Lessons from a Year of Running: Resisting FOMO, redefining FKT's

A few of my 2015 races kind of got away from me. In hindsight I would say I probably did too many of them too close together or at least my expectations were too high in too many of them. Looking back on my year in running, I had the most fun while just relaxing and being out for fun or to catch up with friends. Exploratory runs in the back country while trying to bag a peak or explore a new to me area rank equally high. There were occasions in the past where just relaxing and having low expectations actually produced excellent race results, but for some reason I was not able to reproduce that this year. I am mixing up two things here though. Running is fun or at least it should be and for me personally it is - most of the time. Setting goals and working towards accomplishing them can also be fun. Mostly because it is satisfying to achieve a goal that seemed out of reach and inch ever closer to ones' full potential as a runner. There are other times though when training can seem like a chore, even though running is still fun if that makes sense. I guess the idea is to make training feel like play time and have the results take care of themselves.

Racing = Kinda fun ... sometimes (Photo credit: Elaine Fung)

I think part of why I was trying to do too much in the past was the fear of missing out or FOMO and the fact that racing is being hyped and talked about a lot. "What races are you planning to do next year?" "Who's going to run -enter name of event here- next year?" or other questions are very frequent and can lead even the most even-keeled runner to feel like they should get on board and commit to more events.

 I had a couple of ankle sprains this year and as of late I also had to take some time away from running due to injury. Having said that, when I get out on the trails lately, I am having the best time ever. I am really enjoying each and every outing immensely. I have no immediate goals, I am signed up for zero races and I hardly ever wear a watch let alone a GPS these days. I just go out to play and have fun with or without company. I can not remember a time when I enjoyed myself more while running and  that's saying a lot.

It is the season for race registrations and goal setting again though and I have spent a good deal of time mapping out events that I am interested in for 2016 and beyond. A few of those races have opened their registration already. I am just not ready to jeopardize my carefree adventures in the forest by committing to a race.

Exploring: Usually lots of fun (Photo credit: Carlie Smith)

I will judge my year 2016 in running by how many smiles it brings to my face rather than by how many finish lines I cross. I will let the results come to me or not. I will have some great adventures and miss out on others without fretting. I am also going to borrow a term from my friend Andy and aim for setting as many Funnest Known Times (rather than Fastest Known Times) on the adventures I embark on as possible. I will race and I will have goals again soon. I just don't want them to own me along with my training and my mindset. I'm gonna own them this time. I will resist the urge to run a new longer distance this year, because if I am being honest with myself, I don't want to. Sometimes I am simply feeling like I should do certain things since it is a natural progression for many ultra runners. What it all comes down to is really that I will do what I want (which includes finding balance between adventures and family life) and not get sucked into things that I think I should be doing. It sounds shockingly simple, but at least for me, oftentimes it isn't.

Have fun. Run free.

Marc

The Price of Admission

Besides a couple of minor scars that I accumulated through childhood and adolescence, I managed to make it to the 4th decade of my life relatively unscathed. Since then though I seem to be making a habit of periodically breaking a bone or spraining an ankle. I hear that most accidents happen at home or work, but I have not yet managed to bang myself up significantly in either place. Play however, is a different story. I am afraid that this development goes hand in hand with me leading a more active lifestyle than I used to.

My mishaps themselves have not been the result of reckless behaviour however. I broke my clavicle when going over my handle bar while biking at approximately walking speed. I broke my hand when slipping on the downhill portion of a wet run and wrapping my fingers around my hand held bottle. Most recently I broke my pinkie while running an interval on a high school track. I tripped over a protruding piece of a football sled after stubbing my toe on it. The ankle twisting business just happens at random points during runs and the mishaps often seem to go in spurts. On the plus side, I never injured myself in a race or missed one, because of being sidelined.

