Eight awesome people at the gym

The gym can be cursed with d-bags, but it can also be populated by solid citizens.

I’ve written about the gym characters that annoy us. A couple times, actually.

But to be fair, most people who head to the weight room aren’t preeners, meatheads and creeps out to ruin our workouts. In fact, there are some pretty good souls out there who make those gym sessions great. So this one’s for them.

The good trainer: A decent gym is going to employ trainers. Some of them are OK. Some of them suck. But some of them are great at their jobs. They’re knowledgeable, helpful and encouraging. They’re good teachers who not only talk to the talk, but walk the walk. Working with these folks usually leads to positive results. Sometimes they’re pricey, but when it’s all said and done, they’re worth every dime.

The reliable workout buddy: If you’re the type of person who trains with others, you know the value of having a workout partner who shows up, works hard and pushes you. Accountability matters to these people. There may be a sense of competition, but not in a weird or negative way. Instead, it’s fuel that makes both of you better. Iron sharpening iron, as it were. Both of you benefit.

The real-deals: We’ve all seen them. The powerfully built dudes. The rock-hard gals. They’re the ones who aren’t just regulars. They’re mission-oriented, working hard to create the strongest, fittest, healthiest versions of themselves that they can. You can take them one of two ways: Be jealous or be inspired. A lot of times, the real-deals are friendly enough to talk training, nutrition and whatnot to help you on your way. It’s not a bad idea to get to know them. You might learn a thing or two.

The elliptical dudes: These guys/gals might also be on some other machine where you work out, but at my gym, it’s three fellas who meet at the same time, mount up on three neighboring ellipticals and watch “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” while they break a sweat for 40 minutes or so. They’re old friends, they’re always there, and they know everyone by name. I don’t know how fit they’re getting, but there’s nothing but positive vibes from this trio as they do their thing, day after day. Keep on keepin’ on, fellas.

The spotters-in-a-pinch: To me, these are they guys who are doing their own thing, but we all know each other, all talk to each other and generally keep each other motivated. Occasionally, when we’re working on the same thing, we’ll lift a few sets together. And when the bar is loaded at a challenging weight, they’ll gladly spot you when asked. We’d all be workout buddies if our schedules and goals were more in sync, but even so, these familiar faces are often the ones that push you to go a little harder and get a little better. In a pinch.

The treadmill grinders: Not everyone likes to run on pavement every day, but they like running as much as they can. So you’ll see the treadmill grinders pounding out six miles in one workout, or doing their 8x400s, or perhaps some other run-based workout as they gear up for the next big race. Why are they admirable? Because it takes a serious amount of dedication to mount that treadmill and run on it every day. Once or twice a week is about all I can handle. More often than not, they’re better runners than me.

The exceptional instructor: Spin class. Cardio kickboxing. Group strength training. Zumba. And a bunch of other variations of the group exercise classes designed to make you sweat and push your heart rate through the roof. Most of us have been to one or more of these, and you can tell when the instructors are on their game. Learning how to lead these classes is a bunch of work, and the fitness level to not just lead the class, but to talk folks through it as you go takes a high degree or conditioning most of us don’t have. The best of them challenge you, encourage you and make you want to go back. What’s that? You can lead us to the edge of cardio-induced  insanity and back, do it with a smile on your face and keep us coming back for more? Yes, please.

The old warhorses: Years have given these folks a wealth of wrinkles and gray hairs. No matter. Decades of their lives have gone by and they’re still showing up, working hard and living awesome lives because they refuse to give in to the couch. Guy or gal, it doesn’t matter. A lifetime of fitness has endowed them with knowledge, experience and a brighter future than most of the world. They may even outlive you. Hell, they might even outlift, outrun or otherwise outdo you altogether. If you’re lucky – and consistent – maybe you’ll be an old warhorse one day, deadlifting twice as much as the young buck in his early 20s two stations down.

If you work out at a place with a lot of these people, consider yourself blessed. Stick with that place, because you know there are others that are too often filled with folks who don’t know the Gym Rat Code..

Bob Doucette

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Sharing the love of trail running

Just one scene on my local trails.

Summer heat doesn’t excite me. But those daylight hours sure do.

Sunsets that start pushing the nine o’clock hour mean I have that much more time to do things outside. I had my eye on spring and summer when I asked my weekly run group if they’d be interested in doing some trail running.

