tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64940246828945750642024-02-19T12:06:06.387-05:00LyricyclePATHWAYSChris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-88210445567282874622018-11-30T15:28:00.001-05:002022-07-03T17:55:17.987-04:00I am no longer posting to this blog. You can still access all my old posts via the archive list to the right.Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-48172314549711925622018-08-07T17:06:00.000-04:002018-08-10T17:22:51.534-04:00“There’s something lost, but something’s gained…”<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It is
impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously
that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case you fail by
default.</span></i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
J.K. Rowling at Harvard, 2008</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One of the
things I both loved and feared about live performing was the possibility of surprise; it was a presence among us onstage, like an extra cast member. No matter how prepared I
was (and sometimes I wasn’t all that prepared), there was always an element of
chance – a musical blip, a wardrobe malfunction, a technical glitch. Or
something wonderful that electrified the
performance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1gdPs8I3QCF5tkEYIqbWaGb-wpn5WTjgmdNyWl0hInVyGa-IKje8tKhLaRpJTBSlSTdwEcDA9eRv3k4zZ2qVPRBxYqLopvVvyrTUDuJnKDQeNUQP9Hd0xM2131ODzgrJbLrEZdDysVY/s1600/Flute-2-0287.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="1169" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1gdPs8I3QCF5tkEYIqbWaGb-wpn5WTjgmdNyWl0hInVyGa-IKje8tKhLaRpJTBSlSTdwEcDA9eRv3k4zZ2qVPRBxYqLopvVvyrTUDuJnKDQeNUQP9Hd0xM2131ODzgrJbLrEZdDysVY/s320/Flute-2-0287.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As Papageno in a <i>Magical </i>Magic Flute.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The same
was true in athletic events. At the start of a long race there is no way I could
predict what would happen over the next fourteen or more hours. And I’ve had a
lot happen to me: a broken spoke in the pouring rain with 120
kilometres still to ride at Lake Placid; two flat tires followed by a water
shortage at the aid stations on a very hot day in Penticton, leading to
nauseating dehydration during the marathon. In both those cases I went on to finish
the race. Then there was a flareup of Morton’s neuroma out of the blue at 65k of the Comrades Marathon and
extreme vertigo coming out of the swim at Ironman Mont Tremblant. I dropped out of those races.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Standing at
the starting line is like standing in the wings of the theatre; everything
behind me disappears and all possibilities are before me. And both these are akin
to starting out to write something new: I am certain not to end up where I was
headed without course changes along the way. The published version of my memoir
was like the mythical Ship of Theseus, containing almost none of the parts it
had started out with.</div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVYJWLS7Bopcj7S59J1M671j6SZeTp1yyUVGLbSe3dioC9U0Z2ejGC5W1KDK7smQgrVWJM-JbEHt5oALGGrBodxHH01p5P_3IfFpJSMOPhJQZaScaBJZBMmJ1GOQGomMaTazSpqRG0zc/s1600/PaloVerde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="956" data-original-width="1211" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWVYJWLS7Bopcj7S59J1M671j6SZeTp1yyUVGLbSe3dioC9U0Z2ejGC5W1KDK7smQgrVWJM-JbEHt5oALGGrBodxHH01p5P_3IfFpJSMOPhJQZaScaBJZBMmJ1GOQGomMaTazSpqRG0zc/s320/PaloVerde.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">After riding across the desert all night, sunrise outside Blythe CA. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Interestingly,
in my day-to-day life I am not much of a risk-taker or improviser. I tend to
get riled if plans are upset; I like routine a lot of the time. To step outside
familiar parameters is to open the gate to improvisation, failure, loss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">But three
things in my life that came to me by surprise – singing, endurance athletics, and writing –
invited me outside those parameters, where I have been given a chance to push
myself to places I would never have dreamed of going: Carnegie Hall; a dusty road in South
Africa, a mountain path in Iceland, a sunblasted highway in California; the pages of my published book. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If pressed for an analysis, I would say that I do these things to <i>surprise</i> myself.<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">When I started singing at age 16 and running at 33, I remember
being elated to discover that there were things I had never done before that I
could get better at. Each year I planned to do something more than I had the previous
year. Sometimes I failed in spectacular fashion, but often I succeeded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPay8lgRDkCvEG3R-YEg1NX40IBBJrXj6tvrYL8STgrYrQxje4gzrKRP5hFaohGeyGbyPAUMtxTml3bzv_EOST8fjD6hHr5j7opFjZfsiW6fOMT7Ov3DP0Ef32ZllPX7a_CV41fpjjknk/s1600/Run2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPay8lgRDkCvEG3R-YEg1NX40IBBJrXj6tvrYL8STgrYrQxje4gzrKRP5hFaohGeyGbyPAUMtxTml3bzv_EOST8fjD6hHr5j7opFjZfsiW6fOMT7Ov3DP0Ef32ZllPX7a_CV41fpjjknk/s320/Run2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A hot day at Ironman Canada</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now, 33 years further on, I wonder if this is still true. I ran my
first 50k two years ago at age 65 and improved my time the following year. Can
I run farther this year than I did last year? How many more can I do? Or has
the ship sailed? Is the challenge between now and age 99 simply not to lose
what I have?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The answer is … it doesn’t matter. These days I find I am losing the need to create long-term goals to carry me forward. Once, goalsetting
was therapy for my tired mind as well as a generator of useful milestones.
Nowadays I focus more on simply seeing what happens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I enter maybe one or two trail races a year,
and these are low-key events where people run as much for the joy of being out
in the forest as to set a personal best or to clock more mileage into their
running logs.</span><br />
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It no longer matters to me if I go farther than I did yesterday. There is no endgame, there
are only the steps I take along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because I run to see what is possible; because I sang for
the physical pleasure of guiding music through my body; because I write to
enjoy the process of shaping words into communication; and because I am willing
to accept whatever challenges these pursuits throw at me along with what they
offer, I believe I’ve maximized my involvement in all of them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">By easing up on future goalsetting, I gain today. My reward for
enjoying the moment is ... the moment – nothing more or less.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Pioneering
astrophysicist </span>Cecilia Payne-Gaposchkin’s wrote two lines in her autobiography
that speak clearly to me:<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I was not consciously
aiming at the point I finally reached. I simply went on plodding, rewarded by
the beauty of the scenery, toward an unexpected goal.</i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEm8EDiYnluaVo5JCpgKDXQRdEfVxBxauioW_LOrKLcdK8n_iRtWFQiA9EPlPD_6xzp9cnlYQK8UNQ33rJjUO8LrBcJNE7b_X0Owrb30qh4hDgxusOuXtJfuSf7sre9idYTZykqwHBiw/s1600/TowerHill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="1121" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijEm8EDiYnluaVo5JCpgKDXQRdEfVxBxauioW_LOrKLcdK8n_iRtWFQiA9EPlPD_6xzp9cnlYQK8UNQ33rJjUO8LrBcJNE7b_X0Owrb30qh4hDgxusOuXtJfuSf7sre9idYTZykqwHBiw/s320/TowerHill.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For what I have chosen to assume is the final third of my
life, I plan to keep my eyes open for those new and unexpected goals, and to
enjoy the scenery.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is my last Lyricycle post. I’ve run out of things to
say here. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not sure what I had planned for this blog when I began
writing it in 2008; I only know that I enjoyed writing it. The people who
visited unexpectedly touched me more than I can say: a writing colleague; a fellow cyclist
from the Race Across the West; friends I met in a sandstorm in Death Valley; a
volunteer from a trail race in Ontario.<br />
<br />
My writing will have another home before too long, and I'll post a link here.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SVyR0I-6fP9k5QmdrFEskf3jR9STCqjho4Kc1YItMGWvSob78ojIf47pS547IQxYCiQgiLXJ8It7mUVKIyAFt1hvTQ89CAJRErschak-qMBxQZ9XlFg7Qoda1Q45fQY9UOYxFI54sBU/s1600/GatesOfDawn-crop1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1106" data-original-width="1600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1SVyR0I-6fP9k5QmdrFEskf3jR9STCqjho4Kc1YItMGWvSob78ojIf47pS547IQxYCiQgiLXJ8It7mUVKIyAFt1hvTQ89CAJRErschak-qMBxQZ9XlFg7Qoda1Q45fQY9UOYxFI54sBU/s320/GatesOfDawn-crop1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-32241962048237538392018-06-23T11:20:00.002-04:002018-06-23T12:50:06.941-04:00Two Solitudes<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
"I couldn't see
anybody, and I knew what the loneliness of the long-distance runner running
across country felt like, realising that as far as I was concerned this feeling
was the only honesty and realness there was in the world … no matter what
anybody else tried to tell me."<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
― <i>Alan Sillitoe, The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the day warms, I am lacing up my shoes for a two-hour
run. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #111111; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In an alternate universe,
a parallel me is starting to write a novel that has a theme</span> of
belonging. In both realities, I am aware that I am the only resident.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A writer is often an outlier, socially speaking; an observer
and documenter rather than a participant. Even authors who excel at the social
aspect of their job (and there is one) will admit that when they are sitting
in front of a half-finished subplot wondering how they are ever going to get
untangled from it, there isn’t much advantage to being a pleasant dinner
companion or a social media maven.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am a long distance runner who has never experienced
loneliness. Last summer when I was slogging up a mountain in Iceland, up to my
shins in slush with sleet whipping into my face, I didn’t look around for
someone to share the experience with. It was mine – for better or worse – and I
wanted it all to myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My memoir, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dr.
Bartolo’s Umbrella</i>, was aimed at a particular target audience and within the
parameters I had set for myself it was more successful than I had ever dreamed it
would be. These were the parameters: I wanted whoever read it to enjoy it.
Word got back to me that many did. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that is not why I wrote it. I wrote it because I loved
the simple individuality of the process.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To me, the purest joy and greatest challenge was the writing
itself:<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , "serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">
t</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">o
write clearly but lyrically; to find new ways of saying things that have been
said a million million times; to put thoughts in order logically but
fantastically; to communicate symbolically and be believed viscerally. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">To do this, I had to choose critically which advice I would accept
from teachers, editors, and peers, because every word in my book is in held in
place by my imagination and craft, not theirs. My Acknowledgements section is
as a full and as heartfelt as any author’s, but ultimately I was the one who
sat alone at my keyboard for years, conceiving, writing, revising. I do not
write by committee.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(I have yet to experience the traditional author’s nightmare
of having absolutely no one show up to one of my readings. This must be the literary
manifestation of loneliness.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Nor do I run as part of a team.</span> Unless I decide to join the
local Wednesday Afternoon Walking and Conversation Group – which I am not currently
contemplating – a major characteristic of running for me is that it is a
solitary, non-social activity. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, if I cherish my solitude so much, why go into an
organized running event at all? That’s a question I’ve asked myself increasingly
in past years. For one thing, I like the challenge of an unfamiliar course planned
and laid out by someone else; these always seem to be a bit less forgiving than
the paths I choose for myself. But lately I’ve left behind races like Ironman and
big-city marathons in favour of low-profile trail races – same great distances and
support with much less noise. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">For me, a running event is still an individual process that takes
place in the company of several hundred others who are also locked in private negotiation
with their own limitations and dreams. I am in company, but every step I take
is mine alone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I have always found purity – a “realness” as Sillitoe writes – in the
fulfillment of a personal goal: in working to prepare for it; in stretching to
achieve it; in doing what I told myself I was going to do. Pushing myself to go
farther today than I did yesterday reminds me of the struggle to align words
and thoughts. When I edit my writing I want the revision to be an improvement
on what was on the page before; occasionally it is. Crossing a finish line is
akin to the feeling of polishing a sentence that finally says exactly what you
want it to – the certitude that there is no more work to be done. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUk9ffP6cE7CkWqBHRvLtz9a64LTLx9bfdwbBNubu2XjHVNyMfsZmfL104qvXH-QHbZuhx1a9YewTIdWzPzgCDlojf4EoQnLQLkNOjruCRKcON33b_-gwfQzimkHHPhJ3DEia4-0Lea0/s1600/Badwater1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="747" data-original-width="1328" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRUk9ffP6cE7CkWqBHRvLtz9a64LTLx9bfdwbBNubu2XjHVNyMfsZmfL104qvXH-QHbZuhx1a9YewTIdWzPzgCDlojf4EoQnLQLkNOjruCRKcON33b_-gwfQzimkHHPhJ3DEia4-0Lea0/s320/Badwater1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Running and writing: two things that bring me joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two things I do alone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
PS: This will be my penultimate post in Lyricycle. After ten
years, I find that my focus and direction have moved beyond the scope of this
blog. After all, there are only so many ways I can describe moving myself across the
planet under my own power (a phrase I imagine I’ve used about a dozen times in
the last decade). I am developing a new website, and I’ll leave a link to it on
this page when it is operational.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-91339212538305770382018-05-26T19:43:00.002-04:002018-05-26T19:46:58.048-04:00Running in Stages<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been a long time since I used to leap out of bed at the
sound of an alarm and head flying out the door, like Dagwood Bumstead, to my
job in an office. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nowadays I only use the alarm on my phone to
wake me up for athletic events. The little tune it plays is an annoying way to
start a day – even a race day – but it gets me up and moving. I even have a
little verse that runs through my head to go with the music:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Time to rise and shine,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Get out of bed you lazy elf;<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Time to toe the line,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>That race won’t run itself.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On race morning I go through a predictable but real cycle of
emotions that remind me somewhat of the Kübler Ross stages of grief:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
4:30 a.m. – <b>Denial.</b> WTF? It can’t possibly be time to get up. I just closed my
eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
5:30 a.m. – <b>Anger.</b> Why did I pay money to sign up for this
stupid race that I’m not even properly trained for? I’m gonna have to drive for
hours to get there. Line up to park. Line up to get my number. Line up to pee.
