My First Half Marathon (Subtitle: And Now the Rocky Theme Makes me Cry)

Why does the ‘Rocky’ song make me cry? I don’t even like those movies. Yet, when the gun went off, and that song began to play, I choked up. The thousands of runners in my wave of the Manitoba Marathon ‘Intrepid Dezine’ Half Marathon, surged toward the start. We waded in the crowd, and I choked up.

It was such a journey to get here, I thought.

Four months of training ended in double knee injuries that sapped my confidence, and stole my last two long runs. I knew I could do it, but I was anticipating a lot of pain. I would be right. But right in that first mile, a thousand feet drummed around me like rain. Japanese drummers shouted and sounded the advance. We powered up onto the bridge over Bishop Grandin.

Slow down, I told myself. It would take me four miles to coast down to my projected half-marathon pace. I glided, effortlessly, through shady, wooded areas. People stood along the road, many holding signs. ‘Touch for Power’ one said, pointing at a star on the poster board. A tall, leggy girl sprinted to the side to press her finger to the star. An older runner said ‘I got it through WiFi.” I giggled.

About five miles in we passed another sign, “Worst parade ever.”

“Sorry!” I yelled, and laughed.

The first ten km passed without incident, but I could feel hip and knee pain creeping up on me. I walked through the next aid station, and the next. ‘Drink fluids’ one of the aiders yelled, ‘Course conditions are dangerously hot.’ I was starting to feel it. We crossed over the Jubilee footbridge and through mile 7. From the the pain in my hip grew from a dull ache to a nagging pain. I gritted my teeth and ran from aid station to aid station, walking the thirty seconds that it took to slog through the cup and sponge strewn stretch of pavement.

By mile eleven, I couldn’t wait for aid stations. I was taking short walk breaks every few minutes, with pain radiating from knee to hip. I tried to focus on the finish, and my family waiting, and the moment of running across the finish. I shivered in spite of the heat.

The final mile I wanted to run it straight, but I was too tired and in too much pain. I walked a short stretch, and then broke into a hobbling shuffle for the last kilometre.

And then, as I rounded the corner into the stadium, I heard the announcer boom, “Geralyn Wichers, from Steinbach.” I saw the big purple finish line. I passed another runner, trying to work up some speed.

“Go Geralyn!” I heard someone bellow. I looked up and saw my sisters brilliant pink jacket. I raised my hands over my head.

Twenty steps from the line, I saw another runner in my peripheral vision, trying to pass.

Heck no! I thought. I put every ounce of energy into a sprint, and beat them to the line. I bent down for my medal, barely registering triumph. Hot, in pain, and nauseous. But I’d finished.

To be honest, I’m proud but I’m also sad. If I’d finished my training as planned, maybe it would have gone better. Maybe I could have savoured that finish line sprint instead of hobbling across the line. I did the best I could, of course.

So, I’m going to do it again. Before I’d even run the MB marathon, I’d signed up for my next one–a little MEC Half Marathon that won’t have the numbers, the fanfare or the atmosphere. Probably there will be no one watching. But I’ll get my do over, and I have my motivation to lace up again.

Big thank you’s to the many people who messaged me encouragement. Thanks to Jessica for voluntarily getting up at 4:30 in the morning to drive me. Thanks to Mom, Dad, Derek and Jon for coming to see me finish. Seeing you at the finish line was what kept me going all these months.

Better next time.

10 Things I Didn’t Know Before Running

This week I’m celebrating my runniversary.

One year ago I was a ‘me no run’ person. I barely worked out, and I hated it. But then Verna talked me into running a 5K. I bought my first pair of bright purple New Balance shoes and downloaded ‘Couch to 5K’ onto my phone. I set out with great trepidation, barely expecting to like it.

Darn, I’ve learned a lot in the last year, and now on the eve of the eve of my first half marathon, I am enjoying the cessation of my training. I ran my last gentle four mile joke of a run yesterday morning, and today I’m enjoying laziness and a bit of nostalgia.

