A Fun Day in the Desert

I woke at 6:15 and got dressed. My gear was kind of organized the night before but I still had to dress, use the bathroom, eat breakfast, fill my flasks and get my act together. I filled my water bladder and attached in into my vest, got my maple syrup and salt flask ready, packed my vest with the things I thought I would need for the day: cheerios, candies, salt tabs, wipes in ziplock, pee cloth, re-suable cup, emergency blanket (I take one everywhere, traveled through Africa with it decades ago.) Sunscreen, lip balm, phone and headphones. Watch. 

I pinned on my bib, gobbled my breakfast, gulped my coffee and my son drove me to the race start. It was pretty low key over there. Everyone is over 50 who's involved in the race. There's a 50k, 50 miler, 100k, 100 miler. The oldest runner is in his 80's. We had a little pep talk, then we head out. 

I am so happy! I've studied the course. I know what I'm going to eat. I am in the desert, my favourite place on the planet. And besides, I labored for so many hours to have my five babies, I can run for 50 kilometers no problem!

The trail goes downhill and then along a sandy patch until we reach two large tunnels that go under the highway. I don't like tunnels at the best of times, but these were the only thing that I dreamed about when I was having anxiety dreams about the race. I got through the tunnel and started my race.

Wait a minute. Why do I feel water dripping down my front? Ok, so a few weeks before the race I was doing one of my long runs and the nozzle of my water bladder froze. I had a note on my list of things to do: dress rehearsal of gear. I was going to put all the gear I was going to use for my race, get it all together and just go for an hour run to final test that everything was working.

I never got to do that dress rehearsal. So in fact, the nozzle from the bladder had not only frozen but also ripped. The damn thing had a hole in it and it was spurting water. I noticed it after the big hill after the tunnel...the front of my running top was wet and water was splashing on my legs. I couldn't have worked up a crazy sweat already.... 

First I put it in my mouth and thought I would have a continual water supply. Note: you can't run with a tube in your mouth. Then I tried blowing air into it to see if that would stop the flow. It didn't. I ran up to a group of friends running together and asked if they could think of any quick fixes. They couldn't. I asked if they wanted to hear a joke: "My water broke! I'm leaking and labor hasn't started yet!". haha. Then for about a mile, I held the tube up to stop the water dripping, then I realized if I bend it, it won't drip. So I took some tape from the course markings, tied it around the bent hose, and stuffed it in my pocket.

All good, except that it meant that I only had my 500 ml of electrolyte mix readily available, and I didn't want to mess around untying tape every time I wanted to drink. Anyway, challenge accepted, and I decided to drink the electrolytes and refill with water.

The next 35 kilometers went by like a dream! I ran, I walked, I thought my thoughts. I spun around at times, just drinking in the beauty. I ate Ritz crackers with Nutella at an aid station. I filled my water flask. I didn't like my maple syrup so much. I finished my cheerios, throwing the last four remaining onto the desert ground with a small prayer of gratitude. I danced. I saw a butterfly. I met a cow. I missed a turn and went down the wrong road for a little bit until I realized there were no footprints. I turned around and saw three other runners wildly waving at me, so I turned back and got on track. I had some pumpkin pie at an aid station. I was filled with happiness. At around the 30 km mark I started eating candies and salt tablets. They were just what I needed! I decided to drink from my useless bladder, so I untied it every 20 minutes or so and took a long drink. 

At Mile 24.6, I reached Overlook aid station, 15 minutes after my planned time. I was happy and tired, and my son was waiting there with my Snickers bar! I gave him the offending water bladder, filled my flask, and headed out. Then the demons hit.

It wasn't really Courtney Dauwalter's famous pain cave. It was more like I suddenly realized, at about 42 kilometers, that I was a fat idiot. I was in the middle of the desert, with mountains in the distance, and blue sky above, and  for about a kilometer I was literally adjusting my clothing and worrying that I looked fat. I stopped. I stared at the sky. I had a drink of water. I continued. Fat or not fat, I regained my spirits and ran, stumbled, and walked the last ten km.

The final ten k were the hardest in terms of terrain. Very rocky and some steep descents. I couldn't really run. I slowed down a lot, partly because of my water troubles from the beginning of the race. But my "fat crisis" was minimal, and I regained my smile. I was terrified going back through the tunnel. I kept thinking if someone comes barreling my way in an ATV, what the hell can I do? But no one did, and I survived. I knew I wasn't going to die, the universe wasn't going to play that cosmic joke on me just yet.

Bottom line? I made it to the start line! And I made it to the finish line!

The finish line was a bit of a let-down, to be honest. I thought there would be more people there, but it was very low key. I got in the car with my loyal son and race support and we drive back to the RV where we were staying. I had a burger. I recovered, slowly. 

I trained. I trained hard, and had some setbacks. Physical stuff (colds, muscle aches and the like). Emotional stuff (challenges with family, feelings of Fatness, Fakeness, and the like). Discipline was ongoing. I needed to get out there, and when I had a run or a workout scheduled, I had to do it. I had to eat a lot, and good food. I needed to reframe my idea about how much protein I need, and how my body should look and act. I had to get 8-9 hours of sleep a night.

There's a lot of bullshit out there about a lot of things. Particularly about women, as far as I can see. Particularly about what we are or can be capable of. In this instance, I had to unlearn some of society's misconceptions about older women. 

Three little BS turds right here:

• Old people don't need to eat much, especially protein. 
• Old women shouldn't exercise too much. Lighter weights, not too much running (bad on the joints).
• We need less sleep.

If you're over 60, please have a look at your diet and make sure you are getting at least one source of protein with each meal. Start lifting weights asap! Your muscles are shrinking every day. And run, jump, ski, or dance whenever you feel like it. Sleep! If you wake up at five am, have a nap later in the day.

This isn't one of those "I did it, you can too" pieces. This is: shit happens, and usually we can overcome whatever hurdles are placed in front of us to get where we want, but sometimes we can't. 

