Category: Fitness

While preparing to write on my intransigence to run clubs, I reached out to Capital City Run Crew – a local group that seems to have a lot of fun. Deadlines didn’t match-up, but Carlos did respond to questions with intriguing answers. So an update is presented.

Now, most run groups/clinics are fronted by retail operations – here in Victoria that would be Running Room, Frontrunners, MEC and the evil empire (LuLuLemon). Nothing wrong with that. Makes a lot of sense: they know what they’re doing and have the opportunity to build some brand loyalty when the times comes to purchase new shoes, water belts, clothes or gels.

But the Capital City Run Crew is different as they are in it only to spread the gospel. And Carlos and crew have a refreshing attitude. When asked if newbies are intimidated, the answer was ‘Duh’ (that’s a paraphrase). And it is. No point sugarcoating it and pretending all is happiness and light. The Crew operates on the Marine principle: no runner left behind.

Back 75 pounds ago, I can recall going out with a friend who wanted to encourage running. It was painful. They were practically moving backwards to keep up and that was frustrating for me. No one wants to be the person who is holding someone back.

A true run club is about the process. No one is expecting to win the race and be corralled with the elite; this is not a track club of athletes, it’s a gathering of those who want to share the benefits that accrue from getting off the couch. Call them runvangelists.

Below is Carlos answers to my questions. Give it a read and then dig out the old shoes and hit the streets – at your own pace, knowing no one is left behind.

Why did you start the club?

We started the club because I had recently moved to the Island from the mainland to move in together with my girlfriend of two years. We had been going back and forth every few weeks for two years so we figured it was time to make the big move.  During the two years of spending time in Victoria, I joined a few clubs around the city and I just didn’t feel at “home” with any of them.

That’s when we decided to go for it and start our own group.  My girlfriend (Sarah) and I, thought about what it would take to start our own run club and have people come out and join us. We came up with a simple plan. Show up each week, call ourselves a run crew and post on our social media as much as possible. We ran the first few months alone, but eventually, word got out and we met some great people who have helped us build the club to where we are now.

Biggest benefit?

To find a group of people who were interested in doing the same fitness-related activities as us. Besides running we also organize; cycling, yoga and softball events

Will newbies be intimidated?

Newbies are always intimidated at first. We get a lot of messages on IG and FB asking us about our pace and our group. We always answer these questions with “we run together and no one is left behind.” Once the new runners join us they become hooked to the group because we are always having so much fun!

 

Grade 8 was the start. Running as freedom, a literal escape. Special permission was given to leave the grounds at lunch, free to traverse a prescribed route and roam without the watchful eye of a teacher. Solitude but not sedentary; space to exercise and be alone simultaneously. Awesome, as that skinny kid would have said.

Even when the pounds piled on and walking to the pub (or bookstore) passed for a workout, those moments of privacy were sought out. For the extroverted in the crowd it may come as a surprise, but solitary doesn’t always equate to loneliness; sometimes it is just a moment to recharge and regroup, before diving right back in.

To this day, when time permits and a project is looming a few stolen moments for a walk around the block work wonders: the mind focuses, all the input is digested without more pouring in and then it can be processed and presented in usable form.

Since reacquainting with running and shedding five stone, those moments when the only sounds are feet pounding the pavement and your breath over the beat of the music are even more invigorating. It’s the most descriptive way to explain it. And the distance, whether short or long, doesn’t matter – it’s just that sense of being cocooned from all the noise that you’re travelling past at pace.

So, why then a tinge of envy for those in running groups/clinics? Simple really: It’s the after-pictures, whether from racing or training. They look like they are having fun, dammit.

Recently, Capital City Run Crew in Victoria has been popping up in feeds as they prepared for the Scotiabank Half Marathon, with a mix of track, temp and long runs. The is not envy for the workouts; it was the pics of eating at places like Beacon Drive-In or Taco Tuesday that appealed so viciously. Run, eat and talk. Sounds perfect.

This isn’t the first time jealously has reared. Mike Klassen is an old friend (take that in the various ways it could be, all work) and posts photos of his regular run club. So I asked him a few questions about why the social support works for him.

Why did you join?

It was time for me to start running again. I had run regularly with a ‘running buddy’ when I was younger, then I found knee pain to be a barrier. I began very slowly, with short distances usually less than 4-5K. I had a companion who had foot pain, so we ran 2 blocks, walked one block until we finished the route. Eventually I stopped the walking, and gradually worked up my distances.

But in the end, the attraction of the running group was the companionship. We joke that it is actually a coffee meeting with a run thrown in, but it would never be the same without the distance run.

 What’s the biggest benefit?

 I like the better moods and personal confidence building that results from running, even a little bit. When I’m running I notice that other runners often have smiles on their faces. A few of us say that you cannot be grumpy as a runner, and I think for the most part that’s true.