Oh, and McDonalds. Here’s me celebrating the last day of training by eating a QPC BLT at 12:30 at night.

Here are 10 things I didn’t know before running:

1. Compression tights are pretty awesome. Practically indecent, yes, but probably my favourite type of pant. I didn’t own a stitch of athletic gear before taking up running. These days I have a drawer full (and random pieces hanging to dry on most spare surfaces in my room).
2. How complicated running shoes are. Who knew so much technology went into two pieces of fabric and rubber? No wonder they’re so expensive. My Mizunos are hands down the most expensive pair of shoes I’ve ever owned. They’re also my constant companions, so they’d better be good.
3. A mile is not that far. I celebrated (and cried) the first time I ran a full mile, and not without good reason. These days I eat miles for lunch.
4. A ‘Runners’ High’ is one of the best feelings ever. Its that unstoppably feeling that kicks in a couple miles in, and carries me for a couple hours.
5. Exercise can be enjoyable. Not only do I love to run, but I genuinely enjoy the gym–even after shift at midnight. Me a gym rat? Hard to believe.
6. Running is the best way to get a tan. Forget the beach. Training for a half marathon is a sure recipe for a solid tan before summer has even officially started.
7. What a sports injury is like. I didn’t know I had weak knees, or a weak chest until I pushed them to full capacity. I didn’t listen to my chiropractor the first time I got a hint of a knee injury, and ended up with double knee injuries. Fortunately, caught soon enough that I’m more or less recovered three weeks later. Now I’m doing my exercises.
8. I can be athletic. Bumblebees shouldn’t fly but they do. Short, stocky people shouldn’t run but I do. I grew up believing that I wasn’t athletic and that being in shape wasn’t my thing. That was a lie. Maybe I have to work harder for it than some, but I am in shape, and I’m kinda, sorta athletic. Still can’t believe it.
9. Running is a mental game. Mental toughness is a precursor to physical toughness, and the miles are won in the mind, not just on the pavement. I used to think that ‘real’ runners floated above the pavement, but now I know that it gets easier but it never becomes effortless.
10. Miles hold memories. Specific spots on the road bring back pictures and feelings, like I’ve stepped on a button that plays back a little movie. Some are awesome, some are sad. There’s the Hespeller mile, the first I ever ran. There’s ‘the cairn’ that marked the finish line of my first 5K run. There’s this place on the bike path where, one cold February morning, I stopped and bawled because I was in the depths of depression and running couldn’t make me feel better.

This summer I plan to encapsulate memories in new spots. I want to explore my province by racing in different cities, with different people.

But for the next two days I get to relax, eat carbs, and drink lots of water. Well, actually I get to drink water, eat carbs, and be a angsty ball of nerves.

Cheers, everyone.

Long Lonely Miles and Bad Knees

“You have to take care of your Patellofemoral Syndrome, or you’ll wreck your knees.”

Just what you want to hear, right? My knees had been holding up well for the last months, ever since I’d traded my battered New Balance generic runners for a pair of Mizuno Wave Inspires. For a few weeks I’d thought I was running on clouds.

As my milage pushed upward, I added knee-strengthening leg extensions to my weight routine, using a medicine ball for extra resistance. But my knees couldn’t shape up fast enough. On Sunday, after a 12 mile run, I woke up during the night aching everywhere. By the next morning I felt better, with occasional spasms in my calves. Everything recovered faster than I expected–except for my knees. I walked gingerly. My next run was cut short, partially because of pain. My PFS was back, full force.

Funny how I can fluctuate between highs and lows so fast. The 12-miler, my longest run to date, was a triumph. I was pretty sure I was ready for my half-marathon, and my next two long runs would just cement that. A few days later I was searching for possible marathons later in the year. Still thinking seriously about that, actually. “Am I crazy?” I asked my friend, and she laughed at me.

