Wow. What a weekend.
Coming into this weekend I was feeling weighed down. I was overwhelmingly exhausted from 4 full weeks of 16-hour work days, including weekends. My brain was burnt out. My body was tired. I was a wreck. My marathon training had been feeling a lot more like work and a lot less like fun. I was feeling lethargic (most likely due to my over-worked-diet of chips, Subway sandwiches, and cookies. Lots of cookies.) I was feeling like a lump of mashed potatoes.
Then I ran a 10k for Rural Medicine in the endowment lands at UBC. ANd things started to look up. But not in a way that I had expected.
My running buddy Mike and I arrived at the race start line early. The sun was starting to shine. It was warm enough for short sleeves. It was the first time the sky had been perfectly clear of clouds in five months. Still, I was feeling fat, tired, and sore. My knees and quads still achy from a run over a week ago. "It's beautiful" I said.
The race start time was significantly postponed ... almost 30 minutes, as an unfortunate incident had occurred on the trails upon which we were supposed to chart our 10k. Although we didn't know it at the time, we found out later that a runner had been viciously slain. Difficult and sad news to hear as the Endowment Lands at UBC have 55 kms of trails that runners and bikers of all kinds enjoy all year round.
So our course was, naturally, deterred so as not to impede with the ongoing police investigation.
Since we didn't know what had actually occurred at the time, we were still anxiously awaiting our race and the opportunity to run the trails ... something I haven't done since last year.
Our new route was a 5 k route that we would do twice.
It was brisk but bright in the forest and along the trail. We felt like we were running solo as there were only about 100 runners total and as the trails wound up and down and around, the crowd dispersed quickly.
For the first 5k I ran with Mike. It was invigorating, but exhausting. Mike is a superior runner. A sub-4 hour marathoner. And an all-round athlete. He wanted a leisurely run, so he ran with me. But still, I could feel him pushing the pace and I was exhausted. Still, as we came down the chute to cross the finish line for the first 5 k and to enter into our second 5k, I was excited to see the time. I had really been pushing it.
But I was devastated.
The time was inching up at 40 minutes. 40 minutes!!! I nearly cried. Even my first 5k, when I was overweight and untrained, I ran in well under 40 minutes. I instantly felt like a load of bricks.
"Go ahead" I urged Mike as I battled with myself mentally to go on.
Here I was, training for a marathon, with a personal best 5k time of 27 minutes, and I just ran a 7.5/min kilometer. I was angry and sad and unmotivated.
Mike ran off into the distance and I was left to wrangle with my own thoughts.
I came into the finish at 1:17 and was miserable. Mike high-fived me. I walked away. I was cursing. I was angry. I was calling myself every name in the book.
Then, the race coordinator said, "By the way, the new course was about 12-13k ..."
In having to divert the course due to the tragic police incident simultaneously occurring in the park, the course was unmeasured.
Though I was still angry at myself for feeling sluggish, I was relieved. I was slow. But not THAT slow.
With the run under my belt, Mike and I headed out for brunch and then departed for much deserved naps.
We hooked up again at 6 for a documentary film I have been anxiously awaiting for months. Running the Sahara.
The movie, featuring Canadian runner (and former overweight pack-a-day smoker) Ray Zahab, features three ultra-runners who ran across the entire Sahara Desert in 111 days, covering 4300 miles (7500+ kilometers) and NEVER taking a day off. They ran the equivalent of 2 marathons a day in sometime 60 degree Celsius-heat for 111 days.
In the movie, ray says: "It's 90% mental. And the other 10% is mental." which garnered some laughs from the audience and which provoked me to think of my own experiences... even that same morning ... where I battle my brain, which is convincing me that I can't. When I can.
The documentary itself was a fascinating journey that was about so much more than running and perserverence. It was about different cultures and the human spirit. It focused on the water crises in Africa. It showed the value of team, especially in times of great anguish. It should to power of perseverance. I laughed. I cried. I felt inspired.
The best, however, was yet to come. Ray Zahab was at the film screening and came into the theatre to speak with the audience.
He was, by all accounts, a hero. I felt like a teenager seeing Brad Pitt for the first time. I burst instantly into tears out of inspiration. So did Mike. That's how amazing this man is. He said "If you think you can only run 5 or 10 k, then you know what? You can only run 5 or 10 k. But if you believe you can push yourself, you can. Your body is a powerful thing."
I listened to him intently.
He was honest about faltering. About wanting to give up because of the pain. About not wanting to run some days. About feeling fear. But he reminded us all that just 3 years ago, he was an average Joe, being unhealthy, living poorly, treating his body like garbage. And then he found running. Like me. Like dad. Like so many people.
We left the theatre high as kites. High fiving. Laughing. Talking about our ability to do anything and everything. ANd we were so excited to get a good sleep, wake up, and push ourselves to run in the morning.
Sunday morning, at 7 o'clock, I got up, ate well, walked Harley, put on my iTunes and set out for a 17k jaunt around the city with a desire to reconnect with the reason I love running. And I did. It was a beautiful spring morning. The paths were littered with other runners, smiling, talking, running, living. On the home stretch, as I came down the descent of Burrard Bridge toward kits, fueled by both inspiration and a nice decline, I passed Mike who was on the last leg of his 30k. We high-fived. We felt alive.
Then, another dose of inspiration was hot on my heels. I headed east to the Forum at the PNE, where I would spend the next three hours in interviews and training for what would be my first of many many sessions as a 2010 Olympic and Paralympic volunteer.
The excitement was hard to contain.
For 2010, there will be 25,000 volunteers from across the world. Billions of people will watch the olympics. hundreds of thousands will descend on this city that I call home and that I love fiercely to be a part of this incredible event. I feel like I'd be a fool not to be a part of it.
"Sleep now, " some volunteers from the 1988 Calgary Olympics said, as if we were to become new parents to bouncing baby twins. "You won't sleep. It'll be immensely difficult work. You will be exhausted. But you will never ever forget the enormity of teh experience or the richness it adds to your life. Not ever."
Shivers, up and down my arms.
Although there is much coordination to come and many jobs to assign, I've been singled out foremost as a potential volunteer to lead a program for kids and Paralympic athletes, that enables paralympians from across the world to interact with children, show them their sports, and show them that athletics are boundless and that, truly, no matter your disability, you can do anything.
Just the thought of the chance to work one on one with kids and paralympians of that calibre is exciting to the core.
I have fallen in love with the Olympics and Paralympics.
I can't wait to get my hands dirty and make a mark.
If they want my to clean toilets or shovel snow, I will.
As a mediocre athlete with pretty much no talent at any sport (it's not negativity, just truth), I am in awe at what these athletes can and will achieve.
It's going to be life-changing.
And I feel empowered.
As a I said: Wow. What a weekend.