My race was February 17, 2024. I had the idea of running an ultramarathon for a few years, so this was a big deal for me that I'd been preparing for for months. On February 8, nine days before my race and three days before I was due to fly out, I got a phone call. 

I was Mika's mentor, her teacher, her colleague, and her friend. She sought refuge with me when her demons first started attacking her in the summer of 2023. I tried to keep in touch. She loved the pictures I sent her from my travels. Mountains, desert, my grandson, snow-filled paths. Cactuses. Especially desert. Mika loved the desert, and she loved the outdoors. 

I ran my first ultramarathon knowing that my lovely young friend didn't find solace in the end, not here on earth anyway. She might not ever get to enjoy the beauty of the desert, the blue sky, the solitude and purity of the desert. Saying she's in a better place is a hopeful platitude, but it's what I hope. I didn't do my final test run of all my gear because I fell into a pit of grief, guilt, and fogginess. So I had a couple of miles of water spurting in the desert. The water in the desert reminded me of the fertility and joy and redemption, second chances, life itself.

Did I bring her memory with me? Not for the whole race. Sometimes the grief jumped out at me. But mostly I drank in the happiness I was feeling. That's the thing about dying: you go somewhere we can't reach, until we go there too. So we are left over here, earthside, wondering what to do.

I think Charles Bukowski said it better than I ever could. Thank you, desert. Thank you, body. Thank you, family. Thank you, Kristina. Thank you, friends, sun, wind, clouds. 

The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.
there is light somewhere.
it may not be much light but
it beats the darkness.
be on the watch.
the gods will offer you chances.
know them.
take them.
you can’t beat death but
you can beat death in life, sometimes.
and the more often you learn to do it,
the more light there will be.
your life is your life.
know it while you have it.
you are marvelous
the gods wait to delight
in you.

Birthing a Marathon?

mile 22

The way I see it, running a marathon and birthing a baby are very similar. I have attended well over 500 births (but under 1000 for those who are into numbers), and these three answers are the most common ones to the prenatal question I ask: "What is your greatest fear?"

• Dying
• Pooping in public
• Not being able to do it

I am a ravenous running nerd, and I read everything and anything to do with running, and I believe these are the three main fears of the marathon runner too: no one wants to die (hence the plethora of articles about people dying at races; no one wants to have to poop suddenly while running (more articles; EVERYONE worries about not finishing a race, for whatever reason.

When I am accompanying a pregnant woman, I may speak with her about her fears for the coming event. The number one fear is that her or the baby will die. Number two, fittingly, is that she will poop during the pushing phase. And number three, as in a marathon, is that she will have a DNF which actually is impossible in birth but, unfortunately, a definite possibility in every runner's mind.

Birthing and Running are the Same?

No, they're not the same, obviously, you can't compare a baby to a piece of bling!

You can compare some of the feelings, though. The hours, days, weeks and months of preparation. Finding a program or a method that matches your philosophy, or hiring a running coach (or a doula - we used to be called "birth coaches"); learning about nutrition; getting excited, then nervous, then depressed, then excited again; talking to other people who have done it ... of course, if this is your first baby or your first big race, all these feelings and choices will be felt and made in technicolor. If you're more experienced, you will still feel the same range of emotions, and you'll be "in the club".

That's where the similarities end, unfortunately.

Running the Drugs?

Runners, imagine this: You're at mile ten, almost half way through your marathon. You're keeping a good pace, maybe you started a little too fast, because this is your first. Your training went well, and you're feeling good. Mile eleven, you have to pee. You take a quick pee stop. At the next station you have a sip of Gatorade and you start to feel a little queasy, the way you ALWAYS DO when you have some carbs around miles ten to fifteen. You know this about yourself. It's a thing.

Suddenly, a car drives up and a bunch of people jump out, looking at their watches. "Your pace has slowed down too much! You're not gonna make your BQ! You might die!". In your head you know they're wrong, and you try to shut them out and run faster, anyway. But their worried expressions start to seep through your endorphin rush. "Oh, shit, does my heart feel weird?"

You let them know you're feeling a little tired, and you had that queasy feeling. All of a sudden, the car speeds up and they make you an offer: "Take some drugs, get in the back of the car, we'll drive you to the finish line, you'll get the bling anyway, all good, no shame, no worries." You protest - you're okay! But a voice in the back of your head says that actually, you're not okay. You need the drugs and you need the car ride. By this time, you're at mile 20 and you hit the wall. Take the drugs, get in the car.

Real Emergencies

Of course real emergencies exist, both during marathons and during birth. In those cases, there's no question that you need the damn car, preferably an ambulance, and you need drugs, and speedy medical intervention, and everything you could possibly grab for a life-saving conclusion to the RARE instance when you are actually in danger of losing your life (or if you're birthing, your baby's life).

Your Choice?

I'm not one of those airy-fairy militants who advocates a natural, candlelit birth for every woman. I've seen babies die, and I've seen women close to dying (Thank God for modern medicine!!). But I  do advocate CHOICE. I was just speaking to a fellow runner this morning. She's been running for twenty years and she's never gone further than 15k. She never races. She runs slow. Me, I've been running seriously for just over five years and I love to race. I push myself ... not too much ... but just enough.

I was at a race about a month ago - it was kind of tough: it was pretty cold and at one point the course turned into a muddy, icy puddle for about a kilometer, and it was a loop, so we had to do the puddle twice, once about the middle of the 21 k and once closer to the end. As I was coming up to the first mud puddle, I saw a runner with a weird gait... I got closer and I saw one of the yellow-jacketed medical people going over to him with a concerned air. The runner told him to go away. As I got closer, I heard him groaning with every step. He sounded like a woman in the deepest labor, feeling that baby's head right down low. A second medical person ran up to him: "Non, non, ça va, merci." ("No, no, it's okay, thank you!") I ran past him and didn't look back.

Here's the thing: I knew that if he was in that much pain already, there were two possibilities: either he would not finish the race, and spend months if not years fixing the damage he had wrought on his body; or he would finish the race and ditto. But, for whatever reason, he MADE THAT CHOICE and it was his to make. Obviously, if he was in cardiac arrest, or lying on the ground unable to move, the paramedics would be in there in a microsecond, doing what they need to do. But he was birthing a marathon HIS WAY.