In case you don’t know, I started leading a Friday evening run group through my local gym. Early on, we kept it close to home, running the streets near downtown Tulsa where the paths were more predictable and there was at least a semblance of street lights. All that is absent on the trails, and I wasn’t about to take people who were new to trail running for a night run. Even with headlamps, that’s a lot to ask of a trail running newbie. So I waited for the days to get longer.

For our first outing, we did a simple 3.5-mile loop. It’s one I’ve done dozens of times before, with a sweet cruise down a wooded ridgeline, then a roller-coaster, technical uphill climb back to the trailhead. My road runners weren’t quite used to the sustained uphill that comes with trails, or the steepness those inclines present. And don’t forget the tripping hazards. I guess I should confess that the only one who bit it that night was me.

Last week, it was the mostly the same crew, but with a few new faces. Most were, again, road runners who hadn’t been on these trails much, if at all.

I took them down that same ridge but chose a different path for our return to the trailhead. It’s one of my favorites, one that meanders down a ravine and across a now-dry creek bed before beginning a steady, switchbacking uphill ascent that doesn’t let up much. It’s technical and difficult, and one small slice of it is too steep to run. That part of the route is everything I love about trail running, cloaked it woodlands and scented with the sweet smells of springtime in the forest.

We’re all in decent shape. Some of the gang is clocking in at 23 minutes or less on their 5Ks (not me, of course). But everyone comes back from these trail runs a little humbled by the challenge. Twice I’ve asked if any of them wanted a little more, and both times they’ve all said they were cool with calling it a night. They enjoyed it but knew when it was time to head for the house.

In the past, I’ve run with groups who’d chill out at the trailhead, drink beer or maybe go for tacos. We’d talk about running, but also everything else about the outdoors: hiking, backpacking, mountain biking, you name it. I’ve found some kindred spirits in those groups and more than once, we’ve hit the road to hike distant trails and climb mountains big and small. Trail running is a gateway drug to all things outdoors that I cherish.

But the basics of it are what’s best. After that first run, one of the fellas talked about how much he enjoyed just being in the woods. No cars, no machines, none of that. Only the sounds of the forest and his footfalls. Being out there calmed his mind, he said.

Man, I can relate. I nodded in agreement, thinking about how a few years ago, in the months after I lost my job due to a layoff and weeks later, lost my oldest brother to cancer, it was running on these very same trails that proved to be the best medicine. I was hurting bad. But the earthen paths through the trees got me through. Years later, the trails opened a whole new chapter in my life.

I know that’s true for a lot of people. My story isn’t unique. But a lot of people could benefit from coming here, even if it’s just for a stroll. Being in wild places is a healthy thing.

And I guess that’s why these runs are special to me. I get to share these paths, these woods, and everything they hold. I get to take people to all my favorite places, “secret” routes that I discovered a long time ago. Maybe they’ll get what I got. Perhaps they’ll gain something different, but equally good.

We’ll keep running our downtown streets. I’m sure as the weeks plow into the summer, those will be some really hot, uncomfortable outings. But the long, sweltering days of summer will also give us enough daylight to take special trips to the trails. One thing is for certain: It’ll be worth the sweat.

The run group after a fun few miles on the trails. It’ll be a new route for them each time we go.

Bob Doucette

Omens abound: A cold snap, an earthquake, and the worst 5K finish ever

I’m not sure earthquakes, snow flurries and running mix all that well.

Call it the convergence of the weird. Maybe an omen. I don’t know. But it ended painfully.

I’ve been on this 5K kick lately, and it continued last weekend in the Tulsa suburb of Jenks. Jenks is home to, of all things, a sizable aquarium, and the venue uses an annual half marathon, 10K and 5K event to raise money and awareness.

That’s all good, you know, but I was attracted to the flat-as-a-board course it offers. Surely a good day here would get another PR.

I woke up and did my usual pre-race ritual: Eat a small breakfast, hydrate a little, foam roll, dress for the race and head out.

But this would be no ordinary day.

For starters, it was cold. As in record-setting cold. April in Oklahoma will more often see high temperatures in the 90s before it sees lows in the mid-20s. But that’s what greeted us, along with a dusting a snow and strong north winds that pushed the wind chill down to 16 degrees. April is supposed to be known more for tornado warnings rather than freeze warnings. But here we were, feeling like it was mid-January.

I can shake that off OK. You can dress for cold, race hard and never overheat. I’m good with that.

But as I munched on breakfast, Weirdo Thing No. 2 occurred: an earthquake.