But, according to my chiropractor, I have serious work to do. She’s prescribed me colossal amounts of leg extensions with weights. She wants me to multiply the weight I’m lifting (admittedly, just a 6lb medicine ball) by five. And I can do it. I can. I just feel discouraged and lonely today, and wonder if I’m grinding my knees into the ground or if this is just a hiccup in my long life of running?

Experienced runners, feel free to chime in here.

Even with my puny 12 mile runs, I’m in uncharted territory. None of my friends have done this before. My Grandpa (my running hero) has done this many times, having run multiple full and likely hundred of half marathons. But sometimes you want a peer to be alongside, you know? 

Anyway, I’ll take my medicine. I’ll do my knee-strengthening exercises and see what happens. 2 weeks to the taper, 4 weeks to the half-marathon.

Hitting the “This Sucks” Barrier of Half Marathon Training

Just in case I’ve scammed anyone into thinking I’m superhuman, I’d like to confess that I’ve had a series of lousy runs. Two bad runs this week (and one bad session of cross training and weight training). My seven-miler the weekend before I left for Mexico was good, but before that my runs were marked by general lack of pep. Today my legs were like lead for the entirety of my four-miler. Four miles isn’t supposed to be intimidating, but I was really hoping to set a challenging pace. No dice. I was just happy to finish.

Post-run, not looking good!

Though, for what it’s worth, I ran Abe’s Hill (our local sledding hill) three times.

This may be perfectly normal, but I have no way of knowing because I’m a first-time half-marathoner. I’m guessing I’ve just plain pushed too hard. Why else would I, usually healthy as the proverbial horse, come down with cramps or headaches or colds every second week? Right now I’m kind of scared that I’m going to get to the half marathon and choke about half way through. How many bad weeks of training can I afford to have?

I’m going to have to research this one.

Meanwhile, full of fear and discouragement, it’s a challenge to pack the gym bag or look ahead to the next day’s run. You know, I have as my blog tagline “Life is a great adventure, or nothing.” In most of the great adventure stories I’ve read or watched on the movie screen, there is a low point, or a progressive downturn before the climax and the triumph.

For instance, today I was listening to leadership author and speaker Chris Brady tell the story of Sir Sidney Smith. Smith was a sea captain and a British spy during the Napoleonic wars. Imprisoned in the Temple Prison in Paris, in danger of being executed as a spy, Smith carved into the wooden ceiling of the cell these words (quoted here as best as i can remember):

“Fortune’s wheel makes strange revolutions, it must be confessed. But for the turn ‘revolution’ to be applicable, the turn of the wheel must be complete. You [speaking to Napoleon here] are as high as you can be. Very well, I envy not your good fortune for mine is greater still. I am now as low in the career of ambition as a man can very well descend. But let this capricious dame Fortune turn her wheel ever so little, and I must necessarily mount for the same reason as you must descend.”

Not much later, Smith escaped from prison. He was given a couple of ships and commissioned to sail to Constantinople. While en route, he stopped over in Acre, Turkey, and found the citizens about to be besieged by Napoleon himself. Smith had about 5000 men, once he’d recruited local Turks and fortified the tiny town of Acre. But with a load of daring an initiative (and apparently the ability to be almost everywhere simultaneously) Smith and his men repelled Napoleons army of 10,000 eleven times and eventually forced them to retreat. Smith got his revenge on Napoleon in grand style, and effectively ended Napoleons plans to capture the east for his own new empire.

It seems a little ridiculous to equate this with my own little journey toward running my first half-marathon. But it illustrates that for one, when you are at your lowest you can’t see what your high point will look like, and second, that an ordinary person (Smith was not technically an officer when he took command of his ships, and then the battle of Acre) can with courage and daring, do great things.

It’s been my prayer that if I’m going to pour all this time and energy into training, that my first half marathon wouldn’t be just about me. It would be a way to empower others and bring glory to God. And some way or another, that is going to happen. Right now, with my feet up and aching muscles, I can’t see it. I can’t see the finish line.

But I think… I think it will be worth it.

