One hundred down

 ..who knows how many to go?

Winter light is so magnificently strange sometimes

The worst kept secret of all time is that I've been taking part in the annual Slowtwitch 100 runs in 100 days challenge again, only with a much earlier start date than ever. It began all the way back on November 15th, since which time I've managed to put in a pretty decent block of consistent running...despite (probably) catching Covid-19 in December, some rather long workdays, and the inherent challenges of a Canadian winter.

Keeping in mind I have no access to either indoor track or treadmill

By dint of my longest run streak ever (a modest 20 days over the holidays, but I'm someone that really values my usual Fridays off) and really committing to running twice per day every Saturday and Sunday, I arrived at last weekend with 96 runs already in the bag. 

Better scenery than a treadmill, anyway.

Of course, the weather had to come into play sometime: we'd had a relatively mild winter so far, with only a few dumps of snow. As much as it pains me to miss out on my favourite form of masochism, it's probably a good thing that the snowshoe racing season was cancelled due to the pandemic this year - I've not had much opportunity to train in my snowshoes due to the lack of lasting snow. We did get a dump of it last week, but then the temperatures plummeted just in time for the weekend of my final push to 100.

Thanks a bunch, Mother Nature!

The usual run to the market on Saturday morning had me busting out the wool tubular gaiter as a hood - a thing I don't do until the mercury drops to -10c or below. The wind made it feel like a positively frosty -19c (-2f), and I was glad to have Tanker meet me with a sweater to change into, and a heavy down coat and insulated skirt to throw on so I could shop without freezing solid. 

At least it had been sunny, though

Second run, though, was rather a different story.

The sun was long gone

I could have made it out before sunset, but you know that lack of snow I mentioned? It's made for a really crap cross-country ski season, and I decided Saturday afternoon that we couldn't afford to waste skiable conditions while they existed, so I spent the last of the daylight getting some kicks in with my sweetheart.

..and some glides, as well!

Then straight off to the head of the Mill Run Trail, where I was fortunate to be able to do a point-to-point running almost entirely downwind. It was a very dark night, and I didn't see another soul as I trotted through the woods.

If you look really closely, you can see a pinprick of light at the end of the tunnel of trees

It was cold enough that my phone refused to let me use flash photography at the dam, despite riding in the pocket of an insulated jacket against my right hip. Fortunately my trusty sweater, down coat, and insulated skirt awaited at the other end with Tank so we could hit the grocery store just a couple of kilometers from the trail before heading home to get some dinner and sleep.

..and let my jacket dry out, as I might need it again the next day.

Sunday dawned just as cold, but with even more wind driving the apparent temperature down to a bone-chilling -22c (-8f). I knew I needed to hide in the woods.

So that's exactly what I did!

The ups and downs of the Sudden Regional Forest felt like exactly what my legs needed after mostly flat running the day before, and I had a ball exploring the trails there in the afternoon sun. It's another one of those tracts that don't feel big enough for major trail runs when prepping for big races, but that I adore getting to know during 100 in 100 season when shorter, more frequent runs rule my weekend days.

What's not to love?

I wish I had more photos from this run, but the wind was so cold that my phone began to shut down of its own accord when I'd take it out to snap pics. For awhile I was able to re-warm it in my pocket, re-start it, then get one or two more shots off..

I'm delighted I was able to capture the stark contrast of these dark seeds against the snow

..but after awhile my phone would shut down without even reaching a full boot, so I put it away and just looked.

You might think this would absolve you of having to endure my endless run selfies.
You'd be wrong.

In milder weather I'll often plan that the hour between the end of one run and the start of another is spent in transit (and eating some stuff to refuel), but in deep cold it felt like a sketchy idea to start the second run wet with sweat from the first, so it was back home for a change of kit and then off to the Linear Trail - just down the hill from home - for my 4th run of the weekend and 100th run of the challenge.

It seemed quite appropriate that run #100 should begin at twilight

Fortunately the wind had died significantly by this time, so my out-and-back route didn't involve too much of a struggle. My poor phone, however, had definitely had enough of the cold; I was barely able to get a shot of the ever-photogenic confluence of the Grand & Speed River before it shut itself down once more.

It's usually a popular spot around sunset, but there was no-one about on this evening

Just before 7pm on Sunday, February 7th - day 85 of the challenge - I finished my 100th run and gratefully dove into the thermos of hot chocolate I'd left in the car. 

Taken after I got home, once my phone had warmed enough to cooperate again.

