An Ultra-Challenge for July

Of all the months, July is THE BEST. July is like hitting a bunch of green lights in a row. It’s better than the smell of crayons. It’s the Justin Timberlake of months.

I usually take the whole month off, rent a cabin surrounded by hills and trails, and just run. Last year, near Collingwood, I logged 347 miles on the Bruce Trail. The July before that, I covered 316 miles in the Haliburton Forest. The July before that I managed, well, only 272 miles, but that’s because I was running up and down mountains in France.

Running up “The Canigou” – near Perpignan, France

This July, I’ve set an even BIGGER challenge. In addition to running 12 miles per day, I’m determined to write my second novel.

WHAT??? In a month? Who does he think he is – Stephen King?

Actually, I don’t have to write it from scratch. I wrote a first draft a couple of years ago, but then I set it aside, so I could work on my other book, which is, you know, actually getting published.

This July is the first chance I’ve had to go back to work on that other writing project. It’s a big, messy, 60,000-word turd right now, but I’m excited about polishing it into a diamond.

So every day this July, in addition to burning 1000 calories on the trail, I’m hoping to produce 2000 words. Words that glitter like spun glass, words that gleam like dragonflies in sunshine, words that shimmer like cobwebbed trees in summery skies…

Okay, I’ll stop now.

This July, I’m also planning to: eat 30 salads, drink 30 cups of coffee, watch 30 sunsets, take 30 naps, and watch zero television shows.

Wish me luck!

My First Book Interview

My novel is going to the printer TODAY. Synchronize your watches – it’ll be hitting the bookstores in ten weeks.

I had my first book interview today. Strange experience. I work for the media, so for years, I’ve been the one asking the questions, not answering them. Role reversal!

Still, it was fun to talk about these characters who’ve been making a racket inside my head for the last three years.

Here are the first five questions I was asked as an author:

Q: What is the best part of being an author?

I love that the gear is so cheap! If I wanted to be a professional snowboarder, I’d have to spend hundreds of dollars on equipment. The board, the boots, the bindings, the jacket… Pricey! But all an author needs is a pen and some paper. What does that cost – maybe $5?

Also, I never get hurt, writing books. That’s a definite plus for me. If I was a hockey player in the NHL, I’d probably get hit a lot. I’m a bit of a wimp when it comes to getting hit, so that wouldn’t be much fun. As an author, the worst thing that can happen is I get a paper cut.

The best thing about being an author, however, is that the job is dead easy. The alphabet only has 26 letters. So all I have to do is arrange those letters in such a way that they tell a good story. How hard could that be?

Q: What inspired you to write Ultra?

Five years ago, I did an insane thing. I entered a hundred-mile footrace. For 24 hours – all day and all night – I ran through a forest. Some runners saw bears along the route, and all through the night I heard wolves howling in the distance. It was a terrifying and exhausting experience. But when I crossed the finish line, my life had changed. I’d always thought it was impossible to run 100 miles in a day, but now that I’d done it, the whole world seemed different. I’d changed the goalposts of what I believed was possible. So I decided to try something else that I’d always thought was impossible – writing and publishing a novel. And voila!

Q: What was the hardest part of writing this book?

Deciding whether or not the main character, Quinn, should win the race. For the longest time, I had him crossing the finish line first. But then I decided that he shouldn’t win; that something else – something dramatic – should happen instead. So I rewrote the ending. But then I gave the book to family members to read, and they complained about the ending. So I rewrote it again, and then again.

I went back and forth, rewriting that ending for a year. I can’t even remember anymore whether Quinn wins or loses the race. But I will say this. Most 100-mile races don’t give prizes to the winners. Usually the winner just gets a pat on the back, a warm blanket, and a bowl of vegetable soup. Almost nobody runs a 100-mile race in order to win. They do it for other, much stranger reasons.

Q: In what ways are you like Quinn, the protagonist in your book?

I share Quinn’s determination. Once I get an idea into my head, I’ll stick with it, no matter how much it hurts. That’s why I can run 100 miles in one go. Also, I love being outside, and I’m okay with being alone sometimes. I’m a bit of an introvert, and I think Quinn is too.

And finally, like Quinn, I have a really solid friend. And an amazing family that supports me – even when I do crazy things.

