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I cringe a little when people ask me how many layers they should wear in the winter. How the hell should I know how cold you feel??
I try to be helpful and polite and direct people to resources on Active like these great posts by Christian Peterson:
What to Bring on Your Winter Run
Your Guide to Winter Running Gear
I write and edit articles like this and I try to remember that when I was a newbie runner, I didn’t know a damn thing either. I’m also a huge consumer of running articles on topics that I have never experienced.
But ultimately, I didn’t start growing as a runner until I stopped listening and started doing. And neither will you.
So put down those running magazines and get your ass outdoors. Try a few layers. If you’re hot, learn something and do better next time. If you’re cold, learn something and do better next time.
Try everything. Run barefoot. Run in clunky shoes. Run in jammies. Run with your hair up. Run with your hair down. Run in the day. Run at night. Run without underwear. Run without a bra. Eat veggies. Eat meat. Eat junk food.
It doesn’t matter what you do, just try it differently. Become your own expert and don’t live within a plan that somebody else created.
This is not to bash the validity of training plans or expert tips. But every year I am more shocked by the ignorance of the questions that come through. Is there ANYTHING we do by ourselves anymore?
There’s a fear associated with going off on our own and trying something unusual, and that upsets me.
Don’t be afraid to switch up your diet. Or to run faster or slower or longer or shorter than what you’re “supposed to”.
There is no right or wrong. You’re not going to die at your next race. If you feel like crap or shit your pants, tweak your routine and learn from it.
I’m personally a knowledge-glutton. If I’m interested in a topic (like running), I want to read everything out there on that topic. But I also found that I was using research as a crutch for masking my fears:
Excuse: “I want to run an ultra, but I haven’t researched it enough…”
Truth: You’re just scared shitless to run an ultra. I’ve been there.
I recommend Jason Robillard’s recent post, Stop Letting Dumb-Ass Excuses Keep You From Your Dreams. It definitely inspired me.
So to practice what I’m preaching, I did something recently that I’ve been “researching” for a while:
I registered for my first 100-miler, Rocky Road. It’s only four weeks away.
I’m probably (ok, definitely) way over my head. I haven’t even raced a 50-miler (though I’ve run the distance at Across the Years).
I’m not 100% on nutrition or sleep or the mental strength it will take to pull past 80 miles. I haven’t read enough articles or asked enough questions. I don’t have any pacers.
Many could argue that I’m wasting my money. But goddammit, I’m registered.
Am I scared shitless? Hell ya.
Do I have what it takes? Who knows.
Will I learn something? Probably a thing or two…
Regrets? Ask me later.
But at least I’m not going to sit around asking how to wipe my own ass. I’m just gonna grab me some soft leaves and hope to God it’s not poison oak.
See you on the trails.
When I was a kid, my English teacher called me to the front of the class after some province-wide standardized testing to tell me that my writing skills had scored at a grade 12 level.
I was in seventh grade at the time.
That was the day I realized I was good at writing. I always knew that I liked it, but I didn’t know I was better at it than others. It was more than just practice or paying attention in class. I had a natural talent. I could see and express things in unique ways. I could inspire change.
That realization transformed my future. It defined my profession, the way I express myself, and who I am.
At Noble Canyon on Saturday I experienced a similar awakening.
THE ROUTE
Noble Canyon can basically be broken down into three parts:
- Starting at 5500 elevation and running down the side of a canyon to 3500 feet.
- Turning around and running back up the canyon.
- Climbing another long hill reaching 6000 feet of elevation, then looping back for the finish.
To put this into perspective, you are basically spending 5+ hours running uphill. Sometimes much longer. The terrain is: Rocks. Everywhere. When people say a trail is “technical,” it is usually about 95% LESS rocky than Noble Canyon. It’s almost impossible to even walk it barefoot because there is no space for a clean footprint.
Early into the race I watched the guy in front of me take two full out face plants within 20 minutes of each other. The second place finisher crossed with huge gashes on his knees from possibly several falls. I stumbled about five times, but was lucky enough to fall only once. A classic gravel slide. Footing is no joke here.