Birth

I've witnessed a tiny number of births that ended up to be medical emergencies, where mother or baby could have died. But most of them are normal, scary, joyful, life-changing, painful, pleasurable, primal events. Unfortunately, the people who work in the maternity care field are usually unwilling to adopt the "marathon runner" model, and instead use the "air crash" model. In the latter, birth is simply an accident waiting to happen. In the "marathon runner" model, the birthing woman could be treated like a marathon runner: during the nine months before the event make sure you are healthy (I got a cardiac ultrasound done last year before starting my marathon training because of a risk of familial cardiomyopathy); create your team; and start preparing.

Let's skip ahead to the "event": the runner has been trainings for months. She followed a training program, or had a coach guide her through the realities of training to run 26 miles. The birthing woman has been preparing for this day for months as well, and she has been working with her team to make the upcoming event as pleasurable as possible.  Both the runner and the birthing woman have possibly been reading everything they can about their upcoming event, and both may have suffered setbacks along the way.

Running

And, now, what happens when you're running a marathon? You join a big, happy crowd of people, and you start. As you run the miles, you are handed water, energy drinks, yummy gels, bananas. All along the route there are smiling people, holding funny signs, cheering you on, giving you high fives ... letting you know you're doing great!

No one looks at you with a worried look, even if you're the oldest person in the race and the slowest (happened to me on my 60th birthday), they just keep on smiling and cheering, unless, like I said, you're on the ground.

Then why, oh why, did my lovely, young, strong, healthy, well-fed, happy labouring clients get the hairy eyeball from the staff when all they were doing was, basically, the marathon of the day. No smiles, no happy people handing you cute cups of water, no cute cups of energy drinks, no gels, no bananas, no funny signs, no high fives.

The epidural rate for first time mothers in Montreal hospitals is over 90% (don't look at the published statistics, they include second-timers who know better, and pull that statistic down to around 60%). Why? Because we focus on the fear aspect (YOU COULD DIE!!), instead of the fun aspect (YOU GO GIRL!!).

Fun Stuff

Yes, the truth is that running a marathon is just plain more fun, and more pleasurable, and better appreciated, than bringing another human into the world. Weird.

So, I guess that's why I don't attend births in the hospital too much anymore. It just kind of tickles me when I imagine birthing mamas being treated like runners - and how different it is from the reality:

"hey, I know you're planning on running the Barkely, but it looks really dangerous. I think you should run it attached to an IV pole."

Or, "hey, I know you're 60 and you're planning on competing in the World Marathon Challenge. This is super dangerous, why don't you just get really stoned and we will drive you around - you deserve it!"

Or, "you know you could die doing that? Running a marathon/birth/solo travel/sailing/(fill in the blank) is just too dangerous."

Yes, I know I'm gonna die one day, and I'll let you in on a secret - so are you. And so is everybody. But I really wanna have fun while I'm doing this crazy little thing called life. Spread the Love!

Is Social Media Destroying my Joy?

On the metro in the morning I wear my disguise. I dress up as a middle-aged woman going to work. Which is what I am.

It's pretty nice because people give me their seat, which I like.

But every Sunday I go for a nice long run.

I've been doing long races since 2015, when I ran my first half-marathon. I love running!

Or at least I used to. But these days I feel clogged up with information, advice, opinions, reports, essays, books, photos ... it's all very heavy and it's making me feel bloated and uncomfortable.

There are countless articles, scholarly and otherwise, about the effects of social media on our "self-esteem". But that term itself is a modern take on an ancient concern: Who am I? Where am I? And what does it all mean? "Self-esteem" is a way of describing a certain contentment with the way things are, or rather, with the way I Am. "Self-esteem" inspects how I feel about myself. And what better way to increase my "self-esteem" than to present pleasant images to others that will reveal how truly wonderful I really am.

Right?

The problem is, everybody is posting those images, and some people are better at it than others, and some people even hire other people to post them, so we really don't know where to stand. That's just the tip of the iceberg. The bigger picture is that all of our activities - from the most banal (walking the dog? giving a three year old some cereal?) to the most intimate (giving birth) to the most impressive (running a 3 hour marathon at age 60) - all of these activities that we love to do, or the ones we do by rote, or the special unique events in our lives - they're all bunched together, shouted out to the world, commented on, "liked" or not, and then forgotten.

Don't tell me that you've never been doing something and, as you're doing it, you're thinking about what to post about it. Oh, I know there are purists like my husband who - honestly, people! - uses Facebook for what it is worth - funny animal videos. But most of us who are online are online way too much, and thinking about being online way too much, and we are turning ourselves into something I'm not sure is such a great idea.

Or are we? My state of mind when I made this pre-Olympics video with my son was one of good humor, happiness, and strength. I make some fun of myself, and I was clearly having a good time. So what has led me to the point I am at now? When I'm taking myself so seriously, checking my paces, weighing myself, jumping from one running program to the next, not satisfied with my progress.

Progress?

We are using social media to mark our progress. Who's better - using any marker you and your friends choose to use - most radical, most downtrodden, most fertile, most religious, most athletic, best cook, cutest pets...

Oh, don't get me wrong! I'm still going to post my cafe events, funny things I find, my haunted houses. But I'm planning on going real easy when it comes to virtual running. My body needs to run, fine. My "self-esteem" can stay at home.

8 Kilometer Thoughts

Mostly cloudy, -12 (Celsius)

Hmmm glad I wore my cleats, it's super icy. Kind of getting sick of Kenny Rogers, gotta get some new tunes. No! Summertime Blues? Next...

Okay, out and back, four k out then turn... or should I shake things up a bit? Ok, light's green, it's gonna be an out and back.

So, why can't I be happy? I'm always miserable with everything. I just need to live in the moment. Mindfulness. That's what running can teach me. Good. Good to run. Remember how grateful you are to have a healthy strong body. 