I'm far from outstanding among the participants in the challenge - you know, just like in everything else. You have to scroll a fair way down the page to see me in the standings, and my mileage is certainly nothing to brag about.

Though I will note that there are a total of 395 participants who have logged at least 20 runs, putting me in the top 10%

I have, however, had quite a bit of fun along the way.

Like reaching new heights..

..and seeing things from another perspective.

..and of course, I've continued to run Monday through Thursday this week, because damnit it's a ONE HUNDRED DAY challenge. My prior best - set last year - was 111 runs over the course of the 100 days. I have the opportunity to beat that this year by simply keeping on doing what I've been doing. So, as the biting cold settles over the trails once more, I'll layer up tomorrow for another double run day. No point in coasting it in when you can end off strong.

Everyone knows you've gotta put in a kick as you approach the finish!

Wishing you all a very happy Family Day weekend (or President's Day for my friends to the South) - stay warm and go be awesome!

Edited to add (13-Feb-2021): from Nov 15th, 2020 to Feb 7th, 2021 I took a total of 10 days off from running (every Friday except Christmas Day and New Year's Day) so I actually completed 100 runs in 75 days, and since I never ran more than twice in a day that equates to 25 double run days in the span of 85 days. It's the "100 runs in 100 days" challenge, NOT the "run 100 days in a row" challenge. 

Taking it back

 No, not something I've said.

I stand firmly behind all of my blitherings!

I'm taking back a term that has been used in derogatory fashion by certain folks who often think quite highly of themselves, regardless of whether or not their esteem is deserved.

I might get a bit salty, but I promise there will still be pretty photos.

The term? Hobby jogger.

*cue dramatic sky* Dun dun DUUUUUUN

If you're sitting there wondering what it's supposed to mean, I'll reference the Urban Dictionary for you (for the first and - if we're all lucky - last time on this blog):

"Term of mild abuse describing recreational runners. Normally invoked by more experienced and accomplished athletes.

I watched the New York Marathon on TV last week and after the first couple of hundred went by it was wall to wall hobby joggers."

Because why shouldn't everything be subject to elitism, right?

Here's the thing: if you want to be that guy (or girl, or possibly small ornamental teapot - you do you, folks!) who is hyper-focused on squeezing every drop of performance out of the meat suit you wear, that's heckin' awesome. If you find success and get showered in glorious podium finishes, I am absolutely stoked for you! 

You know there's a giant "however" coming..

HOWEVER (see? Look how smart you are!), if you think for one hot second - maybe that second you just shaved off your mile PR - that your results give you the right to look down on other people who may not care as much about being the best & fastest, you're dead wrong. 

There's so much more to life than "get faster"

I've been known to push myself pretty hard in races from time to time, and occasionally even get lucky when the fast people stayed home; I've stepped up on a few podiums myself here and there, though typically with times that would make the sort of person who uses "hobby jogger" like an epithet sneer. What keeps me running, though - day in, day out, week after week and year after year - is the joy it brings, through the things I get to see and experience along the way.

Like the weird light of an overcast winter day

If my primary goal were performance, I'd likely have a training plan set out that would prescribe certain paces and times I'd have to try to hit every week, rather than simply listening to my body and mind and letting myself run according to the day. 

I almost certainly couldn't just decide to throw down a snowshoe run because the conditions happened to be perfect that afternoon.

I'd have to be focused on staying in my target heart rate zone, paying attention to my watch's display of my metrics rather than to the world around me.

Which would mean I might miss the beauty of this creative and eco-friendly ornament..

..or the frosty beauty of one of summer's forgotten fungi.

I'd have to choose places to train that would let me dictate my pace by my effort, rather than flowing with the lay of the land as it rolls over roots and rocks, and flows in frozen streams.

How am I supposed to do 3 x 5mins at 5k pace through this?

I'm delighted that there are people out there who push the limits of human performance to ever-higher marks - I respect their dedication and effort, but even if I were to focus my energies to the same degree and fulfill 100% of my true running potential, I'd still be left in the dust of almost anyone but the most average of athletes. I don't have much talent, and made poor choices in my youth that further impaired my chances of ever lighting the world on fire with my athleticism. So, instead I run for joy.

And sometimes stop and tuck myself into a hollow tree, just because.

I jog. As a hobby. Hobby...jogger. I'm owning it, but I'll never think myself less for doing so. Running might not mean the same thing to me as it does to someone else, but what a bore it would be if we were all the same. I certainly can't say that I enjoy it every single run - there are times when I just want to laze on the couch instead, and days when the best thing about running is that I eventually got to stop - but it's good more often than it's not, so I'll just keep trotting around with my phone camera handy, until age or injuries prevent me, or it ceases to be fun.

