Tag: Personal Best

2020 week seventeen + eighteen

Books + Stuff Read
19. My Heart is a Rose Manhattan – Nikki Reimer
20. Just Like I Like It – Danielle LaFrance
…. The Capilano Review Issue 3.40 – Winter 2020

Kilometres Ran
week seventeen – 68.9
week eighteen – 65.4

2020 to date: 1,157

What’s so funny about death, grief and isolation anyway. Another National Poetry Month has come and gone and once again I read much less than I’d intended to read. I swear that Anne Carson’s Float will be my death. Or wait, am I allowed to count each chapbook towards my reading goal? Of all of the tragic poets exiled into prairie purgatory Nikki Reimer is literally the most tragic / favourite. “you had me at the word ‘literally’ seventeen times in a row” (83). Yeah you did. In spite of an ongoing pandemic that’s caused me to rarely leave the house I’ve somehow managed to read very little and cannot even keep up with posting a weekly reading and running blog. The latest from The Capilano Review is gorgeous not least because the short-lived (too long, IMO) experiment with disrupting the cover art with contents graffiti seems to be over, hurray! The issue was compiled during the activism in support of the Wet’suwet’en Hereditary Chiefs and it resonates (seems like a lifetime ago) regardless of whether or not intentional, from the Krystle Coughlin Silverfox art on the cover, through the Beau Dick retrospective inside and all the other stuff in between. Also feeling like a lifetime ago, the night before I flew away (remember when we could do that?) to get together with 8,999 others (remember when we could do that?) to race the California International Marathon I went to a pub (remember when we could do that?) for the East Van Publishers Party (remember when we could do that?) primarily so that I could buy books (you can totally still do that) and amongst the pile I picked up the Reimer Rose and this latest collection Just Like I Like It from Danielle LaFrance, which/whom I saved for last, apparently, and it did not disappoint, as LaFrance is quite apt not to do.
SOMETHING I WROTE YESTERDAY IS LOST
SOMETHING ABOUT DIPSHITS
I AM NOT EXCITED ABOUT IT UNLESS IT IS
NEAR AND RADIANT
STILL, I WILL FUCK ANY SEXT THAT GIVES IT TO ME
INTENSE, SMELLS NOTHING LIKE THE PORK
BELLY IN MY BOARISH BELLY
IT IS IN THERE, SOMEWHERE (85)
There’s a lot of shouting but frankly we all deserve to be shouted at right now and not just because of right now.

Wouldn’t you like to.

I’d outwardly been holding out hope that the Berlin Marathon would somehow not be cancelled knowing all the while that even if it somehow by some miracle or Trump-esque level of incompetence and irresponsibility went ahead that I would not be attending and yet still when the official news came down I was pretty sad so I went for a run, accomplished a very long-time-coming running goal, and then wrote a little story about it on Instagram and it went something like this: Six years ago I moved to the West End. I was sad and lonely and I started jogging because it made me feel better. I thought the Seawall was only for “real runners” so I stuck to the streets of my new neighbourhood. Later someone told me about Strava, and I learned about segments, and there was this segment on my street, from Denman up the hill on Barclay to Bute finishing near my front door. I thought maybe one day if I could get the fastest time on that 840 metre hill climb, maybe then I’d be a real runner. I moved a couple blocks down the street, forgot about that segment, and kept on jogging.
Then the world changed, races were cancelled, runners started chasing segment crowns, and I remembered that Barclay hill. The 2020 Berlin Marathon was cancelled. I knew it was coming but it still made me sad. So I went for a jog and finished it off by hammering that Barclay hill. It’s small consolation, and I know it won’t last long, but for now that segment crown is mine.

It’s my Crown #4 and as of typing I’m still holding them, so that’s pretty cool. I mean, one is near my office out in Port Coquitlam, but the other three are all within the Vancouver peninsula so surely some buck (or doe, cause there are some absolute bangers around here) is going to accidentally casually crush them without even noticing. But speaking of casually crushing stuff, just eight months ago I raced to a new half marathon PB (at that time) in 1:31:43, and it took a friend on Strava to point out that on Wednesday I came within four seconds of that time during a 21 KM tempo workout. It is so damn easy to lose perspective. This is shaping up to be the year of the virtual races, and while that sucks, I think I’m ready to knock down some PBs.