Why couldn’t I just have gone for a nice run through the countryside on my own
time at a decent hour? I’m 66 years old for cry-yi. I can’t fake it like I used
to. Let the millennials do this.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
6:30 a.m. – <b>Bargaining. </b>OK. If I just get through this one I
will never rashly enter another race again. I will be properly trained and I
will practise on the actual race course six times before the event. I will not
show up in old running shoes with half a sole flapping under my left foot. I
will dress properly for the weather and be neither chilled to the brisket nor
baked like a potato.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7:30 a.m. – <b>Depression.</b> As Eeyore said: All right. We’re
going. Only Don’t Blame Me if it Rains.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
8:00 a.m. – <b>Acceptance.</b> Here I am running under the starting
banner. Hundreds of feet shuffling around me. For every two feet there is one
mind looking to the task ahead. Everything I have felt this morning falls away,
leaving nothing but my heart, my body, and my goal. For the past three and a
half hours I have been asking myself why I do this. As my legs begin to warm up
and carry me across the earth, I modify Yoda’s saying: there is no why – there is
only do. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once again, for the hundredth or thousandth time since I
began all this over three decades ago, I am running to surprise myself. Whether
I have three, four, or eight hours of effort ahead, I’m content to let happen
whatever is going to happen.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All of these emotions were in play a few weeks ago as I ran an
out-and-back 26k trail event through a conservation area east of Toronto. There
were last minute changes to the course as a result of construction (the
distance was supposed to be 25k) and fallen trees due to extreme winds. The
number of river crossings was doubled from one to two.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Despite all this, it turned out to be a great day, with good
running weather and paths that were not as muddy as in some previous years. The
extra water crossing proved so popular that the organizers are considering making
it a permanent part of the race. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkv0bIjV_kiZS_ADpWCjUVDzzuVMQFwAKwTD3TUFxNEkxmiMozjJhtCmlJdL_JXn1Jkxuy3vElFi0egYfgvJCVDqfqFXRdOwa7qYWF3be3yUBrN7o-L3DfdwmyzUuHVa3uKPxa0r93z4/s1600/Seaton2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="298" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGkv0bIjV_kiZS_ADpWCjUVDzzuVMQFwAKwTD3TUFxNEkxmiMozjJhtCmlJdL_JXn1Jkxuy3vElFi0egYfgvJCVDqfqFXRdOwa7qYWF3be3yUBrN7o-L3DfdwmyzUuHVa3uKPxa0r93z4/s320/Seaton2.jpg" width="231" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am still running, and this always seems like a small
miracle to me. What began as a dare with my sedentary, chain-smoking self to
see if I could finish a 10k charity event back in 1985 has kept me challenged
and fulfilled in a way that I could never have expected. In a way that, if I’m
being honest, nothing else ever has.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Trotting along the forest floor about midway
through the race I decided I had to add one more stage to the list of emotions:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
10:00 a.m. – <b>Gratitude.</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-1455935451985169242018-02-27T17:14:00.000-05:002018-03-01T23:00:19.010-05:00Country Roads, Take Me Home<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
My annual practice of choosing a keyword to shine a light on
the year ahead was delayed this time and I think I know why. It could be that
2017 – when the word was "climbing" – was the most remarkable and surprising year in recent memory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If everything last year had gone as planned it would have
been an eventful but typical year, with a major birthday, a book publication,
an epic trail race in Iceland, and a hiking trip through Northern Scotland. It
was the unplanned that gave the year its tang and reminded me that we are never
in control of the future – at least not as much as we think we are. I sustained
an injury that affected my Iceland race and nearly ended my running season. And
we suddenly bought a house in the country and moved away from Toronto, a place
I had called home for over 60 years.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So the idea of choosing a single word to represent what I
hope my year will hold seemed a bit trite.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My life on an island in the Trent River is more different
than I could ever have imagined it would be. Lifelong paradigms and templates are
no longer valid. We get our water from a well. We swim in the river. My front
yard is twice as wide and ten times longer than the one I left back in the
city. Internet download speed is not always reliable and Netflix reception can be infuriating.
There are stars in the sky. I often wonder why it took me so long to get here.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPlBedSewd_k4bULrQmpDPLiNk2yRmyuO2g9P73m4LkiyZGGeEdktRFn0Tfr8hYV7j_hDs7UahR9VWBrkKHjHjcC4Tfw-oBQ3bdbKOIPGi2uBDvlBHof4glvUkAMIq4bM6AYTy_y_Fe8/s1600/Badwater14Aa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJPlBedSewd_k4bULrQmpDPLiNk2yRmyuO2g9P73m4LkiyZGGeEdktRFn0Tfr8hYV7j_hDs7UahR9VWBrkKHjHjcC4Tfw-oBQ3bdbKOIPGi2uBDvlBHof4glvUkAMIq4bM6AYTy_y_Fe8/s320/Badwater14Aa.jpg" width="180" /></a>And I can run for hours on back country roads and see a
maximum of half a dozen people the whole time. Although I had a decent path
near my Toronto home, I now enjoy the freedom from having to dodge bicycles,
off-leash dogs, and belligerently trespassing e-bikes. This itself is a reason
to get out my door each morning. The routes are many and varied; it is flat on
the island but hilly just across the bridge. There are trails, including the Trans-Canada
Trail, which runs through our town. And when I get home, I jump in the river to
cool off. (I’m talking summer here of course. At the moment the spring runoff
owns the river.)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I will run a lot this year and hopefully be more
sure-footed than I was last year. My first event will be Around the Bay, in Hamilton Ontario. This
year however I am not doing the full 30k, but rather the two-person relay with
my son. I’m doing the first leg and I have been working on increasing my speed
so that he is not the last one waiting for his partner to appear. So far I have
improved my pace to somewhere near where it was ten years ago.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Following the release of my book last year, I find myself at
a bit of a crossroads where my writing is concerned. There are many things I
would like to try, and I need to remind myself that no one is telling me I
can’t. (I figure I can get get some good work done on my novel while I'm waiting for Grace and Frankie to load on Netflix.) The signs at my crossroads point to many paths, and I am not going to
limit myself to just one.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spend a lot of time on the highway because I still travel
back to what my friends call “civilization” once a week. When I do, I drive to
the outskirts and take the train and then the subway. This takes longer but
saves me the stress of trying to drive in gridlocked traffic – one of the
reasons I left the city. Multiple routes also add to the adventure of
travelling.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuqSXo1X-bQLy3zpYujDVLL0E3wuC57AXJ8nMSpPaM-LsybZGZdQS7e1YEZyFqncNnRsvyrA2ojQ6j1Pi3bkc7y7gJI5aHrHj_jEtUHz1cWwx7y1LQET8ym4ferPe8vnRCjQN9TYBIpGo/s1600/Canyon3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuqSXo1X-bQLy3zpYujDVLL0E3wuC57AXJ8nMSpPaM-LsybZGZdQS7e1YEZyFqncNnRsvyrA2ojQ6j1Pi3bkc7y7gJI5aHrHj_jEtUHz1cWwx7y1LQET8ym4ferPe8vnRCjQN9TYBIpGo/s320/Canyon3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Because of all the above, the word I have alighted on for
2018 is “pathways.” Whatever happens in the coming year, I have a feeling it
will involve being on the way to somewhere: a town, a lake, or a finish line.
There will be paths I plan to take and paths that appear out of the forest,
beckoning me or challenging me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-10547983210518301722017-10-02T10:12:00.001-04:002017-10-02T10:12:41.522-04:00About Time<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>In you, my mind, do I measure time.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">St. Augustine<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Four laps of 12.5 kilometres each make up the <a href="http://www.runforthetoad.com/home.html">Run for the Toad</a> 50K race
course. In the three years I have run this event, each lap has looked somehow different
to me each time around, so beautiful is the setting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Like many forest-based trail races, there is a sense of
being removed from time and space. Despite the colourful signs marking each
kilometre and the thoughtfully placed aid stations, this course has a labyrinthine
layout that seems designed to turn you around and around so that you are never
really sure where you are. But if you are running trails, knowing where you are
is secondary to the experience of moving yourself along the quiet paths. Of listening
to the whispering of trees. Of asking your body to carry you, and to feel it
respond.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Runners doing the 50K are allowed to leave gear bags at the
start/finish so you can drop or add clothes each time around – perfect for a
chilly start or a rainy day – and you do not have to carry all your nutrition
with you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This year I turned 65, and maybe because of this
milestone I have been aware of time passing more than before. Sometimes
I have even felt my age, a new experience for me. Partly because of my injuries
last spring, the Toad was my chance to get at least one long race done in 2017.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And so I presented myself at the starting line on a bright
cool fall morning, ready to run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The paths in the Pinehurst Lake Conservation Area are unfailingly
lovely. There are the expected tree roots – not too many – and lots of rolling
terrain, but no long killer hills. There is one short steep climb near the end of each
lap; by the last time around it is an old friend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I was quite enjoying my day when at the end of the second
lap I overheard two runners talking about a cut-off time. This was news to me;
I had no idea there was a time limit in this race. I had never seen anything on
the website; maybe it had been announced at the start. (Note to race organizers:
no one ever listens to what the announcer is saying at the starting line).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I asked a volunteer about it and she seemed to think that,
yes, there was a seven-hour cut-off. Last year I had finished under that time anyway, so if there was a limit it hadn’t affected me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">At that point I became a bit concerned. I had been ambling
along quite happily with no thought of a particular finishing time. Seven hours
should be enough time for most people to run 50 kilometres. But I am a slow
runner to start with, and this year I had intended to do four nice leisurely laps of the course, playing the senior citizen card and finishing when I felt
like it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All of a sudden, my plans acquired a new dimension: time. Could I make the cut-off?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeQowW2PMoqW1a0uS6Q-H_V72b7pPGtXYcMGv26UynfZfcI1R5cL0M6dcVVYqGJxFKp5IwT6THpD2OMUQX6FUisaA0YYo6w3NcBQCUONNhldk6GqrYUz9_qKWCC5N5Qo8_vI9FhoZKf4/s1600/cutoffs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="239" data-original-width="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigeQowW2PMoqW1a0uS6Q-H_V72b7pPGtXYcMGv26UynfZfcI1R5cL0M6dcVVYqGJxFKp5IwT6THpD2OMUQX6FUisaA0YYo6w3NcBQCUONNhldk6GqrYUz9_qKWCC5N5Qo8_vI9FhoZKf4/s1600/cutoffs.jpg" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Love them or hate them. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Cut-off times are a feature of many races, for different
reasons, mostly valid. After all, the event has to end sometime (and the volunteers have to
go home). The most draconian cut-off I know of is at the Comrades Marathon in
South Africa, where an official will physically bar a runner from crossing the
finish immediately after the final gun has sounded, even if that runner is two feet
from the line.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whether there was a valid time limit in place at Run for the
Toad or not, I decided I had better get moving. This turned out to be a great
exercise in pacing and pure willpower. I didn’t exactly set fire to the pine
needles on the path, but I worked a bit harder and managed to keep such a
steady pace that, remarkably, my fourth lap was an even split with my third. On
a normal day I would have slowed toward the end as I stiffened up and began to
feel lazy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Whether you are an elite runner or a slowpoke like me, going
for a personal best or just trying to get yourself to the finish, there are going
to be some physical consequences involved in running 50 kilometres, probably some
discomfort. You will get worn out and your muscles will protest the effort. I felt all those things, but
the time limit – real or imagined – motivated me to put them aside and push
myself just a little harder. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">I never did find out if any time restriction was in effect or if it was all in my head. As it was, I managed to knock a few minutes off last year’s time, so it was a non-issue. The timing system seemed to keep registering runners up to the eight-hour mark.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In the end, as I ran through the woods on my final lap, the
ticking clock ceased to matter; only the extra effort did. My negotiation was no longer
with time; it was between my mind and my body.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">
</span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Time as an abstract does not exist; its only significance lies in what we do with it. After all, isn’t being a runner simply the chance to ask something more of
ourselves today than we did yesterday? And isn’t that what makes it timeless?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLT2diryjVGasPu70Id-YRdH5DzS9XA-KmfKamWE8Zok74tbiLRBnBT1-QivCWOo-6mZdZWmeyqHC84spkwIeq7KiSeCKllwRTm2Lc5GcDJ-ukPaEG0GHuLRf4Ei4j0EzEsdEkQrzbkk/s1600/VultureBait07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1197" data-original-width="941" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLT2diryjVGasPu70Id-YRdH5DzS9XA-KmfKamWE8Zok74tbiLRBnBT1-QivCWOo-6mZdZWmeyqHC84spkwIeq7KiSeCKllwRTm2Lc5GcDJ-ukPaEG0GHuLRf4Ei4j0EzEsdEkQrzbkk/s320/VultureBait07.jpg" width="251" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-75831535211371177812017-08-07T17:30:00.001-04:002017-08-07T17:30:10.181-04:00Taking the Long Way Around<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Laugavegur Ultramarathon, July 15, 2017<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In a way, you could say I made it to the finish line of the 55k Laugavegur
Ultramarathon in Iceland last month, although it wasn’t in the way the race organizers
intended.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Officially I was a DNF, having missed the 6-hour cut-off at
38k. But if they gave an award for persistence and arriving at the finish by the
most circuitous route, I, along with a fellow runner I will call Lisa (because
that is her name) would get all the medals. Here is the story:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew going in that I would have to have an unusually great
day to finish this very challenging race. My torn hamstring in May had eliminated
the most critical 6 weeks from my training, and I simply did not have the miles
or the hills in my legs. But since we were coming to Iceland on vacation anyway,
it seemed a shame not to try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, at Laugavegur as with The Force, there is no try;
there is only do.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first 10k of the race went straight up a mountain; a
good part of this was in heavy, wet, shin-deep snow. Sleet was blowing down the
slope into my face, driven by a merciless wind. I didn’t see much of the
advertised spectacular scenery on this stretch. Just sleet. And my feet. As we
came over the top of the mountain, the weather cleared and runners were presented
with the breathtaking sight of Alftavatn, a glacial lake way below and far away.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The run was now steeply downhill, and the footing was
tricky. Alftavatn is at 22k, where the
first cut-off checkpoint is, and I made this without too much difficulty. But
the elements and topography had taken a big toll on my undertrained body. I
found it hard to get moving again with any decent speed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">By the time I waded across the icy waist-high river at the race’s
halfway point, my hopes of making it to the second cut-off in time were pretty
dim. I would have to run a pretty brisk 10k or so to make it, and I was feeling
anything but brisk (hypothermic, more like, at least from the waist down). But
I gamely trotted off, having taken time to change my socks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The frustrating thing is that the terrain is mostly flat
through this section, so if you’re in a hurry you can make pretty good time here.
