Friday 21 October 2011
Monday 17 October 2011
#33: I’ll Be Back
Satisfaction, accomplishment and a yearning for more...
2:49:55
It’s a pretty fine performance for my first attempt and one I am extremely pleased with. It’s an experience I will always remember and probably hope to emulate again and again (with minor improvements along the way).
I’ve never written a “race report” before and find the idea kind of silly, but I believe it can also be informative, insightful, entertaining and educational. So I'll give it a go.
I was awake long before my alarm was set to go off at 6am. I lay in bed straining to hear the sound I most feared, but it wasn’t there; it was dead calm. Finally I got up knowing any further sleep was impossible. I headed to the bathroom for the first (of many) trips this morning and on my way downstairs, I was again listening for that sound that haunted my dreams; still nothing. When I passed the kitchen window, I told myself not to look but couldn’t help myself. I glanced outside at the blackened sky and was relieved to see that the trees were perfectly still. There was no wind! It was still far too early to make any conclusions with the race still 3 hours away, but I took it as a good sign. I made some toast and forced it down along with a banana and a bottle of Gatorade. I of course wasn’t hungry at this early hour, but it was a necessary task.
It was now just after 6am and with nothing to do, I went back to bed and tried to stay calm by listening to some music and trying to focus on the task ahead. My legs were physically shaking under the covers; they were beyond my conscious control. They were so eager to move again after so many days of forced rest. When I couldn’t take their uncontrollable shaking any longer, I again got up and took a hot shower. It was nearing 7am and the sky was beginning to brighten. I again peered outside and again the trees were still and silent. The forecast was still predicting winds of 35km/h from the west, but it seemed as if it wouldn’t be so bad. I spent the next hour doing nothing at all. I put on my short shorts, my Longboat t-shirt with the already attached race bib (an insignificant #163) and threw on a long sleeve and some jogging pants to keep warm. I opted not to bandage my heels or toes and would hope for the best. I was concerned with my shoes which had taken on a new shape after I put them in the dryer for a tad bit too long after Wednesday’s wet training run. I wasn’t too worried but knew that the smallest blister could prove disastrous. Just before 8am, I left my house with everything I would need and perhaps some things I didn’t.
As I made my way to the corner to catch my ride, a woman on a bicycle who could clearly tell, wished me luck in my race today; it was a good omen. Not a minute later, Roger picked me up with Doyle already on board. We headed downtown to try and park close to the finish and found a convenient spot on King. We engaged in our usual running/race banter and all agreed the weather was better than expected. After some light stretching and more bathrooms breaks, we did a short jog down to the finish area and then back to the jeep. Although we were together, the three of us were very much alone. We all did our own thing and each guy was psyching himself up in his own particular way. I still haven’t 'found' my pre-race routine and am not one for rituals, but this alone time is often important. I actually prefer the company of others to distract me from my own mind and the self-doubt and uncertainly that can plague me at these tense moments. With still some time to kill, Rog and Doyle continued to do their thing, while I sat in the car and visualized. For all my hard work and training, I was still about to do something completely novel and thus had no way to know what to expect. I had been told a million times that the end would be hard, that it would be terrible and terrifying, but I still didn’t quite understand what they could mean. I tried and think about those last 10km and how I wanted to feel. I almost wished that it was already over...
About 15min before the race, we ditched our pants and long sleeves and headed for the start. A short 5min jog ensued and then we were there. There among the 15,000+ runners who would be running today; it was chaos. Doyle was still busy doing his stretches and being Doyle and I was growing increasingly nervous to get into the starting corral and near to the front of the line. Finally I convinced him to go. Panic quickly followed when we were herded into the Purple corral (the slowest one) and told to follow the corrals all the way to the front. That would have taken at least 10min and we only had like 5! We decided to try and make our way across University to get to the corral quicker but found that it was totally blocked off. A security guy told us we would have to go around. That was unacceptable advice. With my patience at its end, I stepped up onto a seating platform and jumped the blockade directly into the elite starting area. Doyle soon followed and before anyone could say anything we were making our way to the start. We snuck in past the giant inflatable starting sign and squeezed past another barrier and were finally where we wanted to be. We soon found some fellow Longboaters and wished each other luck with a minute or so to spare. That minute seems to take forever as everyone is nervously looking down at their shoes and their watches ready to go. Without so much as a warning, the horn sounded and the race had begun...
The first part of any race is always chaos. There are people everywhere, most of who are running way too fast and over their heads. One must constantly watch their feet and those of others who are all scrambling to find a better position. It’s always faster than you intend as well. The first 2 and half were like this. We turned onto Wellington and headed east for the first time today. A gentle wind could be felt on the back pushing us forward. Doyle and I had gone out fast but not too fast. The first km was about 3:45, and we made an effort to slow things down a bit. The second was closer to 3:55 and we were already into a rhythm.
Things started to space out a bit and we settled into a groove. Just after the 3k mark (a 3:50 or so) as we headed west (into the wind) on Lakeshore, there came a voice from behind: “Hey Simcoe Shores guys!” ... Could that be directed at us? I looked at Doyle and then looked ever so slightly behind. “Ya, you guys, I’m talking to you.” Soon a familiar face came sprinting to catch up to us and we were reintroduced to Sean Cross, a guy who had run on an opposing team at the Simcoe Shores Relay as well as the Ingersoll 10k we had run several weeks before. We chatted back and forth and soon realized we were all aiming for around the same time of 2:48. We had found an ally and agreed to work together for as long as we could. As we continued to battle the occasionally strong winds heading west, we took turns breaking the wind and running in a close pack. We also found ourselves picking off other runners (the ones who went out way too fast) and used them to help us in our quest to make the turnaround without suffering too much from the wind.
Early on, I stuck to my plan to alternate between Gatorade and water at the fluid stations but already after just a small amount of the stuff at around 4k, was getting a cramp in my stomach. I knew I should have practiced taking fluids during training runs. I was able to battle it away after several km’s but knew it would be a recurring issue as I would need to continue taking fluids throughout the race. I opted for water more often than Gatorade and even grabbed a gel at the 17k mark to save for later. My inexperience with taking fluids meant that I managed to half-choke a couple of times which garnished a laugh from Doyle. My oversight of the importance of mid-race fuelling would turn out to be a major factor in the difference between my planned 2:48 and my eventual 2:50.
We passed the 10k mark just over 39min; our pace was still fast (3:54/k) but it didn’t feel forced and we were happy to maintain it for the time being. As we continued west, we saw the race leaders heading east on the other side of the Lakeshore. The lead group was full of pacers plus the two Kenyans favoured to win and surprisingly, our own Canadian sensation Reid Coolsaet. He was clearly going for the (Canadian) record despite the unfavourable conditions. The second group was composed of two more Canadian Olympic hopefuls in Eric Gillis and Dylan Wykes. I yelled as loud as I could “Go Eric;” I really wanted him to do it (qualify for the Olympics)!
We stayed on pace right until the turnaround at about 12k and when we made the turn everything felt a bit easier. The wind was no longer hounding us, and although I didn’t feel it was all that bad on the way out, this was a wonderful feeling. The next kilometers just floated by. Before I knew it we were at the 18k mark where the marathoners and half-marathoners went their separate ways. As Doyle noted, it was time "to separate the boys from the men." We turned south onto Stadium Road and then east again on Queen’s Quay. It was here at Bathurst Street where my one and only contingent of fan support in Kass and Sarah, greeted me and cheered me on. It was a great feeling! Soon after, we crossed the half-way point which told us we covered the first 21.1k in 1:23 and change. It was still a bit brisk (at ~3:54/k) but things still felt okay. The next 10 or so km’s are the “worst” ones (okay, not the worst as you shall soon see, but the most unspectacular). These are lonely and lazy km’s where it can become easy to lose focus and make mistakes. It didn’t help that this part of the course was also particularly dull and void of scenery. We ran to Cherry St and headed south where we did a “lollipop” turn at the bottom and headed back north to Commissioner’s and continued east for several more km’s before doing another lollipop type turn on Leslie. The details of these km’s elude me now as I tried to get into a groove and just keep going. At one point I felt like I was overheating and sweat was actually forming on my head and neck (this usually doesn't happen to me...I'm a non-sweater). I tried to compensate by taking extra water at the next station and was rewarded with another minor cramp. Soon we found ourselves on Lakeshore again, still heading east and approached the 30k mark. Things were about to get interesting...