I'm gonna go the long way around this roundabout, there we go. Gotta remember to do the same on the way back. Na, not feeling it today. 2 k blues. Weird how that happens. 

Great song! Love the Wood Brothers. Damn my nose is running a lot today. They said the sun was gonna come out. But no. Grey shitty day. Montreal. Why can't I be happy here? Ok, stay in the moment. Be happy! Breathe!

So, yeah, the difference between Goals and Expectations. That's gotta be my mantra from today on forever. No expectations. Ok, like, if I have a goal to, let's say, finish a marathon. That's a goal. Expectation to win? Haha. Expectations that the dishes'll be done when I get home? No! Not realistic, also I shouldn't think about what other people are gonna do. Ok, my mantra for the rest of my life. No expectations. But goals! Marathon. Training. Being a better person. All that. 

Damn! What a beautiful day! I'm so lucky to have a healthy bod. Gotta be careful to NEVER cross in the middle, runners get hit by cars because of the high. Wait for the light. No cars coming, ok, go! 

Yikes, that was a serious piece of ice. Like a skating rink, hard, transparent. You can still slip if you're wearing cleats. I hate falling. Gotta learn how to fall.

Yeah, stairs, I love stairs. Up, cross over the tracks, down. Good one! Great song! Love the old Led Zeppelin for good running tunes. Ya, the good old days. Revolution! Yeah. Damn my hankie is getting so wet. Hey another runner! 

So don't wave back, bitch. Was she wearing cleats? I'm a pussy. She was going faster than me. Taller too. I look like a short fat hedgehog running along. Who am I kidding. 

Oh, 50%, ok time to turn around, yay I don't have to cross R. street, never get the light. Nice, I feel good! four k already? Great! Ya, a little detour, the long way around, better. A fucking Maserati? Who needs a Maserati? What is wrong with everyone? Capitalism! Bullshit. Well, you're living it. I should just move up to my mountain. 

How fast am I going? Damn, speed it up. That's better. Ok, no checking my watch until I'm at 90%. Ok, what's 8 k divided by 10? Like, four fifths, and what's four fifths of 8 k? Ok, so 8 divided by five is. Ok, so five miles divided by five is one. But that's not right because I have 15% left, so what's 5% of five miles? Damn I looked at my watch.

Ok, sprint home, one k left. For fuck's sake, why are you PARKING on the sidewalk? Damn, you shouldn't get mad when you're running, mindfulness, happiness, feel good, ok, 110%...done. Yeah good run!

My 10 Favourite Running Books (and 3 extras)

I love to read. My night table is piled with books and my house is a testament to my love of reading. Bookshelves are packed, sometimes sideways, and I have a hard time deciding which ones to give away if they get too crowded. My cafe is a reader's haven, and the main library in downtown Montreal is one of my favourite places. And along with the regular social media platforms that everyone lives on, one of my favourites is Goodreads (check out my 10 favourite running books!).

So, of course, I love to read about my other favourite activity: running. Although I would never want to mix them. I am not that person who runs on a treadmill with a book in front of her. No, my idea of reading involves sitting or lying down, preferably with a hot beverage or tasty carb.

Here are my ten favourite running books. Scroll or read down to find out what my all-time favourite is!

Number Ten

I am not a mathematician! And I don't organize my life too far ahead. Ok, I did a 26 week marathon training plan. But it was an easy one, and it was 26 weeks long precisely because it had space for life to happen. This book is well written, and very informative. It contains the "every running book" chapters on nutrition, injury, and has some strength training exercises and flexibility stretches included.

The running schedules are detailed and specific and include programs for beginners to advanced for halfs, marathons and BQs. But the complicated equations are just too much trouble for me to figure out. For example, I'm supposed to do this on the first run of week nine: "2x(6x400) (90sec RI); (2 min 30 sec RI between sets)". By week nine I am already juggling work, home and family and I can't be bothered to 1. figure out what it means and 2. spend fifteen minutes setting my watch. So, this book is great for running geeks but not for people with busy lives.

Number Nine

  

The Illegal, by Lawrence Hill (of The Book of Negroes fame), is not a running manual and has no clever tips for runners. It is a novel, set in a futuristic African country, about a runner who has to make life-and-death decisions that revolve around his running talents and how they are used. Tired after your long run? Laid up with an injury? Read this!

Number Eight

This entertaining book follows the author around the world as he explores what makes us run. He is a professor of English literature so the book is literate and fun. Slightly uppity at times, almost making you feel evilly happy when his marathon time ends up being five hours (he made a comment about middle-aged women runners at some point in the book). But a fun ride and worth reading if you get a chance.

Number Seven

This is a little gem of a book is a collection of essays by philosophers who run or runners who philosophize. "Long-Distance Running and the Will to Power" is the first essay. There are essays on pain; running and the existential conundrum; running and freedom; passion and marathons (and how a zombie could not run a marathon); and a philosopher's argument for running to music. If you think, run, and read then this book is for you!

Number Six

  

I picked this up in a little second hand bookstore, along with George Orwell's Brave New World. I was six weeks away from my first marathon and I was reading everything I could. This book is for the regular person who wants to run a marathon, and it's good: friendly, down-to-earth, and packed with some great tips. I found the training plans a little too cerebral (heart rate, intensity rate, percentages ... can't do 'em ... but someone less impatient than me would enjoy them!). It's a fun book to have around.

Number Five

 

I had read about this book and I really wanted to read it. So one day I was at our lovely huge library downtown, and I decided I would get it. The catalogue said it was available. It was winter; I was wearing my winter coat and boots and carrying a heavy backpack. I ran up the three flights of stairs to the stacks and looked for my book. I went and asked the librarian, who said it should be there. Went back and searched. She looked it up, came and searched. By now I was in a full-blown winter gear sweat and feeling stressed. Haha, no mindfulness there! A few days later, a customer brought a copy in to my cafe for me to read. Patience is a virtue! The book is a great read, and tells the author's story while speaking of Buddhist meditation, western business, and running marathons with a mindful approach.