There have been times when my typing was slightly more efficient

It has been suggested to me on numerous occasions to play it safe and modify my running, biking and exploring ways. My response is usually this: To me the injuries are the price of admission to the lifestyle that keeps me happy, balanced and sane. Although I'd be more than happy to gain access at a discounted rate for that matter. So as I am typing this with a surgically repaired pinkie wrapped in too many bandages, I am happily resting up and mapping out new adventures for 2016 and beyond.

Stay healthy everybody.

Impostor no more - My Squamish 50 experience

By now I have about a dozen Ultras under my belt and although there was some chafing in the first one and some queasiness in quite a few of them, I couldn't help, but feel like an impostor. Why? I never experienced any of the Ultra running "rites of passage", like blisters, puking, debilitating cramping, lacerations and such.

That was about to change during this year's running of the Squamish 50 miler. This was to be my second 50 mile foot race. My first one, last year's Sun Mountain 50 miler in Winthrop Oregon (find my race report here), went shockingly well from start to finish without any issues whatsoever. Now, although there was no one single issue that slowed me down and made my plans go sideways at the Squamish 50, there were a few compounding issues that left me suffering in a fairly dark place for most of day.

Still having fun 20 k into the race (it's a smile not a grimace)

About half way through the race I developed some chafing on my thighs and later on in some other areas that shall not be further specified, but made the post race shower one of the least fun experiences of the day.

Furthermore my shins and calves were on the verge of cramping throughout the second half of the race. My shins on the uphills and my calves on the downhills, which had the added "bonus", that when I tried to stretch one of the areas the other one would immediately seize up.

Although I still didn't have to throw up I got to the point where outside of the aid stations I was hardly even able to tolerate water, leave alone food. Interestingly enough when stopping at the aid station (i.e. not moving) I was still able to take in some calories, although too much food at a time didn't work out so well either.

One other issue I dealt with were my lower abs which got really sore and hurt me quite a bit, especially on the downhills. Now this is an issue I have dealt with in the past, but never got quite as bad as in this race. This really upset me, because for the last 9 months I had been really consistent about adding some weekly strength and core work to my routine, which it seems did nothing to alleviate the problem.

Lastly my mental "fortitude" was such, that I was pretty much hosting an 8 hour pity party for myself. I got to the point where I was about 90 percent certain that I would drop at the 5th aid station about 53 k into the race. This was the biggest aid station of the day with lots of cheering friends and family. I continued mainly due to the volunteers doing a phenomenal job of pushing my sorry butt out of the aid station and back onto the trail. From this point forward there was a lot of hiking involved. My saving grace was that my friend Eric caught up to me at aid station six at around 62 k and we were commiserating for much of the remaining 18 kilometers. In the end I might have finished the race mainly, because I was too proud to ask for a car ride back to the finish line from any of the last 3 aid aid stations. In between aid stations there is not really a way to drop out anyway since you are in the middle of the forest. I violated the "beware the chair" rule and enjoyed a few minutes of chair time at each of the last two aid stations to "contemplate life", which seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn't have too much trouble getting back up either actually, so no regrets there.

Overall this was probably my worst race ever in terms of my finishing time vs my initial expectations. It is also the one I am most proud of though, since I managed to stick it out and not quit although my body begged me to. I shed my "ultra-impostor" label and am now able to move forward. I think I still have a ways to go in terms of improving on my mental fortitude. After finishing this race, I have a hard time imagining how people are able to finish -let alone excel in- events of even longer distances. Ultras are all about managing your body, which I thought I was getting pretty good at. It's back to the drawing board now though. I need to take stock of what happened and try to improve upon a few things in my training and preparation.

I suffered through a 50 mile footrace and all I got was this T-shirt :-)

If you are looking for a tough and beautiful 50 mile race with awesome support and course marking that makes getting lost near impossible, the Squamish 50 miler is for you. There are 50 k and 23 k options by the way, which now seem like incredibly appealing, more sane options to me. Co- Race Director Garry Robbins is known for designing  tough courses, but he really outdid himself on this one.