It’s fitting that thoughts of run club have reoccurred at the time of the Scotia Half. Last year, my friend Catherine – who was living in Vancouver – said she’d pick me up from the hotel as she was also running that day. And then we picked up a couple more folks, all members of her running group. Then we did some car manoeuvres so everyone got to the University of BC smoothly and no one would be left without transportation at race’s end when crossing the finish line at Stanley Park (to be fair, the Canada Run Series people have efficient shuttle service back to UBC, if you want to wait).

But it was after the race that made the most lasting impact. Those met on the car journey were joined by others at a local pub in False Creek for a well-earned brunch and drink. There were the time comparisons, the joshing about missed training sessions, the full-throated congratulations to those who achieved/came close to their target times and an all-around affection for those who shared a solitary moment as part of a large group.

It was the camaraderie that Mike Klassen spoke about that made it seem like such a tempting idea. But not going to lie, back at the beginning of this journey there was no way I would have joined a run club or clinic for one simple reason: embarrassment. Dragging my ass and sweating no matter the temperature, all because I’d let myself get so out of shape, it felt like penance, deserved punishment. Needed the self-flagellation to be in private.

And it’s not like friendly events are now avoided. Participated in the Resolution Run, the shakeout run before Goodlife Victoria Marathon and this year’s Solstice Run (which came with beer ticket) – those are fun and friendly, even if latter doesn’t apply to yours truly.

The struggle is surrendering the solitude. There’s almost an obligation to chat and that is the one time small-talk shouldn’t be mandatory. Part of the rush of running is the different refractions the brain waves can take. Detour here, straight line there, double-back now: the route is planned, while the mind is free to wander. Hell, even in the minutes before a race I’m the person standing in a trance, no bopping or smiling, just transporting into my space.

So the habit born 35 years ago is not going to be broken: running will remain my time, even when surrounded by four, 4,000 or 30,000 others all doing the same thing. But is it wrong to only pop into run club for the food? Or even photobomb them? Asking for a friend.

Going through a break-up. Not a ‘never interact again’ type. More of a ‘need space’ and ‘will see occasionally’ sort. It’s not easy.

But it is for the best. And it’s my fault. I was the needy one. Always checking in, obsessed in a way, never allowing time to separate us. So enforced separation from the smart watch was needed.

It all started brightly.

The new Samsung Gear S7 – a tool to aid in the evolution of running, a way to track exertion, distance and time. It was a piece of equipment. Shiny and new, full of neat features to be sure – even when not serving as a running aid. There was the many faces available, very cool. Music on the wrist, handy. Weather at a glance. Step count with no need to track to an app first, it is right there with a twist of the bezel. Plus, there are options to track heart rate, check all your email and myriad of others never used. Without doubt, some tween more advanced than I, could start a war with the damn thing.

However, the most insidious feature is the ordinariness of it all. It slowly creeps up and takes over. There is no barging in, it is slow and methodical in the way the technology takes over and becomes, it feels, necessary to be always present.

Even in yoga, where it shouldn’t really intrude. Now, yoga is much more about the physical than the mental for me (no, omms in my practice) but I do appreciate the opportunity to tune out the world. My preference is to find that mindfulness before the class begins – so arrive early, do some legs up the wall, series of light stretches and then relax.

Now, the clock intruded innocently – how many steps, if any, are logged during a slow-flow class. A simple question. But with the timepiece already in the space, what would be the harm in using the stopwatch function to time the legs up the wall. And that led to glances to see how much longer class would extend and that meant the solitude sought was truly shattered.

It really was the damn step counter that led to the ruination of the experience. Fixated would not be too strong a word. Continuous checking of the total for the day, tapping to see how it compares to the weekly average. Up or down, need to know right now and the enjoyment of the stroll be damned. Turns out, no, I don’t need to know a real-time step count.

Here’s the oddest part: the smart watch was bought as a training aid for running and that is the spell I’m least possessed with.

Start the run, it tracks time and route for duration. At end, it uploads to Map My Run so progress is recorded and available for review. Shows splits and pace. All of which is studied later.

During the actual workout, the odd glance down to see time or distance but there’s no fidgeting to alter which info is being shown – no being gripped with need to know pace per km or what my heart rate is during the climb of a hill. It mostly just tells time.

So far, the trial separation seems to be working as it makes the time together more satisfying. It hasn’t been easy. Head out the door for a stroll and the fingers still glide towards the bezel to check out the step count, except this watch is not for counting. At yoga, there was the renewed experience of just appreciating the practice and not fretting about time. And on runs, it is there and doing the job it was intended for.

From now on, except when required, the watch will look smart but not be smart. Oh, with one other exception – on the golf course, as there’s this great app that measures distance from ball to green. Not all tech is dumb.

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.