The 30k mark was located at the top of a gradual hill just before we headed north toward Queen St. We crossed the line just over 1:58, a full minute earlier than I had expected from my pre-race calculations. We were still hitting close to 3:54/k pace and I was still feeling relatively good. That feeling however didn’t last long. Just as we headed onto Queen St to do the last 3km east before the final turnaround, my legs begin to feel the slightest bit heavier. It was barely noticeable at first, but something was definitely up and my step didn't feel as comfortable as it had for so long. I took this opportunity to take a gel just before a fluid station to wash it down with water. I was hoping that this would be enough to get me through until the end. I perked up briefly on Queen St where the fan support was really strong and the complete strangers continued to yell out words of encouragement to me personally (my name was printed conveniently on the front of my bib). The clock at 32k said something like 2:06 and it was here that I did that first bit of mental math that said that if I could hold on and do a 40min 10k, I would be well under my intended target. Unfortunately it was not long after this that my pace began to slow. Doyle and Sean seemed to be creeping away little by little, gaining a few meters every minute, and although I desperately wanted to stay close and follow them, I just couldn’t do it any more. It was here that the "race" truly began, and already I was losing...
They had probably gained more than 100m when I made the turn at ~33k. It was here that all hope of a perfect marathon debut went out the window. The wind hit with such ferocity that I immediately was panicked and devoid of hope. There were still more than 7k to go and I was all alone with no one to block the wind. A group ahead of me consisting of the fastest Canadian women and her pacer was not far ahead and I considered trying to make a surge to catch them in order to help with the wind situation. After battling to the top of one of Queen Street’s rolling “hills” I gave everything I had to pick up the pace one more time. It was only a few seconds before a powerful wind gust smacked me square in the face and brought me back to reality. I wasn’t going anywhere!
With the wind howling endlessly in my face and my pace slowing further by the minute, I was finally experiencing the true test of the marathon. I wasn’t bonking and I hadn’t hit any “wall” but I was experiencing my own personal version of what this must have meant. I began doing the mental tricks trying to imagine how much further there was to go and how fast I could run those distances on a good day. I can remember looking for the next km mark and doing everything just to get to that point and then reassess. I felt like I wasn’t even moving and refused to look at my watch for fear for what it might have said. I tried to do the math and calculate where I might be but at this point, playing with numbers was pointless. At one point I was even worried that I might not even break 3 hours and this was almost too much to bear. I had trained so hard. I had been ready for this. Why was I failing so badly?
Those long km’s somehow managed to go by. 36...37...38...39. How much time had passed I couldn't know? Finally I saw the Don Valley flyover ahead and knew that this was the 40k mark and that there were only about 4 more to go. There was a large supporter group just before the flyover full of Greeks with flags all dancing and singing and cheering my name. I tried to look at them and show them how grateful I was, but I don’t think I had to the energy to do so. I made that long journey up the fully exposed flyover and the wind hit me harder than ever before. It was here at this very point, where the terrible thought of stopping, of walking, came into my mind. I already felt like I wasn’t moving so why not? I then heard Roger’s voice: “No matter how slow you’re moving; running is always faster than walking.” I couldn't give up now. I tried ever so slightly to fight back against the wind and move a little faster. There was a lone guy at the Sportstats truck where they took our 40k split and he too said something of encouragement and told me to keep going. It was here that I saw my time and was given a glimmer of hope. 2:40 and change. I was somehow still on pace, or at least not far off of it. Just 2 more km’s to go and I could probably reach my goal. I had definitely slowed down, and was in all likeliness still slowing down, but the finish was now so near. I put my head down and carried on. I tried to move faster but it just wouldn't happen. It was here that I realized just how tough the marathon can be and why it is the ultimate running challenge.
I wanted so badly to just keep moving. My arms and legs began to tingle with those pin-prick like sensations you get when they ‘fall asleep;’ I was losing all feeling and was actually welcoming the numbness. On the other side of the flyover, the massive city buildings suddenly became so near and for a few minutes, the wind didn’t seem so strong. I saw the 41km marker and then like an angel descending from above; George Hubbard appeared at my side and began to run alongside of me. He told me I was doing great and said my time was about 2:44 something. He said I would definitely get under 2:50 and that somehow convinced me that it was true. I wanted so badly for him to stay by my side and guide me to the finish but I didn’t have the energy to say so. I told him “thanks” and just kept moving. Shortly after, a man on a bike was heading toward me and told me that it would “all be over soon.” I think I tried to smile. I went through a final barrage of supporters who yelled my name louder than ever before. The course made a slight change of direction from Front St to Wellington and it was here that I saw the “500m to go” sign. So close now. Out of nowhere, another runner appeared just ahead of me. He was clearly hurting badly and actually made a wrong turn to leave the main road and was directed by the fans back on course. I came up next to him and without actually saying it, hoped that he would follow me. My focus then reverted to the signs which spelled out 500...400... then 300m to go. Each 100m interval seemed to last a lifetime. I made the final turn onto Bay St and saw that most beautiful sight of the finish line. The clock was counting up and I could see it was already at 2:49 high. I gave what little I had left and surged toward the finish, almost unable to hear the massive crowd cheering me on. I think the announcer said my name and where I was from but I can't be sure. I looked up as I crossed the line to see the clock hit 2:49:55 and I knew I had salvaged something special. I grinded immediately to a halt but knew to keep moving which I did. Soon Roger and Rob Campbell were there to greet and congratulate me. Rob said it was an amazing first performance and I thought it might be true. I kept moving as the volunteers herded us up Bay St. A small boy put a medal around my neck and said I did great and I was truly glad to have it. Soon I saw Doyle and was happy to see him again; how long had it been seen we drifted apart? We made our way through the now hoards of people (mostly half-marathoners finishing in the same time we did), grabbed a banana and bagel and departed the finisher’s area. Rog had given me a backpack with our things in it so we found a small space at the entrance of a building and quickly changed into some warm and dry clothing. I finally asked Doyle what his time was in the race and was taken aback when he told me. The guy I had trained with all year long had just run a 2:45 in the same conditions! I was overcome with amazement and completely forgot about my own race. He had run perhaps the greatest race of him life so far. For all the training and all the time we spent running together, it seemed to have paid off and in a big way. We had both run extremely well. The difference between us was experience and I was already looking forward toward getting more.
We eventually made our way to the VIP tent right at the finish line where some Longboat members (a special thanks to Lynn and Sabrina) had volunteered and got us in with free passes. There we could comfortably watch the race and take in what we had just done. I felt surprisingly good, considering how bad I felt mere minutes earlier and was happy to take on some fluids and carbs. We watched as our fellow teammates Gerardo and then Melinda came in with their own highly impressive times; it had shaped up to be a pretty good day after all. Soon my legs began to ache and we decided it was time to head home. We walked back to the jeep and Roger drove me home.