Number Four

Runner's World published this book about ten years ago, but it is still relevant and super informative for us women runners. It has chapters on your regular runner's issues: training, FAQs, moving forward from a beginners to an intermediate runner, and racing. But the beauty of the book is its specific tips and insights into running as a woman: safety, balancing our busy lives, running during the childbearing year, the older woman, running and adolescence, body image, nutrition are all topics that we as women runners are interested in, and we can find answers in this great book. Every woman runner wants a running buddy like this one!

Number Three

I wanted this book. I wanted something that would light a fire under my lazy runner's block soul and get me out there again. I was feeling bad after my first marathon. Very bad. I was a grand total of 61 years old, I'd been running seriously for about five years, and I did my first marathon in 5:34 and I felt so disappointed in myself! BooHoo!! So I wanted to straighten myself out and I thought this book could help.

Yes, I can swear with the rest of them, in a couple of different languages even. But I don't like unnecessary cursing. They just put F*UCK on the cover to get people's attention, and I think that's stupid. So, I covered my copy with a pretty race bib:

Simon Marshall is a physician and professor of sports and exercise psychology. He is married to endurance athlete Lesley Paterson, and between the two of them they have produced an excellent book. Marshall explains how the athlete's brain works, during training, during racing and afterwards. He has filled the book with interactive exercises, tips, suggestions and hard-ass advice for us all, whether you are a runner with Imposter Syndrome, or a triathlon athlete who wants to get better at their game.

Did it light my fire? Yes! I am back on track. Most importantly, it helped me understand why I was feeling so down and what to do about it next time.

Number Two

An amazing story that traces our ability to run, and explores what makes humans different from all other animals: we are born to run! Read the book and find out how and why.

Number One

Everyone should read this book! It's written by a champion, but she doesn't talk down to us lowly back-of-the-packers. Her story, and her struggles, and her triumphs come alive on the page. Her attitude and her focus teach everyone about the advantages of keeping a positive attitude. This book can change your life!




So much more to read! Suggestions?

One Foot In Front of the Other: A Meditation

Today I went for my Sunday long run. It was definitely a "one foot in front of the other" kind of run. I felt tired and cranky. I ran my first five miles quite quickly - without even realizing it. A 10:31 mile isn't fast for many of you, but for me it's an achievement. The second 5.4 miles I ran with my running buddy, then she left and I ran home. My legs felt leaden, my heart was heavy. I passed five youths in the park, sprinted across the muddy parking lot, and felt so happy to be in Montreal where there wasn't a real threat from those young men.

I've been dedicating all my miles for Mollie Tibbets (#MilesforMollie) who was killed while out for a run during the summer, and whose body was found on my 62nd birthday. She was so young she could actually be my granddaughter, if I'd had a child at 20 who had a child at 22. Funny how I tend to do calculations like that at around mile ten.

Running can be a meditation. Along with considering how cold your buttocks are, how pretty the leaves look, the unevenness of the sidewalk, the pedestrians in your way, you also have time to really think about things. My phone died after the first five miles so when I split with my buddy I ran in silence. There was a lot to think about today: I am organizing a fun new moon get-together for November 7; I thought about the tragic killings that happened on Saturday in Pittsburgh; of course I gave my five children some running time. I wrote a couple of sentences, made a couple of lists. I did some head-to-toe form recons. My left foot has the tendency to flip outwards and I have to consciously correct it: here's a great article on running form.

About three miles from home the weariness set in. My thighs felt like lead. So unusual for me: I often feel better and better the longer I run. I have been taking on too many problems and worries that are really not my own. I had an episode (no, three, actually - funny how life demands that you respond to the issue at hand) concerning boundaries and where I delineate them. And that nagging feeling that, yes, my alt-right Facebook friends were right: we should just all carry guns. I've personally only even seen a real gun up close once. Not counting the sub-machines guns the carabinieri carry threateningly in Italy. And I would describe myself as a pacifist. But would I, if I had been carrying a little pistol to protect myself while running (theoretically), would I have aimed and tried to kill that guy who was mowing down innocent old people who were praying?

I don't know. I've killed chickens, ducks, geese and three turkeys after all. I've witnessed many births, I've watched humans die. But, as I mentioned, I am Canadian, and we aren't in the habit of taking the law into our own hands. Maybe I would have tried to disarm him somehow? It's a moot point anyhow. The scary fact is that those people were killed because they were Jews. No other reason. 

So that nasty little fact was also roiling around in my head during my run. The weather didn't help either: temperatures hovering around freezing; freezing rain and some wet snow. Anyway, I finished my run, got home - a little wet, cold, and a little sore - and stepped right into a warm home full of friendly, generous people.

In the end, all I can do is count my blessings. One after the other. One blessing, one foot in front of the other.

Spread love.

Three Things I Learned From my First Marathon (and didn't expect to!)

I learned a lot from running my first marathon. I spoke about it here. But there were three things I learned from my first marathon that I didn't expect!

Running a marathon isn’t easy. Ever. It’s not supposed to be. Some would say it’s the hardest of all the races: a half marathon is definitely doable – run for one to three hours and you’re done. An ultra is longer (much longer!) but you can take little breaks. But a marathon is 26.2 miles of pushing yourself to get your best time in a long, long distance. I learned three things running my first marathon that I didn't expect to.

I thought I would learn stuff from the process. Like, how determined I can be (very, it turns out). I started a 26-week training program in November and trained through the whole winter, and winter was a doozy.

I ran outside in frigid temperatures. I did my last long runs in April, when I still had ice crystals snapping at my face. I ate well. I went to bed early and did my runs, even on the treadmill if I had to.

I learned about how fast I am. I’m kind of average, for my age (my marathon time was 13 minutes slower than the average woman 60-69). I learned how great it feels to beat your PR: one of my training runs was a 21 k so I decided to run the Hypothermic Half and beat my PR by 7 minutes! I learned how it feels to run a marathon. It feels good, hard, inspiring, and a little daunting.