My Half-Marathon Shoes

I had perhaps the most traumatic shoe-shopping experience of my life–and the most enlightening.

I prepare to lace up for the first time.

My first pair of runners were just the pair that fit the best and were the right price, bought at the local Shoe Warehouse. The extent of my research was ‘what’s the difference between a runner and a cross trainer?’ I had no idea if I’d even finish Couch to 5K, after all. The shoes were my Gideon’s fleece. If there was a pair for less than X dollars, I’d buy them and start running that day.

And there they were. Purple New Balance runners. I had no running gear, but I put on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and hit the pavement. That was June 2014.

Today I drove to the big city to hit up the Running Room for a real pair of runners. I wanted the whole fitting experience. I wanted to know if I walked funny, supinated, pronated, whatever all that was.

Unfortunately, despite the help of a nice young gentleman, I didn’t find any shoes there. I have weird, freak feet apparently. As a sidenote, you won’t see skinnier legs than in a running store. Not even on the catwalk in Paris.

Anyway, I moseyed on down to City Park Runners. Or I should say, I tested the full limits of my iPhone’s navigational skills. That was the traumatic part. When I finally ended up in the right store, the sales girl measured and observed and studied (I have one neutral foot, and one that pronates it seems) and then started pulling out shoes. Oh did I try on shoes, and none of them fit! Finally I found one pair to test on the treadmill. They were okay, though a bit clunky. Electric blue, too (that was fine, though). Then I found the winners, my beautiful Mizuno Inspires.

And dang, they didn’t come cheap. But I suppose education costs money. Before today I didn’t know about neutral shoes, or stability shoes, or different types of heel padding. What I wanted was a full shoe education, and it seems I got what I wanted.

And on the way home, my phone died. That was traumatic. Fortunately I was in sight of familiar territory. 🙂

I realized then, that I’d just bought my first half-marathon shoes. I’m pretty pumped about that. I’m a bit sentimental about retiring my first pair of runners, but I’m excited about where these new shoes will take me.

Repost: Motivate Yourself to Work Out in 5 Easy Steps

Oh, it makes me giggle to see how far I’ve come. I wrote this one year ago, before I’d ever dreamt of running. Now, well, It seems I’ve become a gym rat. The horror! Enjoy these 5 workout tips, from a former no-worker-outer. 🙂

Me no work out. And when I do, it must be short. Fifteen minutes max. There’s no point in buying me a gym membership because I won’t go. If I can’t work out in my pyjamas in my living room, well, it ain’t gonna happen because I ain’t doing my beached whale moves/crunches where any skinny gym rats can see me.

Science has proven that wearing something made by Lululemon causes you to burn 25% more calories

Nevertheless, I’ve worked out for two months straight now, because I have my motivation strategy all worked out. And now, you can be motivated too! Here are five steps to motivation:

1. Tell Yourself How Good it is For You

You’ll sleep better, you’ll have better
circulation. It’ll clear the mental fog–but most of all, it will keep you limber. And for me, being able to finally sit cross-legged is a big deal.

Not kidding.

That failing, move to:

2. Stand in Front of a Mirror–In Your Underwear

First, flex your muscles and admire the biceps you have developed. Second, squeeze the jelly roll around your middle. Those reverse crunches? Oh yeah, it’ll be gone.

But if that doesn’t work.

3. Kick Your Own Butt

I say to myself “Who’s the boss? Who’s the boss?”

**meekly** “I am.”

“Then get out there!”

I’ve got my game face on.

But if you’re still on the couch, try:

4. Promise Yourself Something

If I work out four times this week I’ll:

Eat chips.

Fail.

Buy the next book in The Mortal Instruments series. Ding Ding Ding!

But, if you cannot possibly bring yourself to do a squat, lunge or a step on the treadmill, there is one last maneuver you can try.

5. Watch Extreme Makeover: Weightloss Edition

If this doesn’t scare you into your workout gear, at very least it will inspire you. They always look so beautiful at the end, and they have so much confidence!

That’s all we want, right?