Both Shacky and I ran this race on a Sport Kilt sponsorship, a company we both love. I wanted to show that Sport Kilts weren’t just costumes for short, fun runs. They could be serious, functional gear for ultra running. And cute as hell.
RUNNING DOWN THE SIDE OF THE CANYON
No matter what distance I run, the hardest part is always the first 3 miles. It’s also the only point where I significantly feel the elevation. I’m breathing hard and my legs feel heavy, like they’re hard to lift. Sometimes I stumble. On this route I even felt sleepy-tired. Like I could have just closed my eyes and passed out.
Combine this with the fact that it was freezing cold at the race start. My legs and hands and fingers were numb. I was literally shaking and my stride was stiff. I couldn’t get warmed up.
It was demoralizing to think about distance at this point. I had just started and already felt shitty. So I focused all my attention on just getting through the first 3 miles and warming up.
I have never raced a single track trail before, so it was a little weird. I’m used to big road race mobs. I’m good at weaving through crowds and pushing ahead, but with single track you can’t do that. There’s really no place to go at all. It was making me feel restrained.
I hated the feeling of someone right behind me, breathing down my neck. I felt like a hunted rabbit and I wanted my space. I also assumed that everyone was faster than me and should therefore pass. So I ended up stepping to the side a lot and letting people go through, hoping I could get some running room. But it didn’t work out that way – there were people everywhere. When I finally stopped letting others pass, I got stuck behind them all the way down the canyon.
At the beginning I was shy about asking people to let me by. But finally I had to. On my training runs I was able to work up a good momentum and fly down the side of the canyon. It was my favorite part of the route. My leg-jitterbugging skills have really developed, and I can bounce down that canyon fairly easily. But I couldn’t pull that off on race day. There were too many runners taking it slow on the downhill, watching their footing carefully. I just couldn’t slip by.
AID STATION #1 – THE BIG TREE
The first aid station arrived before I needed anything. I still walked through and eyed the food, wondering whether I should eat something anyway. The guy I had been following collapsed on a chair, but Jeff was in front of him and didn’t even stop. I had been trading places with Jeff all the way down the canyon, and I didn’t really want to lose sight of him this early.
“What can I get you?” Some guy startled me by asking. I didn’t know anything about trail race aid stations at the time, so I thought he was weird for asking.
“Um.. no. I think I’m ok.”
I took off after Jeff.
BOTTOM OF THE CANYON AND AID STATION #2
By the time I got to the bottom of the hill (just a bit ahead of Jeff), I felt like I hadn’t even started running yet. Getting stuck behind so many people coming down had me anxious to shake them off and run at my own steady, uninterrupted pace.
There was an aid station at the bottom of the canyon. It didn’t feel like I had been running long and I still didn’t need anything, but I figured I should stop and refill my hydration pack before heading back up.
I’ve never been to an aid station that wasn’t at a Toronto road race, so I’m not aid station expert. But this is what I’m used to: stations run by high school students who play and flirt with each other until you beg them to refill your bottle with something.
But walking into this aid station, I was immediately cornered.
“Can I get you anything?” some smiley dude asked.
“Uh…. no thanks.” What was he asking that for? Was he trying to flirt with me? What a weirdo.
I walked to the food table to look around. A few seconds later, a girl was clawing at my hydration pack trying to make me tell her how to fill it.
“Water? Gatorade? Ice??”
I finally surrendered my pack and thanked her. I walked to the sponges and started soaking the back of my neck with ice water.
All of a sudden, the sponge was no longer in my hand. But the water was still coming down. The smiley dude had snatched it away and was soaking me. Then he asked me if I wanted my head or back soaked. WTF was going on??
So this is how trail aid stations work: You’re not allowed to do anything. People will follow you around and stop you if you try. It’s service you’ve never seen before. They’ll hand you food. They’ll refill your bottles. They’ll soak your head. They’ll tell you you’re awesome and send you on your way.