Q: What was your favourite book growing up?

“Swallows and Amazons” by Arthur Ransome. It’s about a group of kids who climb mountains and race sailboats and survive shipwrecks and explore the high English moors. Their parents are nowhere in sight, and the kids are always outdoors, facing the elements. My dad read that book aloud for my whole family when I was a kid. He’d read one chapter each night before bedtime, and the next morning me and my brother would race for the book so we could read on ahead.

“Swallows and Amazons” was the first in a long series, and Dad read us every single one over the course of a long, magical summer. And that’s saying something, since there are twelve books in the series, and each one is 350 pages long. Looking back, I think that experience cemented my love of reading. Dad reading those books out loud.

Amazing Human Tricks

Admit it – you can do a weird trick with your body. Maybe you can wiggle your ears, or crack your knuckles. Maybe you can change your eye colour at will.

We all have weird party tricks we can do with our bodies. A couple of years back, when I was producing a live comedy show, I met a guy who could fit his whole body through a tennis racquet:

The question arises – what good could it possibly do to squeeze your body through a tennis racquet while simultaneously juggling rubber balls?

Answer: it does you no good whatsoever. But hey, it’s fun! And you get to appear on live comedy shows.

My own personal trick is rather peculiar. I can talk backwards. Listen:

https://writerunrepeat.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/dave-talks-backwards-2.mp3

Actually, they never did invite me back.

But listen – in that radio show appearance, I only flipped the words in each sentence around, and repeated them back in the opposite order. Since then, I’ve learned that some people can actually speak backwards phonetically. That is to say, they can flip all the individual letters in each word around, and then pronounce them back-to-front.

Kind of like this girl:

OK, So You’ve Run Into a Bear. Now What?

A few days ago I wrote about running into bears while on the trail. It’s a daunting prospect, and there are lots of things you can do to prevent it from happening (like making lots of noise).

But suppose you do run into a bear. What then?

No single strategy is guaranteed to work in all situations, but you can minimize your risk by doing the following:

First, keep your distance from the bear and remain calm. Don’t run away. In most cases, if you make some noise, the bear will leave.

Don’t be surprised if the bear rises up on its hind legs. Bears are curious animals, and often stand up to get a better view, or to catch your scent. Back away slowly and speak in a firm voice.

A bear that swats at the ground, swings its head from side to side, snorts or huffs, pops its jaw, or bares its teeth is likely stressed and is asking for more space. Give it to him. Bears may also bluff their way out of an encounter by charging, then turning away at the last second. Stand your ground.

A bear that follows you, circles or cuts you off is likely displaying predatory behaviour. This is more common in black bears. Face the bear and act aggressively. Throw rocks and sticks.

If a Bear Charges:

If it’s a Black Bear, stand and fight. Grab the closest stick and bash him across the nose. Throw things. If you’re carrying bear spray, use it. Any of these actions may convince the bear to leave you alone.

If it’s a Grizzly Bear, play dead. Protect your face, and the back of your head and neck with your arms. The typical grizzly attack happens as a result of surprise, so non-aggressive behavior generally works.

Here’s an easy way to remember: If it’s black, fight back. If it’s brown, lie down.

Sweaty to Office Ready

A few Februaries ago, while standing on a streetcar, politely absorbing the cloud of germs radiating from the human flu cases all around me, I glanced out the window and had a revelation.

A happy-looking runner bounded up the sidewalk. A vapour trail of snow whorled behind her.

Brilliant, I thought! Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Instead of suffering for hours on public transit, I could be running to work, and losing weight at the same time!

Ever since that revelation, I’ve been running to and from work every day. I’m saving money on transit, I’m saving time, and my oxygen-rich blood has led to improved performance at work.

Still, I’ll be the first to admit that the running commute can be fraught with peril. Over the years I’ve been caught half-in and half-out of my spandex tights in the photocopy room. I’ve been referred to as “Chicken Legs Carroll” at a staff meeting. And I’ve been accused of “stinking up” workstations 2G208 through 2G212.

More on that latter item in a moment, but first, I’d like to address the most significant challenge facing the commuting runner: wardrobe planning. Any casual runner is capable of keeping a spare shirt or two at the office. But what about us addicts who run both to and from work, each and every day of the week? To do this successfully, some planning is in order.