But all my high-distance training had been preempted by my injury layoff. I could
jog slowly, but this would not get me to the cut-off point in time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(I don’t mean to lean too much on my injury here; this race
would have tested my limits even if I were in optimal shape. Those who finished
have my unending admiration.)<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The course took its final swipe at me when I tripped on a
rock and face-planted into the trail at about 30k. OK, I said to the gravel
against my cheek, you got me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Eventually I came across a van that was looking for
stragglers, of which I was now one. The official confirmed that my race was
over and offered to drive me to the bus. My race was indeed over, but my journey
was just beginning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let’s take a moment here to review the options for runners
who drop out mid-race. There aren't many, and none are good (to their credit, the race organizers tell
you this repeatedly in the advance information). This event takes place over
mountainous terrain that is inaccessible for forty-eight weeks of the year and
barely accessible for the other four. There are no real roads, just rocky
tracks. So if you leave the race before you get to the end, the organizers will
transport you to the nearest town of Hvolsvöllur, and from there you can get another
bus back to Reykjavík.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But I didn’t want to go to Reykjavík; I wanted to go to
Thorsmörk, where the finish line was and my wife was waiting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I was wondering what I would have to do to get to Thorsmörk,
another runner came along, and she also had to get to the finish. It seemed
that we two were the only ones who had spouses waiting there. There wasn’t a
lot we could do. The sag bus would deposit us at Hvolsvöllur, and then we were
basically on our own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After a couple of hours bouncing over the rocks, we arrived
in Hvolsvöllur at about 6:00 pm, where the other non-finishers got on their bus
for the city. Lisa and I deciphered the schedule as best we could and figured that
the last and only bus to Thorsmörk would come along in about 3 hours. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You can bet that there were not 3 hours’ worth of fun activities
to do in Hvolsvöllur that evening (of course we were dressed only in our damp running
gear, and it was not warm outside). But we made the best of it, eventually
ending up in a German-Icelandic restaurant, where we dawdled over dinner as
long as we could. I have to say that the day would have been very bleak without
my fellow traveller, and I was grateful for the company.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bus showed up at 9:00 pm and we climbed aboard, spending
several more hours bouncing <i>back</i> over
the rocks till we arrived at Thorsmörk at about 11:30, to be greeted by our patient
reception committee of two. Doing the math, one can see that we spent far more
time getting to the finish by bus than the actual finishers took getting there on
foot. I also estimate that we could have casually strolled the remaining
distance along the race course to the finish and still beaten the bus, but the race
rules do not allow this. Once you’re out, you have to leave the trail. The
bottom line is that you do not want to drop from this race.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was an extraordinary experience. I wish I could have
lived up to the physical and mental demands of the event. But of the handful of
DNFs I have had in the past 32 years, this one was the easiest to take,
although definitely the most challenging to accomplish.</span><br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-12159951396432015392017-06-16T13:07:00.001-04:002017-06-16T18:49:33.062-04:00The River I Stand In<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>Eeyore shook himself,
and asked somebody to explain to Piglet what happened when you had been inside
a river for quite a long time. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">A.A. Milne<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">It’s been an extraordinary spring. I use the word to mean neither
wonderful nor ghastly, but simply beyond ordinary.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">At the beginning of the year I had two simple personal goals:
to see my first book published in May and to run an ultramarathon in Iceland in
July. My book was published, and people seem to be enjoying it, which was my primary
hope. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Then we bought a new house, unexpectedly. Doing such a thing
had been part of a multi-year plan, which suddenly telescoped into immediacy.
This necessitated quickly selling the place we already had, with all the
attendant fuss and stress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Finally, although it seemed the day would never arrive, last
week we left the home we had lived in for 21 years and moved to a large,
tree-covered property a couple of hours from Toronto, on the banks of a river.
Watching the water flow past our back door is energizing, mesmerizing, and
restful at the same time. The local running and cycling will be terrific and in
the back of my mind I am wondering if I can use the river as a sort of Endless
Pool to get my swimming back into shape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">In early May I was well into training for the trail race in
Iceland – a spectacular event that I had chosen to celebrate turning 65, which
would test me as much as any Ironman ever did – when I slipped and fell, badly
damaging my right hamstring. The rug was pulled out from under my meticulously
constructed Iceland training plan.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">For two weeks I could barely walk. I didn’t run for another four. The Vikings would probably just have gone out and run anyway, chopping the
bad leg off to reduce drag. My Gaelic ancestors would have holed up somewhere
with a supply of Scotch. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The other day I went out and ran for twenty minutes, some of
them uncomfortable; I took each step as if I were being chased by a Zamboni,
frightened of slipping and reinjuring myself. Yesterday I ran a bit farther,
with a bit less discomfort and a bit more joy, and today I made it even farther.
If I can keep moving forward like this, I hope to get myself to a place where I
feel like a runner again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">You see, this is what it means to ask so much of my body: it
doesn’t always do what I want it to, but if I’m lucky, it doesn’t completely
quit on me, but revives. Stirring dull roots with the spring rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">At the beginning of the year, I had no immediate plans to
buy a house and move away, and no plans to suffer one of my most debilitating
injuries ever. Extraordinary changes have flowed over my world like a river in
spring flood. If my athletic life has taught me nothing else, it is that plans
change without notice, and that I must be prepared for quick course changes or simply
give up. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvyRLi5DyVByVDvLMV5mGm2_3G6RMmt6ReIziWffH2SxwaF4WBwZNWlmB9dZmKJjtcdP3YhyphenhyphenMs2XK_surHXBQy0NNs7u6cWsvuIEcQkuotpvYonrpw9jqALfnSX056WEUePuv_NHTu0c/s1600/Seaton4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvyRLi5DyVByVDvLMV5mGm2_3G6RMmt6ReIziWffH2SxwaF4WBwZNWlmB9dZmKJjtcdP3YhyphenhyphenMs2XK_surHXBQy0NNs7u6cWsvuIEcQkuotpvYonrpw9jqALfnSX056WEUePuv_NHTu0c/s320/Seaton4.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">The river I step in is not the river I stand in. Dreams flow
past and are lost. New ones are made and new plans are drawn up to achieve them.
As John Lennon sang, there’s nowhere you can be that isn’t where you’re meant
to be. I am here and nowhere else, and happy to be so. We’ll see what happens around
the next turning.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-76796887295517373192017-05-13T17:16:00.001-04:002017-05-14T09:01:32.300-04:00A Different Value<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I’m reviewing the
situation … I think I’d better think it out again!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fagin, in Lionel Bart’s “Oliver”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I had a great running season last year: I was 100% injury
free; I set some PBs for certain distances; and I ran my first ultra. I established
some lofty goals for this year and was out of the gate on January 1.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The best laid schemes…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A week ago I was running on a nearby trail when I slipped in
some mud. My right leg went violently out in front of me and in a split-second
I knew I had pulled a hamstring. I nursed it over the next 24 hours and it was
starting to feel better. I was walking a little awkwardly, as you do, but there
was reason to hope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Two days later I was heading down some stairs into the
subway during a rainstorm and the same leg slipped out from under me on the
slick floor as commuters streamed by on all sides. The pain was transcendental,
and a voice in my head said, “Your season is over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I may have been a little dramatic with the prognosis but
there was no doubt that I was seriously hobbled and that the healing is going
to be very slow. The trail event I had signed up for this Saturday will go on
without me, and I’m doubtful I will make it to my target race in July.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have to be philosophical. I’ve had my share of injuries
over the years, but not as many as some people I know, and they have always
healed completely. I’ve also raced while in sub-optimal shape: once a marathon
when I had a bruised rib; once an Ironman after a bike crash that left me
unable to swim for several weeks before the event; once, a century in Death
Valley, shortly after tearing my acromio-clavicular ligament. In all these
cases I went on to have an enjoyable day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiksu3JHGp0ay1YgiBRAFAsxuGAncQDUNTslyYLxuJ8pa5pygnaP6o91ENWJ1o-fSVQukJzy96Cvukq3JzyYYsey2InCli4gJQ44lO-AkMLsusIzN7jNhjD4onZX0lyIKG6lFHDXmxutr0/s1600/ChrisCameronCVR-FINALa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiksu3JHGp0ay1YgiBRAFAsxuGAncQDUNTslyYLxuJ8pa5pygnaP6o91ENWJ1o-fSVQukJzy96Cvukq3JzyYYsey2InCli4gJQ44lO-AkMLsusIzN7jNhjD4onZX0lyIKG6lFHDXmxutr0/s320/ChrisCameronCVR-FINALa.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">My book. Written by me.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">At the moment it is physically impossible for me to run. When
I get back into training, it will be on the bike or in the pool.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">We had a manic winter, buying a new house and listing and
selling our old one. We are moving at the end of this month. May also signals
the publication of my first book, <i><a href="https://www.amazon.ca/Bartolos-Umbrella-Other-Surprising-Operatic/dp/1927079462/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1494710084&sr=8-1&keywords=dr+bartolo%27s+umbrella" target="_blank">Dr.Bartolo’s Umbrella and Other Tales from my Surprising Operatic Life</a></i>, a
memoir of my years as a singer. I have been to one launch event and there is another
two weeks from now. Because my publisher is a small one with few contacts in
the music business, I have been doing a lot of the marketing and door-knocking
myself. I am loving it all, but it wears a bit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Adding into this my work with my editing clients and my
attempts to write some new material, an outside observer might say that I am as
hyperextended as the leg that slipped out from under me. I am not big on kismet
or messages from the ether, but I can’t help thinking that something cosmic is
trying to say, “Slow down.” Not to mention, "Watch where you're going."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpQZa6M-Wlz6BR4oXT7QP7shl9-CK01rLCSwH_tQ-na1sV6gHUixfoZT7eb4MoEBONjB-SeSiZ6r9hoN3ZfwOpsmEuB-Of5_uR2Bu1w_5cpeWNiVsmhoBlqJFqtHALZo6s9yJ8FB7VD8/s1600/Run2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpQZa6M-Wlz6BR4oXT7QP7shl9-CK01rLCSwH_tQ-na1sV6gHUixfoZT7eb4MoEBONjB-SeSiZ6r9hoN3ZfwOpsmEuB-Of5_uR2Bu1w_5cpeWNiVsmhoBlqJFqtHALZo6s9yJ8FB7VD8/s320/Run2.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">A hot day at IMC</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It is in my nature to want to set goals and work towards
them. When I have to drop or re-evaluate one I feel lost and bereft. When my
head is not full of plans, it feels empty. But surely I am more than my goals. An
enforced idleness such as the one I’ve just slid into might be an invitation to
look differently at those goals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">When they ran out of water on the bike course at Ironman
Canada several years ago, I became badly dehydrated in the last half of the
marathon. Every time I tried to run, I felt like throwing up or passing out. So
I walked. As I moved slowly back towards town, I felt the warm breeze blow over
my skin and watched the twinkling lights across the water grow closer. It was
no longer a race I was in, but a journey through the pitch-dark stillness of
the night. I let go of the frustration of not being able to move quicker and
simply embraced the pace. And eventually I made it to the finish line. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">My plans had not worked out that evening in Penticton, but I
believe there was value – a different value – in what I did achieve. I think to
be an endurance athlete is to be prepared for any change in course, even one
that requires a redefinition of the objective. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJ1QNJJp1d3y8p5NcwEvD3fW61sJowN7Ghp_L_dkzb5oWRhP5Vi5qOogXQBdY9TM-YIr7RTwnCkw2_KRmbt2CQGIpsCeeQgY6ox5tSKKo7mZXh5613AroSQXl4LIq9lT3l_fZDL8jRCE/s1600/HomeStretch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJ1QNJJp1d3y8p5NcwEvD3fW61sJowN7Ghp_L_dkzb5oWRhP5Vi5qOogXQBdY9TM-YIr7RTwnCkw2_KRmbt2CQGIpsCeeQgY6ox5tSKKo7mZXh5613AroSQXl4LIq9lT3l_fZDL8jRCE/s320/HomeStretch.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">New destinations</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">With my current injury, I am at that Ironman again, out at mile
20. I will have to see my objectives differently. And slowly, eventually, I’ll
get there.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-57263196057718528602017-03-28T11:46:00.000-04:002017-03-28T16:05:04.844-04:00Staying Home<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Know when to fold ‘em,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Know when to walk away,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Know when to run.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The good news was that the freezing rain might stop by morning.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The other good news was that my right hamstring seemed to be
on the mend and was not bothering me as much as it had been.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">On the other hand, the remnants of a cold had settled
uncomfortably in my chest, making breathing an irritating chore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So much seemed to be conspiring to keep me from running my planned
race, the Around the Bay 30k in Hamilton. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And there was the fact that I was vastly undertrained.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Training has not been a focus in the past two months. Our quick,
unexpected decision to buy a house in the country and sell the one we’ve lived
in for 21 years meant that much of the winter was taken up packing boxes and
shifting furniture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Once we had decided to list the house, we were in the hands
of The Stagers. The mandate of The Stagers is to make your home look as if no
one has ever lived there, the better to sell it, apparently. To us sellers, their
word was law, and the word we got was that none of our furniture, art, or
carpeting was worthy to be viewed by the buying public. It all had to go. So
began a frantic period of moving everything we owned into the garage so that it
could be replaced by one glass-topped coffee table and a throw pillow. Even my beloved
treadmill, a wintertime refuge for me, was rolled into a corner while the house
was being shown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">All of which goes to say that I didn’t do a lot of running
in January and February. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The bottom line: Even If I did show up at the starting line,
it would be to shuffle along like an old man in the final miles of Ironman,
doing a run-walk, hacking and coughing, finishing on the last page of the
results. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Actually I do that anyway, but this time it might not have
been worth it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A few people I know refer to my athletic habits as “crazy,”
a term that drives me … well ... crazy. To me there is nothing crazy about
setting a goal and taking steps to achieve it. These things mean being
organized and focused, not nuts. I get defensive when someone points to
everything I go through to do what I do and dismisses it as simply a mental
aberration. No, my hobby is not shopping for antiques, having people over to
dinner, or eating exotic cheeses. Yes, I sometimes get uncomfortable.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But occasionally an obsession to carry through with
something despite a net negative outcome, or at least a lack of a measurable
positive one, could be an indication of an approach that is a tad off balance. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jamRE7Cfn255kwJbi8vu4w6qgDNPrGNojW4AKR1x_Iz2zgOxKelWNzW1YxwmfREbFQmiPKrLQmBGYwbOkuPdTuCJ-EI4zZBXpapFXcS2caopowqDJtC881n2-BWAtynYUH7AlSkWCsU/s1600/Climb2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5jamRE7Cfn255kwJbi8vu4w6qgDNPrGNojW4AKR1x_Iz2zgOxKelWNzW1YxwmfREbFQmiPKrLQmBGYwbOkuPdTuCJ-EI4zZBXpapFXcS2caopowqDJtC881n2-BWAtynYUH7AlSkWCsU/s320/Climb2.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: small;">No Country for Old Legs</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The challenge for me here was to see the bigger picture. I
have a long-term training plan to take me to my A race in Iceland this summer. From
where I am currently sitting, finishing that race seems nearly impossible.