BACK UP THE CANYON
While I was trying to figure out why everyone was being so nice, Jeff took off ahead of me back up the canyon. When I was ready I ran out quickly, still hoping for some uninhibited running. I wasn’t surrounded by people this time. I had some breathing room and I was happy.
At all my training runs, the hike back up the canyon has always killed me out. But today I felt great. I was running uphill.
The cool part about coming back up is that you get to see the people behind you. I saw Julius and Ngoc, which was a shock because I assumed they were way in front of me. I also saw Regina and said hi, but she didn’t reply. She looked like she was ready to strangle someone with her bare hands. (At the finish line, she would later have the worst case of Runner’s High I’ve ever seen – chatting and laughing and snapping pictures.)
Sarah, another strong runner, had left the aid station after me and soon caught up. She had kicked my ass at every training run, so I knew she was awesome. I let her pass. After a while I caught up to her again but stayed behind. I figured it would be pointless to pass her since she would surely smoke me. But my legs were itching and I finally passed her, almost apologetically.
I felt weird passing people. Almost like I had no right to. Who did I think I was? These guys were strong. They had lived and trained here longer than I had. I was just a silly Canadian girl in pigtails who knew nothing about running up a canyon. But I never saw Sarah again.
I also slipped past Jeff, and tried to build some distance between us. I imagined that both him and Sarah were right on my ass, and that kept me moving for the next 3 miles or so.
After that I started to pull out some mantras. I felt like walking, but I knew I didn’t really need to. I remembered something my dad had told me a really long time ago:
“It’s not how you start, it’s how you finish.”
I repeated this to myself a few times. I had started strong, and I wanted to finish strong.
Sometimes the terrain got so bad that I had to walk, but I made a point to walk fast. And never for any longer than I absolutely had to. I was still feeling good.
I was mostly running on my own on the way up, and I embraced the solitude. It felt like it was just me on the canyon. It felt right. Every once in a while I’d catch up to someone and run behind them for a bit. Then when my restlessness had build up enough, I’d shyly pass.
AID STATION #3 – THE BIG TREE AGAIN
Rachel was the one who attacked me with happy service at this aid station. I had never met her, but knew who she was of course. So I introduced myself and chatted with her a bit while snacking on a sandwich.
Rachel Spatz completed an Ironman when she was something like 17, and ran a 100 miler when she was around 19. She’s like a walking goddess. Just being around her is inspiring. I took off from her aid station in great spirits.
Rachel had told me that Shacky wasn’t far ahead, and he was walking. So I had a new goal: catching up to Shacky. I ran until I caught sight of a cheering section up ahead. It was Theresa and team holding Carlos’ signs, which were hilarious. They told me Shacky was JUST up ahead!
Here’s the sign Carlos made for Shacky:
AID STATION #4 – PENNY PINES
Shortly after the signs and the cheering, there was another aid stations. I did another ice water sponge soak and grabbed a potato. I didn’t hang out at this station much – I had to run Shacky down. Coming up out the station, a few more people were cheering near the parking lot. One lady looked at me and let out a loud gasp. Then she exclaimed to the lady next to her, “OMG! She looks like she just started!”
That made my day.
THE LAST UPHILL
I ran strong for the next couple of miles, and then I hit my wall. The climb wasn’t steep, but it was a gradual incline that felt like it would never end. The trail was open and fully exposed to the sun. It was really rocky. I started to walk.
I’m not a fast walker, so every once in a while I would try to run again. But it was like my body refused to respond to me. My quads were tight, and I was starting to cramp up. Frustrated, I thought of something my friend Ngoc reminded me of before the race – Caballo Blanco’s wise words from Born to Run:
“Think Easy, Light, Smooth, and Fast. You start with easy, because if that’s all you get, that’s not so bad. Then work on light. Make it effortless, like you don’t give a shit how high the hill is or how far you’ve got to go. When you’ve practiced that so long that you forget you’re practicing, you work on making it smooooooth. You won’t have to worry about the last one—you get those three, and you’ll be fast.”