After all, it's just a hobby, right?

I hope you never encounter anyone who tries to make you feel like you're lesser because you approach something differently than they do, but if you do I 100% have your back. Just run your own run, and know that you're probably having more fun!

Just goofin' around

Running can be tough to keep up during the winter.

It's definitely not all blue skies and sunshine.

When the wind howls and it seems like it's been weeks since you've felt the sun on your face, it can be difficult to motivate yourself to get out and chug around in the cold. Add in the pandemic restrictions making life more complicated, and the couch seems like a much more attractive option.

Well, more comfortable anyway - it's definitely prettier out in the woods!

So, here's my suggestion. Don't go out for a run - go out for play instead.

No really - hear me out.

I've had a tough week - putting in a lot of overtime to finish off some projects, and trying to solve all the problems that come across my desk. Sometimes I hardly take lunch, or do so late enough that it can't really be considered "lunch" at all.

Call it a late afternoon run and big snack?

I have more than enough work in my life without making running seem like a chore, so I choose to play instead. How do I do that? Same way that you can, and it starts by noticing what's around you.

Oh look!

For most normal humans, that's an informative plaque about plantation forests and a prime example of forest management. If you're willing to be a bit of a goof about it, though..

The perfect posing chäir!
(It may help to be a fan of @ultrarunningmemes here)

You can stop and swing from a handy branch - by your hands, or try from your knees if you're braver (and more flexible). You don't have to be on a trail, either; most suburban and urban areas have parks, and playgrounds, and maybe fitness equipment. Who says you have to be under highschool age to have a go on the slide, or swing on the swingset?

Like my hot new motorcycle?
(NB: use caution if you're over 100lbs and try something on a spring.
There may or may not have been a near-faceplant)

Even something as mundane as shoveling your driveway can be a little more fun if you include random dance breaks - why shouldn't you do the same while running?

Everyday I'm shovelin'..

You can stop to build a snowman or other snow-sculpture, roll down a hill instead of running down, or just blanket your neighbourhood with snow angels.

Snowy dead-end street? SNOW ANGEL TIME!

Of course, you're going to need to be bundled up for all of this, and I absolutely do not recommend doing anything near traffic or on private property that could get you fined, hurt, or even just yelled at.

There's plenty of fun to be had in public spaces, as long as you don't mind looking like a bit of an idiot!

I just don't think we get enough chances in our adult lives to play, but running is an excellent chance to change that...and you never know, you might actually start to look forward to getting out there in the cold!

Give it a try, and let me know about the antics you get up to!

I've not been able to find an attribution for it, but there's a fantastic quote that really embodies all of this:

"If you choose not to find joy in the snow, you will have less joy in your life, but still the same amount of snow."

Me? I'll choose joy every time, and I hope you do, too! 

Are you afraid of the dark?

 ..because you shouldn't be. 

Cautious? Sure. Fearful? No.

The days are short right now, and I'm trying to run twice each weekend day to bank some fodder for the 100 runs in 100 days challenge. That usually means my second run of the day is at least partly in the dark, and while that's not ideal for all purposes I firmly believe it's something every runner would do well to experience.

At your own comfort level to start, of course.

Why would I suggest such a thing? Well, there are a couple of reasons, some of which are universally applicable and some that are more specialized. Let's have a look at both, shall we?

Come - follow me down this rabbit hole..

In the context of ultrarunning, anyone thinking of attempting a 24hr/100 miler - or even a 50 miler, depending on the time of year - should be completely comfortable moving efficiently through the dark on similar (or more technical) terrain as that offered in the goal race. The last thing you want is to have your first experience of a dark, root-strewn trail come while you're carrying the fatigue of already having run for hours, especially if that's the same time you discover the headlamp you've brought along fails to illuminate your path well enough to see what you're dealing with.

For some people this is plenty of light - for others it's a broken bone or badly sprained ankle waiting to happen.

If you're planning on a multi-day race (48hr, 72hr, 6-day, 200 miler)...well, you probably don't need to hear this from me, because you're already a badass that knows they need to get their night game dialed. Training in darkness gives you the absolute best chance to minimize the surprises that will come when the sun sets and energy begins to ebb. Sleep deprivation combined with high energy expenditure does not make for good decision making, so eliminating as many opportunities for failure is key to success. Nighttime is always a different game - doubly so if you're out in the woods - so building your familiarity is key to good outcomes.