Challenging terrain and weather are made even more daunting by what look like
Draconian time cut-offs. Furthermore, it doesn’t seem like any country for old
men; there are all of 5 people 65+ entered in a field of over 500. Even the
four-hour bus ride to the start is off-putting. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Nevertheless I am looking forward to it as much as I did my
first Ironman back in 2002. It will test me and my training, resolve, and focus
as much as anything ever has.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">But training will require running, and I have to be in shape
for that. Starting off with a painful whimper is not how I wanted to do it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">Call me crazy, but in the end I decided to skip Around the
Bay and live to run another day. I have run the race many times and I will run
it many more, but this was not going to be my year.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue", arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">And things are looking up. My sore muscles are feeling
better, my chest cold is retreating, and I feel like running again. Now if I can
just remember where I packed my trail shoes…</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-63814426887085894382017-01-12T17:17:00.000-05:002017-01-12T17:17:03.078-05:00Climbing<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Above the spectral glaciers shone,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>And from his lips escaped a groan:</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Excelsior!</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Each January I like to find a word or phrase that will help frame
my plans for the coming year. Last year I chose GETTING THERE. My hope was to
learn to enjoy the process of moving myself forward and not spend so much time thinking about the endgame. I think I was moderately successful, no more so than in my last
race of the year, the </span><a href="http://www.runforthetoad.com/" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;" target="_blank">Run for the Toad</a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> 50k, in which I focused on the
experience and let the goal come to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I figured out that in an ultra-distance race, you'd better not waste time and energy fussing about some distant finish line or it is going to be a very long day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This year’s word,</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">CLIMBING, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">sends me in a different direction. It's a multi-purpose word. You can climb up something, towards something, or out of something. In our rich, beautiful English language, you can also climb </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">down </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">something. You can climb a
corporate ladder or a mountain. People even climb into bed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From where you
are in a climb, you can look upward to where you’re headed and downward to where you’ve been. Janus,
this month’s eponym, would approve.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The months ahead could be exciting for me. My book, <i>Dr. Bartolo’s Umbrella and Other Tales from
my Surprising Operatic Life</i>, a memoir of my years as a singer, will be
published this spring. I am going to start a new website. I will
reach an age milestone. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I am going to <a href="http://www.marathon.is/the-race-laugavegur/laugavegur-ultra-marathon">Iceland
for an ultramarathon</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The event takes place on a hiking trail in the southern
highlands of Iceland. Hikers normally take several days to cover the distance. Runners
in this race are expected to do it in under 9 hours, and I will get to spend
some quality time pondering my word of the year.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One look at a photo of the race I have just entered tells me
that we will not be in Kansas, Toto. There are mountain trails to go up and then
get down somehow. The weather varies from year to year and can range from sleet
and freezing rain to short-sleeve warmth. The terrain will feature sand,
gravel, grass, snow, slush, ice, glacier-fed rivers and streams, and at least one climb
down a hill requiring a rope.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It sounds irresistible. No?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6UT5z3BC0G0WYU26ONT-6PzsmJVEECYcPjfSMkt6zoBzk_yJBX4AnRMy_Dhoi-LTpEX9PkhKnvv6heishKL2tYFJgTZ0ON8njZDW7YmkZkHMNwqo2Ex3Nj9uWd7qliWnYt5o88EShxM/s1600/FirstClimb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn6UT5z3BC0G0WYU26ONT-6PzsmJVEECYcPjfSMkt6zoBzk_yJBX4AnRMy_Dhoi-LTpEX9PkhKnvv6heishKL2tYFJgTZ0ON8njZDW7YmkZkHMNwqo2Ex3Nj9uWd7qliWnYt5o88EShxM/s320/FirstClimb.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Onward and upward. Mostly upward</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Just to keep everyone moving along, there are time cutoffs.
On paper they seem generous, but apparently a fair number of people do not make
them. The prospect of sitting in the cold rain </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">waiting for the sag wagon</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, stiff and sore and disqualified, will help keep me from dawdling I hope. But there’s
only so fast you can climb – up or down.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have planned and dreamed enough about the scores of events I’ve entered over the years to know that reality often quickly diverges from vision once the gun goes off.
Mike Tyson </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">said</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> (</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">somewhat ungrammatically) that everybody has a plan until you
get punched in the face. The success of a lot of endurance pursuits hinges on how you recover after getting punched in the face. I expect this will be part of my training
regimen over the next six months.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Monday: OFF. Tuesday: 6 km easy. Wednesday:
Face Punch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To date there are only a handful of people over 60 registered
for the race. I should take this as a sign that this is no run for old men. Naturally, I
will ignore that particular sign. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once again my reach is exceeding my grasp. As it was with my
first 10k, my first marathon, and my first Ironman, I couldn’t do this race
tomorrow </span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">– </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or even next month. Nor do I expect to. For me training for an event has
always been equal or greater in value to the event itself. I am
trusting myself when I pledge that I can raise my body and mind to a place where
doing it is at least possible.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After all, as a runner in the Badwater Ultramarathon once
said, “We are all here to see what is possible." I have often thought s</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">he could have been referring to the race, or to something larger.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do reserve the right to climb into bed at the end of it all.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-74899256978455958372016-12-29T17:17:00.003-05:002016-12-29T17:17:50.286-05:00How Far We Have Come<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">waywiser</span></b><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">, n.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <i>An
instrument for measuring and indicating distance travelled, especially by foot.
Now historical.<o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One of my
private goals for 2016 was to run a race longer than a marathon. I succeeded when
I made it across the line at the </span><a href="http://www.runforthetoad.com/"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Run
for the Toad</span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> 50k in October. Because most ultramarathons take
place on trails, I ended up doing most of my training in wilder settings than I’m
used to. In this way, longer distances became my regular runs, and I became a trail
runner. Except for </span><a href="http://bayrace.com/"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">the Around
the Bay 30k</span></a><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> race last March, all my events in 2016 were
trail races.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFptI7u_kEF-gCgN2N_TfXpoO0AP2O2yohbc_JG2S94ktj7_3dZGp8-B6TWgy7SrBVs35A4q8aeIx3uRGIfknBQZHvNh2MoyKW9BCL8yVZdxBBIKSC2H9UFjqOw9K8TgfOxqhuXZqAz4/s1600/Seaton16-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFptI7u_kEF-gCgN2N_TfXpoO0AP2O2yohbc_JG2S94ktj7_3dZGp8-B6TWgy7SrBVs35A4q8aeIx3uRGIfknBQZHvNh2MoyKW9BCL8yVZdxBBIKSC2H9UFjqOw9K8TgfOxqhuXZqAz4/s320/Seaton16-2.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I got to run
for hours and hours through mud, Turkish bath heat, pouring rain, and misty
forests. I got to wade through streams created by just-melted snow and pick my
way across makeshift bridges made of mossy logs. I slipped and tripped and
bounced my way over rocks and roots and hundreds of kilometres of quiet forest pathways.
This time last year I felt like a novice trail runner. Now I feel as if I have acquired
something from every step I took. (On some of the muddier outings, I did.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I live in
a very large city, simply planning a two- to three-hour training run without
sidewalks and stoplights adds a challenge to the process. I am lucky to live right
at the entrance to a vast system of ravines, which weave their way through the
city providing biking paths and trails that go on for hours.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One of my best
training runs took place a few weeks before the Run for the Toad in October. I
ran about 39k on paths beside Lake Ontario and through the Don River Valley. The
last two hours were in rain so steady it seemed the air was liquid. When you
are tired and sore and it is pouring rain, the only thing to do is to keep calm
and carry on toward your goal. So I did. It was a soggy, joyful day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am also fortunate
to be part of a family summer cottage several hours north of the city. My
favourite training route up there takes me 13km along winding, hilly, tree-shaded
roads into the local town, finishing with a climb to the top of a large hill. There
is a scenic lookout tower at the top of the hill and a spring water source that
is almost indecently sensual on a hot summer day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JkbGgSrUJdVmUOe1KPxCB51H64c6bTsdXGNkBwyyjgWISLP2GScT3E0q-sO0s1C26uTwL1EXRR8TJVdV59U0hmClJEuhyuR6B0Yo1-8n-u38ae22t0eo8jTpayFatW0fReCIYNm0Ll0/s1600/Seaton3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7JkbGgSrUJdVmUOe1KPxCB51H64c6bTsdXGNkBwyyjgWISLP2GScT3E0q-sO0s1C26uTwL1EXRR8TJVdV59U0hmClJEuhyuR6B0Yo1-8n-u38ae22t0eo8jTpayFatW0fReCIYNm0Ll0/s320/Seaton3.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A few weeks ago this was solid ice.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In past years
I would usually wait until someone was driving into town anyway and ask them
meet me there and ferry me home. This year I decided to simply turn around and
run back, doubling the distance and exponentially improving my workout. Oddly, no one ever expressed regret over the absence of my salt-covered body
and sodden clothes in their car. A win/win.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I did that
Tower Hill run several times last summer; hour after hour of “the green dark
forest … too silent to be real” save for the sound of my feet hitting the ground.
Now that I am city-bound by winter, the peaceful solitude of that 26k route has become a
refuge for my mind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My goals for
next year – the year in which I will turn 65 – are varied and exciting. And
like most private dreams, they are fanciful and farfetched and therefore
completely malleable. But wherever I end up, I do plan to run farther and climb
higher than I have any right to be able to. I will slip and trip and fall (my
plan does include getting up again). I will be hot and cold and wet and learn how
to deal with being these. As I move forward, I will become stronger and yes, maybe wiser.<o:p></o:p> </span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">To the bewilderment of those who think I should
suffer somehow for the audacity of wanting to transport my body over long
distances under my own power, I intend to love every step.</span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-35591755755175672542016-10-08T18:03:00.000-04:002016-10-09T09:56:16.422-04:00A Forest Ultra<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Run for the Toad 50k –
October 1, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></i></b><br />
<b><i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The voice in
my head began speaking to me as I was about 20k into my run. “Sure,” the voice said.
“You’ve gone almost a half-marathon – a decent morning’s run for anyone. But
you still have 30k to go. You’re not even halfway there.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And I had
“the feeling.” I have experienced it before: once long ago at 10k of a marathon
I had entered at the last minute. A sinking, missing-the-last-bus, alone, hopeless
feeling in the centre of my being. A feeling that I have no business being out
here, that I will never finish and may in fact be forgotten out on the course as
the sun sets and everybody goes home. Luckily I ignored the feeling that day
and went on to run a personal best for the marathon.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So as I
passed through 20k of the <a href="file:///C:/Users/Chris/Documents/Chris/Blogs/Run%20for%20the%20Toad">Run for the Toad</a>
50k – my first try at the distance </span><span style="font-size: 16px;">– </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was expecting that feeling, as I was waiting for the
voice, and this day too I was able to disconnect both and keep running. In a
few minutes I felt fine again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Note to
self: remember how you did that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A year ago I
did the 25k version of this event and loved it. A helpful and optimistic
volunteer suggested I might want to try the 50k this year. With
no good reason other than her casual encouragement, I set this as my goal event
for the season.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The race
takes place in the <a href="http://ontarioconservationareas.ca/component/mtree/conservation-authorities-of-ontario/grand-river/pinehurst-lake-conservation-area">Pinehurst
Lake Conservation Area</a>, about an hour west of Toronto, over a very user-friendly course comprising
well-groomed trails through pine forests and grassy paths across open fields.
Each lap is 12.5k, so, 4 of them for the whole 50. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It was a cool overcast day
with rain threatening but never really materializing. I ran cautiously but
steadily. I encountered my friend the volunteer from last year in her usual traffic-directing spot
and let her know that it would be all her fault if I crashed and burned, ending up as a helpless
pile of mushed muscle and snapped sinews. This is the kind of lame humour I typically
offer the volunteers as I run past.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Anyone who knows
me knows how much I detest it when someone labels what I do as “crazy.” I have
no time for these people. With all the truly insane things going on in the
world, I ask, how is it crazy to have a dream, set a goal, make plans, and then
take steps to achieve your goal? Why can I not be labelled brave, or determined
– or at least congenial?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As my voice had reminded me, two laps, or
25k, would have been a good morning’s workout, an honourable end to the season.
But I wanted more. I have run lots of marathons – more than I can remember in
fact – but this time, like <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Up_to_eleven">Nigel
Tufnel’s amplifier</a>, I wanted to see what would happen if I turned it up to
eleven.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Did I have
the strides to carry me into ultramarathon territory?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I ran I
couldn’t resist looking at the time, something I rarely do in a trail run.
Because all trails are different, there is no point in comparing today’s race
with the one you did somewhere else a month ago. But since even finishing the distance was going to be a total learning experience for me, I glanced at my
watch as I made my way around each of the first three laps. I didn’t care how
long I took, but I wanted the finish line not to have been dismantled before I got
across it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFV3qwCtiXevZRIdFgYkTqBw30rxk4tcPPzSsbFo00NZ52KppfCxrAkzFrOUH2JKYlcrxPVjKdV4MvTTT-hJdLXzTkJ2UE_yetI1w4TrKezUS9dIFVh6FdAk9P3QeLmnqULwAQ2P8mUik/s1600/Toad50k-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFV3qwCtiXevZRIdFgYkTqBw30rxk4tcPPzSsbFo00NZ52KppfCxrAkzFrOUH2JKYlcrxPVjKdV4MvTTT-hJdLXzTkJ2UE_yetI1w4TrKezUS9dIFVh6FdAk9P3QeLmnqULwAQ2P8mUik/s320/Toad50k-1.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got 'er done.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My body knew
what it had to do; I had been training for this race since last winter and I had
put in the requisite work. When I got to
the last lap – the last 12.5k – I knew I had it and I enjoyed every step. The
field of runners had thinned out (as it does when you are at the back of it)
and I frequently had the dark green, misty trail all to myself. As I passed
the 5k marker for the fourth time (telling me I had run a total distance of
42.5 kilometres), I stopped in the middle of the path in the silent forest,
raised my arms heavenward, and let the voice in my head tell me, “You’re an
ultramarathoner.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Amazingly, I
managed not to trip or stumble; this is probably due more to luck than skill –
not to mention my <a href="https://www.hokaoneone.com/sale/speedgoat/1008852.html">Hoka One One
Speedgoat</a> shoes – but staying upright is always a great morale booster. As
usual, I felt stronger as I approached the finish line than I had all day. When
I finished, I had been running for just under seven hours. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This was the finale of my season, which began with <a href="http://bayrace.com/" target="_blank">Around the Bay</a> back in April. I have grandiose plans to build on what I've learned this year. The next task is to teach myself to pace better, to become more confident running up and down hills, and to remind the voice in my head that each step is one more closer to my goal, and that I am indeed getting there. </span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-13040746388965846162016-09-11T11:08:00.001-04:002016-09-11T11:20:32.956-04:00Footsteps in an Old Forest<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i>Haliburton
Forest Trail Run, September 10, 2016 </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In his book, <i>A Step Beyond: A Definitive Guide to
Ultrarunning</i>, Don Allison describes the terrain of the <a href="http://www.haliburtonforest100.org/">Haliburton Forest Trail Run</a> as
“runner friendly.” And in comparison with other events around the world, I
suppose it is. There are no mountain passes or glaciers to traverse, no sand
dunes or swamps to be swallowed by. Little danger from mountain lions or poisonous
reptiles. But for me, a runner with minimal experience running in extreme
conditions, I love the challenge and beauty you can find in this event.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The <a href="https://www.haliburtonforest.com/">Haliburton Forest</a> is a private
nature reserve under a canopy of ancient hardwood trees about 200 kilometres
northeast of Toronto. The race is 23 now years old, a testament to its popularity
as well as to the longevity of its director, the venerable and unsinkable Helen
Malmberg. There are several distances
offered on the menu: 100 miles, 50 miles, 50k, 26k; even a 12k for those
who want only an appetizer. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I was running the 26k, what I called once again the Fun Run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As befits a
forest, there are lots of rocks and roots, steep climbs, and luge-like descents.