Friends, I’m a royal wimp when it comes to working out, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that doing what you said you would does wonders for the mind, body and soul.

So put on the sweats. Tie back the hair. Off the couch in three, two, one… go!

You Can’t Skip the Process

“You can’t skip the process. You can’t shortcut the process. You can’t speed up the process .You have to go through the process” –Pastor Kris Duerksen, this Sunday morning.

Ugh, how I love-hate the process. On one hand, the process is glorious. I have it emblazoned on the header of this blog: “Life is a grand adventure, or nothing.” It could also read, ‘If you’re not struggling you’re not living.” There is something exhilarating about the tension of being far less than what you see yourself being. You’re not comfortable, but at least you know you are alive. Your aching muscles keep reminding you.

My clothes are laid out for tomorrow’s tempo run.

But if you’re like me, you think you should have your life together already, know what I mean? In example, how long does it take to get my finances in order? Can I just expect to be broke for the next ten years? Why can’t I muscle my way into a better monetary place? Well I am, sort of, in a better place than even two months ago. Still, it’s hard to believe I could ever rise above.

The quote above reinforced in me this idea: It’s no use beating myself up about it. I’m such an expert at self-flagellation. I remind myself every second minute that I’ve yet to reach my goal of perfection. But I can’t fix (insert problem here) by guilt-tripping myself. I’ve got to keep powering along, trusting that each incremental change takes me closer to freedom. I also have to trust that God is working in me, and that even though I’m tired, he isn’t. He won’t give up on me.

So, with that in mind, here’s a motto I picked up along the way. “The only way to go back is to go forward.” I utilize this during longer runs, when I’m still at the pre ‘runner’s high’ stage and asking myself why I’m doing this to myself again, or near the end when my legs have had enough. “Well how will you get home if you don’t keep going, huh?” You don’t get home by sitting there. You don’t get better by bailing on the process.

The process is sometimes fun. My first couple weeks of half-marathon training were fantastic. I longed for the end of the workday when I could hit the gym, or the pavement. But now I’m stressed, and kind of terrified. I think it will become fun again.

There’s only one way to find out. “Once more unto the breach!”

Who Will I Become on the Way to This Half Marathon?

I’ll run my first half marathon in June. It’s the Manitoba Marathon, a run my Grandpa did many times (both full and half). I have patchy memories of going to see him cross the finish line, so in my head I can already picture what that looks like.

For me, the idea struck when a relative announced that she was going to run/walk the Manitoba half. In fact, she was already training. My ire was piqued. What? She was going to run a half marathon before I was? She wasn’t even a runner! Cue googling ‘Half marathon training plans for beginners’, ogling the course map, and visualizing running into that stadium, where I’d seen my Grandpa cross the finish line many years ago. I felt a cascade of excitement.

I could do that–I could!

Allow me to confess that over the winter I’ve slacked off. I’ve run twice a week most weeks, since late November, in increasingly shorter lengths and slower times. My confidence was down, due to some really bad runs. I was ready to push my limits again, to chase again. I wanted to find out who I’d need to become in order to run the half.

So I downloaded a plan, and got started. And here’s what I know so far.

I Must Redeem All the Time I Can

I’ve pared my plan down to four workouts per week, since at the moment I just can’t do five. Still, that’s a heck of a lot more time than two runs per week. I came into training knowing:

• 1. My writing must not slack off. I’m about to publish again.
• 2. I can’t neglect my family and church community.
• 3. I can’t neglect my spiritual life. God must be in even my running.

So how do I do that? Well, I’m not sure yet. Last week involved training myself not to hit snooze, since that gives me 18 minutes more for morning prayers and scripture. This will become a habit… eventually. I have to plan meals (and cook meals) well in advance. I have to make a to-do list and squeak those chores into five and ten minutes chunks of time. I have to write blog posts in the waiting room at the doctor’s office (like this one!).

Efficiency will become my middle name.

Likewise, I need to maximize my rest and relaxation time. Resting is growing, waiting is training.

