All Downhill From Here

Last night’s run from Gord’s had us run down the curling club stairs and towards the Zoo. Earlier in the day we’d had quite the blizzard, but later in the afternoon the skies cleared up and by the time we ran at 7 pm the sun was shining and the world smelled fresh. The air was a little cool, but we kept a steady, brisk pace going and were warm in no time.

At the beginning we had to reign in Linda, as she kept running a little too fast for her heartrate, and was setting quite the pace for the rest of us. We went all the way to the far Zoo bridge before crossing over and coming back on the South side of the river, a run of about 8 km. Kelly caught up to us at around the turnaround point, and we had a friendly conversation with some bylaw officers patrolling the paths on the way back. The hill of the Centre St. Bridge was a challenge to me, but I stuck to my rhythm and made it all the way up. Krista chugged on up ahead of me.

It was nice to go East along the river instead of the usual West. Lots of trees unfurling their leaves looked and smelled lovely. Mayday trees are in full bloom, and made my nose run. I splashed in every puddle I found 🙂

No running content for me tonight – but the soccer boys did plenty. I’ll run at Gord’s tomorrow night.

I think I’m finally warmed up from sitting out in the drizzle for 90 minutes while Soccer Boy’s team lost their first “real” game of the outdoor season, 4-2 (last week’s didn’t count in the standings). I had on my spring rain coat, red scarf and ear warmers, sat on the boy’s windbreaker in the lawn chair, wrapped myself up in two blankets and strategically placed my umbrella to cut the wind to my legs. Soccer-boy wore my mitts and his hoodie when he wasn’t on the field. I somehow ended up sitting in a cluster of the opposing team’s parents, and when they went for coffee they brought one back for me – how nice! I shared my home made cookies with them. When their boys come to play at our field, coffee’s on me.

Our boys played better tonight. The other team had more shots on goal, but they still played better. SB was happier with his game tonight – he seemed more satisfied with his own performance and effort. I’m glad that he’s focusing on that instead of the score.

He’s had a nice warm shower and is sipping on a warm honeyed milk. I’m going to turn on my electric blanket!

Woohoo! I ran 18.6 km today – in a row! One right after the other! First I did one loop on mostly gravel roads, that I estimated was about 8 km. That took me just over an hour. I stopped into the house for a potty break and dropped off my outer windshell and then hit the pavement for an out and back to a nearby small town on the highway. I felt pretty good, especially in the first half of the second hour. There was one point where I completely skipped a walk break and just kept on chugging along with a good rhythm. I took walk breaks approximately every 12 minutes or one mile.

In the last 5 km I faced into a warm spring wind. I’d forgotten my running hat at home, but I had my hair in a ponytail during the run. I took out my ponytail holder and let my long hair fly out behind me. Fly! Be Free!

There were about 20 young calves munching grass near the fence in one field, and they went scurrying back to their moms as I ran by. I didn’t think I was that scary.

I didn’t really know for sure how far I’d run but I had an idea. After a quick change I popped the kids into the van, measured the route, and then we went swimming in town.

18.6 km, in 2:20. Good enough for a first try!

I’m stalling before going out for my long run and catching up on some blogs I hadn’t had time to read this week. Check out Jaime’s review of our Penguin Newbie Night. Thanks so much Jaime! You’re welcome to come out any time.

If you’re in Calgary, consider coming out to our next one, first Tuesday of every month. Hey, you can come out every Tuesday if you like, but we’ll be especially encouraging the new-and-timid on Newbie Nights. Not that we’re callous and rude on other Tuesdays or anything.

I should get out on that long run now, shouldn’t I…

Thanks for all your comments on my Last post (sure, we’ll just leave that pun in there).

Now I just wonder how I can/if I should convey this concept to my 12 y.o. son. He moved up a division to a new, slightly more competitive soccer team for the outdoor season, and their first game was last night.

Aside (for running content sake): Since it was my running night and GORGEOUS out, I dressed in my running shorts and dropped him off at his game field. He warmed up with the team, and I explored a corner of Arbour Lake I hadn’t yet. Arbour Lake has a few darn good hills in it, and I found a good one that I ended up running up about three times, in between looping around a small city acreage/farm and checking back on Soccer-Boy’s game.