At home I had a bottle of Gatorade and a banana knowing that I desperately needed fuel to recover but my body was wanting none of it. I had a shower in which I soaked my lower body in ice cold water but my tolerance for such discomfort is relatively low and it wasn’t long before I had switched to burning hot water instead. It was not long before I was on the move again as I was planning to head to Rogers to join the others for the CBC broadcast of the event set to air at 3. I got on my bike and again was surprised to feel comfortable in moving my legs. I stopped off at the beer store before arriving at Roger’s just before 3pm. We spent the remainder of the day drinking beers and talking shop about everything and anything, running related and otherwise. At one point, Doyle and I felt an immediate need for nourishment having drunk nothing but beer all afternoon, and so a plan was set in motion to order pizza which was subsequently devoured by all. We left just before 10pm when the beer and food was gone and my legs were beginning to ache. It had been a long day.
I made my way home and began thinking about what I had done earlier that day. Already
I was thinking about the next time I would attempt 42.2 and what I would need to do differently in order to do better. 2:50 on my first attempt; there was no limit to what I could achieve. I was suddenly very excited.
2:49:55
It’s a pretty fine performance for my first attempt and one I am extremely pleased with. It’s an experience I will always remember and probably hope to emulate again and again (with minor improvements along the way).
I’ve never written a “race report” before and find the idea kind of silly, but I believe it can also be informative, insightful, entertaining and educational. So I'll give it a go.
I was awake long before my alarm was set to go off at 6am. I lay in bed straining to hear the sound I most feared, but it wasn’t there; it was dead calm. Finally I got up knowing any further sleep was impossible. I headed to the bathroom for the first (of many) trips this morning and on my way downstairs, I was again listening for that sound that haunted my dreams; still nothing. When I passed the kitchen window, I told myself not to look but couldn’t help myself. I glanced outside at the blackened sky and was relieved to see that the trees were perfectly still. There was no wind! It was still far too early to make any conclusions with the race still 3 hours away, but I took it as a good sign. I made some toast and forced it down along with a banana and a bottle of Gatorade. I of course wasn’t hungry at this early hour, but it was a necessary task.
It was now just after 6am and with nothing to do, I went back to bed and tried to stay calm by listening to some music and trying to focus on the task ahead. My legs were physically shaking under the covers; they were beyond my conscious control. They were so eager to move again after so many days of forced rest. When I couldn’t take their uncontrollable shaking any longer, I again got up and took a hot shower. It was nearing 7am and the sky was beginning to brighten. I again peered outside and again the trees were still and silent. The forecast was still predicting winds of 35km/h from the west, but it seemed as if it wouldn’t be so bad. I spent the next hour doing nothing at all. I put on my short shorts, my Longboat t-shirt with the already attached race bib (an insignificant #163) and threw on a long sleeve and some jogging pants to keep warm. I opted not to bandage my heels or toes and would hope for the best. I was concerned with my shoes which had taken on a new shape after I put them in the dryer for a tad bit too long after Wednesday’s wet training run. I wasn’t too worried but knew that the smallest blister could prove disastrous. Just before 8am, I left my house with everything I would need and perhaps some things I didn’t.
As I made my way to the corner to catch my ride, a woman on a bicycle who could clearly tell, wished me luck in my race today; it was a good omen. Not a minute later, Roger picked me up with Doyle already on board. We headed downtown to try and park close to the finish and found a convenient spot on King. We engaged in our usual running/race banter and all agreed the weather was better than expected. After some light stretching and more bathrooms breaks, we did a short jog down to the finish area and then back to the jeep. Although we were together, the three of us were very much alone. We all did our own thing and each guy was psyching himself up in his own particular way. I still haven’t 'found' my pre-race routine and am not one for rituals, but this alone time is often important. I actually prefer the company of others to distract me from my own mind and the self-doubt and uncertainly that can plague me at these tense moments. With still some time to kill, Rog and Doyle continued to do their thing, while I sat in the car and visualized. For all my hard work and training, I was still about to do something completely novel and thus had no way to know what to expect. I had been told a million times that the end would be hard, that it would be terrible and terrifying, but I still didn’t quite understand what they could mean. I tried and think about those last 10km and how I wanted to feel. I almost wished that it was already over...
About 15min before the race, we ditched our pants and long sleeves and headed for the start. A short 5min jog ensued and then we were there. There among the 15,000+ runners who would be running today; it was chaos. Doyle was still busy doing his stretches and being Doyle and I was growing increasingly nervous to get into the starting corral and near to the front of the line. Finally I convinced him to go. Panic quickly followed when we were herded into the Purple corral (the slowest one) and told to follow the corrals all the way to the front. That would have taken at least 10min and we only had like 5! We decided to try and make our way across University to get to the corral quicker but found that it was totally blocked off. A security guy told us we would have to go around. That was unacceptable advice. With my patience at its end, I stepped up onto a seating platform and jumped the blockade directly into the elite starting area. Doyle soon followed and before anyone could say anything we were making our way to the start. We snuck in past the giant inflatable starting sign and squeezed past another barrier and were finally where we wanted to be. We soon found some fellow Longboaters and wished each other luck with a minute or so to spare. That minute seems to take forever as everyone is nervously looking down at their shoes and their watches ready to go. Without so much as a warning, the horn sounded and the race had begun...
The first part of any race is always chaos. There are people everywhere, most of who are running way too fast and over their heads. One must constantly watch their feet and those of others who are all scrambling to find a better position. It’s always faster than you intend as well. The first 2 and half were like this. We turned onto Wellington and headed east for the first time today. A gentle wind could be felt on the back pushing us forward. Doyle and I had gone out fast but not too fast. The first km was about 3:45, and we made an effort to slow things down a bit. The second was closer to 3:55 and we were already into a rhythm.
Things started to space out a bit and we settled into a groove. Just after the 3k mark (a 3:50 or so) as we headed west (into the wind) on Lakeshore, there came a voice from behind: “Hey Simcoe Shores guys!” ... Could that be directed at us? I looked at Doyle and then looked ever so slightly behind. “Ya, you guys, I’m talking to you.” Soon a familiar face came sprinting to catch up to us and we were reintroduced to Sean Cross, a guy who had run on an opposing team at the Simcoe Shores Relay as well as the Ingersoll 10k we had run several weeks before. We chatted back and forth and soon realized we were all aiming for around the same time of 2:48. We had found an ally and agreed to work together for as long as we could. As we continued to battle the occasionally strong winds heading west, we took turns breaking the wind and running in a close pack. We also found ourselves picking off other runners (the ones who went out way too fast) and used them to help us in our quest to make the turnaround without suffering too much from the wind.
Early on, I stuck to my plan to alternate between Gatorade and water at the fluid stations but already after just a small amount of the stuff at around 4k, was getting a cramp in my stomach. I knew I should have practiced taking fluids during training runs. I was able to battle it away after several km’s but knew it would be a recurring issue as I would need to continue taking fluids throughout the race. I opted for water more often than Gatorade and even grabbed a gel at the 17k mark to save for later. My inexperience with taking fluids meant that I managed to half-choke a couple of times which garnished a laugh from Doyle. My oversight of the importance of mid-race fuelling would turn out to be a major factor in the difference between my planned 2:48 and my eventual 2:50.
We passed the 10k mark just over 39min; our pace was still fast (3:54/k) but it didn’t feel forced and we were happy to maintain it for the time being. As we continued west, we saw the race leaders heading east on the other side of the Lakeshore. The lead group was full of pacers plus the two Kenyans favoured to win and surprisingly, our own Canadian sensation Reid Coolsaet. He was clearly going for the (Canadian) record despite the unfavourable conditions. The second group was composed of two more Canadian Olympic hopefuls in Eric Gillis and Dylan Wykes. I yelled as loud as I could “Go Eric;” I really wanted him to do it (qualify for the Olympics)!
