling.
2. Walking – a great thing to do for active recovery. Not only can it burn calories, but also being outside can increase your feelings of well-being. The amount of walking you do on off days should be based on your current fitness level, and your training schedule.
3. Lighter Weight Lifting – Performing an exercise that made you particularly sore, but using a much lighter weight may be restorative. As a guide, use a weight at or below 30 percent of your usual weight, and perform one set shy of failure.
4. Hiking – like walking, it can burn significant calories. Once again it must be tailored towards your current fitness level. If you feel worse after the hike than when you started it probably has done more harm than good as far as active recovery.
5. Swimming – particularly low stress due to the weightlessness. You can have a great swimming workout engaging the muscular and cardiovascular system without added pressure on your joints. Take into consideration current fitness level.
6. Yoga – mobility work can be a form of active recovery that can be done every day. Typically each joint in the body is taken through a safe range of motion. Yoga is an example of mobility work that some people use as active recovery. It can be beneficial if you appreciate your current fitness level and learn from a good instructor.
7. Cycling – like the other forms of aerobic exercise can be a great active recovery workout, as long as you match the intensity to your current fitness levels.

Contributors: A big thank you to Scott Brown (endurance athlete and training enthusiast/coach) and Blake Wood (endurance athlete and Certified Strength & Conditioning Specialist) for your helpful insights, discussions and knowledge sharing regarding the topic of active recovery. Thank you to Fern Bérard for editing the article.

It's a good day to be alive, rested, healthy, and focussed. Thank you for the reminder Cynthia.

Mike