2020 week ten

Books Read
5. Small Game Hunting at the Local Coward Gun Club – Megan Gail Coles
6. The Houseguest – Amparo Dávila

Kilometres Ran
week ten – 69.7

2020 to date: 591 KM

“February in Newfoundland is the longest month of the year.” So opens Small Game Hunting‘s synopsis on its House of Anansi page. Thank gawd February is over. I wanted to like this book and it was such a slog and I spent so much time wondering just WTF was going on that I just could not. It reminded me of reading Faulkner in undergrad, the echo of people much smarter than me lamenting greatness like tinnitus all the while just wondering what the hell is happening. Sometimes I get the urge to pick him up again. This reminded me maybe nah. Moving on, below the flat we let in Mexico City was an English language bookstore that -of course- I stopped in to browse. Inside was a wide selection of children’s books, high school and university textbooks, and various exam prep, as well as a small selection of local authors in translation. I picked up a few but this Dávila collection of short stories had a blurb that included comparisons to Hitchcock and Kafka. I like Hitchcock and Kafka. This collections didn’t disappoint, and Dávila’s comparison to Kafka is apt. I liked it quite a bit and it was fun to recognize references I would have never understood before visiting Mexico City. In a city with so much to discover, this was a pleasant surprise.

WestVanRun race weekend, about a mile into the Sunday 10K. The smiling did not last much longer. Photo by Debra Kato.

Race weekend in West Vancouver for the WestVanRun 5K on Saturday and 10K Sunday (today). I set a goal to run a new personal best and aimed for an under 19:00 finish. I had a pretty good morning. I got into a slightly uncomfortable pace that I thought I could hold onto. The course starts at the top of a pretty steep hill and then runs pretty much flat out through the Park Royal mall parking lot and then back along the West Van Centennial Seawalk to the finish. My middle splits were pretty even and I managed a bit of a kick to the finish and crossed the finish line 19:03 with not a lot left to give. When I checked my finish online it said I placed fourth in my age group. A couple hours later friends messaged to say I missed claiming my third-place age group award. The runner who finished second overall was first in my age group and instead of double-dip, the organizers bumped everyone up a spot. So I was third in my age group even though I was fourth. It seems so strange to claim an award that I got but didn’t actually earn. I guess now I know how people who wear those fancy Nike shoes must feel all the time…. Anyway! I am now 3/3 not being on hand to accept my age group award.

WestVanRun Saturday 5K PB times three for John Hamilton (L), Walter Downey (R) and me. Photo by Lindsay Maciver.

This morning was the WestVanRun 10K and after a 9/10 effort to get to 19:03 in the 5K 23 hours earlier (thanks, Daylight Savings Time) I dialed back my expectations. I’d wanted to try to go under 38:00 but that was a pretty lofty goal at the best of time let alone the day after a hard race. I decided instead to go out at 3:55/km pace for the first 5K and then hang on for dear life and at least beat the 40 min pacer. I hit half way in 19:36 – one second behind pace – and the hang on began. I dipped a bit through 7 and 8 KM then traded lead back and forth with Michael Prince. I thought I had him beat but he had a better kick to the line; I crossed the finish a few seconds behind him for 39:30 chip time and my second fastest 10K and second time running sub 40:00.

Mike Prince out kicking me at the WestVanRun 10K finish this morning. Photo by Maddie Wiseman.

Later today over-analyzing the weekend (as I tend to do) I’m sure that I have it in my to run a sub 38:00 10K but I have a bit more work to do to get there. I was really happy with how well I recovered between races, all things considered, and I wonder how I could have done in the 10K today if I hadn’t raced the 5K yesterday. I felt like my Saturday was a better day, but when I looked at the stats I found that today’s 10K was actually a better performance, which I still find really (pleasantly) surprising. I certainly do not regret racing both. I’ve decided to pass on the St. Pat’s 5K next weekend, and the Vancouver Sun Run in April and just focus on the half marathons I have lined up between now and summer. Summertime will bring the Mile2Marathon Chase the Pace 5K on the track followed by the VFAC Summerfast 10K around Stanley Park so I won’t have to wait too long to take another shot at going faster than I have ever before. Next up though, is the gruelingly hilly April Fool’s half marathon on the Sunshine Coast. If I can set a new PB there I’ll be ecstatic.

2019 week forty nine + fifty

Book Read
45. Whatever – Michel Houellebecq

Kilometres Ran
week forty nine – 71.6
week fifty – 40.6

2019 to date: 2,628 KM

I first came across Houellebecq back when his book Submission came around in 2015 and I liked it so I picked up his other stuff and thought that I’d go back to the beginning. Fast forward a few years and I’m reminded of him and my intention when I came across a review of his new novel Serotonin so I picked up his first novel (translated as) Whatever and while I found shades of what I liked about Submission for the most part the (arguably terribly) translated title, in the end, seems rather apt. Whatever, or Extension du domaine de la lutte is the first-person story of a 30-something IT professional. It seems to capture the banality and nihilism of post-millennium existence well enough. I mean, it wasn’t so bad that I’ll stop reading his books, but I don’t expect it to accelerate either. Then again, it’s a new decade in a couple weeks. And I’m terrible at predicting the future.