There are bogs, whereat you have to decide whether the wet logs laid across them
will provide enough support and traction so that you won’t be catapulted into
the mud (I was just once; it was a nice soft landing).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Last year I
participated in this race and suffered a lot. I hadn’t been expecting the way
the dodgy footing and pre-Cambrian topography would slow down my pace. I hadn’t
anticipated the amount of hopping, skipping and jumping (and not running) that is
involved in negotiating a forest trail. It was the slowest 26k I had ever run and I
felt chastened and somewhat discouraged. In <a href="http://lyricycle.blogspot.ca/search?updated-min=2015-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&updated-max=2016-01-01T00:00:00-05:00&max-results=11">my
blog post after that race</a>, I made a list of things I thought I had done
wrong: inappropriate shoes and clothing, inadequate nutrition and hydration,
unrealistic expectations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhangbEfjPDuCUPpgXjFssT8_xfdUtFpPp1R6fFdPyr46rukzBpcX2AuqbQgKX7jv2yjZdkHldTAu0hUPgY9P6k-ABdySd7C3i87cIBsrHraBXO6OdDohr42fCv3YlfAA2m3RawVytdZSE/s1600/Hoka.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhangbEfjPDuCUPpgXjFssT8_xfdUtFpPp1R6fFdPyr46rukzBpcX2AuqbQgKX7jv2yjZdkHldTAu0hUPgY9P6k-ABdySd7C3i87cIBsrHraBXO6OdDohr42fCv3YlfAA2m3RawVytdZSE/s200/Hoka.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the shoe. I had two of them.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This year I
brought all the gear I felt I needed and left behind the expectations. And I
had a great time. The weather forecast was iffy, calling for rain around noon.
But the morning was great for a run: lightly overcast and about 18C.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Some of the route
appears to follow trails that are such by virtue only of the fact that several
people have passed over them at one point in history. At times the orange flags
marking the course seem to have been arbitrarily set in the middle of the
forest primeval. But there is indeed a path and it did take me to the cheery aid
station volunteers at the 13k turnaround and home again. I went off the rails only
once and it was my fault – I thought I was at a different crossroads than I
really was. As soon as I realized there were no trail markers in sight, I
reversed and got back on course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The good news
was that although I still wrestled with my own inner timing and pace expectations,
everything else worked beautifully. My Hoka One One Speedgoat shoes were
perfect for the paths and often-slippery rocks, and I made good use of my Nathan
hydration system, stocked with lots of gels. I was well hydrated and nourished
the whole way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjgEqEBhDVSdemxCKDQHi5RLIqRAnRUVKXtxswMq8uW4PZuJkRAUSo8ddEaWAv00CeZbOqY5RP3DDXI-oBD1_Kyk6xPZnfE5qVAuTTT7-97Fkh5GGbB9kwiLCtVgrTS8w4HDHa_as51k/s1600/HaliburtonMedal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKjgEqEBhDVSdemxCKDQHi5RLIqRAnRUVKXtxswMq8uW4PZuJkRAUSo8ddEaWAv00CeZbOqY5RP3DDXI-oBD1_Kyk6xPZnfE5qVAuTTT7-97Fkh5GGbB9kwiLCtVgrTS8w4HDHa_as51k/s320/HaliburtonMedal.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Attractive finisher's medal, no?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The other
good news is that the training I have been doing this summer has left my body in
relatively decent shape for a trail race. There are few things as encouraging as
asking your legs for more power after you’ve been running for three straight
hours – to skip like an Irish step dancer over tree roots and rocks, to
scramble up a steep rock, to charge down the road to the finish – and to feel
them respond. I managed to shave some minutes off my time from last year, but
more importantly, I ran to the finish feeling fresh and inspired. Last year I walked
the last 2 kilometres.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">In the last
45 minutes of my run it started to rain, although I was protected by the thick
green canopy of the forest till the home stretch, which is along a gravel road. In any case it was a mild day,
and when I came out into the open the rain felt refreshing
and welcome. I recognize that this might not have been the case if I had had many
more hours to run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This event
was a warm-up for my goal race this year: the <a href="http://www.runforthetoad.com/home.html" target="_blank">Run for the Toad 50k</a>, which is in
three weeks. I still don’t know if I can run 50k, so the adventure – as it always
does and always should – lies in the unknown.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I write
this on Sunday morning, runners not far from here are finishing the
longest distance of the Haliburton Forest Trail Run – 100 miles. They have been
running since 6 a.m. yesterday. Overnight it seems as if we have passed over
the divide between summer and fall. Although the sun is shining brightly, the
temperature has dropped about a dozen degrees since yesterday. Part of trail
running is dressing for the conditions, and I hope they all did. They are a
unique breed of human, and as always, it is a special treat to be running in
their footsteps.</span>Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-51244228818547309972016-07-24T14:02:00.000-04:002016-07-24T14:02:21.755-04:00Earth Runner's High<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i>Dirty Girls
Trail Race, Mansfield Ontario</i><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I did the
Dirty Girls, and I have the T-shirt to prove it. This tough trail race with the
politically risky name (try googling it) has been part of the Ontario Ultra
series for a decade now, although there was a suggestion from the announcer at
the starting line that it may be coming to an end.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8oFsLGlvlbrZ4eCtGeVSPtNdk1WI3UOu9LvGFs7WYze-ceTIet8KP1cFXtRaWJ3xaO6a5glF59Krhe_Rrl170xwvVLED5GSBPvfGtJeJ_wJxM6Jtz7fJIA8aW6Aqud84JFw6ngx1audw/s1600/DG2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8oFsLGlvlbrZ4eCtGeVSPtNdk1WI3UOu9LvGFs7WYze-ceTIet8KP1cFXtRaWJ3xaO6a5glF59Krhe_Rrl170xwvVLED5GSBPvfGtJeJ_wJxM6Jtz7fJIA8aW6Aqud84JFw6ngx1audw/s200/DG2.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dirty Girls logo. The race is tough, really.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I hope not,
because a lot of loving care has gone into this race, and it shows. The event has
a visual theme of cute, clever artwork that belies its gritty character. One touch
I appreciated is that each section of the course is given a name – <i>Chatty Girl Escape No.1</i>, <i>Earth Girl’s High</i>, <i>Dirty Boy’s Confusion</i> – and this actually goes a long way to help
with orientation. Hint: When you reach <i>Beer
Gut Boy’s a-Singin’!</i> you are near the end.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The race is
run around an 8k loop, which means that you get to enjoy the same hills and
stumble over the same roots multiple times – familiarity can breed contempt or
confidence. For all of the events except one, the distance is variable: you are
measured on how many laps you can do in a given time – 6, 12, or 24 hours. My
event was the only one with a fixed distance: 32k, or a modest 4 circuits. I
thought of this one as the Fun Run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ultrarunning
magazine describes the course as “hilly … with substantial … roots.” (The
editor in me thinks they mean that there are a lot of roots, not that the roots
are huge.) But what trail worth running does not have hills and roots? Much of the
Dirty Girls takes place on forest paths, not groomed trails, so yes, hillier and
rootier than some.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Hills? Runners
follow a trail that goes up and down the Niagara Escarpment. To give you an
idea of scale, this is the same geological rift that forms Niagara Falls. So …
not inconsiderable in terms of elevation gain and loss. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Most of the
climbs are comparatively gentle, though, and a serious competitor (not me)
could run up them easily. Toward the end of the loop there is a long uphill
called <i>Dirty Runners’ Pain</i> that might
slow down even the most motivated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Some of the
paths double back on themselves, so that you can look through the trees and catch a glimpse of runners going in the opposite direction, to the point where you might wonder if
you are going the wrong way (see <i>Dirty
Boy’s Confusion</i>, above).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkgrFwSKpd0B_ms6_uX7z8BXRdHSl5XXNN_6ut5ViDsVPw0yV_y4YdKfOJjvzgyZPDyr-8InVbWkyd3kVF6m_PhDJKGtvRVnRwxzzG_nA5MK4v3D0T0x-1DaItRoCQO-goe_-3kJ0mxo/s1600/DirtyGirls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkgrFwSKpd0B_ms6_uX7z8BXRdHSl5XXNN_6ut5ViDsVPw0yV_y4YdKfOJjvzgyZPDyr-8InVbWkyd3kVF6m_PhDJKGtvRVnRwxzzG_nA5MK4v3D0T0x-1DaItRoCQO-goe_-3kJ0mxo/s320/DirtyGirls.jpg" width="204" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Enough said.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My third and
fourth laps were much slower than my first two, telling me that I need to do
more hill work before my next outing. Somehow I have still not gotten the
message that a clamber up a 30-degree, uneven, scrabbly slope takes more out of
you than an easy jog along the bike path behind my house. I’ve felt less tired
after some marathons I’ve done than I did after this event.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As always, the
volunteers were cheerful and supportive. There is one aid station at the far
end of the loop, but to augment this I strongly recommend taking water,
electrolytes, and nutrition along. If nothing else, having your own stuff to chow
down on when you are alone in the woods can be a good morale booster.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I eventually crossed
the finish line far later than I had intended, as usual just up few notches
from the bottom of the field. The last lap was really very enjoyable (possibly
because it <i>was</i> the last). In terms of
toughness, variety, and pure fun, this was one of my favourite races in my
novice trail career so far.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It has been
very hot and sunny in our area for the past few weeks. However most of the
Dirty Girls course is sheltered by trees, and there was a good breeze at the
top of the escarpment, so my run was warm but survivable.</span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">When I crossed the timing mat for the last time,
the worst heat of the day was still ahead, and it seemed strongest in the open
field that makes up the start/finish area. As I stood recovering, feeling like
a cupcake in an Easy Bake Oven, my heart went out to the runners who were gamely
trotting back up the hill to continue on, some of them for nearly 20 more
hours. I remain in awe of these athletes and I am always proud to have a chance to run among
them.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-91121928952764028922016-05-15T12:11:00.001-04:002016-05-16T08:35:59.316-04:00Adventures of a Mud Puppy<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My quest to
find running events that allow me to be as slow as I like continued this
weekend with the Seaton Soaker Trail Race. This race is part of the Ontario Ultra and Trail Race Series (Outrace), and offers 15, 25, and 50k
distances. I chose the middle option. The shortest wouldn’t have satisfied me, and the longest would have killed me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fW2oO0nTfnwNa1YLyx4NybAgAr548E8hzCCynKIR5eeKuEX8mE7a_EAF3Wv92c-0zFnSoFYJKvHdNWVESuYDUXUHe0EGC-ZehvPzUxF6DfpGv2cHhO_J1iHYHckTROjm4dabO1MBNeA/s1600/Seaton16-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0fW2oO0nTfnwNa1YLyx4NybAgAr548E8hzCCynKIR5eeKuEX8mE7a_EAF3Wv92c-0zFnSoFYJKvHdNWVESuYDUXUHe0EGC-ZehvPzUxF6DfpGv2cHhO_J1iHYHckTROjm4dabO1MBNeA/s320/Seaton16-1.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo: Seaton Soaker Trail Race</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The course follows
the Seaton Hiking Trail, a forested, mostly single-lane path with moderate
hills that winds along Duffins Creek in Ajax, just east of Toronto. About 3 km
from the end there is a shallow river crossing, which is useful to wash the
excess mud off the lower body. This can be a revitalizing sensation, as the
water temperature in spring is anything but tepid.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I ran this
race last year on a warm sunny day in May. Unless you live in Honolulu though, not
all days in May are warm and sunny, and this past Saturday was one of the other
kind. It was on the cool side, and I would describe the precipitation as an ambitious
Scotch mist. The rain wasn’t really an issue weather-wise, but the trails,
already quite muddy from spring runoff, were especially challenging. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Meaning slippery.
This year's event wasn’t so much a soaker as it was a slider. A lot of the time I was
either schmucking my way through ankle-deep mud or clinging to a tree branch to
keep from slipping down a hill. I would have felt more stable dancing the
Nutcracker on a hockey rink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
precariousness of balance reminded me of <a href="http://cyclophiliac.blogspot.ca/2016/04/grit.html" target="_blank">my friend Pam’s description</a> of a
gravel-road bike race called Barry-Roubaix.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As always, I appreciated
the volunteers because among other things they smiled dutifully at my lame attempts
at humour as I passed, even though they must have been soaked and chilled to
the bone. I continue to believe that it is easier to be a runner than a volunteer, but more noble to be the latter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffavuT7kumqcEk3H3oC89FR7WIu8lipJbnL4pg9MCReMxJIOrdPwp8wCw3g3lSVBsK926_o_9u4O_sEKIaHGTz9lgWbiCc9ypNmDLnL9d_o-SBZ6gIZ4PxbLa-w7VGPGlQj56guuI9w0/s1600/Seaton2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiffavuT7kumqcEk3H3oC89FR7WIu8lipJbnL4pg9MCReMxJIOrdPwp8wCw3g3lSVBsK926_o_9u4O_sEKIaHGTz9lgWbiCc9ypNmDLnL9d_o-SBZ6gIZ4PxbLa-w7VGPGlQj56guuI9w0/s320/Seaton2.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, that's me under there.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I managed to
stay more or less upright for the first half of the day, but heading back into
the forest after the turnaround at 12.5k, I finally lost it and went down. My
landing was soft and sloppy, like one of those slow motion films of a duck
landing on the water, legs outstretched in front, wings flapping away. Naturally,
the first thing I did was to look around and see if anyone else had seen me.