Sitting on my couch, I heard the window rattle and felt the wave-like shakes that are now familiar to me. Years of wastewater injection drilling associated with oil and natural gas production has made Oklahoma one of the most seismically active states in the country. It wasn’t too long ago we had a quake hit a magnitude of 5.8. Saturday’s quake was a mere 4.5 – big news and a novel experience pre-2011, but in 2018, it registered little more than a shrug. I’ll be more interested when we hit a 6.0 or bigger.

I mentioned the term “omen” earlier. I don’t put much stock in such things, especially when it comes to how weird things can get in the Sooner State. We coined the phrase “quakenado” (that happened on a day when we had tornadoes and a quake), and even the “tigerquakenado” (when we had a tiger escape from an exotic animal shelter the same day there was an earthquake and a tornado). We’ve got a two-week-long teacher strike still going on because, blast them, they don’t like having to work side gigs and take welfare just to get by, and they prefer to have functioning classrooms open more than four days a week with textbooks that don’t predate the second Bush administration. I’m sure I could go on with more oddities of my home state, but you get the drift – unusual things here don’t faze us. We’re used to weird, sad or ominous things. So off I went to my race.

It went well for the first 2K, but I think I went out too fast. I dialed it back a little, hoping for a kick toward the end.

When I passed the last water stop, a gal was holding signs pointing which way for the 5K and 10K runners to go. She told us “just go under the bridge and you’re done!” Sounded good to me, and as soon as I passed that bridge, I sped up. A PR was in sight.

And then about 200 yards from the finish, stinging pain seized my right foot. Not a sprain, not an Achilles tear. Just sharp pain from my heel through my arch. I slowed again, hoping to let it chill out so I could speed back up, but no dice. I was run-hopping the rest of the way, bad wheel and all, just hoping I wouldn’t have to stop dead in my tracks.

The end result was a time 25 seconds off my PR. I ran-limped for 200 yards, and had this blowout happened any earlier in the race – say halfway – I probably wouldn’t have finished at all.

And now I’m hobbling around, wishing I had a set of crutches. As it turns out, this is a nasty case of plantar fasciitis, and it’s not going anywhere. I’ve had a few running nicks and dings through the years, but nothing like this. I doubt I’ll run at all this week. Maybe longer.

And maybe now I’ll give pause to the next pre-race convergence of the strange. Maybe omens are real. Maybe the next time unseasonal weather coincides with the trembling of the earth I’ll just skip the race and sleep in.

Bob Doucette

Five reasons why you should be running 5Ks

Long races are great, but you can really test yourself — and enjoy doing it — by racing 5Ks.

A lot of serious runners – those who take it up as a lifelong activity, or even reach competitive levels – start out as recreational runners. And those recreational runners often start at the bottom, where running a mile without stopping is a major feat.

But from there you grow. Maybe you’re tagging along with friends, or doing a Couch to 5K program. That first step toward achievement usually ends at the finish line of your first 5K.

From there, anything goes. A lot of people use the 5K as a gateway to 10Ks, 15Ks, half marathons and marathons. If you get a bad case of the running bug, you do ultras. When it comes to mileage, the more, the better, right? Those 5K races of yore seem rather quaint as you look for another long-distance race to sign up for.

But before you eschew the 5K into your athletic past, let me give you some reasons why you should still be running these things.

They’re cheaper. Your local 5Ks are going to go anywhere from $20 to $40. If you’re insistent that any race you run comes with a free shirt and a medal, you’ll likely get both. Compare that to half marathons and marathons, and you’re looking at plunking down anywhere from $80 to $200 or more, depending on the race and how close you sign up to race day. If you positively have to race, do your wallet a favor and sprinkle in a few of these rather than depleting your bank account with longer-race signup fees.

The training is simpler. Any experienced runner can run a 5K. But running it well is another matter. Even then, training to run a fast 5K isn’t nearly as complicated as it is for long-distance events. No hydration packs, no mid-run fueling, no multi-hour run workouts or any of that other mess. Instead, you’ll get short- to mid-distance daily runs and speed work. You’ll work hard, but logistically speaking, it’s a whole lot easier than gearing up for those ultras or marathons.

You’ll have a life. Those of you who have run marathons and ultras know that no matter how hard you try, parts of your life are going to suffer while training for these races. There’s only so much time in the day, and run workouts of 8 to 20 miles are going to put a hole in your schedule. For a 5K? Much more manageable.