Happy running and racing,

Marc

Finally got my Oomph back - Thank you iron supplement

I usually don`t use this blog for regular training updates, but this quick post is related to a couple of entries I made in the past.

A month ago I took stock of my health and training 3 month ahead of the Squamish 50 mile race which I am scheduled to complete. You can check out the original post here.

These were my stated goals from the post a month back, plus a brief update how I did  on working towards them since then:

Get together with friends for training when possible / return to more structured long runs

Despite my odd schedule I managed to have company on all for of my long runs / adventures I had during the last month. I finally  managed to get out for a Squamish orientation run, ran a reverse Knee Knacker with four friends and did some peak bagging on two occasions. These outings plus some weekday runs with my regular school day running buddies Ryan and Brian made all the difference in my mood and my attitude.

Reverse Knee Knacker with the best company. Training for the legs. Nourishment for the spirit.

Put a spring back into my stride and get my energy levels back up

This point clearly ties in with the fact that I had felt somewhat sluggish due to low blood iron levels. After getting my blood iron levels retested at the beginning of the month (and seeing next to no improvement), I started supplementing iron three weeks ago. I tested low for iron earlier in the year and was determined to make some adjustments to my diet to help my iron levels recover without the use of supplements. In the end my big ambitions led only to minor adjustments and therefore negligible results.  I finally start feeling like my old self again after twice daily supplementation for about 3 weeks.  On todays run I found myself eager to push the pace on several sections and generally feeling great. You can have a look at the original post on my iron deficiency here.

Lose about 4 kg of weight

0.5 down 3.5 to go. Must run more and / or eat smarter.

Have fun

I did that. I am starting to look forward to the challenge that is running a 50 mile race again rather than dreading it. It seems the best strategy is to relax, have fun, get together with friends, go on adventures and enjoy the process. You get good results and training doesn't feel like a chore.

Maintain a good run/life/family balance

I think I do, although I never quite dare to get my wife to confirm that for me.

Get out, have fun and race hard,

Marc

Digging deep in the face of mediocrity

As part of revisiting my Gorge Waterfall 50 k race experience I had to concede that my mental fortitude -or lack thereof- might have been the biggest limiting factor to finishing stronger.

It seems to be easier for me to prepare physically for a race than it is to prepare mentally. I usually ask myself on race morning: "How much are you prepared to hurt and suffer today?" I think it is a good question to ask and it prepares you for the fact that there will inevitably be some discomfort involved while trying to race to the best of your abilities. Even if you are mentally prepared though some discomfort will sneak up on you during a race. How do you manage not to be dominated by the pain and exertion though? I suppose you also need to answer the question: "Why should I make myself hurt in the first place?" There are two types of physical discomfort during a race. One is the kind of pain that you are trying to avoid as much as possible such as blisters, bruises, chafing and such. Then there is self-inflicted pain which comes from pushing your limits and racing hard.

Having a time goal can be a good motivator, but this is somewhat tricky to establish a realistic finishing time on an unknown course especially if you are having issues early on in the race. I am not the kind of person to get super competitive with the racers around me either, if I don't know them that is. If I know them, the race is on.

Everybody loves stories about perseverance, but the vast majority of them seem to focus on contenders or champions even if they might be the underdog of the narrative. It's somewhat easy to imagine what drives athletes in these situations: Winning, earning prize money and qualifying for an event or competition among others. What about the rest of us though? The folks in the middle of the pack who punish themselves tremendously to finish 112th instead of 129th? What are we supposed to use for motivation? If you have ever volunteered as a course marshall or at an aid station in a race you might have also noticed that the slower the participants are the more fun they seem to have.