Once a week, I pack a duffel bag full of clean clothes and shlep it downtown. Three pairs of pants, three dress shirts, and four tee-shirts generally do the trick. I also leave a few items at work permanently – sports jacket, belts, a filing cabinet full of clean socks.

My filing cabinet holds all manner of fine toggery

It’s not a fail-safe plan. Countless are the times I’ve grabbed a clean shirt, shoes, underwear and socks from my filing cabinet, and headed for the showers only to discover that I have no pants.

What the….WHERE ARE MY PANTS!?!

Ever sat through a board meeting in dri-fit shorts?

But maintaining a satellite wardrobe is only the half the battle. It’s also critically important to be pre-emptive with one’s sweaty laundry.

Hide-a-stench

For this, I look no further than my trusty Coleman cooler. With its airtight seal, that baby can store up to 3 days worth of biological waste without emitting any foul smog.

Despite these precautions, I still get the occasional complaint from my neighbor at workstation 2G212. I’m doing everything I can, but frankly, I think it’s time for our industry leaders to lend a hand. If companies really want to attract health-conscious and carbon-neutral employees, they need to get ahead of the fitness curve. I’m not talking about bike racks and shower rooms. These days, those are the mere baseline. I’m talking about lunch-hour massages, Gatorade and Clif shot energy gels in the vending machines, and most importantly, same-day dry cleaning service.

And would it really kill our bosses to keep an ironing board in the photocopy room? I mean, c’mon!

The evidence beneath my desk

You’ll find a good article with tips on how to run-commute here.

A Puppy Off its Leash

This spring is giving me whiplash.

Three days ago I went running in a blizzard. But one weekend before that, the hillsides were ablaze with blossoms.

I took the opportunity to go hiking on the Bruce Trail with friends. White and wine-coloured Trilliums opened as we walked.

These flowers would perish of frostbite exactly one week later, but they looked very beautiful at the time.

My friends were in an easy-as-a-Sunday-mornin’ mood, and took lots of time to admire the scenery.

Look out, I’m a snake, you cultured peoples!

The trail wove up and down the scarp face. Every so often, we’d come upon a delicious downhill section. I’d leave my friends behind, and slalom down the trail, my legs twirling like pinwheels. When I got to the bottom of the ravine I’d turn around and jog back up to meet my friends again. I felt sheepish, like a puppy who’s escaped its leash but still wants to be loved by its masters. My friends barely even noticed I’d gone.

After a couple of hours we came to a gurgling stream. It meandered through the grassy meadow like lazy cursive, swooping around apple trees and ancient slabs of limestone. The water glinted like diamonds in the sunlight, and when you looked down into it, you could see fat black tadpoles shooting back and forth.

It was an idyllic place, surrounded by hills on all sides. It reminded me of an illustration from one of my all-time favourite children’s books, Stan and Jan Berenstain’s The Bears Picnic.

It’s the book where Ma and Pa Bear set off with their son in search of the perfect picnic spot. They pass through forests, over mountains, and through cozy glades in pursuit of the perfect picnic spot. They endure bugs and monsoons and nearly get killed by a train and almost fall off a mountain.

Come to think of it, their adventure is eerily similar to my novel, Ultra. Except, like, the main characters are cartoon bears.

When we got home after the hike we ate our own picnic of scones and salted pecans and Brie cheese and Oolong tea which raised our spirits nicely. Six hours had passed since we’d set out on the trail. It felt like ten minutes. The best days always do.

Note – you can find that gorgeous creek and meadow at kilometer 58.8 of the Beaver Valley section of the Bruce Trail. It’s on map 26 of the Trail guide; just a few clicks southeast of Eugenia Falls.

Or, if you’re feeling lazy, you can have almost the same experience just by reading this book:

In Every Race There is a Surprise, Part 2

I love running 100 mile races. And one of my favourites takes place this month.

The Sulphur Springs Trail Run is held in the Dundas Valley Conservation Area in Southern Ontario. The race follows a series of hard-pack trails that weave in and out of steep gorges carved thousands of years ago by retreating glaciers. Over the course of the 20-kilometer loop (which you run 8 times), you pass through dense Carolinian forests and wildflower-strewn meadows.