An unexpected bonus to this achievement was a sense of accomplishment that lasts. I don't feel self-conscious about my body; my shyness level has gone down; I feel more self-confident, because I know that I can run 26.2 miles.

I also learned a whole lot more that I really wasn’t expecting.

The Three Unexpected Lessons I Learned (and some philosophical ponderings)

1. Running is Life

I didn’t know. I didn’t understand the extent that my daily, lived experiences mattered to the outcome of my race. I learned that you can’t separate what happens to you: to your body, your mind, your emotions; you can’t separate your experience from your running being.

In that sense, as a midwife, I see more and more that the act of running a race is so much like the act of giving birth. When a woman gives birth, she is the product of everything that has happened to her up until the moment she births her child. How she gives birth is hugely affected by her life experiences up until that moment. Of course, in life there are random exterior factors like a grumpy nurse, a blister, bad weather, or an unforeseen birth complication. But generally, in my experience, the way that birth unfolds is pretty much a continuation of how that person’s life has unfolded up until now.

And, of course, time and existence being what it is, everything that has happened up until now is also happening now, so how I am reacting to the “now” and to the past, and to everything I have experienced or I am now experiencing, also blends into my experience as a whole; how it unfolds, and also how I feel about it unfolding (which in turn affects the “how”). So in birth, I can be terrified and traumatized by past events, and I can let those events dictate how I will feel during the primal experience of giving birth. With the right support, and a sprinkling of luck, that fear and trauma can be transcended. But without support, education and training, the main emotion throughout the experience will be fear and that will color the memory of the experience and the experience itself.

Racing is Birthing?

But I didn’t give birth; I just ran a marathon! Yes, true (I did give birth actually, five times). Obviously giving birth to another human is more primal, more important, more useful than running 26.2 miles. But the dynamic is the same. Everything I had experienced up to and including the race profoundly affected the race, my feelings about it, my body, and my ability to succeed.

The Nitty-Gritty?

Okay, here’s the nitty-gritty: the story that must be told so that you can figure out what I’m really talking about. My training went okay. I started in November and dutifully crossed the days off as the winter progressed. I felt good. I was getting faster, or at least I was feeling stronger. I got a little time out of the cold in January, went away for a week to a runner’s paradise – Lisbon. By March my long runs were increasing and by early April I was starting to feel tired. Not tired, well yes tired but just “blah”. Like, blah about training. Blah about everything. I spoke to a trainer and she rewrote my program a little, added some longer runs, suggested I do timed runs instead of distance for the really long ones, suggested a taper (that’s when you start running less as you enter the last two to three weeks before your race). I felt a little nervous after I spoke to her. “Can I really do this?” “Am I gonna finish in six hours???”

Mid-April, things were starting to turn against me. I run a café, it’s amazing, business started to boom like never before (Yay!). I was up at 6:30 every morning to open, and my runs were after work with a long run on Sunday.

I was dealing with some emotional issues during the last weeks of April. I couldn’t shake them; felt sad, down, and fatigued. I know that May is my sad month. I have no idea why. Do y’all feel this way at a certain time of year? But I kept training, and kept doing my long runs.

I fell apart during the taper, filling up the time that I spared from doing long runs with extra busy work at home and at the café. I stayed up late on weekend nights even though I didn’t want to. I started feeling physically sick and missed a really fun race (WingsforLife) because I couldn’t get out of bed and make it down there. And because I figured I’d be the oldest person there, and everyone else would be French (Google language issues Montreal).

I still didn’t get it. I uber-organized. Booked the Airbnb, the flights, planned the food for the weekend. By the time I got on the plane, I was exhausted. I slept the hour flight. Coming down the stairs at the airport I tripped and almost fell. When I got to our place, I realized I hadn’t packed warm enough clothing (luckily Mother Nature smiled the day of the race and my gear was perfect for the weather). I was so tired I spent Friday night and Saturday in a daze. Sunday morning I got dressed and headed to the race. I wore my hydration pack, just like on my training runs. In the back of my head was the rationale that if the water stands closed down I would still have water. The race limit was six hours; of course I would have water!

As I started my race, I put on my music (just one earbud, like they said). I just didn’t get into the groove. Not one of my favourite tracks was getting me going; in fact looking back I don’t remember any super fun moments from that race. Of course, I remember with huge gratitude and love when my husband met me at the halfway mark, and when he greeted me at the finish line with flowers (it was Mother’s Day). And when my sister rode what seemed like a huge bicycle up the trail and cheered me on for my last four miles. But for every other race, and many of my runs, I can hear a song and remember exactly where I was running when that song bounced into my head. Not for this race. Not one.

Which leads me to my next lesson: Body is Mind

2. Body is Mind

I learned that you can’t just train your body and ignore your mind. We don’t understand how every single thought and feeling dips into our physical existence. But it does. I felt fit. I felt strong. I felt capable. But I was planning to wear my hydration pack, just in case. Somewhere in me was a thought, or a doubt, that I would be so slow that I needed to carry extra water. Emotionally, I was sad. I was spinning in tired circles wondering about how to be a better person. I wasn’t feeling bold and strong emotionally or mentally. I was feeling tired, run-down, and in need of a vacation from everything.

So what happened when I started running my first marathon? I had been spinning in such worried little circles that by the time I was ready to run, my mind switched off and stopped working for me. In a good race, your mind and your emotions do fifty percent of the work. You feel good, you run well; you feel better; you run better. Your music is right; everything feels good. You are on top of the world; you run straight and tall. Your breathing comes naturally, your shoulders are relaxed, your gait is fast and natural.

My mind switched off because it couldn’t stay on and run a race. I was too full of questions and worries: work, home, family. Nothing could quieten my scrabbling mind so it decided to check out. And what was I left with? My body! And, of course, it could run a marathon. I ran the distance. I plodded to the finish line. My shoulders drooped, my legs wouldn’t move right, my spirits were low, but I did it!

