vancouver

The 2016 Vancouver Sun Run 10k: Racing as Training /  by Jonas Caruana

I love the Vancouver Sun Run because it's just, so, Vancouver: 43,000-somethin'-odd runners (this year), we take over West Georgia Street, the course is lined with supporters, and the race is accessible to everyone from wheelchair racers, to pro runners (the winner ran it in 28:52!), to families walking it with strollers. It's an incredible excuse to get out with the city and be a part of an awesome, decades-old tradition – this was the 32nd instalment of the annual run, held on Sunday, April 17th, 2016.

Intention

Race Day Protocol – kit check: New Balance 1500v2 shoes. Garmin Forerunner 630 watch with HRM-Run strap. Lululemon 5" Surge Shorts. Asics New York Marathon gloves. Oakley Jawbone sunnies. iPod Nano: the square one (the best Apple ever made!)

In the context of my annual race schedule, this was a 'C' priority race meaning it's just another workout on the plan for the week: its purpose was racing-as-training, not to run my fastest 10k (although that'd be nice!). I knew it was going to be a hard one as the plan was to go for it and try to break 40mins, whilst not losing sight of the fact that the intention of doing this event – aside from getting a hard workout and being a part of a special Vancouver event – was to practice race day protocol.

Race Day Protocol = all the things you do in the 12-24 hours before arriving at a start line. It includes: preparing all my kit the night before. Preparing what I would eat for breakfast. Setting the alarms. Getting up, eating, showering, doing physio exercises, mobilizing the body, putting my kit on. In that order. Paying attention to all the details. Getting into the right headspace, and staying there. This gets challenged when you get on a bus heading downtown and it's full of other runners with lots of nervous energy. I hopped on a bus, looked around at all the other runners, and that was when I felt my heartrate rise and nervousness level increase. It's good to expose yourself to that frequently because the more you do it, you become less sensitive to it, and the more relaxed you can be heading to the start line. And even then, breathe. Control the response. Remember, it's your race. Racing as training is a great way to practice your Race Day Protocol and make progress on the mental side of your race preparation and execution.

Mood boosters

When I know I'm going to show up to a start line feeling less than optimal physically (heavy legs, tired, etc) anything that can help boost how I feel mentally or physically is worth considering. In this case, I wore some dope new socks (definitely won the sock game on Sunday, if I may say so) and put together a race kit that looked wicked. Dressing for success is as true for sport as it is for any other area of life. I gave the legs a fresh shave (again: Athlete mindset. Be ready for action). I also knew that I didn't want to be 'in my head' so decided to listen to music on the run (something I don't do in most events), made a hard-hitting playlist beat-matched to a running cadence of about 180 steps per minute, so I would just lock onto the beat and move my legs to that.

The Race

A 10k is pretty much a red-line effort the whole way for me and that was the plan, plain and simple: stay out of trouble early on (there are so many people to dodge!); then get to – and play with – threshold and push it to the finish line. It's a mostly flat course with just a few inclines involved in getting onto (and over) the bridges. So pretty easy to find and hold a rhythm, and to power through the tough spots.

I had a running buddy – Chad Clark – and we knew we'd use each other as pacers for the first bit and then see how it went: we were both clear that if either of us was feeling good and wanted to go for it – they would go for it!

I felt steady and strong the whole race through – but when I got into the final kilometre, I had no kick in me. Chad lit the jets with about 2km to go and I tried to lift to keep him in sight, but the legs just weren't having it. The pace crept up in the final 500m, but that was due to the downhill of the Cambie bridge offramp, not a surge in leg power!

 Here's a screengrab of the data from the race (from Strava):

Overall

Official chip time: 40:50. Not my fastest 10k, but a damn hard workout and a race day well executed. Mission accomplished!

 

Links:

Pacific Road Runners First Half: The Character Builder /  by Jonas Caruana

After a winter of training it’s always exciting to toe the first start line of the season. You’ve had months of early mornings and long, cold (and usually wet, if you live in the Pacific Northwest) training sets indoors and outdoors, and it’s nice to get back into race mode, pin a bib onto your shirt and lace up for some competition.

The First Half race course: starting and finishing at the Yaletown Roundhouse, it runs the perimeter of Stanley Park.