We stayed on pace right until the turnaround at about 12k and when we made the turn everything felt a bit easier. The wind was no longer hounding us, and although I didn’t feel it was all that bad on the way out, this was a wonderful feeling. The next kilometers just floated by. Before I knew it we were at the 18k mark where the marathoners and half-marathoners went their separate ways. As Doyle noted, it was time "to separate the boys from the men." We turned south onto Stadium Road and then east again on Queen’s Quay. It was here at Bathurst Street where my one and only contingent of fan support in Kass and Sarah, greeted me and cheered me on. It was a great feeling! Soon after, we crossed the half-way point which told us we covered the first 21.1k in 1:23 and change. It was still a bit brisk (at ~3:54/k) but things still felt okay. The next 10 or so km’s are the “worst” ones (okay, not the worst as you shall soon see, but the most unspectacular). These are lonely and lazy km’s where it can become easy to lose focus and make mistakes. It didn’t help that this part of the course was also particularly dull and void of scenery. We ran to Cherry St and headed south where we did a “lollipop” turn at the bottom and headed back north to Commissioner’s and continued east for several more km’s before doing another lollipop type turn on Leslie. The details of these km’s elude me now as I tried to get into a groove and just keep going. At one point I felt like I was overheating and sweat was actually forming on my head and neck (this usually doesn't happen to me...I'm a non-sweater). I tried to compensate by taking extra water at the next station and was rewarded with another minor cramp. Soon we found ourselves on Lakeshore again, still heading east and approached the 30k mark. Things were about to get interesting...
The 30k mark was located at the top of a gradual hill just before we headed north toward Queen St. We crossed the line just over 1:58, a full minute earlier than I had expected from my pre-race calculations. We were still hitting close to 3:54/k pace and I was still feeling relatively good. That feeling however didn’t last long. Just as we headed onto Queen St to do the last 3km east before the final turnaround, my legs begin to feel the slightest bit heavier. It was barely noticeable at first, but something was definitely up and my step didn't feel as comfortable as it had for so long. I took this opportunity to take a gel just before a fluid station to wash it down with water. I was hoping that this would be enough to get me through until the end. I perked up briefly on Queen St where the fan support was really strong and the complete strangers continued to yell out words of encouragement to me personally (my name was printed conveniently on the front of my bib). The clock at 32k said something like 2:06 and it was here that I did that first bit of mental math that said that if I could hold on and do a 40min 10k, I would be well under my intended target. Unfortunately it was not long after this that my pace began to slow. Doyle and Sean seemed to be creeping away little by little, gaining a few meters every minute, and although I desperately wanted to stay close and follow them, I just couldn’t do it any more. It was here that the "race" truly began, and already I was losing...
They had probably gained more than 100m when I made the turn at ~33k. It was here that all hope of a perfect marathon debut went out the window. The wind hit with such ferocity that I immediately was panicked and devoid of hope. There were still more than 7k to go and I was all alone with no one to block the wind. A group ahead of me consisting of the fastest Canadian women and her pacer was not far ahead and I considered trying to make a surge to catch them in order to help with the wind situation. After battling to the top of one of Queen Street’s rolling “hills” I gave everything I had to pick up the pace one more time. It was only a few seconds before a powerful wind gust smacked me square in the face and brought me back to reality. I wasn’t going anywhere!
With the wind howling endlessly in my face and my pace slowing further by the minute, I was finally experiencing the true test of the marathon. I wasn’t bonking and I hadn’t hit any “wall” but I was experiencing my own personal version of what this must have meant. I began doing the mental tricks trying to imagine how much further there was to go and how fast I could run those distances on a good day. I can remember looking for the next km mark and doing everything just to get to that point and then reassess. I felt like I wasn’t even moving and refused to look at my watch for fear for what it might have said. I tried to do the math and calculate where I might be but at this point, playing with numbers was pointless. At one point I was even worried that I might not even break 3 hours and this was almost too much to bear. I had trained so hard. I had been ready for this. Why was I failing so badly?
Those long km’s somehow managed to go by. 36...37...38...39. How much time had passed I couldn't know? Finally I saw the Don Valley flyover ahead and knew that this was the 40k mark and that there were only about 4 more to go. There was a large supporter group just before the flyover full of Greeks with flags all dancing and singing and cheering my name. I tried to look at them and show them how grateful I was, but I don’t think I had to the energy to do so. I made that long journey up the fully exposed flyover and the wind hit me harder than ever before. It was here at this very point, where the terrible thought of stopping, of walking, came into my mind. I already felt like I wasn’t moving so why not? I then heard Roger’s voice: “No matter how slow you’re moving; running is always faster than walking.” I couldn't give up now. I tried ever so slightly to fight back against the wind and move a little faster. There was a lone guy at the Sportstats truck where they took our 40k split and he too said something of encouragement and told me to keep going. It was here that I saw my time and was given a glimmer of hope. 2:40 and change. I was somehow still on pace, or at least not far off of it. Just 2 more km’s to go and I could probably reach my goal. I had definitely slowed down, and was in all likeliness still slowing down, but the finish was now so near. I put my head down and carried on. I tried to move faster but it just wouldn't happen. It was here that I realized just how tough the marathon can be and why it is the ultimate running challenge.
I wanted so badly to just keep moving. My arms and legs began to tingle with those pin-prick like sensations you get when they ‘fall asleep;’ I was losing all feeling and was actually welcoming the numbness. On the other side of the flyover, the massive city buildings suddenly became so near and for a few minutes, the wind didn’t seem so strong. I saw the 41km marker and then like an angel descending from above; George Hubbard appeared at my side and began to run alongside of me. He told me I was doing great and said my time was about 2:44 something. He said I would definitely get under 2:50 and that somehow convinced me that it was true. I wanted so badly for him to stay by my side and guide me to the finish but I didn’t have the energy to say so. I told him “thanks” and just kept moving. Shortly after, a man on a bike was heading toward me and told me that it would “all be over soon.” I think I tried to smile. I went through a final barrage of supporters who yelled my name louder than ever before. The course made a slight change of direction from Front St to Wellington and it was here that I saw the “500m to go” sign. So close now. Out of nowhere, another runner appeared just ahead of me. He was clearly hurting badly and actually made a wrong turn to leave the main road and was directed by the fans back on course. I came up next to him and without actually saying it, hoped that he would follow me. My focus then reverted to the signs which spelled out 500...400... then 300m to go. Each 100m interval seemed to last a lifetime. I made the final turn onto Bay St and saw that most beautiful sight of the finish line. The clock was counting up and I could see it was already at 2:49 high. I gave what little I had left and surged toward the finish, almost unable to hear the massive crowd cheering me on. I think the announcer said my name and where I was from but I can't be sure. I looked up as I crossed the line to see the clock hit 2:49:55 and I knew I had salvaged something special. I grinded immediately to a halt but knew to keep moving which I did. Soon Roger and Rob Campbell were there to greet and congratulate me. Rob said it was an amazing first performance and I thought it might be true. I kept moving as the volunteers herded us up Bay St. A small boy put a medal around my neck and said I did great and I was truly glad to have it. Soon I saw Doyle and was happy to see him again; how long had it been seen we drifted apart? We made our way through the now hoards of people (mostly half-marathoners finishing in the same time we did), grabbed a banana and bagel and departed the finisher’s area. Rog had given me a backpack with our things in it so we found a small space at the entrance of a building and quickly changed into some warm and dry clothing. I finally asked Doyle what his time was in the race and was taken aback when he told me. The guy I had trained with all year long had just run a 2:45 in the same conditions! I was overcome with amazement and completely forgot about my own race. He had run perhaps the greatest race of him life so far. For all the training and all the time we spent running together, it seemed to have paid off and in a big way. We had both run extremely well. The difference between us was experience and I was already looking forward toward getting more.
We eventually made our way to the VIP tent right at the finish line where some Longboat members (a special thanks to Lynn and Sabrina) had volunteered and got us in with free passes. There we could comfortably watch the race and take in what we had just done. I felt surprisingly good, considering how bad I felt mere minutes earlier and was happy to take on some fluids and carbs. We watched as our fellow teammates Gerardo and then Melinda came in with their own highly impressive times; it had shaped up to be a pretty good day after all. Soon my legs began to ache and we decided it was time to head home. We walked back to the jeep and Roger drove me home.