Gorgeous

To answer your question, yes, there’s a bit of hill-climbing. Over the course of the 100 miles, you have to gut your way up 4600 metres of elevation. That’s like 8 CN towers stacked on top of each other.

Sadly, I won’t be running the race this year. Instead, I’ll be working this mind-blowingly awesome music festival. It’s a decent trade-off, but I’ll still be thinking about Sulphur Springs while I’m rocking out. I’ve said before that every 100-mile race holds a surprise of some sort, and I’ve had more than my share in that particular race…

For instance. Five years ago I was toeing the starting line with a hundred or so other runners. It was late May, and it was six in the morning, and most of us were wearing headlamps.

Most – but not all.

“3…2…1…GO!” shouted the race director.

“Yaaaaaaaaa!” we runners yelled, charging heroically into the darkness.

We ran for maybe 30 seconds, down a gravel road toward the trailhead. Everyone jostled for position as the road got narrower, and soon we were funneling into a straight line.

Did I mention that it was dark? That we were moving fast?

Soddenly, right in front of me, someone shouted: “Look out! Look out! Look out!”

The offending posts

Four metal posts were sticking out of the ground. They were two-and-a-half feet high. Castration height.

“Look out! Look out! Look out!”

The crowd parted, and I slipped safely between the posts. The guy beside me wasn’t so lucky, and went down with a horror-movie scream.

IN EVERY RACE THERE IS A SURPRISE.

Poor guy. He’d run all of 200 metres.

Happily, the following year, the starting line was moved to a different area of the park. I have no idea if that was coincidental or not.

* * *

Running a hundred miles is not like running shorter distances. In the 100 mile race, you don’t compete with other people. You compete against yourself. More precisely, you compete against your own mind. You would think that your mind would be on your side in an endurance event. But it is not. Your mind is your worst enemy. Your mind is on the side of your body, and your body wants nothing more than to go home, lie down in a hammock, and eat a bag of barbecue chips.

Oh sure, every now and again, your mind will say something nice to you, like: “The bath you take after this race sure is going to feel good!” Or, “It sure is nice, being outside in the fresh air!” But most of the time your mind says nasty things like: “You’re stupid for trying this; you should drop out and go home.”

That’s what my mind was saying to me a couple of years ago, when I was once again running Sulphur Springs. I’d been running for 80-odd miles and it was the middle of the night and my mind was saying: “You are a stupid bloody fool. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I’ll never forget finishing my 7th loop. At the turnaround, the volunteer lady gave me a high five and offered me a slice of pizza. I declined, since I still had one final 20-kilometer loop to do. “No you don’t,” she said. “You’ve already done your 8. Just look at the clipboard.”

I stared at the clipboard, and counted the laps. She was right, I’d done 8, not 7 like I thought.

Which meant –

I WAS DONE!!!

Believe me when I tell you – that was the happiest moment of my life.

Of course, later that day, the pain really set in. I had a burning Achilles tendon, and I lost all feeling in six of my toes. My calves and left shin were…hmmm, let me see. What were they exactly? Ah yes, they were a blinding wall of pain. That’s right, that’s what they were.

On the bright side, I was given permission to use the physical disability washroom at work. That handle on the wall beside the toilet was a godsend.

Love Your Genes!

Say it with me… I LOVE my genes!

If not for those little critters turning pirouettes in our DNA, we wouldn’t be able to run, cycle or swim. (Or, for that matter, compose heart-lancing prose.)

So the next time you tap-dance across a finish line, or drop-kick a gorgeous metaphor into a short story, be sure to send a shout-out to your genetic gifts!

Or better yet, thank the person directly responsible:

MOM!

It’s your Mom you’ve gotta thank that your bones are so strong. If not for her microscopic legacy, you wouldn’t be able to suck 6 litres of air in and out of your lungs. Mom’s the one you need to thank for that finisher’s medal around your neck. And I’ll bet she helped pay for your first word-processor too.

Promise me you’ll call her this weekend. Or whisper a prayer in her name. Promise me, ‘kay?

This is a video of me and my mom. (I’m the little one, fyi)

Going Long. Too Long.

We runners love to set goals. Drop a few pounds; shave a few minutes off a PR, improve our finishing kick. We set expectations, and then we go out and exceed them. Except for those rare occasions when we don’t.