The Pacific Road Runners First Half half-marathon on Valentine's Day, February 14th, was my season opener. Unlike last year (a cool, sunny day), it was a wet, cold morning with rains that had settled in. It was going to be one of those character builders that in a special way, we were quite fortunate to get – because the reality is, this was the first race of the season for many endurance athletes in Vancouver and it’s more about blowing out the cobwebs than having the best race of the year. So if you can toe a start line in a puddle an inch deep, and get through 21.1km of soaken wet, and cross the finish line smiling, you’re going to do just fine if come your “A” race day, you face similar conditions. ‘Cos you’ll be ready.

So with gratitude for the rain and the cold, we were off!

Two kilometres in, and we stopped side-stepping the puddles. Soaked to the you-know-what!

The Race Plan:

Being the first race of the year, this one was about kicking the tyres of fitness and form and getting a sense for where I was at after the winter. There were three goals:

VO2 Max test at lululemon's 'Whitespace Workshop' (their R&D facility)

1. Get to threshold heart rate and stay there, plus or minus 1-2bpm. I’m working towards Ironman Canada and basing my training on heart rate zones, and have done quite a bit of work to get these dialled (including some rather fun VO2 Max tests). I felt pretty confident that 162bpm was the threshold number to work around, whilst not ignoring other important factors like level of fatigue on the day, perceived level of exertion, and the simple fact that the numbers can always be off.

2. Focus on form, throughout the race. I’ve been noticing a slight nerve-y pain in my left hip in training, and knew that with the intensity and duration of a race day effort that if something was unhappy, it would really make itself known (it sure did…). Best to find these things out now, early in the season, so there’s plenty of time to address them. 

3. Stick to the plan! This was a ‘C’ priority race for me, meaning that it was just another workout in the context of my Ironman training plan, which, that week, totalled 12 hours of training. So having a plan and sticking to it was key... which requires discipline, especially when many of the people you know start passing you. Comparison with others is a battle that can’t be won – you gotta run your own race!

The Outcome:

Thanks to a speedy start, I got to threshold quickly and then stayed there ’til the final build in the last two kms. Check. I played with threshold during the race, going a few beats over for periods of time here and there to test where I was at. From that, and looking at the data post-race, I learned that my threshold number was probably a couple beats too low. Bumped this up to 164 post-race, and will continue to see how that feels in training.

At the physio getting IMS: those needles are about 60mm in, but it looks worse than it is. Feels great after!

At the physio getting IMS: those needles are about 60mm in, but it looks worse than it is. Feels great after!

I lapsed in form somewhere around the 12-14km mark and again around 18km; noticed my heart rate was still at threshold, yet my pace was dipping. Form was getting sloppy, and required a conscious effort to get back in line, particularly as the pain in my hip was becoming increasingly noticeable. There's work to do here on the strength of stabilizer muscles (like glute med), along with a visit to the physio (post-race, my body let me know just how unhappy it was: felt like I was getting tasered in certain ranges of motion!).

And, I stuck to the plan, even when my buddy Steph Corker ran by me as we were coming around Lost Lake, tapped me on the back and said “run with me champ!”. As much as I wanted to, I stuck to running my race and proved to myself that I could have the discipline to stick to the plan. When it comes to Ironman, that discipline will be key to having a good day.

Results:

Official finisher time: 1:31:11. This beat my previous personal best over 21.1kms by about 3mins. My hope was to be pacing around 4:05-4:10/km; at threshold I was pacing around 4:15-4:20, and you are where you are on race day, and I am happy with that!

Overall, it was a great day and the race was a blast. Vancouver is still beautiful in the rain. It was my first time at this event and I can see why it’s a favourite amongst so many locals. It’s early in the year, well organized and well run, with cheery, efficient volunteers and what seemed to be the fastest crowd of runners I’ve ever raced with. I'll do it again!

A special shoutout:

...goes to my new friend Karen Tulloch. I’ve been riding alongside this powerhouse at Steph Corker’s classes at Method Indoor Cycling in Kitsilano. I knew this lady had speed, but hot damn: she came in fourth overall amongst the ladies, and I bow in respect at her guts, speed and grace as she crossed the line with a finish time of 1:17:26!

Here she is cruising across the line:

Great job Karen!

Subaru Vancouver Half-Ironman: Always Wear Socks /  by Jonas Caruana

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Very important piece of race kit: the trucker hat!

Very important piece of race kit: the trucker hat!