Mile2Marathon pre-CIM shake out run. Photo by Angus Doerksen (his last name is probably not Doerksen)

A week ago I was in Sacramento to run the California International Marathon, which if you’ve been following along doesn’t come as a surprise at all. If you’re new here, Hi! Heck of a place to start. After the 2019 year of racing in which I crushed every one of my running goals, a couple of which I’d had since I started running a few years ago, CIM was going to be the cherry on the sundae. It was not. Normally I’d be writing this a week ago, but I didn’t and I’m glad that I didn’t because it would have been a hell of a lot more bitter. I’ve spent a week trying to figure out what went wrong and I’m no further along that I was at noon last Sunday.

Obligatory pre-race motel photo.

It started pretty normal. I woke up on time, made coffee, went through my pre-race morning routines and got out the door to head to the start without so much as a hiccup. The difference being that it was a few hours earlier than I was used to, but I felt rested and fine. From my motel it was a ten minute walk to catch a 5 a.m. bus that would drive everyone from downtown Sacramento out to Folsom (yes, that Folsom) California. Then we’d all run back. As I walked to find the end of the shuttle bus queue I found fellow Mile2Marathoners Anna, Claire and Sara and joined them in the line. The bus ride was in the dark and uneventful. We’d been told that we could stay on the bus once we arrived but few people did. I was entirely too antsy. I got out, walked around a bit, stood in line for the toilet, found some free coffee, checked my bag, stood in line for the toilet again just in case, then elbowed my way into the start corral near the signs for the 3:09 runners with a couple of minutes to spare before the 7 a.m. start.

At 6:54 A.M. on my way to the start corral.

I felt ready for anything. I mean, I didn’t feel great, but I figured I felt pretty normal for my fourth time standing the start corral of a marathon. Coach and I had talked about targets, and looking at my recent race times and paces we figured 4:20 pace was ambitious and achievable if I had a really great day. My B goal time was 4:30 pace, so we decided to split the difference and go 4:25. So that’s what I did, and it started great and at 5 km I felt great, and 10 km, and 15 km, and 20 km. I was holding back a bit, but was right on target. When I crossed halfway I still feeling fine but I started to feel like I might need to find a toilet. I fought it for a bit and started to feel not so great, but every time I looked at my watch it read 4:25 pace. I decided not to chance it and went for the next portable I passed, which was into kilometre 25. I got in and out and right back onto pace and thought I was going to be fine. And 26 km was fine, and so was 27 km. But then my body decided that it didn’t want to run anymore. I don’t know how else to describe it. I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t even out of breath. I had fuelled on plan. All of a sudden everything was a struggle. I got to 30 km at 2:15 having already slipped to 4:30 average pace. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hold it, but I thought I could at least cover the last 12.2 km in an hour, hit my C goal and qualify for Boston with a five minute buffer. I was wrong.

Then I thought I could at least hang on for a new personal best, but I watched that slip away too. Kilometre 37 was my worst split. I was just over three hours into the race when I crossed 38 km and it sunk in that the way it was going, finishing under 3:20 wasn’t going to happen. At that point I think that if it wasn’t a point-to-point course I would have quit. I zombied into Sacramento. I remember being passed a lot, and somehow passing others. Somewhere past 40 km a pub patio stretched onto the course, and some really aggressive dudes were screaming at me to stop and have a beer. I was tempted. I rounded back onto Capital Mall for the short home stretch and crossed the finish line 3:24:33.

Finish line in sight

Afterwards the Mile2Marathon crew in town for the race met at a brew pub to celebrate our triumph or, in my case, sulk. I was sad and embarrassed and really felt like I’d let people down, but it was hard to sulk when so many other who have become friends over the past year had their own great day. I did take some time to have a private pity party for one that evening, then packed up and flew home on Monday. On Tuesday, the whole Mile2Marathon crew came together and celebrated the year and I was forced to reflect on the fact that in spite of this one event I’d had a really great year in which I had improved running exponentially.

This week has been a bit of a struggle too. I’ve run three times with just the intention of going out and enjoying the run. And I have, maybe too much. Quite a few comments on how soon I’ve gotten back onto the Seawall, and at what paces and distances. It’s a bit frustrating because, yes, seven days ago I ran a marathon and I should be wrecked. But the fact is on that day my body, which I’d trained to race a marathon said nah, and right now it’s not nearly as wrecked as it probably should be. On Wednesday at the end of a 12 km tempo I was pretty mad.

On the Seawall with Gary Franco, and Karen & Mike McCullough. Photo by some random dude.

Then yesterday out on the Seawall I ran into Gary and Karen and Mike and, as if I’d forgotten since Sunday afternoon and Tuesday evening, was reminded that I’m part of a community that’s pretty inclusive and supportive, and that’s pretty great. Today I sat down for coffee with Coach Kevin to talk about 2020, because we’ve got big plans.