But this is one of the advantages of being at the back of the pack: there are
few people nearby.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">By the end of the morning I was
covered in mud and getting weary of losing my footing every two minutes, but I
still finished smiling, with lots of energy to spare. I sprinted up the final
hill to the finish line, ready (if not even remotely able) to do it all again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is a
lovely thing to be running through a forest. The surface – when it is not as slick
as quicksilver – is soft and yielding to the feet. The air is still and quiet. I
believe that the nearness of the trees and other features makes it seem as if I
am moving a lot faster than I am. Frankly, it is more fun than counting lampposts
or stoplights along a city street. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Of course, I rarely
see much of the scenery moving past me; </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;">I am too busy trying not to trip over anything. M</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">y eyes are always fixed on the path underneath
my feet. A trail race course
could traverse a nudist resort and I probably wouldn’t notice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Running
trails is a full-body workout, every step requires a different landing, and my
arms seem to be constantly flapping about in different directions to help me
keep my balance. No elliptical trainer bends and twists my aging body so effectively.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I marvel at
the people who can really move over a course like this (and there were many of them).
Although I don’t aspire to any finish results above the bottom page, I would like to
become a bit more efficient and confident in my trail running (and maybe fall a
bit less).</span>Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-80998446155351873852016-04-09T19:16:00.000-04:002016-04-10T11:16:28.681-04:00OMG Spring!<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Around the Bay Road Race, Hamilton Ontario. April 3, 2016</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The
attraction and the caution of an outdoor athletic event is that is <i>outdoors</i>. The guys who created the
Around the Bay 30k Race back in 1894 originally held it on Boxing Day; later it
was moved to the end of March. So all who participate in it know to
expect anything in the way of weather. Last year I remember being frozen to the
brisket from a bitter wind as I ran the final 3 kilometres. This year promised
something similar, with temperatures not expected to get above freezing all
day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">As I stood waiting
to start the race, swathed in tights, warmup pants, layers of shirt, windproof
jacket, gloves, and toque, I recalled that the last time I had run this distance
was in Death Valley. That day the temperature reached 100 degrees Fahrenheit
and I drank mega-quantities of liquid and put ice in my hat to keep cool and hydrated
against the sun. I never stop marvelling that we possess bodies that can operate
in such extremes. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Running from
the start through the portlands of Hamilton down to Lake Ontario, I actually felt
overdressed and overwarm as the wind was at our backs and the morning sun was in our
faces. But I was philosophical.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This is nothing,
I thought. I was plenty hotter than this in Death Valley.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The second 10
kilometres of the race takes runners along the shore of the lake, in the shadow
of the Burlington Bay Skyway. Somehow this is never as picturesque as it sounds,
and I always find this section a bit of a slog – heroic and cheery aid station
volunteers notwithstanding. When the road turns away from the lake and begins
to wind gently upward through the neighbourhoods of Burlington at 17k,
I find a sense of relief from boredom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It was along this
section that I noticed this year a phenomenon that is certainly going to be
more a part of road racing in years to come. Social media is invading the
loneliness of the long distance runner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Whereas I
have always found a certain solitary peace and focus by running, the younger
racers are making text messages and tweets part of the experience. I trotted
past dozens of young girls shuffling along the road, eyes fixed on the tiny screens
of their phones, thumbs at work like little pistons.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">“OMG
hills!!!! B glad u R not me LOL.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihr3HT3Nl4yfPSNVMoDpR-m-SuZ-79BcRSAPxUCjLANfPy4cpMAztVwv_y-B4q7URAq29kf9YrSbzM8h3C_Kcsmnp7T1jIK76Fgn7azsT9vA8vMkMyU_0hJsEfKAYPJflUVD4Bl1MWDw4/s1600/ATB2016-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihr3HT3Nl4yfPSNVMoDpR-m-SuZ-79BcRSAPxUCjLANfPy4cpMAztVwv_y-B4q7URAq29kf9YrSbzM8h3C_Kcsmnp7T1jIK76Fgn7azsT9vA8vMkMyU_0hJsEfKAYPJflUVD4Bl1MWDw4/s320/ATB2016-1.jpg" width="186" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Which way to the South Pole?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I started to
stiffen up at around 25k, which I had expected. Along with the distance, the
pavement was taking a toll on knees and quads after a winter of bouncy running
on my treadmill. It probably didn’t help my glacial pace that I was wrapped in as
much polar clothing as the Amundsen expedition.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The last
stretch back into town was not as breezy as I had been expecting, and the Grim
Reaper posing for selfies with the runners at 28k did not seem as grim as he had
last year. The temperature indeed stayed south of freezing but the sun stayed
mostly out for the duration and it was a sparkling day to be running. It was an
outdoor event at the end of winter. Shorts and tank top definitely optional.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I felt that
generally I ran a more evenly paced race this year. It was also more evenly slower. Even though there were a number of guys my age still out on the course as I trotted
into the gloom of FirstOntario Centre and across the line, I think I could have
picked it up just a bit the whole way. </span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;">I was fully 25 minutes slower than I was when I first ran the race 25 years ago.</span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;"> Symmetrical deterioration?</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Still, it was only
the first event of the year. OMG. Give urself a break.</span>Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-52310089945790432412016-03-12T18:23:00.000-05:002016-03-12T18:23:27.333-05:00What I Talk About When I Talk About Running for 90 Minutes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I am
currently trying to get myself in shape for my first running event of 2016, the
venerable Around the Bay Road Race. It’s a 30k run through the streets of
Hamilton Ontario, and it takes place either at the end of winter or the
beginning of spring, depending on the weather that day. Last year it was a
cold, sunny day with a bitter wind, so I was glad I was bundled up. Other years
it has been almost balmy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpMy-qt-NAFBRleDmbxSwfqOLnn7eaWY3AdjS9LcAFkvUPMwFBfsqLPM3_X_-7cBvlLV91I_Na1RmFnLFB3VfscrK8hirt2foKZKGnamF8nQs3BrNqrts9v04XRNqbyiJU1B-280BCZc/s1600/ATB-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihpMy-qt-NAFBRleDmbxSwfqOLnn7eaWY3AdjS9LcAFkvUPMwFBfsqLPM3_X_-7cBvlLV91I_Na1RmFnLFB3VfscrK8hirt2foKZKGnamF8nQs3BrNqrts9v04XRNqbyiJU1B-280BCZc/s320/ATB-2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Old Man and the Bay</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Until
recently our winter here was very sparse snow-wise, but I still do most of my
off-season running on the treadmill. That way I can watch TV and stop and fill
my water bottle when I want to. The atmosphere is more <i>Family Guy</i> than <i>Chariots of
Fire</i>, but at least I get the workout done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">One of my
favourite Sunday workouts at this time of year is my 90-minute run. Although
the long run of the week is supposed to be long-slow-distance with no thought
to speed, I do try to keep an even pace. I have found that my run divides itself
into three roughly even sections; each has its own characteristics, challenges,
rewards.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The first
thirty minutes of my long run are always the hardest. Each system in my body
protests the transition from stillness to motion and my mind is overwhelmed by
how far I have to go before I am finished. When I’m outdoors I really don’t
take a lot of time to notice my surroundings in this first half hour. I am too
busy trying to remember how to run. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My thoughts
during this first third of my run are mostly status checks of my body. Although
I haven’t had as many injuries as some of my friends, I am aware that I should
expect different things from my physical self at 64 than I did at 34. It is only
as I approach the half-hour mark that I come to accept – as if for the first
time – that I am a runner.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The second 30
minutes of my run are always the easiest. I credit myself with the distance I
have travelled so far and my mind is less preoccupied with how far I have yet
to go. My muscles are warm and fluid and strong and my stride lengthens. If I started
my run out of breath and feeling lazy, that mood leaves me and is replaced by a
calm rhythm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It’s funny
how I can never really forget that I’m running. I rarely drift off into a
daydream and wake up to discover that I’ve covered another couple of kilometres
while dozing. Running is likely the most present thing I do. I am always aware
of my arms swinging, of my feet hitting the ground, of my breath filling my
chest, of my legs pivoting forward in turns to catch me just in time to stop me
from falling. I find myself surprised and grateful every time they do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">The final
half hour is when I start to feel like a distance runner. Because I have
suffered through my share of injuries over the past 30 years (most of them in
the past 10), I am always relieved and energized when all my moving parts have worked
together through thousands and thousands of repetitions to carry me this far. Nothing
about me ever feels as perfect as it does at this time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I tell myself
I am picking up the pace, even though I know that I’m really just working harder
to keep up the pace I started at. By the
end I usually feel the way I wanted to feel: ready for more. I am grateful to
have run and finished, not because I finished, but because I ran.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Ninety minutes
is less than half of what it will take me to run around Hamilton Bay in a few
weeks. But it translates into a good distance for me: more than a 10k and less
than a half marathon. A useful workout that doesn’t leave me too wrecked to do
anything else for days. I like the synergy of the three sections; none would
exist without the other, and together they dare me and test me. And then they recreate
me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-11871297843549592392016-01-03T17:54:00.001-05:002016-01-05T10:28:54.665-05:00Getting There<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i>They
dance best who dance with desire.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Irving
Layton<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I usually begin
a new year not by loading myself down with plans and resolutions but by trying
to find a simple word or phrase that will help with the plans and resolutions I
am sure to dream up over the next 12 months.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">This year my
phrase is going to be “Getting There.” As with last year’s choice, “Higher,” I
chose it because it has several possible meanings and senses. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It can be a
reassurance – almost a mantra – we offer ourselves out at mile 80 of Ironman
that we are, in spite of all indications, slightly closer to the end than to
the beginning. It is a calming understatement, no giver of false hope; it can
be infinitely more useful than those well-meaning-but-misguided cheers of the
marathon spectators who call out “You’re almost there!” when we still have 8
miles left to run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">My phrase can
also be inspired by a larger thought: that getting there is half the fun. And
this is actually the way I want to try to slant this. I have always been a
setter of goals, and goal setting has been responsible for most of the athletic
adventures that have enriched my life and kept me sane over the past 30 years.
But I believe it is also possible that in keeping my eyes on the forest, I sometimes
lose sight of the trees.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">When I was
running in Death Valley last fall (pictured above), I had no idea whether I
would be able to survive in the unforgiving desert for ten minutes or three
hours. My only real goal was … well … to run in Death Valley. And run I did; I
found myself cherishing every stride. I let the stark landscape and the silent distant mountains surround me, and the hot dry air infuse me, and I was truly sorry when I got to
the end of my planned 18 miles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Afterwards it
occurred to me that I could do with a bit more Zen and fewer long-term goals in
my outings. To run as though each step is the only one that exists. To enjoy the synergy of working muscles and joints; of
watching the road pass under me; of moving myself across the earth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"> My chosen phrase this year means that I
will look at a run or a ride not just as a path to a goal but as an end in
itself. A training run will not just be hay in the barn for some future event;
it will be a chance to remind myself of why I love what I am doing. Or for that
matter, why I hate it, if that’s what I’m feeling at the time. This will be
work for me, as living in the moment is not my natural style. I am a planner, a
breaker of projects into phases and tasks and subtasks. I am always looking towards the goal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I need to remind myself that finishing a
race may start with a dream, but there is a whole lot of running or
cycling between the dream and the finish line. If I don’t take time to notice the experience while I'm experiencing it, what on earth am I doing out there?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIoGoAzDA9hEyZ1V3Nwoar1B9IcoiVt-odcY2_YxaOJM0WLiHvJNflbkOJtTyhUSLwmIt6wkGUOwmbnPCLB2pINVnyyKbubR2SBFeTm3akr8ols3oFFsXS2ZkY6tfbCpRVNUGXrU4riE/s1600/Canyon3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPIoGoAzDA9hEyZ1V3Nwoar1B9IcoiVt-odcY2_YxaOJM0WLiHvJNflbkOJtTyhUSLwmIt6wkGUOwmbnPCLB2pINVnyyKbubR2SBFeTm3akr8ols3oFFsXS2ZkY6tfbCpRVNUGXrU4riE/s320/Canyon3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are many paths. Choose one.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I haven’t set
a lot of athletic goals for the coming year. Rather I am going to choose some paths
and see where they lead. I am going to let my training drive my events rather
than the other way around. If I feel up to running an ultra by the fall, I’ll
do one. If not, I will have had a lot of good long runs in the meantime. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I will search
for sensual and mindful value in the doing as well as in the achieving. I will
make the journey my goal. The end of the journey will be the dividend.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-1985970302875681982015-10-15T21:27:00.001-04:002015-10-15T21:27:44.370-04:00The Badwater Mini-Marathon<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Bucket-list
item #2 in the hottest, driest place on the continent.</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Like the
scenery, the heat in Death Valley is breathtaking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
mountains on either side of the valley trap the hot air and help the sun to act
like the lightbulb in an Easy Bake oven. Someone once said that the feeling of
heat resembled holding a hair dryer in front of your face and turning it on HIGH.
The dry air invades your respiratory system like something tangible.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">October is
normally a bit cooler in <a href="http://www.nps.gov/deva/index.htm" target="_blank">Death Valley National Park</a>. But the week we were here,
temperatures were at near-summertime levels, with afternoon highs of 40C
(104F).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So naturally
I decided that I should go for a run.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For years I
have been in awe of a footrace called the <a href="http://www.badwater.com/event/badwater-135/" target="_blank">Badwater Ultramarathon</a>, which has
been held in Death Valley every July. Even before I ever set foot in the valley,
I knew about the race from a terrific 1999 memoir called <a href="http://www.amazon.com/To-Edge-Valley-Mystery-Endurance/dp/044667902X" target="_blank"><i>To the Edge</i>, by Kirk Johnson</a>. It was his book that first inspired
me to visit the valley – for a cycling event in 2008.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I long ago
gave up the idea of ever running the 135 miles of the Badwater Ultra, as my
tank is usually empty after 26. But I thought it might be fun to pay tribute to
the amazing people who do run the distance by tracing a little part of the
route myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Originally I
had thought I would try to run the first 18 miles (29k), from Badwater, where
the event starts, to the <a href="http://www.furnacecreekresort.com/" target="_blank">Furnace Creek</a> Ranch, where we were staying. The distance itself
isn’t daunting, but as the thermometer in Furnace Creek showed higher temperatures
daily (and after wearing out my legs climbing Telescope Peak a day earlier) I decided I would be content just to run as
much of it as I could without ending up at the side of the road like one of
those bleached cattle skulls you see in old westerns.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My
qualifications for my superheated undertaking included two recent trail races
in autumnal conditions in Ontario. OK. I had no qualifications. Maybe I
shouldn’t have said “undertaking.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I started running
from Badwater at dawn as the rising sun was touching distant Telescope Peak.