The Subaru Vancouver Triathlon was my first big “A” race of the year. I’d trained for the better part of five months with this race in mind, logging about 160 hours of swimming, biking and running; training over about 20 weeks. That time also included a series of prep races, including my very first triathlon (see Shawnigan Lake Olympic post).

So it was funny when the half-Iron weekend rolled around and all things considered, I felt pretty calm about it and mostly, excited. I mean, compared to the Olympic, I only had to swim an extra 500m (we've previously established this is not yet a strong suit) and in return, I got to ride my bike more than twice as far (I love the bike!); and same for the run. I was basically thinking that I had more than double the time to make up for slowness in the water – and I was stoked about it.

We're going to break this recap down simply into wins and misses. Here goes!

Wins:

The day: just look at it!

In terms of conditions? Can't ask for much better than this!

The swim: I didn’t want to tap out once. This is progress when compared to my experience in the water at Shawnigan. I didn’t feel stressed or panicked. I just got in the water and got ‘er done. I even enjoyed it. It was not fast: 43mins-ish. I swam breaststroke for more than 90% of it. But I felt good coming out of the water, running across the beach toward transition whilst stripping down my wetsuit and thinking about the game plan for the bike. All the right thoughts were flowing!

The transitions: I freakin’ nailed those transitions! At Shawnigan, T1 took me 5:03 and T2 took 2:20. Experienced triathletes look at that and say “those are whole minutes of free time for the taking. Take them!". So I bought some triathlon cycling shoes, learned the flying mount and dismount, and got everything else together so the amount of time I needed to be in transition was minimized. Result? T1 time down from 5:03 to 2:01, and T2 time down from 2:20 to 1:08. So pumped!

The bike: I rode a controlled effort on the bike with the plan of feeling fresh for the run so I could clock negative-splits through the half-marathon. Plan executed. This took discipline, because I love to open it up on the bike.

What a backdrop to race against!

Overall execution of race strategy: finished the swim feeling good, controlled the bike and set up perfectly for the run: felt fresh, fuelled and ready to fly.

Misses:

The swim: still the biggest area for improvement. My strongest swimming peer came out of the water in 25 mins! (Me: over 43 mins!) Now, he used to be a ranked, competitive college athlete. My goal is to get a 1.9k swim time under the 30 mark.

Nutrition on the bike: the exact same nutrition I had used on the bike in training on the actual race course, didn’t work exactly as planned. Race conditions are a different game: your body is in a heightened state of stress and that translated to me dry heaving on lap 1 when I tried to eat the first energy bar. At this point in the race you really want to start getting calories in the tank. But I took a break from trying to eat, let the stomach settle down and switched to liquid calories which worked well. Got the solids down later, but also subbed out an energy bar for a bottle of the on-course Gatorade and – having done the mental math to ensure I’d get in enough calories – was good for the rest of the day. This actually turned into a big win because it represented being able to successfully switch up strategies on the fly and keep going strong.

Salt on the run: I cramped the last 3k. Not badly, but if you have to slow down because the cramp is that strong, that’s not good. It was a stinking hot day, and the heat radiated down from above and up off the bright, white, crushed sandy beach path. I underestimated just how much salt I’d lose. Needed more.

SOCKS: nope, didn’t wear socks on the run. FAIL! Funny this, because it was actually a choice (I didn’t forget). I was so committed to dropping my T2 time that I decided I didn’t have time for socks. Epic. Mistake. Hot day, wet shoes, swollen feet, sand in the shoes, and no socks had me feelin’ that blister feeling at kilometre 4. The remaining kilometres were excruciating! This is evidenced by the following race photos. First two photos: Jonas heading out onto the run course. Light, bright and feelin’ mighty. Later on... Jonas on the second half of the run. Every foot placement was just… pain. I ran across the finish line, and went straight to the med-tent to get wrapped up. And my good friend Audra piggy-backed me outta there.

The run: with my feet in bad shape, I couldn’t amp up the pace to run negative splits as I’d planned. A 1:39:15 ain’t bad, but it could have been a lot better as otherwise, my body felt great and ready to turn it up.

Results:

  • Swim (1.9km): 43:17
  • T1: 2:01
  • Bike (90km): 2:38:34
  • T2: 1:08
  • Run (20km): 1:39:15
  • Total: 5:04:15

If I were to adjust for the shorter run and add 1.1km at average race pace (4:57/km), I'd get a run time of 1:44:27 and a total race time of 5:09:12. That's useful for future comparisons.