I definitely couldn’t handle fast, so I decided to just focus on Easy. At the same time, I remembered Daniel Howell’s mantra, which he talked about on his interview with Caity on Run Barefoot Girl. He said, “I run today so that I can run tomorrow.”
To me, this means not killing yourself after every race. It means doing what Caballo said – running easy. So I stopped to stretch and sit down. I hoped that would loosen me up so I could run again. A couple of people passed me during my stretching, but I figured that time would be made up if I could actually start running again.
And it worked. After a couple minutes, I was moving. And I ended up passing the people that had slipped by.
Finally, I hit 6000 feet of elevation and it was downhill from there. It felt like a deep sigh of relief for my legs and all of a sudden I could pick up the pace. I got my second wind. The world felt right and the day was beautiful. I was in my element.
AID STATION #5 – THE RAT HOLE
“Vanessa Runs! Vanessa Runs!”
Someone was calling from the last aid station. I ran in, refilled my bladder, and ate a bunch of random things. They told me that Shacky had JUST left and he had spent a long time at this station. I was only there for what felt like 2 minutes before they were kicking me out. “You’ve been here too long!” So off I went.
I knew I had to step it up if I was ever going to catch Shacky, so I ran. And it felt good. Then I realized that I had been doing two things for most of the race:
When I caught up to people on the trail, I would size them up. If they looked fitter than me in any way (ie. Everyone), I wouldn’t pass them. I’d tag behind and assume they were better runners than me.
I had been walking some inclines, not because I felt I really needed to, but because the people in front of me were walking them. And I didn’t feel I was good enough to pass them.
Then it dawned on me: OMG. I have low Runner’s Esteem.
I thought about one runner I saw hunched over on the side of the road earlier. Then I thought about a lady I saw crying after a fall. I thought about all the falls and the wipe-outs I had seen and all the people running behind me.
Then it hit me: I think I’m better at this than I realize.
It was more than just having a good day or good running weather. I think this comes easier for me. And I love doing it. It just fits. Like writing.
When I’m running on a trail, nothing feels foreign. I feel like I belong there. Like my body was built to move this way. I can’t help smiling and I can’t help feeling at home. Different people have different talents, so I don’t think I’m particularly special. But I think that ultra distance trail running just might be my “thing”. Something I could potentially develop. Something a little bit bigger than me.
Nobody else passed me after that. I ran strong and I sped up when I saw the finish line. I crossed it with a big grin. I never caught Shacky, but someday I will. With enough time and distance, I think I can run anything down.
CONCLUDING THOUGHTS
Back in May I ran a 60k mileage at my first timed race and raced a marathon the next day. After that I felt like I could do anything. It gave me the courage to pursue a life I really wanted.
But this race did something else. This race made me FEEL like an ultra distance trail runner. It gave me the courage to pass people. It gave me a place on these trails. At the finish line, I could stand in the company of some amazing athletes and not feel like that silly little Canadian girl. This was my world now. And I am an ultra runner.
Official finish time: 7:07
Like this:
On Saturday I ran/walked/crawled 20 miles of Noble Canyon in training for the fast approaching Noble Canyon 50k. Every run out there kills me out. It’s a beautiful route that basically consists of running down a mountain, running back up, and running a few stretches at high elevation. It’s a run that you can both love and dread. Incredibly challenging.
I’ve tried to experiment with hydration, fuel, and footwear out there. In the process I’ve found some products I like. Here they are, from toe to head:
VIVOBAREFOOT has been good to me and I’m impressed with their high customer service quality. They’re quick, I feel like I’m dealing with a real human being, and they generously rushed two free pairs of new Neo Trails for me and Shacky to use on Saturday’s training run.
I should point out that I haven’t worn shoes for running (minimalist or not) in almost a year. My previous Noble Canyon runs have been in Invisible shoe huaraches (more on those later). So I had no idea how I would handle a run in VIVOBAREFOOT’s product.
I was very pleasantly surprised. First of all, they look awesome. I was also very surprised by the ground feel. I was expecting little to no ground feel, but I felt the rocks a lot more than in my Vibram KSOs. I like that because I feel closer to being barefoot. I still felt like I had to watch my step and plan my strides. Post run, my feet suffered no ill effects.