..as you make your way through the dark tunnel of night, to the coming daylight beyond.

The simple act of running later in the day can be useful, too, for building experience in running while fatigued. If you've already had a full day of shopping and cooking and cleaning and errands, then head out for a trot as the light fades away, you're teaching your body that it can continue to push past diurnal limits. That's great experience to have in your mental and physical toolkit as you push through the final miles of a 100k, desperately trying to outrun the cement filling your legs and fog clouding your mind.

The day isn't over when the sun goes down  - it's over when you're finished with it.

You may find navigation more difficult, too, especially on some of the wilder courses. You can't rely on the position of the sun for direction, and even quite well marked trails can start to pose challenges when the light fades. Knowing how to find your way in the dark is a useful skill for anyone who ventures further than their local suburban park's pathways, and it can take a bit of practice to get comfortable. If you're just dipping a toe into nighttime trail running, do so in a familiar place, or somewhere without any complexities that might get you turned around. Be prepared for it to all look different, though, and stay aware of your surroundings at all times.

See the bridge, with the blazes indicating the right turn to take it across the creek?

Even for runners who never intend to race in the dark, the sheer exhilaration of tackling a trail at night can help you build mental toughness that can be drawn on in any situation in life. I don't suggest you immediately go find the gnarliest section of the Bruce Trail and go for a blithe midnight meander; I don't even necessarily recommend that your first forays into running in the dark be on anything more treacherous than a section of paved multi-use trail or a bit of well-groomed rail trail. 

You can work your way up to something more adventurous as your comfort level grows.

You'll want a good, reliable light - I highly endorse the use of a headlamp to keep your hands free, but also recognize that the position of its light being so close to your eyes' point of view can make seeing contours a challenge due to the angle of the shadows it will cast. For racing purposes I also employ a waist belt light to mitigate this effect, but I don't actually use it in training; when I'm just out bopping around the trails after dark on your average evening, I'll just slow down to accommodate the difficulty of seeing precisely what's going on in front of me. However, more light is always better for races: it not only helps tired eyes see better, it can also trick your mind into increased alertness. Humans are - regardless of my own night owl tendencies - built to thrive and be energetic during daylight hours and restful in darkness. Every additional lumen of brightness in your view as you push through the night is like a tiny sip of coffee in its effect; fooling your brain into thinking it's day, when you should be raring to go.

Not to mention giving you a better chance of staying upright..

You'll need to make sure that light has plenty of battery power, too. If you're not sure when the last time was you put fresh ones in (or charged it), do so before you head out. Taking a spare set of batteries is a great idea - lithium ones are a bit lighter to carry and tend to last longer in cold weather - but you had better make sure you have a secondary light source to illuminate things while you change them out. A chemical glow stick is inexpensive, lasts for years (as long as the internal chamber is intact), stows easily in a pocket, and casts just enough light to let you figure out which is the positive and which is the negative terminal contact. A dark trail is no place to suddenly realize the impossibility of swapping the batteries in your headlamp by the light of your headlamp! In a pinch (if your spare batteries turn out to be dead, too), a glow stick will also give you one last-resort way to navigate your way to safety.

There are some who claim my headlamp isn't much brighter than one of them, anyway.

The other thing you will absolutely need is a willingness to take things slow. Dark trails are no place for intervals, unless you're talking "intervals of cautious running interspersed with plenty of walking over the sketchy bits". Primarily speaking to ultrarunners here, this can be some of your best preparatory training for long races: making the transition from running to walking, then walking to running, over and over again as you push through the dark - this is exactly the experience you need to prepare you for 100 miles and beyond. It's not about speed; it's about efficient movement, staying within yourself, and staying on the correct course. 

Which can - perhaps contrary to expectation - be easier to do in winter.

So dress a little warmer, throw on your brightest headlamp, take a deep breath, and get out there. Maybe you start with just a 15min walk, with no running at all - feel it out, and recognize that it may be an intense experience. Being a little scared is ok; I'm not going to say I'm always 100% confident while meandering around in the dark forest, particularly when the coyotes start howling in the exact direction I'm headed. However, I have been wandering around the trails at night for many years now, and have a 100% survival rate to date! I've also come to take pleasure in the challenges that the woods can pose when shrouded in darkness, and invite you to taste of their unique charms.

At your own pace, and with appropriate caution.

Who knows? You may even find you have a liking for it, and decide to try a night trail race!