Now I know that physical training is not enough. I have to train my mind and my emotions to work with me and for me when I run. And when that is happening, then another wonderful thing happens. Life itself gets better! When I will myself to run tall and listen to my breath, I feel better and I can run better. When I change a feeling of resentment or anger into one of gratitude or love, I feel better and I run better. When I start to practice these transformations so that I run better, they naturally spill over into my life. It’s pretty easy for me to feel really good about the time I ran – I’m 61, I’ve been running seriously for about four years, and I did my first marathon in 5:34. Yay! It was harder the other day when I felt like my husband was being controlling. I started to feel resentful, then I switched it around in my head and started to feel grateful that he was organizing the thing instead of me having to. And of course I felt better, he felt better, and I’m sure our feelings ran in our blood to make our bodies better and stronger.

So, life influences running influences life. The mind and emotions are deeply and profoundly caught in our bodies. But just knowing this and being able to write about it and do it aren’t enough:

3. Training Really Counts!

No matter how great I’m feeling, even if I’ve managed to completely eliminate negative feelings, train my mind to work for me and my emotions not to jeopardize me, I still need to train right.

This just means that you have to find a program and follow it. Find a program that works for you, or if you can afford it and you need it, then get yourself a trainer who can personally help you reach your goal. Once you’ve found your program, stick with it, and do exactly what it says. Speed work is speed work. Track work is track work. Do the work that you are told to do – it will make a huge difference. Strength training is also something that its easy to forget about, especially if you don’t have time and you’re already putting so much time into your runs. But it’s essential to help your body move through those final miles with grace and speed.

Most importantly, train yourself to have fun when the going gets tough. For my first marathon, the going got tough way before I even started, so I was running into a headwind made up of my own emotional fatigue. Love every minute of it; teach yourself how to experience joy even when your run is hard. You’ll see; joy will spread.

The Perfect Run? It's All in your Head!

The Perfect Run?

Does it exist? Of course it does! When you're out the door, on a beautiful day, with nothing to do but spend the next couple of hours running. Your shoes are perfectly tied, your clothes fit. It's a lovely warmish dry day. You didn't eat too much or too little, you have nothing to worry about ... you're in heaven! You're gonna have a perfect run!

Reboot.

Then there are those other runs, the ones from the dark side.

Yesterday I headed out for a long run - 3 3/4 hours worth - and I knew it wouldn't be good. I couldn't find the right clothes; my hair was itchy down my back; I realized way too late in the day I hadn't eaten enough, so I gobbled down some crusty toast and cashew butter just before leaving, and  tried to make a protein shake but I forgot to put the lid on properly, at least I was near the sink so when I shook it most of the explosion landed .... you get the picture. Anyway, I headed out and started putting those feet one after the other.

Reflections.

You know when you're running, and you feel pretty good, tall and svelte, running across a beautiful meadow in your mind? Then you catch a glimpse of yourself in a store window? That's right. There she was, Mrs. Tiggywinkle, bouncing along, with her pink bobble hat bouncing on top of her head. And she was going so slowly! She checked her watch. Yip. Going slow.

More Reflections.

Then I started talking to myself. I started trying to pull myself away from the gloom that had descended upon me over the past few days. The best way to do this, I find, is just to concentrate on the body. What's happening with my breath? Is my chest open? How are my shoulders? Is my torso straight? Hands relaxed by my sides? Is my jaw clenched? Head upright? How's my gait? Are my hips working well? How are my feet landing? That little knee pain I had, what's happening with that? How many steps am I taking per minute? They say 180 is good. For a while I run ...two...three...one ... two ... three ...all good.

Onward!

I decided I would run this 225 minute run in three stages: the first stage would be hills, up to "the mountain" and around there on the trails for a bit. I got there and there was still lots of snow. Staying on the roads and sidewalks was easier, so I lengthened the next leg and ran far, far into the east end of the city. The third leg was easier in a way: I knew I was going home and I knew I would achieve my time goal. But harder because I'm learning that at around the three-hour mark I get kind of bored with my own company, and my legs start to get a little heavy.

I had some fancy sports jelly-beans with me that helped with my energy level, and a nice backpack with water, so physically I was set. But mentally? Not good! My mind wouldn't stop burrowing around with this and that thought, and any time I would catch one of those squirrelly things, it would run away and then sneak up on me a couple of kilometres down the road. Thoughts of my finances, the cafe finances; my kids and if they are happy; my husband and our life together; the refugees I didn't really help much in Greece last year; why refugees anyway; why is there evil in the world, and I would remember to concentrate on my breath, my gait, my steps ... and have a little peace and then it would all start again.

The Triumphant Return

Anyhow, I ran home, stretched, ate a burger, and all was well.

Yes, reader, you guessed it.

I had a great week! Really! Okay, the cafe was packed (yay!), I had lots to do at home to prepare for Passover (yay!), I got my two short runs in and my cross-training (yoga - yay!), and then BOOM!

Friday afternoon I'm clearing my flowers (spring -yay!). I did a nice deep squat and could hardly get up - my knee!! So, RICE for the weekend, and no stairs, and no running, and no long run especially (it was gonna be four hours) ... and a lot of time to think.

Yes, "we are made of dreams and bones". Bones, muscles, fascia, all that physical stuff ... super important, especially when you're training to run a marathon. Also when you're giving birth, making love, eating...But the "dream" part - without that, we're nothing! If you don't have that dream, rather, if you allow yourself to grumble instead of dream; if you bring your unhappinesses  "along inside your soul", and let them drag behind you, then your body will suffer.

Lesson Learned?

The lesson I learned from my knee? Just as I check my water, phone for music, watch, that I'm wearing the right clothes for the weather, that I've had my last-minute pee and that I've eaten enough ... I need to check my mental state and throw my emotional garbage out before my long run. Because if I don't, it will grind away at my joints, crumple up my fascia, brittle down my cartilage and generally make a mess of things - the longer the run, the bigger the mess.

In life, as in birth work, as in running - leave your ego at the door, lace up, and go have fun! You will get your perfect run.

My Personal Best: Training for A Marathon

The Hypothermic?

