The One After The Race

Well folks, the Hypothermic Half stayed true to its name: The morning was a chilling -13, with brisk winds and light flurries. The sun was the only saving grace, shining bright for the entire time.

Luckily, the excitement was generally more noticeable than the cold. I forgot how much I love races- the atmosphere is like nothing you can experience anywhere else. Nerves and anticipation had people jumping around at the start line, all smiles and laughs in layers and layers of clothing. With a 400-person race cut off, including the walkers who started at 8am, the 9am start line was hardly packed… but considering the conditions and the adventure we were voluntarily about to embark on… the turnout was decent.

We all anxiously waited for the anti-climatic 3-2-1 countdown… and then we were off on a relatively straight, hilly, pavement road for about 11 kilometers, before turning around and running back. I started slow, like I promised myself I would. I let people pass me and kicked my inner competitive self to the curb.

About a kilometer in, a woman held a bright sign that read “Running is all mental. And you’re crazy.” I smiled ear to ear. That lady was right. What did I get myself into? A couple kilometers later, I ran by the first water station with a group of about ten people, in sombreros, holding umbrellas, pretending they weren’t wearing long underwear and toques. Their attitude warmed my insides, but the icy-water they offered gave me the chills. I vowed to not take any more water along the way.

At the half way turning point, a new woman held a sign that read “If you’re running through Hell, keep going.” Again, my smile was ear to ear. I wasn’t running through Hell. Yet.  My mom was standing close-by, in her white winter jacket, clapping, cheering and telling me I looked great! It was the second time in the race I had seen my mom. The first time was about 8 kilometers in, where she had pulled over the car to snap some pictures and cheer me on. Every time I saw her, I was so excited I couldn’t help but speed up.

I saw my mom one more time while running, just after 15 kilometers, at which point it started to feel like I was entering a freezing cold Hell. My mind started to doubt my shaky legs. I knew it was going to be challenging because I didn’t practice enough long runs. But I was trying to stay positive and I knew stopping wasn’t an option. The last 5 kilometers was up-hill and tough. My face was frozen. I couldn’t see properly because my contacts were freezing to my eyes, and my eyelids were swelling. The wind was blowing into my face and the weightless snowflakes felt like balls of ice pounding my cheeks. Yet, I was determined to finish strong. My pace slowly crept a couple seconds faster and I continued to pass runners one-by-one. Because I had started slow, runners weren’t passing me. And I guess a part of my inner competitiveness was still with me. At 19 kilometers, I passed an older man, with a head full of grey hair. “Good job!,” he exclaimed to me as I pushed myself forward. I laughed and said something about almost being done. But really, I was thinking “Good job? You’re like 75 and you’ve been ahead of me this entire time! … Good job for you!”

The last kilometer was by far the hardest. My legs were jelly- you could have pushed me over with a feather. The road was on a steep incline (so cruel!) and my body was screaming to stop. I’m sure my pace slowed considerably, but at this point, I didn’t have the energy to look at my watch, so I will never know. It was the most horrible but indescribably amazing feeling in the world- in those final moments I pushed my body physically harder than ever before. Finally, the incline started to decrease and I could see the red finish line. I’ve never been so relieved in my life. I saw a familiar face, with her huge smile and white jacket, and I tried to speed up, to finish strong. I’m not sure I did but somehow I crossed the line and stopped my watch. I don’t think I was smiling when my running instructor excitedly handed me a popsicle stick-  78^th place with a time of 1:47. My mom was screeching but I had to jog away from her and walk in circles for five minutes before I could talk. My first words were mumbles about re-locating inside.

Once inside, I paced around for another ten minutes, before getting feeling back in my face. I examined the medal and my mom reminded me of my time, and only then, once I could feel my eyelids and lips, was I really happy I had made my goal…. And beat it by over 10 minutes! The last 5 kilometers was more painful and exhausting then I could have ever planned for- but it made the completion of my second half marathon so much more rewarding.

Half an hour later, I would have been mentally ready to do it all again; I was pumped! Physically, I could barely walk to the car.