I Must Endure the Pain

“I’ve signed up for four months of chronic pain,” I whined to my Mom.

And I don’t know the half of it yet, I’ll wager. The last three weeks have been one long pain fest as my winter-softened muscles adapt to extra miles and a new strength training routine. I curse my third-floor, no elevator apartment. My family and coworkers are tired of hearing me complain about my sore muscles. After all, I did it to myself.

But it’s a good kind of sore.

And Why?

Because I want to know what it feels like to be that strong–physically and mentally. Yeah, I’m stressed and my legs, back, shoulders, and arms hurt. But the optimism and drive of having a huge goal is addictive.

Who will I become?

Judgement is Rich Coming From Me

“Why are there so many people here?”

That was early January in the gym, as I pounded away on the treadmill and grew increasingly annoyed by the chatter around me.

Oh yeah, January–resolutions and such.

I confess that as I watched two pretty, thin girls do five or six reps on each machine and then complain how hard it was, I killed myself laughing on the inside. I’m a little chunky, but I’m in a heck of a lot better shape than those barbie dolls. But after I stopped laughing, I felt guilty. Judgement is pretty rich coming from me. I spent the summer daring anyone who passed me to laugh as I panted and wheezed through Couch to 5K. Now I’m thinner and can run farther, but I still probably look like I’m going to die when I jump off the treadmill.

I hope to heck those girls don’t quit. I hope they can push past the pain and actually get in shape. Not to look better–like I said, they were both beautiful girls–but to become strong in body and mind, and to prove to themselves they can keep their promises to themselves.

I still can’t pinpoint what is the difference between a kept New Year’s resolution and one that dies in the womb. Why did I actually lose weight last year, when every other time I failed? Why am I motivated to run, when I always used to say ‘me no work out’? Because I can’t say ‘here is the cure’, I can’t judge the people who start, and then quit after a few weeks. It wasn’t a physical thing, because I don’t think I’m designed to run. Too short, too thick. I’m predisposed to be addicted to sugar, flour, any kind of crap food. I should still be fat.

I worked really hard–I do work hard–but maybe I’m also very, very blessed.

I mentioned that I had a whole list of New Year’s Resolutions. Well, when I made them I forgot that January is historically when I have a bout of seasonal depression. This year was no exception, with added anxiety and chest pain. I feel like I’m pulling out of it faster than last year, but in the meantime I’ve gone into survival mode. Hence almost no blogging, less running. Less of everything, except maybe sleep. Like I said to my sister today after an aborted 10K, you have to learn to listen to your body. I’m no good at that. But Sons of Earth, my next novel, is on schedule, and I have many months yet to get in fighting shape for my half-marathon (the big resolution of the year). I’m not ahead, but I’m still on track.

Each day is a new day. If your resolutions have all been broken, I encourage you to take stock of what’s important, and try again, and again, and again.

Dear Other Runner, Thanks for Being There

Dear other runner,
Just seeing your tracks
in the skim of snow
Made my legs stronger
Gave me strength to finish
Thanks for going before

This morning I ran my first 10k in more than a month, and my only outdoor 10K this winter. Parts of the path were very slippery, forcing me to slow to a shuffle to avoid falling on my backside. Everything had a light skiff of snow on it. Well into mile 4, I came upon footprints in the shallow snow. They were the definite tread of a runner’s shoes, with long strides and footfalls almost in line with each other.

Someone else had been there!

Post-run, not looking good!

I’d seen no one, been the lone crazy on the icy trail. The painful clench that I’ve had in my chest for nearly a month was returning, and my mind was screaming at me that I’d never make it all 6.2 miles. I’d been away from that distance too long. I’d gone soft. I was still sick.

But just knowing someone else had run that way was a reassurance. I held my pace. At the end of mile 5 I found tracks again. I kept going, spurred on by that invisible runner.

I finished my 10K. Despite the negative self-talk, my time was quite comparable to previous runs. Thanks, other runner.