26.2: Marathons are Fun!!

How was my second marathon? I had a really good time … I ran. I talked to a bunch of people from all over the world. I ran. I ran some more. I ran past beautiful scenery and got cheered on by many, many, many spectators (the Edinburgh marathon crowds are the best!).

Almost there! (mile 24)

The spectators? Families, lots of them. Small bands playing music – a family with mum and kids, mum playing the saxophone, kids handing out candies. Kids blowing bubbles, and us all running through them. Lots of high fives with tiny hands. Many families in their tiny front yards – music blaring, beers being drunk, candies being offered to us runners as we went by. The best? Around mile 24, a family had sliced thousands of orange slices – I’ve never tasted an orange so good!!

I hadn’t been feeling super well that morning. It’s tough flying into a new place and adjusting to the food and then running 42 k. It was raining very hard. The start of the race cured me of any doubts. There were over 7000 people racing and the energy was uplifting. We started, and ran through the old part of the city, then down to the water.

I stopped at mile 6. Nature called, and I was in and out quickly. By mile 13 I was feeling weirdly tired; I usually don’t get super tired until around mile 20. I slowed down, and started worrying about dying or not finishing the race…. then I thought about my special people. I started feeling the gratitude that I knew would carry me through. I am so grateful for the body I have: the legs that can carry me over roads and hills; the lungs that can breathe deeply enough to energize me for hours as I run; the metabolism that is fine with a little starvation or thirst.

At mile 14 I started a game. I pretended I was running a half-marathon. I imagined myself going out the door and getting on the metro, on my way to a half marathon race in Montreal. I picked up speed and my energy returned. I was psyched, and happy, I smiled throughout almost the whole distance.

We entered a forest and when we left it, at around mile 20, the wind started. Big time. Gusts up to 24 mph, and a headwind that made it hard to breathe. Last marathon I ran, I created a headwind out of my emotional state that held me back. This time, I was doing great, and the wind was physical and intense. I ran through it, and finally I reached the finish line. My husband was there but I didn’t even see him. He said I looked like I was gliding, and I was. I finished the distance, and I did it with gratitude in my heart and a smile on my face.

But my time? How fast did I go??? That’s the question on everybody’s mind, because after all, it is a race. Well, actually, I ran it 8 minutes slower than my first one, and my first one was 5:34…and I was super disappointed last time.

So am I disappointed now? No! Sure I’d love to run faster, and I have already identified some things I have to tweak. Logistics things, and training things (thanks Perse!) But I’m not disappointed because I realized that, for me, the pleasure is in the journey. I’m not talking about being super happy with a DNF. But I’m happy and proud that I ran the whole way, and that I succeeded in my goal.

In these times of self-aggrandizement, mutual back-patting, and public vilification, everybody wants to post about how well they did: I beat my PR! My birth was just what I wanted! I am the best volunteer person in history! I lost 375 pounds in a week! And on, and on, ad nauseum.

What’s behind this nonsense though? A simple human need, that has grown pathologically because we have so much time on out hands. The need is simple: everybody wants to be loved; to be special; to matter. And so we create a persona for ourselves that our tricky minds convince us will better reach that goal. How much do you leave out when you’re posting all your stuff on the social media? More importantly, because who really cares about a reality made up of electrical impulses (oh, I forgot, that’s the human physical reality…), more importantly, how are we damaging ourselves when we create incomplete or misleading stories about ourselves?

Alcoholics Anonymous has helped millions of people live with their addiction. Addiction never really goes away, but people learn to manage the fact that they are addicts and they can live happy, productive lives. The organization, of course, has its critics, but one of the main tenets is honesty. That is, the ability to describe yourself honestly to yourself and others.

I’m struggling with this idea. To try to be honest to yourself? Always! That’s part of the main tasks of life itself, I believe. To discover who you are and to refine and make that person better, and to live “yourself” as honestly as possible. To try to be honest with others? Mostly, and mostly superficially, it’s a good idea. Don’t lie, swindle, cheat.

But are some secrets better kept … secret? A difficult diagnosis, for a while. A difficult past. Some traumatic events that don’t need to be talked about. Sometimes, an inconvenient emotion. I’ve kept some secrets for many, many years. Mostly from people I don’t know: I’m not one of those people who tell their whole difficult life story on air and feel the public love because of it. But some secrets I’ve kept from people very close to me. Is that wrong? I’m not sure.

So, from the profound to the superficial: I’m an amateur runner, and I run at a pretty average speed for my age. I’m a “back-of-the-pack” racer, and happy and grateful that my body works so well. But I still felt a twinge of self-doubt when I looked at the results and saw that embarrassing number. 5:42:20. Sheesh. Couldn’t I have run faster? Hey, I ran a full marathon, and I did it with a smile on my face. What could be better than that?

3 Lessons I've Learned Running

What Has Running Taught Me?

Running has taught me about healing. When I first started running after my father died in 2012, I didn't imagine I would be training to run my first marathon on Mother's Day, 2018. He died when I was away. I travelled frequently to visit him and care for him while he was in his last year of life, and when I left for Bali he knew and I knew that we would not see each other again.

It was tough coming back for the funeral. Our family didn't know how to do anything. It was very small, and he appeared to have made no friends during his retirement to a small provincial town. It was sad. Me and my sisters and mother had a tough time. There were arguments. Birthdays came right after his death and cremation. One of the days we were hanging around wondering what to do, my sister invited me for a run. I put on an old pair of her leggings and a pair of old sneakers, and we ran for about a half an hour. I was pooped by the end, especially as it ended with a hill and stairs. 