Looking back, it was so much fun. It was such a good experience, one that challenged my body in every way. I can’t lie- There were moments on that 21.6 kilometer journey that I temporarily questioned my sanity- but those moments were short and far between. Overall I genuinely enjoyed the run, and would redo it in a split second. The satisfaction you get from running a half marathon in the freezing cold is worth the pain. I would recommend a hypothermic half to everyone- new and old runners alike!

Shockingly, the most rewarding part of my experience was the amount of support and encouragement I had throughout my training- especially in the days leading up the race. Countless friends and family texted and facebooked me good luck wishes- and that really meant so much to me.  Friends who I haven’t talked to since Christmas made a point to ask about my race. My friend Trish brought me an adorable “Kudos” card that will make its place in my running scrapbook (Yes, I have one!). My roommates greeted me with a round of applause. And my mother flew halfway across the country to be at the finish line, cheering me on. That was really the most awesome reward I could have ever gotten.

The experience has only made me love running more. I am beyond excited to do it all again in Ottawa in May. Running in spandex will be such a treat after running in a hat, two pairs of mitts, long-underwear and three other layers! For now, I’m going to take a week or two break and enjoy hot yoga, familiarize myself with the gym, and relax before starting the long journey of training for a not-so-hypothermic-half (hopefully!)!

Oh, and don’t you worry your pretty little face… I’ll keep you posted, every step of the way!

Running Romance xx

The One Before The Race

Speed is all about perspective. To someone training for a half marathon just to complete, running it in two hours is fast. To someone training to complete the half in two hours, one hour and forty minutes is fast. Very fast. Last night, I headed to the running room where a “group” of people were doing a final 10 kilometers before the race. Normally, I’d just do this by myself but with school consuming my life, I didn’t have time to run in the morning and I find it difficult to do long distances by myself at night. When I showed up at the Running Room there was only one other attendee (The group doesn’t usually meet on Tuesdays and I guess no one else could make it). The solo-man was about 40 and training with the one hour and forty minutes group. Having both showed up for motivation to run at dinner time, we decided we would compromise and run at a middle pace, the race pace of a 1:50 marathon: a pace of five minutes a kilometer.  I wasn’t two worried because although I’ve been training with the two hour group I actually run much faster on my own. Well, this man put a little modesty back in my step. From the second we started running, my legs could feel the difference. When I looked down at my watch, I realized we were running at the 1:40 race pace, a pace anywhere from 4:40- 4:50 minutes a kilometer. We held that pace for the entire 10 kilometer run. Thanks for compromising sir. At around 8 kilometers, I asked the man of few words, to go ahead and finish the run strong. Truth is, I would have appreciated a two-kilometer breather. But no, this man was not having it. “You can do, it’s just up that road,” he said. But I was wearing my Garmin and I was fully aware of how long we had to go. When you’re tired and running way faster than you’ve trained, two kilometers can seem like a mini half-marathon. The best part was, with a couple hundred meters left, I again asked my new friend to go ahead and sprint to the store. He politely responded that it was close to race day and he didn’t want to push himself too hard. I was laughing so hard inside my head.

We completed the 10 kilometers in 48 minutes. Truth is, if I was training for a 10 k race, I would be looking to complete in less than 50 minutes. That pace is average for someone my age. But I haven’t been training for 10 k; I’ve been training for a two-hour half marathon, which is significantly slower than a pace of 4:50k /minute.  Looking back at it this morning, the run was probably great training for the race. For some reason that I can’t explain, Running Room doesn’t run race pace until the last couple weeks. Therefore, the actual pace of your run is way faster than you’ve been training. The idea is that with hill training and long, steady runs, your muscles are so strong you can just lightning bolt through the race. But it’s an unsuccessful theory for the majority of people: most people train with the time group under the time they want to complete in. So, someone who wants to complete the half marathon in two hours would train with the 1:50 group. I obviously didn’t get the memo until it was too late. But here I am, five days away from my second half marathon. I’m a little nervous. I haven’t trained as much as I would have liked. The longest I’ve run this year is 17 kilometers. Working every Sunday morning, I was forced to do long runs by myself.  Although I love running, usually around 12 kilometers I start fantasizing about chocolate or something just as delicious.