At home I had a bottle of Gatorade and a banana knowing that I desperately needed fuel to recover but my body was wanting none of it. I had a shower in which I soaked my lower body in ice cold water but my tolerance for such discomfort is relatively low and it wasn’t long before I had switched to burning hot water instead. It was not long before I was on the move again as I was planning to head to Rogers to join the others for the CBC broadcast of the event set to air at 3. I got on my bike and again was surprised to feel comfortable in moving my legs. I stopped off at the beer store before arriving at Roger’s just before 3pm. We spent the remainder of the day drinking beers and talking shop about everything and anything, running related and otherwise. At one point, Doyle and I felt an immediate need for nourishment having drunk nothing but beer all afternoon, and so a plan was set in motion to order pizza which was subsequently devoured by all. We left just before 10pm when the beer and food was gone and my legs were beginning to ache. It had been a long day.
I made my way home and began thinking about what I had done earlier that day. Already
I was thinking about the next time I would attempt 42.2 and what I would need to do differently in order to do better. 2:50 on my first attempt; there was no limit to what I could achieve. I was suddenly very excited.
Saturday 15 October 2011
#32: Nothin' Shakin' (But the Leaves on the Trees)
Just read an article in the Globe (http://www.theglobeandmail.com/sports/more-sports/waterfront-marathon-will-finish-at-occupy-toronto-protest/article2202139/) about the Scotiabank Marathon tomorrow and had a few thoughts...
First of all, I certainly hope Mr Brookes is right in saying that there will be no problems having the finish line (@ Bay and King) at the same location as the 'Occupy Toronto' protests set to take place today and carry over into tomorrow. I respect the right for people to exercise their democratic right to peaceful protest, assembly and free speech (regardless of how hopeless their causes and how annoying their voices), but I will not be happy if some idiot with a cardboard sign gets in my way as I make my way toward the finish. I am confident this won't be an issue.
Next is a few comments made my last year's marathon winner, Keneth Mungara from Kenya, who says: "You can’t say how fast you can go, it depends on the pacemakers. I can’t push then if they go slow. I have to save my energy until they leave, then I push it on my own... They may cost a lot of money but they do a lot of the job. They cook the race. I can’t cook, I take it to the table.”
And there goes all my respect for him! Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to be an elite athlete?! Didn't you take home some $30,000 in extra cash last year for setting a marathon record on Canadian soil?! And here you're flat out admitting that the results depend not so much on how fast you run, but on how fast your (expensive) pacers run! I'm speachless. I've always respected and admired the Kenyans and West Africans and anyone really, who could run so fast for so long, but I am now at a point where I'm not so sure it's deserved. I mean how much faster could I run if I had a few pacers? We all could probably knock a few minutes off our best times with some help. What gets me the most is that we, the regular joe-shmo runners, are paying ridiculously expensive race fees which are being used to pay for greedy race directors, exordinate prize money for aging Africans who can't compete at a high level anymore, and pacers who allow them to do it! I don't giving a flying fish if there's an African leading the race or pacers helping him doing it. All I need is a course of a certified length and a clock at the end telling me how fast I went. I don't need medals, awards, fancy t-shirts, my name on a bib, or free junk! Let's go back to when races where about one and only one thing: running.
Next is something I do care about and that's our elite Canadian runners. As I sit here and worry about how the wind will likely affect my performance tomorrow; I can't imagine how it must feel for the guys who are needing to run the fastest races of their lives in order to meet the qualifying standard (2:11:29) for the 2012 Olympics. Eric Gillis, Reid Coolsaet, Rob Watson, Matt Loseille, and Dylan Wykes are the only elite runners I care about and certainly hope they will be getting the best support (race) money can buy in order to help them succeed. I would really love to see three Canadians in London next summer and wish them all the best on their journeys to achieve that goal. They work harder than anyone seems to appreciate and should be given far more support and recognition for the amazing athletes they are!
My final comment is about the weather. Yes, it's something we can't change or control and thus have little reason to complain about it, but I'll do it anyway because it's been all I've been thinking about for the past week. The forecast for tomorrow is a cool and comfortable 9 degrees with only a 30% chance of scattered rain; almost ideal for racing. What isn't ideal is a wicked westerly wind clocking at 35km/h! Wind is the bane of a runners existance. It can stop us flat in our tracks and defeat us mentally long before it affects us physically. Having done everything right in training for 14 weeks, I am nervous not because I am not prepared, but because my performance may well be dictated by a factor completely out of my control, and that sucks (actually it blows). My goal has changed slightly over the past months: first it was to run sub 3, then sub 2:55, then sub 2:50, then to run 4:00/km (2:48:48), and then to run 2:48 flat. It looks as if it may have to change yet again. I feel I am capable of the 2:48 (perhaps even better!) but I no longer have control of this, or at least not as much control as I would have liked. As of now, nothing changes. The goal is still 2:48. I will do what I am capable of doing and will deal with what happens along the way...
A race report will follow shortly.
First of all, I certainly hope Mr Brookes is right in saying that there will be no problems having the finish line (@ Bay and King) at the same location as the 'Occupy Toronto' protests set to take place today and carry over into tomorrow. I respect the right for people to exercise their democratic right to peaceful protest, assembly and free speech (regardless of how hopeless their causes and how annoying their voices), but I will not be happy if some idiot with a cardboard sign gets in my way as I make my way toward the finish. I am confident this won't be an issue.
Next is a few comments made my last year's marathon winner, Keneth Mungara from Kenya, who says: "You can’t say how fast you can go, it depends on the pacemakers. I can’t push then if they go slow. I have to save my energy until they leave, then I push it on my own... They may cost a lot of money but they do a lot of the job. They cook the race. I can’t cook, I take it to the table.”
And there goes all my respect for him! Excuse me, but aren't you supposed to be an elite athlete?! Didn't you take home some $30,000 in extra cash last year for setting a marathon record on Canadian soil?! And here you're flat out admitting that the results depend not so much on how fast you run, but on how fast your (expensive) pacers run! I'm speachless. I've always respected and admired the Kenyans and West Africans and anyone really, who could run so fast for so long, but I am now at a point where I'm not so sure it's deserved. I mean how much faster could I run if I had a few pacers? We all could probably knock a few minutes off our best times with some help. What gets me the most is that we, the regular joe-shmo runners, are paying ridiculously expensive race fees which are being used to pay for greedy race directors, exordinate prize money for aging Africans who can't compete at a high level anymore, and pacers who allow them to do it! I don't giving a flying fish if there's an African leading the race or pacers helping him doing it. All I need is a course of a certified length and a clock at the end telling me how fast I went. I don't need medals, awards, fancy t-shirts, my name on a bib, or free junk! Let's go back to when races where about one and only one thing: running.
Next is something I do care about and that's our elite Canadian runners. As I sit here and worry about how the wind will likely affect my performance tomorrow; I can't imagine how it must feel for the guys who are needing to run the fastest races of their lives in order to meet the qualifying standard (2:11:29) for the 2012 Olympics. Eric Gillis, Reid Coolsaet, Rob Watson, Matt Loseille, and Dylan Wykes are the only elite runners I care about and certainly hope they will be getting the best support (race) money can buy in order to help them succeed. I would really love to see three Canadians in London next summer and wish them all the best on their journeys to achieve that goal. They work harder than anyone seems to appreciate and should be given far more support and recognition for the amazing athletes they are!