I was hooked!

Even though I didn't know it yet. By 2013, I was running on an old indoor track. Not outside, not during the winter (Yes, actually, there are some days that it's just plain stupid to run outside). That year was full of changes. My mother got sick. She travelled the world saying goodbye to friends and family.

She followed my father in March of 2014... my sister and I ran a couple of times while we were ushering her out of this life into the next. We did an awful job. Death isn't pretty in our family. She had the highest pain tolerance of anyone I've ever met, and I have seen a lot of people in pain (I figure I've assisted around 600 people give birth, and generally that's a pretty painful process). She broke her leg years ago playing pirates with the kids, in the vineyard. She jumped off a rock and "Ahoy!" a compound fracture. She breathed through it. Just like she breathed her way out of this life and into who-knows-where.

I decided I wanted to race. Racing doesn't have to mean that you're out there to actually race like a greyhound, unless you're an elite runner. For me, I'm racing against myself, and I want to get a decent time for my age and gender. I trained, kind of. I ran a few times a week, mostly on the flat suburban streets around my house. The longest I ran before the race was 13 k. That year, I also opened a cafe, where my mother's spirit might come and have tea or coffee and where she would have loved to hang out, if she'd been able.
I kept running.

Running has taught me about honesty.  I've been in labor for a ridiculous number of hours, all told, with five children and insanely long labors. I think I may have ischial spines that are shaped like Mobius strips, or something. Babies can't navigate through them. I've breastfed for years and years. I've hoed fields and picked tobacco, and raised boys. I've stayed with birthing women for hours and hours and days and days, while they navigated their own special journey through childbirth.

All that to say, I know about strength, endurance, and stamina.
But I also know, now, that our bodies are full of surprises. There are real flaws, like weirdly shaped bones or weak joints, or bodies with diseases or genetic conditions. There are the secret flaws that we don't know about until, suddenly, we do. I was sure for very many years that my difficult labors were caused by mistreatment. I built a whole career on that belief. Now I'm not so sure: running has provided me with information about my body that I didn't know before, and it has also taught me that it's ok. Our weaknesses, our flaws, our crooked limbs and joints: these are all part of ourselves that we have to cherish and love if we want to keep them running smoothly.

Running has taught me about persistence.

I started my Marathon project with a 26 week training plan. I picked such a long one because I wanted to give myself lots of time to train, and I wanted to have extra leeway if something came up, like the little glitch I had way back in December. Since then, I've been doing a long run every Sunday. On Wednesday, Thursday, Friday I run at least 5 k. I try to run fast for my short runs.

In the past month, everything has changed. December and early January were cold; record-breaking cold. I continued to run outside.

I was very fortunate - we went to Lisbon for a week and I ran there. People, this is runner's paradise! Hills, temperate climate, long running tracks next to the water, courteous pedestrians, other runners, and drivers. Heaven! The hills slowed me down a little, but the flat long runs were amazing.

Then back home. There's a common saying amongst runners "There's no such thing as bad weather, only bad gear." There are so many bullshit macho sayings out there. There is absolutely such a thing as bad weather, and Montreal has it all. There's no way it is safe to run on two inches of ice covered by two inches of snow. I can and have run in very cold conditions, and snow, rain, ultra hot and dry. I trail run at 875 meters, with a dog who cannonballs into me or completely on my own in the hills. But I won't risk falling and breaking a bone due to hubris. So, I've done my fair share of treadmill running this winter.

Treadmill running is tough because it can get boring. Not only for your mind, but also for your feet. What can I say? If you have to run on a treadmill, try to challenge yourself with intervals, good music, checking your form, watching your breathing. There's fine tuning you can do on the treadmill that you can't do so well when you're running outdoors, so be content with those benefits and don't feel too bad you're not outside.

I do run outside whenever I can though. Last week for my long run, I was super grumpy because the weather was looking really bad. There was an indoor track but I didn't feel like going. I packed up and headed for the gym - and discovered the weather was great and the icy sidewalks had become slush. Yay! I ran a good 13.4 k!

Now? I'm back on track, but grumpy as hell and feeling very anxious. Can I run a marathon? I look like Mrs. Tiggywinkle, small and slightly pudgy around the waist (5 kids). My hair is grey and my face goes red like a beetroot when I run. I sweat.

Running has taught me not to care about these little things. It has taught me to look at the bigger picture. It has taught me to be positive, to stick to a schedule, to never complain, to laugh at myself, to love life. 

Dear Doula

Dear Doula,

You will need to be strong, because you will be accompanying women at any time of day or night. Sometimes you will have to leave your "private life" for what seems like days at a time.

You will need to be gentle, because sometimes you will be with a woman who needs the most gentle, loving touch of all.

You will need to be firm, because sometimes someone will want something that will not be the right thing, and you will have to be the one to say no.

You will need to be kind, because everyone will not always agree with you and you have to be able to step into their shoes.

You will need to be open, because everyone isn't you, and they all have different ideas, priorities, and make different decisions about their lives.

You will need to be respectful.

You will need to be honest.

You will need to be humble, and you will need to keep on learning.

Sometimes you may have to say you're sorry. Sometimes you may have to admit you were wrong. You cannot work from ego.

It's like being a mother, and just as hard and heartbreaking sometimes, and just as rewarding at others.


You need to know when its time to say goodbye.