They played an “exhibition” game (meaning it doesn’t count in the standings) and got slammed 8-0. They held their own for the first 2/3 of the game (0-0), and then fell apart stamina-wise at the end. His is a “young team” for this division (U-14) and though I expected this, he didn’t. He was TICKED.

I did point out to him the several amazingly brave and intuitive plays he made on defence against players who seemed to me to be much bigger than him. He ran hard and played hard, but all he could focus on afterwards was their loss and his disappointment. He hadn’t even wanted to be there, as there was a school dance that he was missing out on and he wasn’t actually required to play as it didn’t count in the standings and why did he have to miss the dance to lose…

How could I tell him that every game played together as a team, especially the losing ones, bond them together bit by bit and show the coach what there is to work on for next time? How could I drum into his brain that it is games like this where you learn what your teammates and yourself are made of?

How could I teach him that, like in making myself run up those darn hills, this is how one develops good character?

I didn’t know how to say it, so I handed him what was left in my water bottle (he’d finished his), kept my trap shut and listened to him fuss for a couple of minutes. Then told him if he wanted to catch the last hour of his dance he should pick up his attitude or we’d just go straight home. He caught that point quick enough, and changed his clothes while I played a soothing Billy McLaughlin (acoustic guitar) CD on the way over.

I curled up in my sweats with the hamburger pillow in the back seat and finished reading my book “How to Be a Canadian” by Will Ferguson while Soccer/Social-Butterfly Boy enjoyed his pounding music dance therapy.

I have a feeling that there is some sort of irony or symbolism in wanting to teach my son to lose with dignity and in reading a satirical book about Canadian attitudes, but that will have to wait for another post – I’m late for work.

“There is no such thing as last. In every race, there is an invisible
crowd of thousands behind you who didn’t have the guts to start.”
– seen recently on a Penguin Yahoogroups message board

I often prefer to think of the last person in a race as an extremely necessary, important part of the event. They ARE, after all. We often make the joke around here “Someone has to be last, how else would we know the race is over?”, but it’s really not a joke if you’re the last person. It’s just a plain fact. One can take shame from it, be proud of it, or just accept it.

Many newer racers take on a sense of shame at being last, even go home from starting lines because they’re intimidated by a fast-looking crowd, but we Penguins know better. We know about all those folks snoozing at home, the injured, the afraid, the under-trained, those recovering from some other race or just not up to the course or the weather that day. We are not there to not-be-last. We are there to complete our chosen distance, do it the best we can, and be recognized at the clock and in the results for our training and ultimate effort.

Last summer I showed up for an “intimate” club race and finished last. I knew even before the race by looking at the crowd that I stood a good chance of closing the course on my own. I didn’t mind. It was my gift to all the other racers faster than me that day. I wouldn’t try to be last, but if the banner fell to me to carry, I would. The others would race and say “at least I wasn’t last” and I would carry the honour for the day.

“Honour?”, you say? Why yes, I believe it is. Just as only one can finish First, only one can finish Last. You aren’t done reading a book until you read the last chapter. You don’t finish a race until you’ve run the last mile. The opera isn’t over until the fat lady sings. You get the idea.

When I finished, EVERY racer had already finished and had the opportunity to cheer me in. I gave a huge whoop of joy as I approached the finish with a 10 minute PR!

I used to race for “not last”, but I have since learned that Last has it’s own dignity.

Thank you to those who so kindly commented on my Perspective post this week. I’m glad I can be my real self on this blog thingie, and that I could lean on you all a bit.

It was Penguin “Newbie Night” at Gord’s last night. Gord didn’t actually know this, but I invited some of our local message board lurkers out to a “gentle jog and coffee” at our weekly run, and 4 non-regulars showed up. The weather was absolutely PERFECT for running, and there were tons of people out enjoying the warm air and sunshine.

Our regular penguins felt darn speedy as we looped back for the new ones, and the new ones learned that they are really not alone in their pace (at least, I hope they learned that). In between looping back, Krista and I did a couple of “race you to the bridge/lamp post” speed intervals for fun. It felt good. Had a nice chat and a tall hazelnut non-fat soy latte at the Starbucks afterwards. I think we covered between 5 – 6.5 km along the river, depending on who was looping back for whom.