Even though my primary athletic pursuit is trail running, I am an avid reader of Bicycling Magazine. I remember now retired pro cycling veteran Jens Voigt writing about his relationship with pain and discomfort and claiming that he treats pain as his favourite enemy. He relishes the opportunity to get to know and control it better every time he encounters it. It's a great little article and you can just substitute "run" for "ride" as you see fit. The idea is the same. After re-reading the article I am wondering if I spend enough time getting acquainted with physical discomfort in training. Probably not. I am afraid I should though. It's the best thing I can think of in order to prepare for race day. On the plus side: It is generally accepted that training super hard all the time is not what you want to go for for best results as well as for staying injury free.  So luckily I don't have to face my newly crowned favourite enemy every day. Maybe a couple of times a week will suffice.

I re-discovered another article on pain and suffering which delves deeper into the science of things.  I enjoy the reference to former pro cyclist David Zabriskie's habit of adopting a superhero persona in his mind while competing in time trials (and quite successfully at that too). A good portion of the article deals with the thesis that a so called "central governor" in the brain is what determines how hard we can go. This governors' job is to tell us that we cannot possibly go any harder while preserving some reserves in order for us to not collapse on the spot. There are great reserves of strength and stamina to be found if we manage to override the impulse to back off that is sent out by the brain. If you feel motivated now to go out and run or ride yourself to pieces, don't blame it on me though please.

If you still haven't got enough of reading up on the subject, here are three more great articles on pain and perseverance from irunfar.com:

• Peak Performance and The Selfish Brain on irunfar.com
• Cramps and how to deal with them from irunfar.com
• Navigating the pain trail from irunfar.com Part 1/2
• Navigating the pain trail from irunfar.com Part 2/2

I especially like the concept put forth in one of the articles that our brain is like a board of directors which decides on the severity of a threat to our health and well-being and therefore lets us perceive the intensity of our pain signals accordingly.

After taking the time to look at the issue of digging deep, suffering and racing hard a little closer, these shall be my strategies to push myself hard and finish strong in future events:

Re-focus on form. This time I am not talking about the Caballo Blanco mantra of "Think easy, light, smooth, fast". That one works better for training rather than racing for me. Instead I will try to remember to tighten up my form when I start spending too much time in my own head or when I notice that I am getting sloppy.

Steady breathing, relaxed jaw and hands, arms pumping, cadence high, spine straight and long, shoulders back. Check, check, check and check.

As for developing an alter ego or super hero persona for races for myself, I think I will stick with trying to be the best version of myself. This might sound tacky, but I think it really touches on what will keep me going. There are a lot of people that are less fortunate than I am. They might be physically or mentally unable to pursue their passions. I am blessed to be able to run and live my life to the fullest for the time being and feel therefore obliged to not waste this opportunity. My mantra shall therefore be: Be the best you can be, always. This rule is great because it can be adapted to any situation. For example if you are racing hard and moving well, but you come across another athlete who is injured or in distress the logical consequence for me will always be to put my own ambitions on hold and and help out as needed. A good way to figure out what my best self would do is to ask myself how I would hope for my kids to react in the given situation. The idea is to try and see yourself from an onlookers perspective. This will usually help to make it easier to figure out how to act in a given situation.

The other day I happened to notice a runner on the seawall wearing a shirt that read: "Ride hard. Smile often." This reminded me of reading an article about the positive effect that smiling has on the brain. A lot more reading can be done on the subject. Go ahead and google it if you like, but it comes down to what is expressed in this quote by Thich Nhat Hanh:

"Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy."

Since my primary athletic pursuit is running my mantra shall henceforth be known to be:

Run hard. Smile often.

I will furthermore try to be aware that goals have to always be re-evaluated or adjusted. If the goal of finishing the race under a goal time fails the event doesn't have to be a write off all together. If that happens I shall not fret, but try to focus on finishing and having fun in the process instead.

Having devised this ingenious strategy I also have to say that racing to ones' full potential in terms of speed might not be for everyone and I respect anyone who emphasizes fun and camaraderie over pushing their limits. As for myself, I will test my boundaries for a little while longer and see how far I can take my fitness or how far my fitness can take me. I also see the need to plan adventure runs and other events and training runs that focus on connecting with fellow runners. As with everything else in life I am striving for the ever elusive balance.