Last Sunday, in plus-two weather, I ran a 13 kilometer run by myself. It was the perfect day for a run and I pray for similar conditions next Sunday. Originally my plan for the last week was to run every day until Thursday and take Friday and Saturday off. After last night, I decided to take this morning off, to rest my legs, after running a 5 kilometer run Monday and Tuesday morning. I’ll be back to the snow covered pavement tomorrow morning and I will consider running on Friday. At this point, running is not going to help me train so I’m not going to overdo it. All I can do now is eat healthy and drink a lot of water. My mom gets into town tomorrow (SO EXCITED!) and we have a low-weekend planned consisting of walking, shopping, and gluten-free treats! I’m nervous about my mom flying all the way out here to watch me run, but at the end of the day, I know she doesn’t care about my time. The truth is, I joined the hypothermic half running clinic to be motivated to run throughout the long winter months. And the training has fulfilled its purpose: It consistently got me on the Halifax streets in the dead of winter. My goal is still to finish under 2 hours but if I don’t complete my half marathon at my best time, I won’t be too hard on myself. I’m already excited to start training for the Ottawa half marathon in May. I plan to complete that in 1:50, an ambitious goal.

But for now, my focus on is Sunday. They say if you can run 16 kilometers you can physically run a half marathon. I hope “they” are right.

One or two runs left and then the race... Wish me luck!

Running Romance

The One About Hypothermia

It’s kind of funny: Here I am, 7 oclock on Sunday night frustrated with journalism and the pressure of writing two articles in two days but taking my limited free time to write a blog. Perhaps even more ironic is the fact that I just registered for the Ottawa May half-marathon today after a very miserable Sunday morning run. It’s a very bittersweet day in the life of Kendra Hoskin. It all started at 7:45 am. I woke up, put on tights, a long underwear top and a zip-up. I grabbed my lulu headband and knitted mitts, stepped outside and thought it felt chilly. But I didn’t do anything about it. Then I realized I forgot my fancy watch and therefore could not follow my speed/distance. I shrugged it off in my easy going temporary state of mind. When I got to the running room I was already freezing. I knew it was going to be a cold run so I ditched my usual 2 hour group and opted for the 1:50 group hoping to cut a couple minutes off my run. Less than a kilometer in, my Ipod died. My Ipod is on the fritz and sometimes it says it has a full battery when obviously it does not. It was around this time my face started to freeze. My easy going attitude disappeared with the feeling in my hands. I started to get really numb, blowing into my mitts and moving my fingers around to try to get the feeling back. If I straightened out my arm, my elbow would get all tingly. After 12 kilometers, my face was blotchy with red and white spots. A fellow runner convinced me to turn around and head home.  It was disappointing for sure because I know I can physically run 18 kilometers. I sound like a complete wimp but to me getting hypothermia or frost-bite wasn’t worth finishing the run, even if the hypothermic half is just three weeks away. Looking back, I know I made the right decision. When I got home, I tried to unlock my front door but it was so hard to bend my fingers to get my key. I had to drop my mitts and my Ipod and use both hands, one to open my pocket and the other to grab the key. I was Rose from the Titanic cold (okay, yes, dramatic but I just wrote a story on the 100^th anniversary of the Titanic so I had to!) When I finally opened the door, my face burned as I walked inside. I changed into warm clothes and curled up on the couch under covers to warm up and watched the weather network, which I should have done before the run. It was only -12 but the wind shield made it feel like -23. I’m native to Ottawa and realize -23 isn’t an unbearable temperature to run in; but it is cold enough to avoid the open Atlantic Ocean winds and dress appropriately- I failed to do either.  This morning was definitely a learning experience for me. The days leading up to the race, you best to believe I will be checking the weather network religiously.