My final comment is about the weather. Yes, it's something we can't change or control and thus have little reason to complain about it, but I'll do it anyway because it's been all I've been thinking about for the past week. The forecast for tomorrow is a cool and comfortable 9 degrees with only a 30% chance of scattered rain; almost ideal for racing. What isn't ideal is a wicked westerly wind clocking at 35km/h! Wind is the bane of a runners existance. It can stop us flat in our tracks and defeat us mentally long before it affects us physically. Having done everything right in training for 14 weeks, I am nervous not because I am not prepared, but because my performance may well be dictated by a factor completely out of my control, and that sucks (actually it blows). My goal has changed slightly over the past months: first it was to run sub 3, then sub 2:55, then sub 2:50, then to run 4:00/km (2:48:48), and then to run 2:48 flat. It looks as if it may have to change yet again. I feel I am capable of the 2:48 (perhaps even better!) but I no longer have control of this, or at least not as much control as I would have liked. As of now, nothing changes. The goal is still 2:48. I will do what I am capable of doing and will deal with what happens along the way...
A race report will follow shortly.
Tuesday 11 October 2011
#31: It Won't Be Long
In a few short days, on Sunday 16 October at approximately 9am, I will stand on the starting line on University Ave at Queen St with 42.195km stretched out ahead of me: The Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon. The ultimate running challenge. (My first attempt)
I will not be alone. The event is now sold out and there will be 5,000 others attempting the same distance with 10,000 more doing the Half (21.1k) and 6,500 doing a 5k. That’s over 20,000 runners, joggers and walkers taking to the streets of downtown Toronto, all with different goals in mind. Standing on that line will be mostly complete strangers, some familiar faces and thankfully, a small number of good friends and Longboat club members. To all of them who have trained so hard to get to this point as well as directly or indirectly helped me along the way in getting through the trials and tribulations of marathon training: I wish you all the best in your own races and cannot begin to express how grateful I am to you all! To Roger, Rob Campbell, Gerardo, Christian, Melinda, Anne Byrne, Kathleen, and so many more; thank you! A special shout-out to my training partners and close friends: Darren and especially Michael Doyle, to whom I am deeply indebted for the fine fitness and cool confidence I have going forward. No matter what happens on race day, the whole journey (the whole year really!) was a wonderful experience and I owe a great deal of that to the two of you.
It's been a long journey: 14+ weeks, 100+ days, 1600+ kilometers, 110+ hours... and it all comes down to one single, solitary day and 42.2 "short" kilometres. After so much training and preparation, both physical and psychological, I feel I am now ready. I am mostly confident, am certainly excited but am admittedly nervous as well. This is my first ever attempt at the marathon distance and so I am somewhat fortunate for the blissful ignorance I still possess which will protect me from the pain and anguish that I am most certain to experience late in the race.
And if I can push past those tough final km's and come within a minute or two of my goal time (an ambitious 2:48:48. 4:00/km pace), I am quite certain that running this marathon will amount to the greatest accomplishment in my life to this point. An accomplishment that was entirely self-selected, never forced, often enjoyable but occasionally awful. Something no one asked or expected me to do but rather something I envisioned and experienced for myself. All the time, training, energy, and effort was done absolutely autonomously and thus whatever comes as a result, good or bad, is entirely of my own doing (although I do acknowledge those who helped and supported along the way).
For now, I must endure these last few agonizing days of the taper where my body begins to feel fresh and restless (an almost unheard of experience in the past weeks and months) and yet I must hold back and rest as much as possible. I will run only three times this week and always very briefly. ~45k with another 45k to come on race day. Plenty of fluids will be taken and a slightly altered diet that focuses on increased carbohydrates (the infamous "carbo-loading") especially on the 3 days before.
While I can't stop myself from checking the weather forecast several times a day (currently predicting cloudy with showers (70% POP), a high of 16 degrees, and winds at 15km/h; not ideal but not terrible either), I do acknowledge that there is nothing to be done about it and thus must be accepted. There is plenty else (within my control) which can also go wrong (hydration, fuelling, apparel, pacing) and so it's far more important to focus on these things and have a fairly good idea of what should happen on race day (while remaining flexible with plans A, B and C). Sometimes I wonder if it's all worth it; we give so much in training and get so little in return on race day.
I recently read two absolutely amazing novels by one John L. Parker, Jr. 'Once and Runner' and its sequel 'Again to Carthage' follow the journey of a young, ambitious and highly talented young collegiate runner, Quenton Cassidy, as he endures the rigorous and regimented training required to succeed in the mile and then, years later, in the marathon. I won't elaborate because these novels are essential reading for all runners of any level, ability or experience and may help explain and invigorate your own preference and passion for running that we simply don't realize and take for granted.
I mention this because there is a single chapter in 'Again to Carthage,' which I think accurately and elegantly says more about how I am feeling right now, and how I imagine many others in a similar position also feel, than any other explanation I have ever heard, read, seen or imagined.
Chapter 36: 'Otter Springs'.
"What I mean is that someone sees a race, and they think that's what you do. They sort of know you had to train, but they weren't watching then, so they don't understand how incredibly much of it there is. But to us, it's almost the whole thing. Racing is just the little tiny ritual we go through after everything else has been done. It's a hood ornament."
Unless you’ve been there and gone through it, no one can truly understand how or why we push our bodies and our minds to such limits. Why we endure the pain and how we maintain the passion. I still don’t completely understand it and I realize it might not make much sense to others… but I do know that I love it and I know I’ll do it again and again. So regardless of what happens on Sunday, in my mind, I have already succeeded...
For those interested, CBC will be streaming live coverage of the event on it's website (www.cbcsports.ca) starting at 8:30am EST as well as having coverage on CBC BOLD. There will also be a highlights show at 3pm EST on all CBC networks. Good luck to the Canadian guys (Reid, Eric, Rob, Matt and Dylan) looking to qualify for the 2012 Olympics and perhaps even set the Men's Canadian marathon record.
Friday 7 October 2011
#30: Revolution 9
Two in one day; I'm on a roll...
Kass Gibson is one of the smartest people I know. He's also among the funniest. Those traits together, intelligence and humour, create an effective and winning combination that is surely absent in far too many academic-types. Anyway, I am extremely fortunate to get to hang out with Kass quite often, and today during a regular graduate student-style coffee break (long and often) on a simply sensational Friday afternoon, I was once again humbled and inspired by his wisdom and thoughtful insight.
I was talking to him about my most recent blog post: About what types of interventions might be most successful for increasing physical activity (PA) levels and the importance of offering incentives to increase physical activity (since persuasion and regulation are unlikely to work). The first question he asked was:
"Why is it so important that people be physically active? Why should we tell them this is important in the first place?"
It might seem ignorant but it's an excellent point. “You live your life; I'll live mine!” I would normally agree, HOWEVER in Canada, we support a ("free") publicly funded health care system. This essentially means that when you or I get sick, everyone else pays for it (literally). In theory, it's a great idea: We all help each other out in their time of need. But what happens when certain types of people benefit more from the system than others? I'm talking of course about a population that is becoming increasingly (and overwhelmingly) unhealthy. Although you could debate it; heart disease, stroke, hypertension, diabetes, metabolic syndrome, many cancers, mental illness, and dementia all affect a disproportionate amount of people: People who I would argue are less healthy and who are often personally responsible for their lack of health. To make my point: I don't feel I should be paying for the millions of Canadians now developing diabetes and heart disease because they choose to be sedentary.
Without much fuss, Kass eventually agreed that was a fair point. However, rather than offer the financial incentives and tax credits (that far too often benefit the already advantaged middle and upper classes); why not remove the barriers that undoubtedly prevent so many people from becoming active in the first place (adoption) or maintaining activity in the long term (adherence). At first I brushed the idea off as far too simple-minded. "If I can overcome these said 'barriers'; then why can't others?!" But the more I got to thinking, the more one must acknowledge that barriers do exist (or perhaps more importantly...are perceived to exist).