I discovered I always have choices and sometimes it’s only a choice of attitude. – Judith M. Knowlton

Yesterday I began the day with a cheer and lofty expectations of what I would accomplish on the first day of my weekend. I wrote some long e-mails raving about my new house purchase to family and friends (we’ll be moving July 1 – e-mail me for the new address and/or to read more raving). I planned my supper menus for the next two weeks and did up my grocery list. I put the library books in the van, loaded up Soccer Boy and Little Miss Growing Feet, and aimed to get two weeks of grocery shopping plus a pair of new girl’s runners done within the 90-minute soccer practice window.

Oh yeah, those were lofty expectations. Completely unrealistic. What planet was I born on, anyway! Just because I’m organized doesn’t mean that my daughter will attend to the schedule like a little military robot. It didn’t help that she annoyed her brother with her LeapPad so much that I was frazzled by the time I dropped him off. It also didn’t help that I continued to be annoyed with her so much that I confiscated the darn thing before we even got to the grocery store. It really didn’t help that I’d used up most of my patience quota for the day by the time we’d only chosen a) 1 pair of shoes, b) a jar of vitamins, c) Disney Princess toothpaste and d)

Nope, I was trying to decide on d) while holding fast to the cart after having emphatically stressed through the gathering of items a), b) and c) that the cart is not a bumper car, and nor is it to be used as such, when suddenly Little Miss Bladder had a dire need to visit the washroom. On and on it went, and before we’d even gotten a third of the items on my list it was time to collect Soccer Boy from practice. Fume, fume, while we pay for stuff and Little Miss Ping Pong Ball Attention Span bops all over the planet and I try to restrain myself from hissing at her through gritted teeth. I totally lost all composure when we got back into the van, I went to hand her the LeapPad and realized that in my anger at slamming it shut I’d mangled the cord in on the pointer-pencil and it wouldn’t work anymore.

I went over the edge and cried all the way to the soccer field. You know, I have struggled through 3 gruelling 10k races in the last 9 months and had my expectations shattered by missing my goal by mere seconds, and managed to handle the disappointment, but a mere morning trying to control one child and a broken toy sent me over the edge. Whoo boy.

Believe it or not, Coach Dianne, apparently sent by God to rescue me (or my children) found us at the soccer field and cheered me up while I took her to drive by our new home. She came home with us and we made lunch.

I was still feeling pretty frustrated, but in the hours since then I have been solidly reminded that my life could be a lot worse, and I should be grateful, for goodness’ sake! Yesterday afternoon my in-law’s water softener broke, sending a waterfall throughout their basement. My mother in-law, who broke her tibia 10 days ago, was home alone and had to bump down the stairs on her bum, hop through the water over to the main water shut-off valve on one foot, and turn the water off. Guess who had pizza for dinner while waiting for the emergency plumber to come? My frustration of the morning seemed so insignificant when hearing of my in-law’s basement.

This morning, I got a call from Yolanda, one of my running buddies. We were going to go for a long run with Linda from Y’s house this morning. Y called me from the ICU at the hospital, with news that her spouse had had an aneurysm last night, and was awaiting surgery. Suddenly I was not only un-frustrated, I was very, very grateful for many, many blessings.

Linda and I ending up running together without Yolanda, and sent her and her spouse prayers and strengthening thoughts. We ran for not quite an hour and a half.

I will be more patient, and more grateful. I will take a deep breath and suck it up. or let it go. whatever. I am blessed. And it is NOT all about me.

The warm weather of last week spoiled me. Melted my cold-gear list right out of my head, so when I went out this morning for a quick half hour jog my ears darn near froze off. It’s not just cold outside, it’s a windy cold and it’s painful. Painful because the wind blows noisily right through the wind tunnel in my nearly-blonde head and whips it raw.

At least I remembered my leggings, red turtleneck, and fuzzy red mitts, but the mitts don’t stay on my ears unless my hands are in ’em. Do you know how hard it is to run with your hands on your ears?! I’m pretty sure it isn’t in Mark’s list of POSE drills.

Just watch, Sunday I’ll bring my ear covers along and end up not needing them…