See you out on the trails,

Marc

Gorge Waterfall 50 k Race Report

The Gorge Waterfall 50 k was going to be my second Rainshhadow Running race after completing the Sun Mountain 50 miler in May of 2014 (check here for my race report).

After some tough negotiations we decided to go to Oregon as a family.

Going into this race I was confident about my gear and nutrition choices. The only tossup was my shoe choice, but in the end I had to opt for my slightly beyond broken-in Altra Lone Peak 1.5 over my newer still somewhat shiny 2.0 version. Why? Because I have trained in the 1.5s lots, but I haven't raced in them yet. I tend to remember my past footwear by the events I ran in them and the Lone Peaks deserve to be remembered after they fall apart down the road ... or rather down the trail.

Finish line high fives are the best high fives

When it comes to racing I am a bit spoiled I must confess. This race was something like my tenth ultra (depending on how many of the fat ass events I participated in you count). To this day I have not had a really bad race in which I had to suffer mightily. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I wish for it or that it's been all bees and butterflies. It's just that some rites of passage like losing a toe nail or puking my guts out mid-race have not been part of my racing experience yet. Things just happened to go well for me thus far. Going into this race I envisioned myself frolicking through a balmy springtime Oregon while enjoying the sights. Aside from one big climb towards the end of the race the course is very runnable and I was dreaming of maybe earning a sub 5 hour finishing time. That's not quite how it played out though.

Here are a few details on how the day went:

Scenery:

expected: 9/10

actual 7.5/10

Don't get me wrong. There were portions of the race that were clearly a 10/10. The course has singletrack, mossy rocks and beautiful vistas of the river valley till the cows come home. Just the road portion, which was not quite as low traffic / quaint as advertised or imagined,and the virtual absence of waterfalls in the first 2/3 of the race course were a bit of a bummer.

Multnomah Falls. Good news: You get to see it during the race.
Bad news: you'll have to climb up and over the hill it flows down.

Technicality of the course / ankle twist potential:

expected 4/10
actual 6.5/10

Running on North Vancouver trails, I found in the past if people tell you trails are technical, they are usually not all that bad, since we have some pretty gnarly conditions to train on around here. In this particular case my "North Van technicality adjustment factor" was off though. There are a lot of smooth stretches of singletrack in the race for sure, but there are a whole bunch of really rocky sections along the course that really demand your attention too. More often than not these are in the more scenic sections of the course too which doesn't help with focusing on the task at hand (i.e. staying upright and keeping both ankles intact).

Cheering / aid stations / finish line:

expected 7/10
actual 9/10

There is limited access and parking for spectators along the course. Therefore there was a higher concentration of family and friends in certain areas, which made for a great atmosphere. Cheers and cowbells always help to lift my spirits.

My finish line welcome committee.

My surefootedness:

expected 8/10
actual 4/10

One fall. One near ankle twist and several stumbles weren't what I was hoping for. Reciting the trusted Caballo Blanco mantra of "Easy, light, smooth, fast" in my head didn't remedy the troubles with my footing. I think going out too fast had me pretty knackered by km 30. If a world class athlete such as Krissy Moehl puts down a 5:13 it's not entirely realistic for me to be ahead of that by any margin. Stupid UltraSignUp algorithms put me at about 4:48. I think there was a course change at one point. So the course record on which this prediction was based could have been a wee bit off to say the least.

Mental Fortitude:

expected 8/10
actual 4/10

My head was a bit of a whiner during the race. For the better part of the first three hours I was running in a group of somewhere between 3 and 15 people. To my surprise there was zero chit chat going on though. Maybe we were too focused on moving somewhat swiftly across the ground. As a result I spend a bit more time in my head than I would have wished for. You know how it is with those heads. They are never happy:

"If you just ran slower this might actually be fun and it would definitely hurt less"

"Who comes up with these things? Why would you pick a hobby like ultra running anyway?"