The road was in the shadow of the mountains to the east, and I wanted to get as
many miles behind me as possible before I was fried like an egg on the pebbly
pavement.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The sky was
clear, as it usually is in Death Valley. Almost clear. There was one little,
thin, high cloud right over me, and it stayed over me for quite a while,
diffusing the sun a little. My guardian cloud. Otherwise, there was not a
sliver of shade on the road; not a second’s relief from the sun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In contrast
to the indescribable scenery, the road itself is somewhat boring, with long
gentle hills and straight stretches that disappear into the distance like an
exercise in perspective. I felt dwarfed by the mountains, and took a moment to
look respectfully up 11,000 feet to the summit of Telescope Peak, where we had
been standing just two days earlier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was very
lucky to have Karen to sag me all the way. For those unfamiliar with this term,
it means that she met me every few miles in the car with water and ice (and
presumably would prop me up if I started to sag). <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJGKWYS5KhVa-Q-sI7cCgLaBRy_sD2AowwO2hEZ5X9CyBKt-0QsG-Ulo1gYVWP5ioGp7lcsWEeRIOnp2A_QCAP97OXts-6OA463AHcETjUwwMrraX6pGYNOAvQBBl_bNozIOAV60cHoI/s1600/Badwater1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJGKWYS5KhVa-Q-sI7cCgLaBRy_sD2AowwO2hEZ5X9CyBKt-0QsG-Ulo1gYVWP5ioGp7lcsWEeRIOnp2A_QCAP97OXts-6OA463AHcETjUwwMrraX6pGYNOAvQBBl_bNozIOAV60cHoI/s400/Badwater1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dwarfed by the scenery, I run the Badwater Road.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The run was
a pure joy from beginning to end, of the kind that comes along very seldom in a
lifetime. I kept to a very sedate pace and to my surprise felt no stiffness or
soreness at all. As the morning wore on, the sun grew more present. My friendly
cirrus cloud had burned away, and I was exposed to everything the sun could
beam down at me. I added some white sunsleeves to my wardrobe, which kept my
arms cool and protected, but by now there was no true escape from the pervasive
and relentless desert heat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">With about 8
miles to go, I passed the entrance to Artist Drive, a scenic but hilly loop off
the main road, and I remembered the many times we had cursed it on our bicycles,
grinding up its smug, nearly vertical topography and holding on for dear life down
its white-knuckle hairpin descents. This week it was buried under mud after the
recent flash flooding, unable to vex anyone. Now it was my turn to feel smug.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">For this
run, I was wearing my Nathan hydration vest, which helped keep a steady supply
of water going into me (exiting only via perspiration and respiration). I had
clipped one of my flashing bike lights to the vest so that I would be more
visible to anyone driving down the road. At one point I looked down to see that
the light was gone; it had fallen off, like Dorothy’s slippers, somewhere along
the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was
very little traffic on the road and most times I was utterly alone; the only
interruption to the silence of the desert morning was the padding of my shoes
on the pavement. At times I sang to myself just to hear some sound.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn8RAFqO8ufYkABbS7_NHqhUo7B_-oHenSE8M_d8ydv_bBfkNN6y4IhHx2ylHIS3XESmjxKnLJbmhTtcnoEnMesOLIW11Y2_QgQREyrhIytv43mWkStSlpuOAppQFrrIWTG0sGpSC6bY/s1600/Badwater4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgn8RAFqO8ufYkABbS7_NHqhUo7B_-oHenSE8M_d8ydv_bBfkNN6y4IhHx2ylHIS3XESmjxKnLJbmhTtcnoEnMesOLIW11Y2_QgQREyrhIytv43mWkStSlpuOAppQFrrIWTG0sGpSC6bY/s320/Badwater4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The last mile.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinoPXML_cFsHt3AhRWou_7JcheVOucmkPc5dbk7Rup1SZK6p1PDPzl3Kf2_p_d6ON2Hnk6YiCWLbecCGOgWVPCdDaGQI4RfFl_ZTiMIB2KYlkVfxfARbtw7qOJv5QQrPAuUxu4_APjQI/s1600/Badwater2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjinoPXML_cFsHt3AhRWou_7JcheVOucmkPc5dbk7Rup1SZK6p1PDPzl3Kf2_p_d6ON2Hnk6YiCWLbecCGOgWVPCdDaGQI4RfFl_ZTiMIB2KYlkVfxfARbtw7qOJv5QQrPAuUxu4_APjQI/s320/Badwater2.jpg" width="180" /></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The last
mile down to Furnace Creek is all downhill. As I have done on many previous
cycling outings here, I finished on the grassy patch in front of the resort,
took my shoes off and lay down in my first shade in hours, under the palm
trees. The Furnace Creek thermometer read 100 degrees Fahrenheit. How cool is
that?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I felt bad
about the bicycle light that I had lost. Written and unwritten laws dictate
that you should leave nothing in the pristine environment of the desert. Later
that day we drove back down the Badwater Road to look for it. And just next to
the entrance to Artist Drive, there it was, lying on the ground, still flashing
away in the sunlight. So Artist Drive had the last word after all. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Death Valley always does.</span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-24772820793544854902015-10-12T22:29:00.002-04:002015-10-12T22:29:47.334-04:00Death Valley Peaks<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Bucket-list item
#1 in the hottest, driest place on the continent</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have
always come to Death Valley National Park to ride my bike, either in one of the
Adventure Corps century rides, or for one of their cycling camps. I had always hoped
that one day I could come here and try a couple of different fun activities. This
is the story of the first one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Telescope
Peak is known for having one of the most dramatic vertical contrasts anywhere.
The view from the summit at around 11,049 feet (3,368 metres) looks down on
Badwater, the lowest point in the Western hemisphere, 282 feet (86 metres)
below sea level. I wanted to hike to the top.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The road
that approaches the trailhead at 8,130 feet (2478 metres) is described as
rough, and it is. It is recommended only for vehicles with four-wheel drive and
high clearance. Our vehicle has <i>both </i>those features and it was still an ordeal
to get to the parking lot where we began the ascent. Part of this might have
been due to washouts from a recent episode of flash floods in the valley. (The appalling
road conditions didn’t seem to deter the three young ladies who arrived in
their Toyota Prius and scampered cheerfully up the mountain, so maybe it
depends on how precious you are about your car.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBKzlToLDHvMZUIxHKo6eOIn6_hmmi5Vd0YSTKhyNf0D6xmoltiFMpBIYeRrjnJwPOS1O7UAjYzTFxbdSXzg0aEjN8b3x4EYxP6LQDZhRv5O2QlRniZl7FW5NRGZL-ZetbvqAEEaJqww/s1600/Telescope3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMBKzlToLDHvMZUIxHKo6eOIn6_hmmi5Vd0YSTKhyNf0D6xmoltiFMpBIYeRrjnJwPOS1O7UAjYzTFxbdSXzg0aEjN8b3x4EYxP6LQDZhRv5O2QlRniZl7FW5NRGZL-ZetbvqAEEaJqww/s320/Telescope3.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky paths. Not for the<br />flat-footed or faint-hearted. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This is not
a climb for people who don’t like hiking uphill a lot or who are nervous about
heights. A lot of the path is narrow, with hardscrabble rock along the sides of
bottomless slopes. A decent and fulfilling workout for experienced hikers;
doable, but not a day at the beach for novices. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
fourteen-mile round trip could take between seven and nine hours. Karen had
brought a walking stick; I wouldn’t rule out two as optimum. One serious
consideration is that you have to carry your own water, as there is none on the
trail. I left some of ours cached behind a tree about halfway up and retrieved it
on the way down. A bonus is that although the trail features Death Valley’s
well-known dryness, the air is beautifully cool and clear. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqT9GX4_3JUAgW0Tnwjzzi748glEb17KgaNCtVvtz72PoYXBuVYHTkanho0ATmHUPaTyi2W1WUGb97jn6JqnKfxQLCO5P3nsp4qJg9EeS71H2AO87Od2jIewRQwPCl5x3fRt49_TQgxc/s1600/Telescope2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUqT9GX4_3JUAgW0Tnwjzzi748glEb17KgaNCtVvtz72PoYXBuVYHTkanho0ATmHUPaTyi2W1WUGb97jn6JqnKfxQLCO5P3nsp4qJg9EeS71H2AO87Od2jIewRQwPCl5x3fRt49_TQgxc/s320/Telescope2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A view of the snow-covered north face. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The memorable (in one way or the other) finale is a series of steep, tough, scrabbly switchbacks (around 12 or 13 of them ... no one seems to be able to count them and get the same result twice). At the end of many of them there are
flat stones to sit and rest on if by this time you are feeling a bit peaked (sorry).</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We got to summit
by walking along a short ridge followed by a little push to the top. The vista is
spectacular, although the vistas all the way up are just as spectacular, so the
summit views down to Badwater and all the way to Mount Whitney were just the
cherry on top (as it were). There is a metal ammo box (how very American I
thought) containing a logbook to write your name. There is no signpost
for a summit photo, so posing with the ammo box is your photographic proof that
you were there. We were lucky that another couple had arrived just before us so we were able to take turns snapping photos for each other.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODUNEBCyyKjYs0vOfqPCTE_gMLqStObcAvBAP_3iI3cE2CNTxVS0Ii5s8kbq4p7fShIB025GG6cCFJJVl3XK3HTtfspPfR_vXabpSrhqrrkvSCNyp6XTgTcNTGvoQcF1jd8tGcWsGMPw/s1600/Telescope1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgODUNEBCyyKjYs0vOfqPCTE_gMLqStObcAvBAP_3iI3cE2CNTxVS0Ii5s8kbq4p7fShIB025GG6cCFJJVl3XK3HTtfspPfR_vXabpSrhqrrkvSCNyp6XTgTcNTGvoQcF1jd8tGcWsGMPw/s400/Telescope1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Karen and I stand on the summit with the coveted ammo box. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">This was an
outing I’ve been thinking about for years, and it fulfilled my hopes beautifully.
If they would grade the ruts and furrows in the ghastly road to the trailhead,
it would be a perfect activity for a day in (or above) Death Valley.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Next: The Badwater Mini-Marathon<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-24543280445818260362015-10-10T18:52:00.000-04:002015-10-10T18:52:06.423-04:00Going the Extra Mile<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Run for the
Toad <o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i>Paris, Ontario,
October 3 2015</i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Every trail
has its secrets, its challenges, and its attractions. This, I am learning, is a
major feature of trail running: pounding the pavement can’t match it for piquing
and holding your interest. The two races I entered this fall were both challenging and rewarding –
and as different as could be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If the
Haliburton Forest is Joaquin Phoenix – wild, unpredictable, and exciting – then
the Run for the Toad, which I ran on October 3, is George Clooney – refined, poised, and easy on the eyes. The Run for the Toad is a race you'd like to sit down and have a beer with. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Due to the
purgatorial experience of trying to drive a car anywhere near Toronto (even at 6:30 am on a Saturday morning the traffic was
stopped dead on the 401), the large time buffer I had left myself to get to the
race site had evaporated by the time I arrived. I had to park about a kilometre
from the start and was in a vile temper.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Do you need
a lift?” asked a lady in a car who pulled up beside me while I was walking back
to my car after picking up my race kit. “You’re parked in the far lot, aren’t
you?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It turned
out that she was a volunteer who was driving to the spot where she was going to
marshal the runners in the race. Somehow she had divined that she was heading
to the same place I was. A small gesture
like this went a long way toward making me glad I had come.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The race course follows a circuitous route through the Pinehurst Lake Conservation
Area near Paris, Ontario. There are two well-balanced laps of 12.5k for the 25k
racers, and four for the 50k racers. Most of the run takes place under cover of
forest, but there are a few outings into open fields. On race day this meant
emerging from the trees into a ferocious wind; one aid station had their Smarties
and cookies blown right off the food table to someplace probably not in Kansas anymore.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The paths
are usually wide enough to allow two people to run abreast with room for a
third to pass. This came in handy as I began to be lapped by the fast runners,
whose feet seemed to barely touch the pine-needled ground as they flew through
the forest with a speed and agility I could only admire. “On your left!” became
a familiar cry from racers zooming past me like cars in the fast lane
of the Parkway on a Friday night, and I almost always got out the way in time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I took some
advice from my own experience at the Haliburton Forest and worried about pace
and time not at all. I was 6 kilometres into my second lap before I even
thought to look at my watch. It was a cool, grey day and I stayed comfortable at
the back of the pack in my torn tights and worn blue running jacket, both relics
of the last century.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjDEGjEmEn_ae2QtVJ7sG9mDl4pscbBIr6oPwRT2iaiL17_Uvk4YZEnTrZSkxJ6FwK6D-k-76Sk12lj5vK7NGfZwDtmhow3PFfuEDeAkZPcdchpaSEL3-FkwC92xhJzSyRMN5ybSNhyc/s1600/DVTrail-Oct26+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYjDEGjEmEn_ae2QtVJ7sG9mDl4pscbBIr6oPwRT2iaiL17_Uvk4YZEnTrZSkxJ6FwK6D-k-76Sk12lj5vK7NGfZwDtmhow3PFfuEDeAkZPcdchpaSEL3-FkwC92xhJzSyRMN5ybSNhyc/s320/DVTrail-Oct26+%25282%2529.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Old wardrobe <span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;">–</span> older runner.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The finale
of each lap features a run up a sharp, grassy hill, which the regulars have named
Horror Hill. It isn’t really a horror, just a chance to get rid of any excess
energy you might have been saving up over the previous 11k.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I liked everything
about the Run for the Toad. From check-in to aid stations to finish line, it’s an
event that is focused on the runners. I finished the 25k feeling refreshed, not
trashed, and definitely more cheerful than I had when I arrived. On my way back
to my car, I came across my helpful volunteer again. She spent some time trying
to sell me on the idea of trying the whole 50k next year. Who knows? Maybe she
succeeded. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am writing this from Death Valley National Park in California, where the temperature today is 40C and the cool boreal forest trails of a week ago seem ages away. I am here for a cycling, running, and hiking vacation, and I hope to write more about that in the days to come.</span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-12769116493177585592015-09-15T17:56:00.000-04:002015-09-16T09:13:00.545-04:00Into the Woods<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“… to get
the thing that makes it worth the journeying!”</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Somewhere
ahead of us were the people who were running the longer distances: 50K, 50 miles,
100 miles. They had started in the pre-dawn chill of a fall morning. The
hundred milers would be out there all night and into the next day. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Lining up
with a hundred others at the 22<sup>nd </sup>annual Haliburton Forest Trail Run, I was
happy just to be attempting the 26K distance; as a novice in the field, I
thought that would about be my limit. I was right.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The trails in
the Haliburton Forest are not like the wood-chipped, groomed trails in a
suburban conservation area. The larger of them are winter snowmobile tracks; lacking snow they are steep, rocky steeplechase courses. The hiking trails are more like
suggestions of pathways through the trees. All around me was the quiet grandeur
of nature: tall evergreens, steep rock cliffs, lakes and rivers.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I saw very little
of it. I was too busy trying not to fall on my face or twist my ankle. To accomplish
this, I had to look down at my feet almost every step of the way.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qEdp4YMlyX6MoDXjchxlJ7Z6aC4QutWtmpXwDdz4uIM6bt8BfwDzTHEx2Cqj77OuA7GKMoFvm3c5GPxO_5FwHx4g1fZlbqjmxtYublDU63N2lfTJoXuQaVR5E0gthvuJO_lziXtAcKM/s1600/VultureBait07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-qEdp4YMlyX6MoDXjchxlJ7Z6aC4QutWtmpXwDdz4uIM6bt8BfwDzTHEx2Cqj77OuA7GKMoFvm3c5GPxO_5FwHx4g1fZlbqjmxtYublDU63N2lfTJoXuQaVR5E0gthvuJO_lziXtAcKM/s320/VultureBait07.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look down.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">My gait along
these paths was a sort of combination of hopping, skipping, and salsa dancing.