They’re fun. Hey, we all love races. The big races are a blast. But so are the shorter ones. Just because the mileage isn’t high doesn’t mean the good times are lessened. Run a race with your buds, enjoy some suds at the end and go eat tacos. Also a bonus: You won’t be hobbling nearly as much when it’s over.

If you race right, you’ll be challenged. Hey, I get it. If you’re an experienced runner, pounding out 3.1 miles is basically a warmup. But that’s not what I’m talking about. When you’re toeing the line for a 5K, your goal at this point in your running career isn’t finishing. It’s racing. That means going out there for 3.1 miles and punishing yourself at speeds you’d never contemplate at longer distances. Run like that and you’ll test your conditioning and mental toughness. Some runners call this a “suicide pace,” and if you’ve ever seen what collegiate or Olympic 5,000-meter runners look like after they compete, you’ll get it. Race a 5K like that and you will be tested. Pass that test, and you’ll know what you can do when you’re trying to get a final kick for that longer race you’re eyeing.

So there it is. The longer races are great. But don’t sell the 5K short, even if the distance is.

Bob Doucette

Black-and-white photo challenge: Slices of life, photographically told

Last fall, we saw a lot of people on Facebook and Instagram doing the “black-and-white photo challenge,” where you take one black-and-white photo each day for a week. The rules: No selfies, no people, no caption or explanation. I got challenged, did some pics, and had a little fun.

I’m not sure why, but I liked this. The “challenge” was cool, and I enjoyed seeing what other people posted.

Yes, it’s dorky. Yes, it’s another social media deal where everyone plays along like a bunch of sheep. But who cares? It was harmless fun, and for those who like taking photographs it was a great way to break up the usual stream of angry or selfie-ridden posts that dominate these platforms.

Anyway, I figured it would be fun to look back at those pics. And this time, I’ll be including captions. (I’m a rule-breaker) As you’ll see, my life isn’t just a constant stream of landscape photos and outdoorsy bliss.

Pretty much this, six days a week.

Every runner and hiker has a pile of shoes, right? So many miles sitting there.

What I look at during work hours.

This is where I park.

The neighborhood.

These things go with me everywhere.

I go here a lot. You didn’t think I’d do this without some woodsy scenery, did ya?

So there you have it. Little slices of life, photographically represented in black-and white. Did you do something like this? If you’re a blogger, it would be cool to see if you did this and stick it in a link. Paste it in the comments. Let’s see your life in black-and-white.

Bob Doucette

Eight rules to make your fitness resolutions stick

January means people hitting the gym to create that “new you.” But if you’re going to make that happen, there are some rules you need to follow.

On New Year’s Day, I popped into my local gym for a quick lift before work. Being a holiday, I didn’t expect to find many people there, but it was surprisingly busy.

It’s a sign of things to come as people spent time reflecting on 2017 and figuring out what they want to do differently in 2018. Invariably, that includes losing weight and getting in shape for a lot of people. (It doesn’t help that the Holiday Eating Season, which runs from Thanksgiving until News Year’s Day, makes most of us fluffier.)

Habitual gym-goers bemoan the onslaught of New Year’s resolutioners who will soon clog our gyms and fitness centers. I don’t. Kudos to anyone who tries to improve their health, and welcome to the tribe. If this is you, I’d like to offer a few pointers before you embark on that venerable January tradition of “getting back in shape.”

Make a plan: Something is better than nothing when it comes to exercise, but having a goal – and a plan to achieve it – is always better. I see people walk in and try out machines, aimlessly looking for a pump or a burn, then walk out having achieved little. Do you want to lose weight? Get stronger? Build more mass? There are specific ways to do this. Choose you goal, then find a plan that will achieve that goal.

Stick to that plan: Training programs can be great. I’ve used many, and they all have one common feature: They work when I stick to it. Most training plans work in eight-to-12-week cycles. Some may be more. But if you see incremental success and then quit because you’re not magically worthy of the cover of a fitness mag, then you deserve the results you got. See it through. No one has achieved a goal by quitting early.

Be consistent: This sounds like “stick to the plan,” but there’s some nuance here. Being healthy, fit and strong is not just a result from doing one fitness program. It’s something that’s built over time. It’s a habit. Someone who has made fitness a lifestyle will likely use several exercise plans over the course of years to meet evolving goals. But the real takeaway is this: You can have a great workout once, then slack off for a week and it will have done you no good. But string together a few months of “average” workouts and the transformation will happen. One great moment of glory – a race completed, a PR on your deadlift, or a rockin’ summer beach bod – is built on a foundation of many months’ worth of “average” days in the gym, on the pavement or on the trail.

