My favourite running partner

Being part Husky, Odin loves to run and jump and frolic. And he also needs to do it often. So running together satisfies two needs - his for exercise and mine for fitting in another run. But it is also more than that. As I gather up my running gear, I glance over and see Odin sitting in his bed, staring out the window at the world outside. And then he sighs and lies down, as if giving up on ever leaving the condo again.

Finally dressed and ready to go, I grab the leash, open the door, and he is barging out ahead of me, free at last. His pure enthusiasm for anything athletic is so inspiring that it lifts my spirits at the beginning of the run, instead of the feelings of dread that I usually have when starting a solo run. Other than the occasional bathroom break and doggy sniff, we run as a team, gathering focus, until on the last leg of the run when we have the same stride, both looking straight ahead, caught in the moment. Odin is my pet and companion. But he is also my running coach, urging me to go further and faster, growling when I let up on my pace. And I couldn't ask for a better friend to run with.

Lessons from running

On June 4th, I ran the Whistler Half Marathon. It was the first race I had run in over five years. And two weeks later, I ran the Johnny Miles 10k with my Dad. Or rather, we started together and he was waiting, cheering me on, at the finish line.

I've also been listening to Neil Firore's audiobook, "The Now Habit". At one point, he talks about how his clients have taken huge learnings from their athletic endeavours, and then been able to apply what they have learned to the rest of their lives. So far, I've learned two big lessons.

Number 1 - Goal setting

In January, when I decided to sign up for the half, my goal was to finish the race. All through my eight weeks of training (because I procrastinated and didn't start training until March), I had the same goal. Based on my progress, I figured it would take me 2 1/2 hours. And then two days before the event, with no time left to train, I decided to change the goal. Now I wanted to finish in 2 hours. Just like that. And you know how long it took me? Two hours and 29 minutes. Lesson learned? Goals need to be realistic and attainable.

Number 2 - People can change

As you can probably tell from my half marathon time, I am a slow runner. Seriously slow. My sister looked at my race photos & said I looked like a speed walker. All through my training for the half, I ran painfully slow, with everyone else on the trail zipping by me. "It's okay", I would tell myself. "You're just a slow runner."

And then, two days after the half, I flew to Nova Scotia to visit with my family, already signed up for the 10k. With two weeks to train, and a previous 10k race time of 1:10, I decided that I could change. I could be a faster runner. I could run in under an hour. So I actually did two speed training sessions, one each week. I still went for slow 5k runs, but they were faster than I was used to. And on the day of the race, on the hottest and muggiest day I had experienced in all of 2011, I ran the first 5k in 29 minutes and the whole 10k in 1:03. No, I didn't break an hour. But I came close. And more importantly, I changed.

So lesson learned? Change is possible. I can be faster, stronger, fitter. But I can also change in other areas of my life. I can also be louder, bolder, fiercer. For the first time ever, I look forward to change.

A half marathon is a long way to run

Tomorrow is the day. Half marathon starting at 7:30 a.m., 21.1 km. I'm not sure if I've trained enough, followed my running schedule closely enough. Hell, who am I kidding, if I had been following a recipe for chocolate cake, I would now be eating blueberry muffins.

My last run was a week and a half ago, and I ran 19 km. Physically, it was kind of tough, but the hardest part was the conversation in my head:

"Alright, here we go again. Nineteen kilometres. Huh. Really? That's going to take at least 2 hours. This is going to be boor-ing."

"If I make it all the way up Blueberry Hill, it will mean that I will actually be able to finish the half on race day. Wait, what if I get tired and have to stop on the way up this hill? Does that mean I'm going to fail? Yes."

"Okay. If I make it to the little path before Boston Pizza, I'll be done and I can stop running. Wait, I just stopped. And I'm not there yet. Arrgh."

Sometimes the hardest part is clicking 'submit'

At the beginning of this year, I decided that I needed a new focus for 2011. So I attended a goal setting seminar hosted by Kathy Goddard of Lighthouse Visionary Strategies (it was an amazing experience - I'll be going next year, and you should too). I set goals for all areas of my life, including physical, emotional, career, financial, etc. And then we had to write a letter to our future selves, dated December 2011, talking about how great it will be to have achieved all of our goals. When I got home, I placed the sealed envelope in the drawer of my night-side table and pushed it out of my mind.

Until 7pm on March 31st. Then the envelope was all that I could think about. Under the physical health section, I had decided, in January, to sign up for the Whistler Half Marathon. And three months later, on the eve of the last day of the early-bird registration price, I sat in front of my computer, registration form already filled out, mouse hovering over the 'submit' button.

Could I really run 21.1 km? The longest I had ever run before was 10km and that was years ago. I'm 30 now, for goodness sake. But really. This was my first real goal of the year. No way I could let myself off the hook that easily. So I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and clicked the button. There. That wasn't so hard. Now I just had to figure out how to run longer than I had ever run before without passing out halfway through and having to call someone for a ride home.