Every time my foot came down, it landed on a new geological potpourri of dirt, gravel,
and rocks the size of my head. The concentration and coordination required simply
not to fall was almost mesmerizing. I was in awe of the people who could
negotiate this topography with any kind of speed or confidence.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Running over
terrain like this is a total body workout. All my leg muscles were working to
keep my ankles from buckling and my body moving more or less forward. My arms
were continually flying out from my sides to help me keep balanced or to catch
me when I stumbled. And stumble I did, many times, although I fell only once.
No one was around to see me, so I assumed that I did not make a sound.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As a rookie
trail runner, I managed a few rookie mistakes. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rookie
mistake #1: Too many clothes. The morning of the race was very cool. I bundled
up as if I were in a February polar bear run. The forest however provided a
good amount of shelter from the chill wind. Once I got warmed up, I was sweat-soaked
and clammy all day.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rookie
mistake #2: Not enough sustenance. Almost everybody in the event set off with
some hydration and nutrition. I didn’t. There were aid stations at 2 and 6K,
and at the turnaround at 13 kilometres. I figured I would have no trouble running
the 7K between the second and third stations. I run that far all the time
without eating or drinking.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Yes … along
the paved flat bike paths in the valley behind my house in the city. Clambering
down slippery hills and up rocky fields not only took more out of me than I
expected, it also took about twice as long. I was dehydrated and undernourished
the whole way.</span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Rookie
mistake #3: Worrying about time and space. There was only so fast I could go,
even though I felt that I was going as fast as I could. I had enough energy and
my legs were never tired or sore; I just couldn’t move any faster. Even as I tap-danced
my way along the root-laced paths, I knew that I was making very slow progress.
My pace was glacial and there was nothing I could do to speed up.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In a nice urban
road race like the Scotiabank Waterfront Marathon, there are little signs
placed every kilometre along the way to show you how far you’ve come. In the Haliburton
Forest there are almost no navigation aids, except the myriad little orange flags
to show where the path is supposed to lead. I was disoriented the whole way because
I never really knew where I was or how far I had left to go. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Eventually I
realized that this is the point. “It’s all about enjoying the trail,” said a
volunteer at an aid station. It took me the entire race to realize the wisdom
of what she had said. A trail run is about discovery – of the terrain, the environment,
and of your own limits. There is nothing to prove and everything to learn.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I learned enough
to know that I want to come back to this place and run again. I crossed the finish
line feeling somewhat battered, but also in a way, stronger than when I had
started. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">No two trail
runs are the same, and this becomes part of the definition of the genre itself.
Maybe running for me in the coming years won’t be about trying to be better at something
I have already done; maybe it will be about doing something that I have never
done, and figuring it all out as I go along.</span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike><i></i><i></i></strike>Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-63817862094646484002015-08-21T16:44:00.000-04:002015-08-23T14:32:16.730-04:00The Discomfort Zone<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"As we were filming it I thought, if
we don’t pull this off it’s going to be really embarrassing. It scared me a
little bit, which is a good place to be.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Noah
Baumbach, filmmaker <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I haven’t
been entirely honest in this blog. One of the comments I make about myself in
the “About </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Me” section is that I am comfortable outside my comfort zone. This
is not true.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Actually I
have a rather narrow comfort zone and I’m rarely comfortable outside it. Especially
as I grow older, I find that I prefer to reduce the chance of surprises in my
life. I dress in layers. I signal all my turns and lane changes. When I go somewhere
on the subway, I always take three tokens, in case I lose one. I panic if I
have to deal with a bank teller.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It is for
this reason, though, that I look for ways to push myself into places that will stretch
me; that will throw me off balance; that will help me grow. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In terms of
scope, my early life was a series of ellipses … thoughts and deeds begun but
unfinished; plenty of dreams but few actualities. I was settled comfortably
into a physical and mental trough, with no intention of climbing out.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thirty years
ago the notion dawned on me that to venture into the discomfort zones of my
life might not be a bad thing. I got the idea from watching a videotape of
Terry Fox hop-skipping down the highway on his Marathon of Hope. As every
Canadian knows, despite having lost a leg to osteosarcoma, Terry was running
across Canada to raise money and awareness for cancer research. Running. With
one useful leg. How comfortable must he have been?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So in 1985 I
sketched out a new life design: to start
something even if I had no idea of what lies ahead, and to commit to finishing it; to do this regardless of my reluctance to get
uncomfortable. To steal a phrase from JFK, I chose to set goals of swimming and cycling and
running long distances not because they are easy, but because they are hard … because I want those goals to measure the best of </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttXymOIBJt223FHT227KN0ZrdAOCR5hGukThMcI9VIWd6ck-5q-Z5I4wlsaxl0weH6NCM68sj3DUceK3g4CERy_U2sWvALev7sV_WsOuyo7PjZcU3mMEe9ibWYXIv4EIyN0DPvLjtDOE/s1600/MuskokaRun1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjttXymOIBJt223FHT227KN0ZrdAOCR5hGukThMcI9VIWd6ck-5q-Z5I4wlsaxl0weH6NCM68sj3DUceK3g4CERy_U2sWvALev7sV_WsOuyo7PjZcU3mMEe9ibWYXIv4EIyN0DPvLjtDOE/s320/MuskokaRun1.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ouch, ouch, ouch,,,</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I push
myself physically not because I love pain and suffering but because I want to
know that there is more to life beyond the discomfort; beyond my immediate
scope. Unlike Dorothy, I do not believe that all my heart’s desire lies inside
my own backyard. I want to look farther, even if the horizon is out of sight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">After having
completed seven Ironmans and countless marathons (and bombed painfully out of
others), I can say unequivocally that I am not made of iron; I am made of the
same feeble stuff as everyone else on the planet. At the end of a marathon, my
legs hurt, my feet hurt; everything hurts, in fact. </span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don’t love being exhausted, or sore, or
hot or cold or wet. </span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Yet I simply
do not believe it is “crazy” (a term some of my friends can’t stop using) to
want to find out what is possible if I reach out a little farther.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Of course, there
is an athletic equivalent of carrying three subway tokens. I can reduce my exposure
to discomfort by planning intelligently, training well, and paying attention to
my hydration and nutrition during a race.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd1nzl0-aNmRTji1slL6xYzF9bwQTE82TaTWy9JMEHEQx2aWoqvBhmA-Z1DbYG2qDcW6slf77m0j14Iqx-qQOeNfGBILYLUVs3W16wMcIttWHkvL4o0oIK3lwjAj1qFeoUOwZOOXuuc4/s1600/Rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd1nzl0-aNmRTji1slL6xYzF9bwQTE82TaTWy9JMEHEQx2aWoqvBhmA-Z1DbYG2qDcW6slf77m0j14Iqx-qQOeNfGBILYLUVs3W16wMcIttWHkvL4o0oIK3lwjAj1qFeoUOwZOOXuuc4/s320/Rain.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The forecast said sunny and mild.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">But as much
as we train, plan, and desire, chance will always occupy a large area of the discomfort
zone. Just ask Simon Whitfield, who crashed and broke his collarbone at the
start of the bike in the London Olympics. Ask Perdita Felicien, who tripped
over the first hurdle and fell onto the track during the 100 metre final in Athens
in 2004. Ask triathlon legend Lisa Bentley, who made it a good distance into the
marathon at the Ironman World Championships in Hawaii before being pulled out
of the race. With a burst appendix. How comfortable must they have been?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We are
capable of so much more than we do. It’s only necessary to venture a little
farther beyond what is normal, predictable, comfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now if I could only find a way to face that bank teller.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6494024682894575064.post-64529618267456448672015-05-31T17:35:00.003-04:002015-05-31T17:44:57.051-04:00Running with Real Bunnies<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Sumer is
icumen in, lhude sing cuccu.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Summer has
arrived, loudly sing cuckoo.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">English
folksong ca. 1240<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s the season
of trail races, those oddball off-road events that are pleasantly devoid of the noisy hype that surrounds a major marathon. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead of lining up out of
sight of the start behind ten thousand nervous runners, the participants </span></span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.3999996185303px;">in a trail race</span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.3999996185303px;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">might just follow the starter to some imaginary line in a field and start
moving when he says Go. Instead of a hysterical run down a finishing chute accompanied
by a shrieking announcer and thumping techno-music, in a trail race you quietly
cross the line, grab a banana, and walk to your car. At an event I ran several years
ago called Vulture Bait, the finish line was two guys at a card table checking
off names. Two little girls held a piece of twine across the path for us to run
through. I loved that race.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When I gratefully crossed the line after finishing the Seaton Soaker 25k the other
weekend, the lone marshal there laconically asked me if I was going to go around
for another lap or was I done. I was done.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trail
running is different. Of course, trail runners will tell you that this is a
no-brainer. But I had forgotten just how many ways it is different, beyond the
obvious ones. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To start with,
trail runners look different. There are people wearing Rube Goldberg-like Camel-Bak
hydration arrangements, held together with duct tape and string, sloshing up
and down the hills. There are greying men with long, un-hipster-like beards,
wearing bandanas. There are women of all shapes and ages who come not to show
off their spandex outfits and laboriously wrought gym bodies, but to run. The
love and respect of everyone there for the trail they are following is palpable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0rJ7Nx7pR3O7RRDpCnIHED3KpR5dCmUWr1pzFgIlU_IFd9Np7avI8decEHP3r6-vHQhvCKCZl7y6-XqU_8Hb0n6cDlEe6mWoM82WwuxiSgv_ms8QHnVV_MVLBgsJkkclUZL3cAW0xiU/s1600/Seaton7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_0rJ7Nx7pR3O7RRDpCnIHED3KpR5dCmUWr1pzFgIlU_IFd9Np7avI8decEHP3r6-vHQhvCKCZl7y6-XqU_8Hb0n6cDlEe6mWoM82WwuxiSgv_ms8QHnVV_MVLBgsJkkclUZL3cAW0xiU/s320/Seaton7.jpg" width="212" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A chance to get covered in mud.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I’ll tell
you what I love most about running trails.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s not the
sylvan peace, although the muffled sound of feet padding along a dirt path can
be hypnotically soothing. There are times when you are so quietly alone that you
wonder if you have gotten lost. There are no pace bunnies. There are real
bunnies.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s not the relaxed pace, which can be Andy-of-Mayberry slow. There is simply not much point in hurrying. Not
only will the terrain slow you down anyway, but you will eventually find yourself
climbing a hill on a single-lane path behind four people who want to walk up
rather than run. So you walk too. This whole approach really suits me. I am
naturally slow and lazy when I run, and I welcome any chance to be both. You do
not have to go fast to get a good workout; the trail will give you a good
workout.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It’s not the
pretty rural scenery. Running off road actually doesn’t give you much chance to
enjoy the scenery. You are too busy watching your feet—every footstep—to make
sure you don’t trip over a tree root or twist your ankle in a rabbit hole. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzZd73a_5s13MVFTmKZhU1iEiobfWQ0f-1DMK08k8lnfNnQeYBWFYAO4SCXQp_Zh6wtAg4SIZgH24-M7ncx9CQw_BOtlCCMame5kYOQz8vZ45lD8QS6bjzqo2_perpkd72cOPP-5_5Mo/s1600/Seaton8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrzZd73a_5s13MVFTmKZhU1iEiobfWQ0f-1DMK08k8lnfNnQeYBWFYAO4SCXQp_Zh6wtAg4SIZgH24-M7ncx9CQw_BOtlCCMame5kYOQz8vZ45lD8QS6bjzqo2_perpkd72cOPP-5_5Mo/s320/Seaton8.jpg" width="213" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And a chance to wash it off.<br />Photos :Dave Robinet</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And this is
what I love most about it: every step is different from the one before it.
Every time you land, you land a different way and use a different configuration of
muscles to control that landing. Great concentration is required or you will definitely
take a tumble. Running 21 or 42 kilometres along a city street wears away at
the quadriceps muscles and plantar fascia due to the repeated, monotonous pounding. On a trail, the
varying terrain makes sure that every muscle in your body gets recruited. Even my
neck got stiff from looking down at my feet so much.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Trail races are
the Bits N Bites of running. Every step is whole new ball game.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The weather for
the Seaton Soaker Trail Race was warm and sunny, except for one ten minute
period when a cloud came over and rained on us. This sudden shower happened to
me as I was starting gingerly down a long, steep hill. Of course, I slipped right
away and body-surfed the rest of the way to the bottom, covering myself in mud.
I looked either tragic or hilarious; mostly the latter if the reaction of the people
at the aid stations was any indication. Luckily there was a river
crossing near the end of the race so I could wash the worst of the mud off before
crossing the finish line. One runner told me that the race used to be called The
Mud Puppies, so I guessed I was now initiated.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I finished near the back of the pack, stiff, tired and, sore, and covered in mud and creek water. I can hardly wait to do another one.</span></span></div>
<br />Chris Cameronhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12191746973909735663noreply@blogger.com0