Leave the cellphone in your locker: I know, I know, our phones have tunes and timers and fitness apps. But most of the time I see people in the gym with their phone, they’re texting. Or reading some article. Or checking Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter or whatever else is pumping rapid-fire notifications their way. I’ve seen people sit on a bench for five to ten minutes texting between sets. I’ve seen gym selfies. I saw a guy last week eking out quarter-squats on a Smith Machine, one hand on the bar, one hand on his phone, face craned toward whatever it was that was so important that he couldn’t put the phone down and actually try a good lift. He’s a fixture at my gym, has maintained this behavior for years, and, not surprisingly, has never changed in physique or performance. He’s the same weak dude he’s always been. I’ve seen so much time wasted because people can’t free themselves from their phone for an hour. I never lift with my phone. It stays in the locker. There is no text or social media thingy that can’t wait. Need music? Get a music player. Need a timer? Buy one, or a watch. You came to work out, not to swipe right.

Be a good human: This entails a lot of things, but they’re easy to spell out. When at the gym, refrain from flirting or looking for dates. Put your weights away when you’re finished. Clean up the sweat you leave behind. Keep your advice to yourself unless asked (which almost never happens) and seek advice from trainers when you have questions. Don’t hog multiple stations. Don’t crowd other exercisers. Don’t stand right in front of the dumbbell rack. Don’t slam/drop weights. In general, do the things that are considerate of other exercisers and the gym staff. If you want more detail, check out these 11 rules of the Gym Rat Code.

Remember that you can’t out-train a bad diet: In body builder circles, it’s been said that success is 80 percent in the kitchen and 20 percent in the gym. I’d say that’s mostly true. Just because you’re exercising more doesn’t mean that you can eat whatever you want. Not if you want to succeed. Clean up that diet, watch your alcohol intake and give your body the nutrition it needs to make you healthier and stronger.

Don’t fret the scale: Use the mirror test instead. Too many people view the number on the scale as their only metric of fitness. Don’t fall into that trap. Your weight can fluctuate wildly from one day to the next. As you gain muscle, you might actually gain weight. But as time progresses, you’ll see a difference in how you look. The scale is one measure of progress, but a flighty one. There are others, like how much you can lift, how far/fast you can run, and how you look in the mirror.

And finally, get your rest: Proper sleep equals proper recovery. And recovery is where the magic happens. When you’re sleeping, your body is rebuilding your muscles to be stronger and better. If you short-change your rest, you’ll eventually short-circuit your fitness goals. Also, one day a week should be a rest day where you don’t train at all. Just chill, eat well, and recover. You don’t have to go full-blast every day. And yes, this means steering clear of those 30-day challenges and runstreaks. It might sound cool, but your rest is more important.

That’s the basics from me. Starting out on your fitness journey means taking that first step. But be sure to think beyond that and be in it for the long haul. These ideas will help you get there.

Bob Doucette

Race recap: Fighting through the 2017 Route 66 half marathon

Wrapping up a tough Route 66 half marathon. At least there was enough left to sprint it in.

I walked into the starting corral at the Route 66 Marathon in perfect conditions. It was 38 degrees, with slight breezes and sunny skies. After a good, hard 12 weeks of training, this should have been the best half marathon I ever ran.

But strange things happen.

Instead of relishing the newfound conditioning I’d developed and soaking in another great race, I found myself in a fight. Just a few miles in, my body was saying, “Not today, dude. Not today.”

At the finish, the sprint at the end belied how I really felt, like I’d been beat up and denied what I’d trained so hard for.

But that’s not the whole lesson, and it’s not that one-sided.

THE RUNUP TO ROUTE 66

Over the summer, I’d set a goal time that I wanted to hit for this year’s race. Last year, I had a mellow training program that gave me a better-than-expected time of just over 2:15 (I’m not that fast, folks). I was happy with that, coming in a bit heavy and just four minutes off the best 13.1-mile time I’ve ever run, and five minutes under the previous year’s disappointment.

Surely with a more serious training schedule, I’d crush that PR and maybe get past that two-hour barrier. So I set out to make a more aggressive program that had me running more weekly miles than I’d done since I trained for a marathon back in 2013.

The training schedule. I was religious about following the plan, and if not for unforeseen circumstances, it would have paid off in spades..