I then began coming up with a list of potential "barriers" to physical activity and as you will see, there are a lot of them! These barriers are not necessarily physical barriers (there isn't a giant wall blocking the entrance to the park), but can be anything that limits access or opportunity to be active.
Here are but a few (mostly adapted from Trost et al., 2002) organized into different types:
Demographic and biological factors: age, sex, gender, education, working class occupation, children, genetics, income/socioeconomic status (SES), injury/illness, disability, marital status, race/ethnicity, religious affiliation, being overweight or obese
Psychological, cognitive and emotional factors: attitudes, control, enjoyment, expectancy beliefs, intension, mood/affect, normative beliefs, knowledge/understanding of health, time, locus of control, perceived current health, personality, body image, psychological/mental health, self-efficacy, self-motivation, stress, susceptibility to illness
Behavioural attributes and skills: activity during childhood, youth and adolescence, activity during adulthood, alcohol, dietary habits, coping skills, processes of change, school sports, smoking, mental illness, sports media use, Type A behaviour pattern
Social and cultural factors: exercise group size, exercise/PA models, group cohesion, family influence, physician influence, social isolation, social support from family, spouse, friends, peers, staff, instructor
Physical/built environment factors: access to facilities (actual and perceived), lighting, climate/season, cost of programs, disruption of routine, scenery, traffic, home equipment, crime rates, hilly terrain, neighbourhood safety, sidewalks, dogs, urban vs rural locations, noise
Physical activity characteristics: mode, duration, frequency and intensity of activity, perceived effort.
WOW! That's quite a list. When reading it, many barriers (perhaps better called factors, variables, correlates or determinants), will NOT seem modifiable which is true. So it then must be determined which factors CAN be changed and what the overall effect of changing those factors will be (in order to increase PA levels). We must also consider things like the feasibility, timeline, cost, and many practical considerations. This can (and should) seem pretty overwhelming.
I might be a bit of an idealist (picturing a perfect world where everyone is physically active and healthy) but I am also a realist. We can't change the world (I'm also a pessimist) all at once; rather we need to make small, gradual steps to affect meaningful change over time. Currently, I might argue that rather than change anything 'for the better'; we should simply attempt to 'stop the bleeding' and try and ensure that we don't change 'for the worse'. Either way, it's a tall order.
Okay, so I realize that I've been rambling on for quite a bit and I fear I haven't really made a point so should probably attempt to do so. Here's the take home message:
I think that 'asking' that people be physically active and healthy (as a direct result of this) is a necessary and important 'request.' The health care system is designed in such a way that we all end up paying for those who are inactive and unhealthy (here I assume that increased physical activity equates to better overall health, and am supported heavily by the literature). And rather than simply offer incentives for individuals to be active; we also need to consider removing or altering the 'barriers' that exist to prevent PA. Some of these barriers cannot be changed but many can. Demographic and biological factors cannot be changed per se, but they can be overcome. Psychological and behavioural barriers are those being addressed by myself and other exercise/PA psychologists and ultimately require "changing" the individual. Changing the build/physical environment will likely come from policy (government) and will take time. We can’t change the nature of PA: it’s physically (and mentally) tough to do and can be unpleasant; but we can change our attitudes toward it. We can embrace it.
What are your thoughts? What factors and barriers are most important and in most needing of change?! For now, I plan to stick with my monumental (and perhaps foolish) task of trying to change individuals (whether they know it or not)...
Kass Gibson is one of the smartest people I know. He's also among the funniest. Those traits together, intelligence and humour, create an effective and winning combination that is surely absent in far too many academic-types. Anyway, I am extremely fortunate to get to hang out with Kass quite often, and today during a regular graduate student-style coffee break (long and often) on a simply sensational Friday afternoon, I was once again humbled and inspired by his wisdom and thoughtful insight.
I was talking to him about my most recent blog post: About what types of interventions might be most successful for increasing physical activity (PA) levels and the importance of offering incentives to increase physical activity (since persuasion and regulation are unlikely to work). The first question he asked was:
"Why is it so important that people be physically active? Why should we tell them this is important in the first place?"
It might seem ignorant but it's an excellent point. “You live your life; I'll live mine!” I would normally agree, HOWEVER in Canada, we support a ("free") publicly funded health care system. This essentially means that when you or I get sick, everyone else pays for it (literally). In theory, it's a great idea: We all help each other out in their time of need. But what happens when certain types of people benefit more from the system than others? I'm talking of course about a population that is becoming increasingly (and overwhelmingly) unhealthy. Although you could debate it; heart disease, stroke, hypertension, diabetes, metabolic syndrome, many cancers, mental illness, and dementia all affect a disproportionate amount of people: People who I would argue are less healthy and who are often personally responsible for their lack of health. To make my point: I don't feel I should be paying for the millions of Canadians now developing diabetes and heart disease because they choose to be sedentary.
Without much fuss, Kass eventually agreed that was a fair point. However, rather than offer the financial incentives and tax credits (that far too often benefit the already advantaged middle and upper classes); why not remove the barriers that undoubtedly prevent so many people from becoming active in the first place (adoption) or maintaining activity in the long term (adherence). At first I brushed the idea off as far too simple-minded. "If I can overcome these said 'barriers'; then why can't others?!" But the more I got to thinking, the more one must acknowledge that barriers do exist (or perhaps more importantly...are perceived to exist).
I then began coming up with a list of potential "barriers" to physical activity and as you will see, there are a lot of them! These barriers are not necessarily physical barriers (there isn't a giant wall blocking the entrance to the park), but can be anything that limits access or opportunity to be active.
Here are but a few (mostly adapted from Trost et al., 2002) organized into different types:
Demographic and biological factors: age, sex, gender, education, working class occupation, children, genetics, income/socioeconomic status (SES), injury/illness, disability, marital status, race/ethnicity, religious affiliation, being overweight or obese
Psychological, cognitive and emotional factors: attitudes, control, enjoyment, expectancy beliefs, intension, mood/affect, normative beliefs, knowledge/understanding of health, time, locus of control, perceived current health, personality, body image, psychological/mental health, self-efficacy, self-motivation, stress, susceptibility to illness
Behavioural attributes and skills: activity during childhood, youth and adolescence, activity during adulthood, alcohol, dietary habits, coping skills, processes of change, school sports, smoking, mental illness, sports media use, Type A behaviour pattern
Social and cultural factors: exercise group size, exercise/PA models, group cohesion, family influence, physician influence, social isolation, social support from family, spouse, friends, peers, staff, instructor
Physical/built environment factors: access to facilities (actual and perceived), lighting, climate/season, cost of programs, disruption of routine, scenery, traffic, home equipment, crime rates, hilly terrain, neighbourhood safety, sidewalks, dogs, urban vs rural locations, noise
Physical activity characteristics: mode, duration, frequency and intensity of activity, perceived effort.
WOW! That's quite a list. When reading it, many barriers (perhaps better called factors, variables, correlates or determinants), will NOT seem modifiable which is true. So it then must be determined which factors CAN be changed and what the overall effect of changing those factors will be (in order to increase PA levels). We must also consider things like the feasibility, timeline, cost, and many practical considerations. This can (and should) seem pretty overwhelming.
I might be a bit of an idealist (picturing a perfect world where everyone is physically active and healthy) but I am also a realist. We can't change the world (I'm also a pessimist) all at once; rather we need to make small, gradual steps to affect meaningful change over time. Currently, I might argue that rather than change anything 'for the better'; we should simply attempt to 'stop the bleeding' and try and ensure that we don't change 'for the worse'. Either way, it's a tall order.