Other than the disappointing run today, my training has been generally on track (no pun intended): I ran 17 kilometers last Sunday, Monday I cross-trained with hot yoga, Wednesday I ran 5 kilometers and Thursday I did voluntary hill training which amounted to 8 kilometers in length. I realize it’s not die-hard training but I’m extremely busy with school so it’s good enough for now. Besides, I don’t particularly care about my time in this half marathon- I joined the clinic to keep in shape and train with my roommate Kayla for her first half marathon. Tragically, two Sundays ago, Kayla hurt her knee and the physiotherapist thinks she may have torn her cartilage.. again. Kayla has decided to drop out of the race. It is a mature decision that will allow her to heal properly. I know she is disappointed in the outcome but while training she completed a 16 kilometer treck which is the longest distance she has ever run! I think that is an accomplishment in itself and I’m proud of my little roomie. I do, however, wish her a speedy recovery because apparently I need someone to tell me how to dress!

When I started my blog, I promised to share my tales of the good, the bad and the ugly. This post lacks good in any shape or form, but I foresee my inspirational self making an appearance real soon.

At the best, learn from my mistake, go purchase some warm running clothes and GET OUT THERE!

Keep warm,

Running Romance  

The One About Inadequate Training

I had an amazing Christmas holiday but it went by way too fast. After one week in Ottawa, one week in Taiwan, and endless eating in both, I was back in Halifax wondering where the time had gone. I got home on the Monday night and gave myself until Wednesday before lacing up my running shoes. I knew it was going to be hard. After running one 16 km run in Ottawa, my second day in town, I didn’t run again. The only other training I did was sprinting across the Chicago Airport in hopes of catching my flight to Tokyo. I didn’t.  After such unsuccessful strenuous sprinting, I figured I better give myself a week to relax and eat copious amounts of rice. This is why I returned to Halifax inadequately trained. As a result, I was worried about jumping into hill training on Wednesday night. I knew I was out of shape but nothing could have prepared me for the results. The Running Room clinic was doing 9 hills. I told myself I would do 6. And I did. Barely. I’m not even being dramatic when I say I could not breathe. I’m dramatic 90% of the time (that’s probably a dramatic statistic), but I am being realistic when I tell you I actually thought I might be putting my body in physical harm. Even though I could envision my lungs shriveling up and passing out after two hills, I continued because my pride was too strong to quit. I was supposed to be running 9 hills, and here I was struggling with 6! It was a discouraging first run back. So I did what anyone in my position would do: I blamed it on the weather; my body was not used to the cold. Two days later, I did something I swore I’d never do again: I hit the treadmill. Running on a treadmill gives watching the clock a whole new meaning. Seconds feel like minutes; minutes like hours; and hours… well I don’t know because I wouldn’t let it get that far. I ran for 20 minutes at the 6^th level, 20 minutes on the 7^th level and 5 minutes on the 8^th level, all at a level 3 incline. The machine said my pace was 7:30/km. At that pace, I would be running my half marathon in 3 hours, an hour longer than my goal…. And I swear I was running faster than I normally do. After forty-five minutes I was huffing and puffing and drenched in sweat. So I stopped and did what anyone in my position would do: I blamed it on the conditions of the gym and vowed to run outside next time. I’ve never been a fan of treadmill running; I find it tedious and boring. Running is not something I have ever considered a chore, but running on a treadmill makes me wish my run away. But don’t get me wrong, I can definitely see some benefits of the treadmill: For one, you can drink water whenever you want (I never bring a water bottle with me on outside runs); You can forget about layering and just wear cute Lululemon clothes; And you can always feel your hands after your run! But, for me, the only successful part of running on the treadmill was that it made me excited to run outside tomorrow. I know I won’t be bored outside and besides, breathings overrated, right? I wouldn’t change a second of my holidays but I have made the final weeks of my training very difficult. I have a steady run tomorrow and an 18 km Running Room run scheduled for Sunday. I have to work Sunday morning, which means, I either do the 18 km solo or fall even further behind. I’ll leave you in suspense.


Until next time,

Running Romance xx