Dude. I was religious about it. Aside from skipping one weekend 5K and doing a treadmill speed workout on a day when it was pouring rain, I nailed it every day. The weight peeled off, my cardio returned, and by the time I ran the Tulsa Run 15K eight weeks in, I was hitting mile paces I hadn’t seen in four years. Breaking two hours was probably not in the cards, but that PR seemed in the bag. During the Tulsa Run, my 5K splits were even, I crushed the hills and I had cardio for days. With three weeks of hard training left, it seemed inevitable that I’d smash a half marathon course of which I was intimately familiar.

UH OH…

Fast forward a couple of weeks. I’d just finished running an 11-miler on a warm day, capping off a 34-mile week. Not bad for me. But something felt off that night, and by the next day, when I was scheduled to do an hour-long bike ride (my standard cross-training workout), something was amiss. That night, I was sick as a dog.

The next day, it was worse. And worse again the day after that. Congestion, sore throat, drainage and junk in my chest. It knocked me out for a few days, killing off three runs. Later in the week, I felt good enough to get back to it, and to my surprise, a 3-miler went well. The next day, 12 miles were on tap, the first 6 of which were spirited, but the last 6 very meh. I headed into my taper, hoping the nagging cough and chest gunk would be gone by race day.

Too bad, sucka.

THE RACE

I paced myself fairly well in the first couple of miles, but about three miles in, I knew something was up. My lungs were working too hard, and my legs told me they didn’t want anymore. This was a bad sign, with 10 miles to go, and plenty of hills in front of me before the course flattened out about midway through. I told myself that I could catch my breath then, with the hills of midtown Tulsa behind me, and regroup before things got gnarly again at Mile 8.

I never recovered. Every mile was work. Hitting the mild but long incline at Cincinnati Avenue, the kick wasn’t there. I smashed this hill last year, but suffered this time around. Back down on the flat mile at Riverside Drive, I again hoped to recover just a little before the two big hills leading back into downtown.

And that didn’t happen, either. Facing the big inclines of Miles 11 and 12, the challenge was to not give in and peter out, but instead to run these things hard.

One of the things I made sure to do all season long was to run hills. Route 66 is a hilly course, and if all you run are flat sections, you’re going to suffer. The climbs up Southwest Boulevard, then Seventh Street nail me every time on this race, so I purposely created training routes that finished with long, steep hills. Practice makes perfect, and it sure made a difference at the Tulsa Run. It was a matter of pride to conquer these things.

Thankfully, I did. Not fast, but good enough to keep some sort of pace and not slow to a defeated walk. But there wasn’t much left in the tank after that, now that my legs and lungs had betrayed me.

Heading into the Tulsa Arts District, I plodded slowly until the finish was in sight. Just enough reserve was left to quicken the pace and sprint in.

But being nowhere close to a PR seemed inevitable. I wasn’t even sure I’d be faster than the year before, when I trained in a much more leisurely fashion.

THE RESULTS

Not sure it tastes like victory, but it does taste like getting it done.

Being in the B Corral, and well off the start line, it was hard to gauge my chip time finish. I don’t often run with tech, choosing instead to track my progress on the clocks set up on the course.

Instead of beaming in the post-race sun, I hunched down, deliberated what happened and guzzled a Gatorade. No point in lingering, I headed to the shuttle bus to take me back to the start line area.

While on the bus, I dared to look up the times. Punched in my name, then viewed the results. It popped up on my phone: 2:14:30.

Frankly, I was surprised. I was actually faster than last year. Even though I felt like hell, my body wasn’t cooperating and I ran with no fluidity to speak of, I’d somehow performed, well, better. Suddenly this result was now my new second-best half marathon time.

But it was a small consolation. I worked very hard for a mere 31 seconds. That’s the equivalent of walking through one extra aid station. It was also a good 3 minutes off my 13.1 PR. Oy. No two-hour mark, no PR. But faster than 2016. Call it a personal bronze medal.

THE TAKEAWAY

I could have been bummed by this. In some ways, I am. It’s not what I worked for. But I understand it.

When you have a bunch of gunk in your chest, you won’t have your normal cardio. And with that, there goes your breathing and your legs.

But there is something else. A tougher training season made me mentally stronger. There was a lot to fight through in this one, and it was a lengthy battle to keep going at a pace that eventually got me across the finish in a way that did not prove embarrassing. In the last couple of miles, I was wondering if the race might end up being one of my slowest half marathons. So seeing the chip time on my phone during the bus ride downtown showed me that even though I didn’t come close to my goals, I worked hard enough to make progress.

Silver linings, man. You take ‘em where you can.

Bob Doucette