Overall, it was a solid second triathlon, a great first half-Ironman, and a total win from a goal-setting standpoint. My goal was to come in somewhere between five and five and a half hours and stopping the clock at 5:04:15 was a rockin’ time, even more so knowing that with some strategic tweaks (i.e. wearing socks) and skill acquisition (swimming), times in the mid- 4 hour range start to become possible. That’s exciting!

Thank-yous and shout-outs:

Extra special thank-yous go out to friends and loved ones who dragged their butts out of bed to come and cheer me on, early on a Sunday:

  • Syd: my #1 fan who came back from LA just for race weekend!
  • Training buddies Juliet & Greg: to Juliet who stuck around to cheer me on after having finished her race, and to Greg for yelling extra loud! I kicked a little extra every time I saw your yelling faces!
  • Tim Schokking: seeing you up at the main intersection of the bike leg was something I looked forward to each out-and-back. You da bomb!
  • ‘Bomber’ Kevin, Paul Cross and the VEC crew: thanks for welcoming me into the club tent even though I wasn’t yet a member (stoked to be rolling with you now!)
  • All the friends who couldn’t be physically present but who sent messages of support and encouragement
  • The lulu crew: the loudest, brightest, funnest looking group of cheerers ever. Special shoutout to Chrissy Abram who made it out, crotches and swollen knee be damned!
  • Audra for piggy backing me back to the car after having my blisters patched up in the medical tent. You’re the best! IOU: 1x piggy back wherever and whenever you need.
  • Michelle Armstrong: such a pleasant surprise to see you on what became a pretty quiet part of the bike course!
  • Shout-out to all the folks from lululemon (past and present) who also competed: Juliet Korver, Colin Knudsen, Jon Carkner, Scott Van Doormaal, Laurel Richardson, Jen Cerullo, Felix del Toro, Delaney Schweitzer, Deanne Schweitzer, Eric Peterson, Cindy Bokitch. It was rad seeing you out on the course!

Lastly, thanks to Ed, Nick and the team at Mighty Riders for being so rad and helping me get my bike position nailed and bike setup just right. You guys are my secret weapon!

The 2014 Vancouver Sun Run 10k: 30 Years Running /  by Jonas Caruana

Today was the Vancouver Sun Run, the second race on my schedule for the year. It’s one of the largest races in North America – in this, its 30th year, over 45,000 people attended. The Sun Run has been a race I’ve wanted to do ever since I first visited Vancouver back in 2011. I’d seen all these signs and made a mental note to one day, come back and race it. Today was that day!

2014 Sun Run Course Map

It’s a downtown course with enough elevation to keep things interesting (including one special kicker up Hornby before hooking onto the bridge).

And today was a great day for it: somewhat overcast, cool, and the rain stayed at bay for the most part.

The sheer size of the event lends to the sense of occasion: the six-lanes wide, arterial West Georgia Street is converted into a half-dozen runner corrals that stretch over five city blocks. Each corral is colour coded and giant balloon arches float above helping runners find where they should be.

Whoever sang “Oh Canada” had the voice of an angel. There’s something about a national anthem that rouses people. You hear voices you’d never expect, and a different look comes over people’s faces. I like to think those looks are mostly of pride and gratitude. That’s what I feel in those moments (and Canada’s not even my birth country). Because it’s not lost on me that a lot of people gave a lot so that I could show up today on this cool Vancouver morning to chase down a fast time. There’s something special about that shared moment - the energy shifts somehow and you feel a sense of resonance. You feel connected to thousands of people you don’t even know. I always get a little emotional in those moments - I feel grateful for every start line and the connection it enables between me and all those people who also showed up to do their best. I’m grateful to participate with them.