Okay, so I realize that I've been rambling on for quite a bit and I fear I haven't really made a point so should probably attempt to do so. Here's the take home message:
I think that 'asking' that people be physically active and healthy (as a direct result of this) is a necessary and important 'request.' The health care system is designed in such a way that we all end up paying for those who are inactive and unhealthy (here I assume that increased physical activity equates to better overall health, and am supported heavily by the literature). And rather than simply offer incentives for individuals to be active; we also need to consider removing or altering the 'barriers' that exist to prevent PA. Some of these barriers cannot be changed but many can. Demographic and biological factors cannot be changed per se, but they can be overcome. Psychological and behavioural barriers are those being addressed by myself and other exercise/PA psychologists and ultimately require "changing" the individual. Changing the build/physical environment will likely come from policy (government) and will take time. We can’t change the nature of PA: it’s physically (and mentally) tough to do and can be unpleasant; but we can change our attitudes toward it. We can embrace it.
What are your thoughts? What factors and barriers are most important and in most needing of change?! For now, I plan to stick with my monumental (and perhaps foolish) task of trying to change individuals (whether they know it or not)...
#29: Revolution 1
Many of you should be well aware that we are currently facing an “epidemic of inactivity.” Sedentary lifestyles have become the norm and less than 15% of Canadian adults meet (inter)national recommendations for daily and weekly physical activity (PA) known to improve and enhance health and well-being. This then often leads to many more complicated problems (lack of fitness -> overweight/obesity, heart disease, diabetes, cancer, poor mental health) that ultimately end up costing every one of us since we all contribute to our publicly funded health care system. Individual health is not only a personal responsibility, but a social one too!
Knowing that Canadians are inactive is all well and good but the real question then becomes: How do we convince, promote and motivate individuals to be more physically active?
Preaching (education, public messages, etc) about the value and importance of PA doesn't seem to be working. I think most people would agree that exercise and physical activity is good for us! The evidence for this is simply irrefutable. So what are the other options? Surely we can't force people to become physically active. There is no law that says you MUST be physically active and thus regulating PA also seems bleak for meaningful intervention. Another tool then is to perhaps offer incentives or rewards for those who choose to be physically active. Incentives are very often economic in nature (think tax credits like the Children Fitness Tax Credit) but could also be symbolic and personally-derived (think an increased sense of well-being, superior health and fitness, improved body image and self-esteem, etc). So far there are few, financial or otherwise, incentives offered to promote physical activity and I feel this is an area of much potential in the near future.
For now, I would like to share/propose an idea I had for a general "program" or "project" that I hope can convince and challenge more of us to be physically active. I just came up with it an hour ago so probably haven’t thought it through…
Nevertheless, I stems from my own personal passion for physical activity and from an activity that I truly believe any one can do: running!
"Bet you can't run just one: Meters to marathon."
Starting to run can be an intimidating and daunting task and will not be successful the first time out. It takes time, patience, practice and perseverance. The first time I ever ran was back in high school and I can remember planning to go around the block (about 5k) I made it only about 2k before I was on my hands and knees gasping for air. I proceeded to walk for several minutes before trying again and sure enough it was not long before I was walking slowly again, clutching my churning stomach and pounding lungs. That is a memory I will never forget. I can't remember the second or third time I ran, or even the tenth, but I do recall the slow, gradual process of getting better and being able to go further and further. This provided me with a great sense of accomplishment and satisfaction; sensations which have only intensified and accumulated over time.
Running can no doubt provide a plethora of advantages and benefits over other activities: increased physical health and fitness: endurance, strength, flexibility, speed; improved body composition, image and satisfaction; enhanced self-efficacy,-confidence and -esteem; decreased stress, depression and anxiety; social interaction, friendships and membership; social support and recognition; it is fairly inexpensive and requires no special equipment, facilities or fees; it can be done alone or within a group; feelings of pride, accomplishment and success; and ultimately a sense of self-satisfaction. Running has it all! The proposed goal of 'Meters to Marathon (MTM)' is to encourage individuals of all ages to embrace recreational running as not only a mode of exercise or health behaviour but as a lifestyle.
Beginners, amateurs and pros alike can benefit tremendously from regular running and the subculture of running. The task is simple: Take it one day at a time and try to run a little more each day. Be sure to warm up briefly beforehand and cool down afterwards, and ensure you have a comfortable pair of shoes and apparel. Start with a brisk 10min walk then try and run/jog for a few minutes, maybe 5 at the most, then walk some more. Keep track of your progress (write it down) and set a realistic goal. Start by running three days a week and add a fourth day after a week or two. Listen to your body and know when to back off or take an extra rest day. Don’t allow yourself to overcompensate on food for the activity you’ve done. This isn’t a weight loss program and the goal here is increased fitness; not decreased “fatness’ (although they often compliment each other!). The process will be invigorating, reinforcing and intensely rewarding. Good luck.
Knowing that Canadians are inactive is all well and good but the real question then becomes: How do we convince, promote and motivate individuals to be more physically active?
Preaching (education, public messages, etc) about the value and importance of PA doesn't seem to be working. I think most people would agree that exercise and physical activity is good for us! The evidence for this is simply irrefutable. So what are the other options? Surely we can't force people to become physically active. There is no law that says you MUST be physically active and thus regulating PA also seems bleak for meaningful intervention. Another tool then is to perhaps offer incentives or rewards for those who choose to be physically active. Incentives are very often economic in nature (think tax credits like the Children Fitness Tax Credit) but could also be symbolic and personally-derived (think an increased sense of well-being, superior health and fitness, improved body image and self-esteem, etc). So far there are few, financial or otherwise, incentives offered to promote physical activity and I feel this is an area of much potential in the near future.
For now, I would like to share/propose an idea I had for a general "program" or "project" that I hope can convince and challenge more of us to be physically active. I just came up with it an hour ago so probably haven’t thought it through…
Nevertheless, I stems from my own personal passion for physical activity and from an activity that I truly believe any one can do: running!
"Bet you can't run just one: Meters to marathon."
Starting to run can be an intimidating and daunting task and will not be successful the first time out. It takes time, patience, practice and perseverance. The first time I ever ran was back in high school and I can remember planning to go around the block (about 5k) I made it only about 2k before I was on my hands and knees gasping for air. I proceeded to walk for several minutes before trying again and sure enough it was not long before I was walking slowly again, clutching my churning stomach and pounding lungs. That is a memory I will never forget. I can't remember the second or third time I ran, or even the tenth, but I do recall the slow, gradual process of getting better and being able to go further and further. This provided me with a great sense of accomplishment and satisfaction; sensations which have only intensified and accumulated over time.
Running can no doubt provide a plethora of advantages and benefits over other activities: increased physical health and fitness: endurance, strength, flexibility, speed; improved body composition, image and satisfaction; enhanced self-efficacy,-confidence and -esteem; decreased stress, depression and anxiety; social interaction, friendships and membership; social support and recognition; it is fairly inexpensive and requires no special equipment, facilities or fees; it can be done alone or within a group; feelings of pride, accomplishment and success; and ultimately a sense of self-satisfaction. Running has it all! The proposed goal of 'Meters to Marathon (MTM)' is to encourage individuals of all ages to embrace recreational running as not only a mode of exercise or health behaviour but as a lifestyle.
Beginners, amateurs and pros alike can benefit tremendously from regular running and the subculture of running. The task is simple: Take it one day at a time and try to run a little more each day. Be sure to warm up briefly beforehand and cool down afterwards, and ensure you have a comfortable pair of shoes and apparel. Start with a brisk 10min walk then try and run/jog for a few minutes, maybe 5 at the most, then walk some more. Keep track of your progress (write it down) and set a realistic goal. Start by running three days a week and add a fourth day after a week or two. Listen to your body and know when to back off or take an extra rest day. Don’t allow yourself to overcompensate on food for the activity you’ve done. This isn’t a weight loss program and the goal here is increased fitness; not decreased “fatness’ (although they often compliment each other!). The process will be invigorating, reinforcing and intensely rewarding. Good luck.
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