The BLOG

I have been considering launching a personal running blog for several months; since ending my collegiate running career at Duke University in June I have been flirting on and off with the concept of creating my own cyber chronicles of my athletic adventures, but never fully committed to the idea. This desire intensified over the past 2 months as I trained and lived “the runner's life” in Clermont, FL—I certainly write enough about it; coming up with material was never the issue. But every time I went to post my thoughts, fears, hopes, experiences, letdowns, struggles, joys, etc online I caught myself feeling like a bit of a fraud. 

I myself am an avid fan of several blogs—particularly those of Lauren Fleshman, and my absolute favourite, Sally Meyerhoff. My predecessors outshine me in seemingly every way possible, and I long counted myself out of their fine company. Until very recently I hadn't raced in over half a year, didn't have any sponsorship to speak of, was agent-less, worked 3 part-time minimum wage jobs, lived with my parents, and was going through a seemingly never-ending streak of injuries and sub-par workouts; frankly, I wasn't convinced I had the cojones to survive--never mind thrive--in this jungle.

Recently, things have taken a positive turn: I received product sponsorships from the generous folks at both Brooks Canada and CEP Compression, established a promising connection with a renowned agent, began noticing vast improvements in my workouts, and on Sunday I broke my 7-month racing abstinence by finishing top woman at the Around the Bay 5km in Hamilton, Ont, accepting my first ever prize cheque, and thereby allowing me to (finally!) officially call myself a professional runner!! 

This is all very exciting, and I feel like my athletic career is on the upswing. However, I realized that while each of these prospects is hopeful and positive (I am extremely grateful for each, don't get me wrong), they aren't particularly compelling. All of us can research (and by research I mean google search and facebook stalk) a fellow competitor; anyone can look up race results or note the brand associated with a given athlete. These things are interesting, which is why we keep tabs on one another in the first place; all of us, athletes and fans alike, tend to develop a fervent addiction to every detail and facet of our sport. But having finally begun to attain some of the highly desirable and sought-after benefits such as sponsorship, representation and prize money, I have grown simultaneously aware that these are not necessarily markers of great athletes or audience-worthy stories. Those things lie within the expressions of fear, hope, struggle, and joy to which I formerly gave only a passing nod.

Grinding out sweat- and sun-drenched 10-milers on that infamous Orange Grove loop in Clermont; crossing my fingers that there will still be money left in my account when I swipe my card at the grocery store; hanging out with a hilariously cynical Half-Ironman age group world champion; sharing track time with Tyson Gay, Novlene Williams, and numerous other Olympians at the National Training Center; crying tears of utter frustration and bitter disappointment when weeks of training seem to be taking me nowhere, then experiencing the subsequent sense of invincibility and elation that accompany that one amazing, corner-turning workout...

These are the things that keep me coming back to my favourite running blogs, and are truly the most fun to write about. I look forward to sharing them as this adventure unfolds!!


***BELOW is a post that I wrote during early March, while experiencing a particularly lonely stretch in Florida:

Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner

I think that I finally truly understand the impetus behind the runner's blog phenomenon.

It has taken until now, as a recent post-collegiate undergoing the expected growing pains of transitioning from the relatively comfortable routine of a Division I varsity athlete to the life of a “real-world” almost-professional runner to recognize and appreciate how dearly important my athletic community is, both in person and online. Our group of comrades is small, tight-knit and very much in a niche of its own, and I find it ironic that my running community seems to have shrunk and not grown since I left the protective confines of the NCAA. No longer do I have 25 distance women (not to mention 50 other T&F Dukies) at practice every day, nor do I spend 8 weekends of every season at meets with the hundreds of familiar faces belonging to coaches and competitors from the ACC and beyond. I am no longer included in the glorified and relentless world of message boards and interviews that posit college athletics as the centre of the universe, and I only recognized a handful of names on the NCAA Indoor results list this year.

On the flip side, I am doing what I've dreamed of for years: living with other elite runners who are working towards similar goals and aspirations; devoting the vast majority of my time, energy and thoughts to training, racing and becoming a student of the sport; experiencing first-hand some of that romanticized struggle that all runners must endure, and which has for decades been a rite of passage. I am now charged with the task of cultivating my own networks and communities with whom I can share these inherent highs and lows. And while this is a worthwhile endeavour, I have found that it is not always an easy one.

Perspective is a fascinating and terrifying thing; I have spent the better part of my teenage and adult life working towards, dreaming of and waiting—often impatiently—for my time to be a professional runner. Making money has never been the objective; I've had my eyes wide open for a long time to the fact that distance runners, particularly Canadian distance runners, aren't granted the fame and fortune enjoyed by other professional athletes. And while that disparity is often infuriating and stress-inducing, it is an accepted reality for those of us who love this wild and beautiful sport so dearly that we cannot fathom not doing whatever necessary to have it as an pivotal part of our lives.

But despite—or perhaps because of—our passion and obsession, ours is a lonely sport. And although some part of each of us craves the solitude and absolute, single-minded focus that breeds success, progress, and excellence, and is at the very essence of why we do what we do (there is a reason that so many of us list Once and Runner and Into the Wild as favourite works), at the end of the day many of us go to bed early and alone, following and preceding another day of regiment, focus and relative alone-ness, if not downright loneliness. Those of us who are fortunate enough to spend part of our year at “training camp” in an almost solely running-oriented bubble are perhaps even more susceptible to the loneliness of the long distance runner. This is the stir-crazy feeling that comes not from lack of keep-busy tasks (our general neurosis enables us to find something to occupy our time in just about any setting), but rather from the lifestyle that offers little distraction from running, and hence, lots of time to consider, question, obsess over, worry about, and doubt whether this is a worthwhile pursuit. Investing this much time and money, both your own and that of others, into a volatile and highly uncertain venture come with great risk, and is the reason for the ever-nagging little voice that sets up camp in the recesses of your brain and tells you repeatedly that you're not good enough, that you should get a real job, get married, and generally get on with real life.

If blogs in general are self-congratulatory, self-indulgent and cathartic, runners' blogs are borderline narcissistic. We write for a very small audience, and sometimes—maybe often—just for ourselves. But that audience, be it only of one, is attentive, relatable, and, I believe, dearly in need of this outlet, both as reader and writer. Because for all of the doubts, uncertainties, fears, disappointments, and loneliness, one of our comrades is setting a PB, completing her highest mileage week, finally conquering his rival, making her first national team, peaking at just the right time, thriving on an endorphin high, basking in the glow of a rising or setting sun and remembering why this is all so very worth it. And each of these things, whether frustrating or enjoyable, is worth celebrating by those who really get it.

And sometimes we just need to indulge in Lauren's latest home-made, post-workout Picky Bars. Sometimes we need the image of Sally strutting on the beach in her Wonder Woman bikini. Sometimes we need a little break from the mileage logging, the split-taking, the record-keeping. Sometimes we just need to laugh. So if you find this blog self-indulgent or cathartic, I hope you also find it somehow reassuring, relatable or simply a reminder that for all that we do, on the open road, with the wind in our faces, and nothing but our own straining legs and lungs as company, we are never truly alone. And we can always find a way to LAUGH.  

***Love and miss you, Sally Meyerhoff <3***