Race Mantras

I had three ‘mantras’ for today:

  1. I am ready to hurt
  2. I run my own race
  3. I am injury free

And goal times:

  • Under 40mins = good outcome
  • Under 39 = great outcome
  • ‘Dream time’ = 38:30

The first mantra was about leaving the house ready to go where I knew I’d need to go mentally in the latter half of the race when I knew I’d be suffering. It was also a learning from the B&O 5k I raced in Toronto last year where I set a tough time goal but didn’t leave the house willing to hurt as much as I’d need to to achieve it. I got that right today and declared my willingness to dig into the hurt locker from the moment I swung my feet out of bed this morning. My good friend and triathlete buddy Juliet Korver sent me a message that was right on point:

The second mantra was a reminder to stick to the plan and run my race and no-one else’s. This isn’t revolutionary thinking but time after time, I’ve told myself this before the race, the gun goes off and it’s like my lizard brain takes over and the plan goes out the window. All the sudden I’m trying to keep up with this or that guy who’s up ahead or running past me. So today was yet another exercise in the never ending practice of learning to run my own race... "Stick to the plan, man."

Running my own race is also about ownership: everything that happens today is 100% mine. Everything I did do, and did not do. I can’t explain away poor performances with “Oh, I tried to keep up with this one guy and that just blew me out for the last part of the race”. As if trying to keep up with someone were in some way, an admirable strategy for running a race and a fair reason for not doing as well as you’d hoped. Running my own race is thinking that also calms me down at the start line - because now it doesn’t matter what everyone else does: all that matters for my race is me, my goals, and my plan to achieve them. Then the execution, and the outcomes. With that kind of ownership you really set yourself up to learn from each race and improve for the next one.

The third mantra was about staying checked in to my body throughout the race. As things start to really hurt I can sometimes focus too much on handling the hurt in my head and forget about how I’m placing my feet, relaxing my shoulders, leaning forward and just scanning my body and reminding myself “we’re good”. I’d also had a week of the 'tweaks’. My right knee had this weird tweak to it, my left hip felt tight and kept mini-cramping, my right shoulder had an annoying click to it. Sometimes you can over focus on those little niggling things and make them into something they’re not. This mantra reminded me to stay checked-in to my body, and if I did that, I knew I’d have the best chance of an injury free day. 

So how’d it go?

A few pacing reminders

A few pacing reminders

Well, the 1st km was about getting the heart rate going and finding my legs. Don’t go crazy, don’t get held up in traffic. That all happened.

Kilometres 2-5 were about staying strong and steady, and not burning too many matches. That mostly happened, though I might have still gone a little too hard for this point of the race. 

Kilometre 6: deal with the Hornby climb and Burrard Bridge. Basically, run it strong but not so strong that it causes unnecessary lactate build-up. Check. Pain level is climbing. Also somewhere around here my heart rate strap started acting up. I’d just come up an incline and my watch said I was at 109, and I knew that couldn’t be right. While I don’t hang off the HR numbers, I use them as a sense check for how I’m feeling vs. where my body’s at.

Kilometres 7-9: now we’re hurting pretty good. My lungs and torso felt strained. I go to some not great places mentally. I actually considered stepping off the gas significantly to catch a break. My version of “The Blerch” – what my favourite funny cartoonist The Oatmeal calls it - was saying all sorts of unhelpful stuff around being unprepared, under-rested, etc. Thankfully, this was also that part of the race that I’d decided I was willing to hurt through so you just push on. I did not enjoy it. 

Last km: Paaain! Time to lift – and get that last km split back down under 4 mins. I’m stoked to see that finish line; my whole body is well past the red line. I’m toast.

Results:

Final times: chip time 40:32, 10k time on Strava 39:49. For me, knowing I can run 10k in under 40 at this point in the season is what I care about – so I go off Strava time and consider my ‘good’ time goal as having been achieved. Clearly I have work to do on hitting that ‘dream time’ – there is speed work in the near future…

Thank-you Strava!

Thank-you Strava!

And goals 2 and 3? Check and check. I didn’t pace off anyone else. I noticed people passing and said to myself “that’s ok”. Checked-in with my own pace and carried on. And I was constantly scanning my body and separating the good hurt from the bad hurt – of which there was none. 

Post-race. Glad to be done.

Post-race. Glad to be done.

As for the race itself, it was well organized in that they got all the basics right (chip timing, corralling of competitors, gear check and pick-up, course signage and marshalling) but no points for surprise and delight. Email communications could have been better (more clear and concise); they ran out of my size of competitor shirt (but, being plain cotton and not exactly awesome it wasn’t anything to feel miffed about missing out on). At $50 for entry into one of North America’s biggest 10k races, I felt like it was good value and I’d definitely do it again. 

The next race is a big one: my first solo triathlon; the Olympic distance at the Subaru Shawnigan Lake Triathlon.

Onwards.