Here are some stats on the Neo Trail:
- Sole thickeness = 2.5mm base and 4mm lug height
- Weight = Men’s 248g, Women’s 198g
- Hydrophobic mesh (non toxic, lightweight, water resistant thin mesh)
- Toe guard
Shacky tested the hydrophobic mesh with some creek crossings, and we were surprised at how long it took for the water to soak through the shoe. He basically had to stand fully immersed in water for a minute or so. Running, they wouldn’t get wet. However, once they WERE wet, the sloshiness was hard to dry out.
I’d like to get a few more trail miles in these and then post a more thorough review. So far I’m very much enjoying them. I think the fact that I could go from completely shoeless to running in these for 20 miles without an issue, says a lot about the quality of this shoe.
Already a staple for barefoot and minimalist runners, I mostly wanted to mention this to direct people to the great Toe Salad Injinji giveaway that’s going on this week. You can enter HERE. Injinjis are awesome and if you haven’t tried them yet, definitely do.
Until last week, I didn’t even know what gaiters were. I saw my trail buddy Christine wearing them and they looked super cool, so at first I thought they were just for style. Then I saw several people wearing them at the Stairway to Heaven 15k so I asked what they were for.
Gaiters are basically funky looking sleeve things (Kate called them ankle warmers) that prevent stones and pebbles from falling into your shoes. Trail runners use them. You don’t need them when you’re barefoot.
Because we’ve been testing out some trail shoes on very rocky terrain, Shacky was kind enough to pick up some gaiters for us. He got Dirty Girl gaiters which I loved because they’re all made by hand. He got me the scissors print which I was SO EXCITED about because I have a shirt that says, “I run with scissors,” and for a while I was.
Back in my woods in Toronto I would carry scissors on my runs so I could forage for dandelions and other greens. I’d use the scissors to cut into the dirt for wild dandelion roots. Running with scissors is badass and my scissor gaiters make me feel hardcore. Dirty Girl has so many awesome prints, it’s hard to choose just one favorite.
But the best part is probably the woman behind the gaiters. I was told that Dirty Girl once opened her shirt and asked Kirby (fellow Dirt Devil runner) to pour ice cubes into her boobs during a race. To further solidify her awesomeness, a quote from her website regarding design prints: “There is no such thing as too much leopard.” And regarding shipping: “Slow is the new fast.”
I am honored to wear Dirty Girl’s gaiters and would buy a thousand more.
4. Zensah calf compression sleeves
I don’t like to trail run without my compression sleeves. I already wrote about these, so you can read more HERE.
5. Sport Kilt
This is the company that sponsored me and Shacky to race Noble Canyon. I didn’t wear the kilt on my training run, but I will be wearing it for the race. Last year, Shacky raced this in a non-Sport Kilt kilt (another company’s kilt), and overheated. I love the kilts because a) They’re super cute and b-f) They’re light weight, easy to wear, and ideal for runners. I also love the deep, discreet pockets. And they keep you cool.
Nutrition is a never ending experiment for me. I tend to shy away from the mainstream runner’s gels and aim for whole foods as much as possible. Convenience is obviously an issue – I need to find fuel that is both natural and compact. Easy to carry and tastes good.
I am pleased to report that the new Navitas Power Snacks fit all of the above criteria. Not only are they natural, the ingredients are also Paleo (fruit and nuts), so Shacky was happy to fuel on them as well. He was pleased with the fat/protein ratio and the fact that they were low in sugar. They are also gluten and dairy free.
We had some Navitas Power Snacks at the midway point of our run and shared with some other runners in the group. Then later we sat down again on the trail and ate more.
The snacks are small, bite-sized pieces. I packed a few in a ziplock bag and carried them in my hydration vest pockets. They were easy to pull out and eat while walking or running. I also loved the texture. They weren’t as hard and chewy as a bar, but not as watery as a gel. They were soft and easy to break down, but didn’t leave you with a mouthful of sticky goo.