I was well prepared physically, but hadn't really prepared myself mentally to race and run hard. During the tougher stretches of the race all I wanted was to sight-see, run with a friend, take pictures and take my time. Now that the event is over and the memory of the challenges I overcame faded, I am back to thinking: Let's race harder and crack the top 50, 30, 20 or whatever number it might be in a given event.

By the way if you're just some random guy or gal who slips by me towards the end of a race , be my guest and "out-kick" me. 9 out of 10 times I couldn't care less...unless I know you. That usually triggers my ego and I will give chase. I should probably develop a strategy for digging down deep and finishing strong regardless of who is around me.

Soreness after completion of the event:

expected 4/10
actual 8/10

I was about as sore as I have ever been after any race. On a few occasions in the past I raced hard and recovered really well. This time I was absolutely wiped for a couple of days after finishing with my legs, upper back and shoulders being the main areas of discomfort. To make matters worse, this happened after I was really, really good about strength training in the 4 months leading up to the race. Therefore I foolishly expected less soreness than usual rather than more. Baffling.

Gastrointestinal distress:

expected 1/10
actual 8/10

I promise I won't go into too much detail, but in the last hour of the race I had to step out of line twice, including a visit to the Multnomah falls visitor centre washroom with only about 5 mins worth of course left ahead of me. My tummy didn't agree with something I ingested pre-race, although I wouldn't know what it could have been.

In the end I finished a few minutes under six hours, but more importantly we spent a great family weekend exploring the beautiful area around Portland and, if nothing else,the experience of this race helped to keep me humble and reminded me that things don't always go as expected.

The Gorge Waterfall 50k is a very well organized event that lived up to its awesome reputation. Thanks to all the volunteers and to everybody who helped to make it such a memorable day. Special thanks to my family and race director James Varner for smiles and finish line high fives.  Also a big shout out to the fine folks working the wood burning pizza oven trailer for making a special meat and cheese free pizza for me and for being very generous with the serving size.

See you on the trails,

Marc

Accidental Inspiration

The other day on my morning run I bumped into a co-worker on the Quarry Rock trail. We stopped to chat for a few minutes and I remembered that I had just recommended this particular hike to him the previous week after he had told me he had never done it, despite having lived in the neighbourhood in the past. I like to believe that I had a part in him choosing this particular trail or even in inspiring him to get out for a hike at all that morning. As I continued my run I kept wondering about the things that influenced and inspired myself in the past. More often than not it seems that the events and situations that steer us in one direction or another are fairly random. It could be a conversation, an ad in a magazine or the decision of a friend or family member.

Even though inspiration may seem random and accidental at times, I think we do have a great deal of influence on them. It is our responsibility to make ourselves more "accident prone" by exposing ourselves to people and situations that have the potential to inspire us to become better versions of ourselves. We also need to keep an open mind and just take a leap of faith sometimes by trying new things or setting goals that might seem kinda big and scary at first.

The environment I created for myself helps me to stay on track and although I made a lot of conscious adjustments to my lifestyle and my surroundings, more often than not I still find myself being accidentally inspired.

Go out, have fun, have an open mind and get yourself involved in some inspirational accidents.

I am so happy Trail Running and its awesome people found me a few years ago.

Guest Post: Conquering North Shore Trails - beginner's perspective

This is a post written by my wife Angie and her thoughts on running our beautiful North Shore trails. Enjoy the read:

It's always a bit intimidating to get out there into the great unknown. So many reasons not to go for that run, I've tried them all.

But my partner is a serious runner and he offered to take me, so sheepishly I put my shoes on. I've had those "pearly zooms" runners for about a year now, but they still look brand new. Well, I guess it's time to get them a little bit dirty. Oh yeah! It's so happening! No more excuses.