A couple of weeks ago I ran a race aptly titled the Hypothermic Half Marathon. I'm training for a marathon now, and I'm well past the half-way mark, and my long runs are long ... so I figured I would like some company for this one, so I registered and ran.

It was fun! I chopped nine minutes off my previous Half Marathon speed (2:24:21 from 2:33:31 if you're interested). I had a hoot! I started off right next to the 2:30 bunny but I realized I was able to go faster and steadier on my own, so I did! But a couple of other women in my category ran faster than me, so I ended up third. But as the oldest woman in the race (over 500 people) I did well.

So? Why do I do this? Why do I run and train and sweat, and then write about it?

Reasons Why I Am Training For A Marathon

One main reason: because I CAN. And don't get me wrong, I'm not ignoring those who CAN'T. In fact, I think about them every day. I think about my cousin Becky, whose every day must be a marathon. I think about the Syrians I met last year, who spend their time figuring out how to rebuild their lives. I think about women everywhere who are too scared, too sick, too busy, too sad to go outside and play, and I've decided, after a lifetime of dedication to caring for and helping those less privileged than I, that I am gonna run to my heart's content, and hope that my happiness fills the world and makes it a better place. (Check this out if you really want to make a difference!)

Other reasons too:

because, weirdly, running teaches me about life. Training for a marathon actually shows me how better to live my life. How does that work? I have a goal these days, and that it to run 26 miles FAST. To get there, to succeed, I have to plan. I have to be determined, and dedicated, and disciplined. I have to sleep, eat, and drink right. I have to do my short runs and my long run every week, without fail, unless I'm injured or sick.

And how on earth do I do that?

With a cafe to run, a family to care for, a house to keep clean, and an online business to grow (so that I can start my nomad life in a few years, but more on that in a bit). Oh, and did I mention I'm hosting a Retreat this summer? So, yes, training for a marathon has allowed me to understand that there's one thing that makes the difference, given that the physical playing field remains the same (I am not sick, injured, or living in a dangerous place, or without food), and that is my attitude. The way I look at my life, or my training, or my family, husband, my cafe, my running buddies, even my dog, or my bank account ... the way I look at everything colours how I can perform. Not just at a race, but behind the counter at my cafe, on the phone with a student, hanging out on the couch with my husband.

Zen of Running?

What is this magical way, then, Yoda? It is the way of the run: to take one step after the first, and then the next and the next. To be fully conscious of the steps, of the way your body moves, how it fits into the space around it. Is my body tall and light? Am I crouching down? What is hurting? How can I fix it? Where is my breath? I need to breath slowly and surely ... in ... out ... in ... step ... step ... step ...

This weird and frivolous hobby has taught me that to be in the moment and to love what you are doing when you're in it, is the key to happiness.

Other reasons why I am Training for a Marathon: I love how my legs are getting bigger and bigger.

Secret Club

Also, I have discovered a secret club that I am now a member of. It's the club of other people like me who love to run. We love to play, and speed our bodies around town or country. It's a club where, even though I'm 61, and I don't wear Lululemon, and I don't go that fast ... when I pass a runner in Montreal, Toronto, Lisbon, Italy .... Greece ... we give each other the secret nod and let each other know we know. It's a club where I can chat about long run nutrition for at least a half hour to someone I've never met.

And don't forget the bling! When I'm running a race, people I don't know high-five me. "You got this! Oui, Madame!" At the end, I get my lovely medal, and feel great, and that sense of accomplishment fills my heart. I know I've done something. Nothing too controversial, or too demanding, like getting involved with refugee politics, or being a midwife, or trying to change the world. Just a race, one step at a time, one breath at a time, one smile at a time.

Happiness

It was field hockey at a grammar school in east London that turned my mother off organized sports, and I inherited her dislike of all things “gym” for many years. The good news was that I grew up close to the Rockies and so spent much of my spare time hiking in those lovely mountains, running up and down trails like a mountain goat.

I also played the clarinet, and for fun my music teacher would get us to lie down and put heavy dictionaries on our bellies and teach us to breathe with our diaphragms. As an adult I kept myself fit: for many years I hauled cement, small children, water and wood and as we renovated and ran an old farm in Italy.

But years later, I started running. My sister took me for a run one day and I was hooked! I had run a little before then, around a park, wearing unsuitable clothing and big old tennis shoes. In 2012, just after my father died, I went for my first real run. In 2014, after my mother also passed away, I decided to try a race. In 2015 I ran my first half and since then I have run several races, and I try to run at least two or three times a week. I did a half last year on my 60^th, beating my PR by four minutes at 2:33.

Its not quantity that matters, though, with running.  That’s the beauty of the sport. Its what you do with it, how you incorporate running into your life, and what you learn from those hours on your own or with friends, moving quickly through your world, conscious of every footfall.

Everything I’ve learned running can be applied to life itself.

What have I learned?

I learned about gratitude. I’ve learned that every run is a gift; my health is a gift; every full breath I take is a gift.

I’ve learned to accept my body, which I used to look upon with disappointment and disdain. It may not be perfect, but its still running after all these years!

I learned about competition. Every runner has a competitive streak, even if you’re just competing against yourself. Healthy competition is good; comparing yourself constantly against an ideal or another person is useless.

I learned about play. Running is fun! It’s great to run through the world, by myself or with my friends or my dog. Loving what I see and what I feel.

I learned discipline. The act of lacing my shoes and piling on the layers, when it is -16 outside and a light snow blowing can be an act of defiance. Running that extra few kilometers when I’m done and I want to eat and drink is a lesson. I can use that strength when life is not going exactly the way I want it to. I can breathe and keep my mouth shut and think good thoughts.

And I’ve learned that its not “running” that taught me: it was me! I ran all those kilometers, I trained my self to be disciplined about it, I worked on strength and speed, I got up early to run before work. I rested when I had to, and learned to eat better.

The biggest lesson, though, has been about happiness. You take it where you can find it, just like you go for a run wherever and whenever you can. And guess what, I’m happy!