Post-race recovery rant

Finally. Tied the shoes up and hit the road today. Felt so good. Pace or distance didn’t matter. Just to be running. Originally this post-marathon post was to be populated with clever ideas. Turns out, instead, primary focus is about tedium of recovery. But before we begin the rant…

The initial ‘clever’ idea was 42.2 random thoughts over 26 miles. Turns out there may not be that many. The randomness flourishes at the beginning – look, squirrel – but as the pavement continues to meet your feet certain notions keep returning. It’s like the mind is on shuffle play. So at the end (a reward for reading all the way through!) is a top eight list.

Pre-race jitters and hitches also popped up as a potential topic.

The BMO Vancouver Marathon is an incredibly well-organized race, with Compass cards for transit included in race package. Getting off at Oakridge, though, it seems like quite a hike. Turns out it passed Starbucks, so quick caffeine boost, and the walk actually helps loosen you up – so that porta pottie stop is efficient.  And troubled tummy is temporary, turns out to be pre-race nerves and not a complication to deal with later. So the devotion to diet deliver.

Scariest moment (scary being relative term) was upon entering corral and turning on Bluetooth headphones to hear a disembodied voice say ‘please connect to device.’ Somehow the connection had broken and there was about five minutes to get everything reconnected. Grace under pressure ruled and music was flowing without interruption.

Then there is Calvin. A stranger before the race, Calvin came to become a new frenemy – Calvin is the left calf and somewhere around the 25 kilometre mark, Cal took on a life of his own. Pulsating, it felt and in mind’s eye looked like, something out of an Alien movie. Or maybe Little Shop of Horrors. Calvin need to be calmed down, then like a soused sibling he’d flare up again because he wanted to make a point. In the end, while a major nuisance, Calvin couldn’t ruin the party.

Truthfully, at the end of the race, there was some disappointment. A faster time was there and then slipped away. That sucks. On the other hand, 18 months ago anyone suggesting this body in it’s 53^rd year would make it through 42.2 would have been labelled daft. So, proud and melancholy all at once is not a bad mix. The mystery of the distance has been eliminated and now a target is in place for the next race.

Now, back to the beginning. Recovery is a painful experience.

Yes, the first couple of hours/days of sloth is amusing. The post-race lunch at Burgoo, with couple of beers, followed by dinner at Milestones just a couple of hours later. Then indulging in a way that severely impacts the scale. All forgiven because ‘Hell, I just ran a marathon.’ But around day three of no running, the cabin fever sets in.

It makes sense to give your body time to recover. Racing takes a toll as the adrenaline of the competitors drives a pace not normally acquired. And when a certain age is reached it takes a little longer to recover. So a full seven days – no treadmill, no road work, the shoes stayed in the gym bag – was set aside. Yoga was exempt, some yin and slow flow to help the muscles seemed appropriate.

What dawned was the realization running has infiltrated life. It’s not just an excuse to have an extra piece of chocolate or pint of lager. Those moments on the road aren’t solitary they are soothing. Running is not an escape, it is an outlet. That time is yours. Literally and figuratively. No matter how far, how long, how fast – the time is yours. Time to think, to check out, to groove to the tunes, to focus on getting faster, to knocking down targets. It’s addictive and almost selfish. But it is your time.

So recovery period is over. A week without running. Mentally it has provided new framework, as it’s no longer about logging the miles; it’s about running to something and seeing it can be accomplished.

Next target race is Scotiabank Half in Vancouver, with Oak Bay Half and Navy Run in Esquimalt on the agenda. Then back to the marathon at July’s end.

And as, promised, he top eight random thoughts in no particular order:

1. This doesn’t seem too bad, so far, what’s the big deal.
2. Okay, it’s a little hillier than I thought.
3. Who thought running 42.2 kilometres was a good idea.
4. Thomas the Tank pops in for visit. I think, I can. I think, I can.
5. Maybe I’m just more of a half-marathon person. Nothing wrong with that.
6. Really, another frigging hill.
7. This was a stupid idea. All for a banana and cookie.
8. Why does no one else look like they are sweating?

Bonus (post-race):

It wasn’t so bad. Think I’ll do another one.