On a trail now and so far so good. I'm keeping up, even hopping over some logs. Hey, I'm running and it feels good! Then the first incline comes, hmm, start feeling my lungs, then the next one. I'm trying real hard, but I'm not moving much. Marc runs circles around me, finally  he starts hiking next to me, as I'm still "running"! That's when you know it's bad, BAD! So I get a little angry:

"You do your fast intervals," I order my significant other, I'm walking this hill...and the next one, and when the trail finally evens out, because it just has to, then I'm gonna break into my stealth mode shuffle: the stride so short and the feet so close to the ground, you'll never know if I'm moving at all!

Made it home somehow. Suffice to say, it was a humbling experience. In my mind I run much faster, and so the reality check was a bit unnerving. And demotivating. Big time.

But then a sunny day came. And a sunny crisp day during wintertime in Vancouver is a treasure. I knew I had to spend it well, and the only way to accomplish that, I felt it in my heart, was to hit any of our rain forest trails and let my feet take me where they may.

Decision time: I'm not a fan of disappearing into the woods alone. Didn't work out so great for Red Riding Hood, why should I push my luck? Oh, but I really wanted to do something brave, and my rain forest guide, aka the owner of this blog, aka my husband had to work that day, so I resolved to go it alone.

The plan: stick to the trails you know, listen to your body. Ten minute climb, some shuffling on an even terrain, then pummel down the hill all the way home and feel good about yourself. Probably won't last longer than 30 minutes, so no need for snacks or water. Will take my cell phone though...because you never know.

OK, on a trail now looking for a turnoff. I know there is another path veering off to the left, but can't find it. I keep going on thinking it's further ahead. Oh, but it's getting steeper. Ten minutes into the run and I'm walking already. And I also realize that I'm way past the turnoff, but I'm just too stubborn to come down. I know I've been on this trail before and I want to find out where it goes.

I get kicked out on a road, which I cross looking for a continuation of my trail on the other side. Hey, there's a sign: Trail Permanently Closed, Do Not Use. I'm sorry, but that's the only trail I can see, so I'm taking it. Doesn't look too bad at all, and after I climb over a big log, I'm all of a sudden on a trail I do know, and I realize that I already did my "big" climb. Hey! Not too shabby. A rush of confidence enters my bloodstream: I can do this, and it will be longer than half an hour!

Once my breathing slows down and I settle into some sort of a rhythm, I finally start enjoying myself. It's almost always like that. Those first 15 to 20 minutes of my runs are always devoted to this tug of war between me and my body:
Body: "What are you doing to me?"
Me: "I want you to run."
Body: "The pace is too fast and terrain is too steep, I'm not trained for that."
Me:"Just do it."
Body:"Sorry, no can do."
Me:"OK, fine, what can you do?"
Body:"Let me get some oxygen in and we can negotiate."
An unspecified period of laboured breathing and not much moving passes.
Me:"How about now?"
Body:"Sure, but next time, don't take this multivitamin on an empty stomach before you go out. I'm gonna make you burp this for the rest of your run."
Me: "Duly noted."

And finally I'm running and it's not just one big discomfort. I'm starting to feel the inklings of joy, and I grasp the potential for happiness that exists in this free, light movement through nature. And there is so much to look at as the sun illuminates the forest: the cedars. the firs, mosses, ferns, bubbling creeks, roots and rocks. Yet at the same time the images before my eyes are so unobtrusive, not demanding my engagement, that it's possible to let the mind wander, well, after some automatic eye to brain to feet communication is established first of course. I relax, it's so peaceful here.

Thirty minutes into the run I take a picture of myself at a trail sign: to prove that I have made it this far, but also to help my husband guide me home in case I get lost on the way back and need directions. I do make it home no problem though. I mean, I trip over a root and barely save myself from falling flat on my face, and once I hit the road close to home, I lose all the grip on the black ice and have to really slow it down to remain upright, but none of this matters. I make it home in one piece, and it's been an hour.

I do a few stretches, because I'm just that motivated, drink some water, and I'm really looking forward to that hot shower. But before even the first drops hit my face, I'm already as happy as can be. Why? Because I "braved" it out there on a crisp wintry day, and that feels mighty fine.