A couple of years ago, I decided to run 4000 kilometres. Why 4000? I’m not sure. It felt like a big, braggable number. And it was just slightly beyond my comfort zone. Previously, the most I’d ever run in a year was 3500 kilometres.

A few facts about running 4000 kilometres:

In order to cover 4000 kilometres in a year, you must run 11k each and every day.

If you take a day off, you’ll need to run 22k on some subsequent day to make it up.

If you get sick, and miss a week of running, you’re on the hook for eighty clicks.

It quickly became clear that my whimsical little goal would require some careful planning. I’d need to pay attention to diet, sleep, hydration, injury prevention, stretching, recovery, supplements, etc. In short, I would need to become the most BORING person on the face of the planet.

I’m sorry to report, that’s exactly what happened.

I suffered injuries, I got sick, and I spent the entire year obsessively totaling my mileage. As the months went by, I became more and more depressed. I didn’t understand what was happening to me at the time, but I do now. I spent the whole year staring at the odometer instead of the gorgeous scenery I was running past.

“You used to be a peddler of joy,” Shawna said towards the end of the year. “But you’ve turned into a fun vacuum.”

On the last day of the year, December 31st, I was 6 kilometer shy of my goal. I’d run 3994 kilometers in 364 days. In the month of December alone, I’d run 600 kilometers.

It was a sunny and dry day, and there was no physical reason why I shouldn’t have pulled on my gear and dashed off the final 6 km to meet my goal.

And yet, I didn’t.

Why?

Years before, at a marathon, I’d seen a man cross the finish line, check his watch, and then yell – at the top of his lungs – the raunchiest swear word known to humankind. You know the one. I pledged then and there that I would never become that guy; I would never put goals and numbers ahead of my love of the sport.

It was a tough decision to make, and I felt conflicted about it. But later that night I went to a New Year’s party. 10 p.m. came and went, and not only was I still conscious; I was laughing and telling stories, and actually having fun for a change! I was so bubbly, so full of spunk; I didn’t know what to make of myself.

“I can’t believe I’m awake,” I said to Shawna.

“Welcome back to the world,” she replied.

Repeat to Failure

I’ve been upping my mileage lately. I’ve got a 50-mile race coming up in July, and my usual 100-mile “fun run” in September. Let the training begin!

I love the extra hours outside, but I’m having trouble keeping my weight up. Yesterday, in the span of five minutes, three different people expressed concern about my evaporating waistline. They looked startled by my appearance – as if I were a mangy stray who’d left an unwanted deposit on their front lawn.

The trouble is, I can’t eat enough food to keep pace with my caloric output. 60 miles per week = roughly 6000 extra calories burned. That’s a lot of fettuccine alfredo.

My friend Paul tells me I should be cross training more. Paul is a weight lifter, and he keeps promoting this thing called “repeat to failure.”

You wouldn’t think that weight-lifters are the smartest people. Paul, for instance, spends most of his free time grunting and lifting impossibly heavy discs. And yet, weight-lifters have somehow come up with one of the most brilliant concepts of all time.

Repeat to Failure basically means you lift the maximum amount of weight possible – for a limited number of repetitions. Whereas you might normally lift a 20-pound weight fifteen times, with repeat to failure, you’d lift double the weight – but only for five or six reps. The idea is to stress your muscles to the point of collapse while also – and this is the tricky part – avoiding injury.

Yes, there’s pain involved. But, as my friend Paul points out, pain is how you grow.

“Every time I lift a massive weight over my head, I’m literally shredding my back and neck his muscles,” Paul told me. “But later on, scar tissue will grow on top of those damaged muscles. And guess what that scar tissue will turn into? Bigger muscles!”

Repeat to Failure strikes me as a wonderful metaphor for life. Why tread on familiar ground, over and over? We only grow by pushing ourselves beyond our comfort zones. And the moment of our greatest failure can lead us to the threshold of our greatest success.

This is true whether you’re a weight-lifter, or a runner, or a writer, or a knitter, or a photographer, or a snake charmer or a Minecraft player. We only get better by taking on bigger and heavier challenges. And as much as the failures hurt, they almost always make us stronger.

Failures aren’t failures. They’re stepping stones to success.