I received two flavors from Navitas – Citris Chia and Cacao Gogi. Shacky liked the chia and I loved the gogi. We’ve almost finished both of them.
Here is some more info I received from Navitas via email:
Offered in an 8-ounce re-sealable and recyclable pouch for a SRP of $8.99, Navitas Power Snacks are chewy, bite-sized nuggets that provide robust flavor. It is a healthy bonus that they contain no refined sugar, and are gluten-free and dairy-free. Navitas Power Snacks and other Navitas products are available at a wide variety of retail locations throughout North America including Whole Foods Markets, Wegmans and HEB, and at many online stores such as Amazon.com and NavitasNaturals.com.
The mission of Navitas Naturals is to provide premium organic superfoods that increase energy and enhance health. Nutrient-rich whole foods are at their best when they are produced via organic agriculture and minimal processing methods. That is why all Navitas Naturals products are certified organic, and use methods such as freeze-drying to ensure maximum nutrition. Food safety is very important to Navitas Naturals, which is demonstrated by the rigorous third-party testing of their superfoods. Since its founding in 2003, Navitas Naturals has been committed to socially responsible business. Their direct purchasing partnerships expand fair trade opportunities for farmers in developing regions around the world. For more, visit www.navitasnaturals.com.
The experiment for optimal gear and nutrition continues for me. I’m lucky to have so many great friends and companies willing to help me find my place on the trail.
I had a few more questions come in for my Q&A game, so I’ll take care of them today.
Julie asked:
When you run on unmarked trails like the ones you search and find in your neighborhood, how do you ensure you’re safe?!
A few things:
1. I actually feel safer on an unmarked trail because there are no people around. In my experience, other people are the ones that make things dangerous. A tree isn’t going to jump up and rape me.
2. If you’re talking about being safe from injury, I feel I run the same risk getting injured anywhere. So no matter where I run I watch my step and listen to my body.
3. I have great spidey senses. I’m not sure if it’s from growing up in a rough area or from watching out for my sisters, but I seem to have a sharper sixth sense than most people. The second I feel a slight discomfort, I split. Sometimes I don’t even know if that discomfort is justified, or what to attribute it to. But I don’t stay to find out. I trust my instincts and immediately leave.
I have similar sensations around people. Sometimes I’ll meet someone new and I’ll instantly get a weird vibe. In those cases I don’t bother to get to know them. I just stay away. Sometimes the opposite happens, and I meet someone I instantly sense is amazing. And they always turn out to be. Basically, I never question my gut instincts.
Occasionally, I meet what I call “nightmare people”. It’s happened a few times where I find someone who, whenever I see them or speak to them, I’ll have a horrific nightmare that same night. It doesn’t matter how frequently or infrequently I see them – the nightmares always follow them. I don’t try to reason it – I just stay away from people like that.
4. When my spidey sense isn’t going off, I am very bad at feeling fear. The things that most people are afraid of, I’m not. And I’ve always been that way. I’m insatiably curious and I ALWAYS want to explore places I’ve never been. When faced with the unknown, I respond with excitement and eagerness instead of fear. I don’t think about what may happen and I’ve been told that I can be reckless. I’ll climb things without thinking about how to get down. I don’t think of back up plans or safety nets. I just sort of GO and DO. That’s probably not a great way to live, but it’s the way I’ve basically functioned this far.
Mike H. asked:
What does barefoot running do to the soles of your feet? Do you go barefoot in other public places?
It seems to have strengthened and widened my feet in general. My soles aren’t tough. I try to take good care of them. I wash (obviously) and I moisturize them. I even do a bit of self-applied reflexology (basically a massage I guess). I pamper to my feet more so now that I ever did. I’m pretty proud of my soles.
I rarely go barefoot in public places. Sometimes if I’m caught without shoes in the middle of a run and I need to buy a drink, I’ll walk into a store. But I don’t intentionally enter stores without shoes. I know there are people who do that, but for me that’s not what being barefoot is about. I want to run barefoot on trails and in the forest, not walk around inside some filthy building. I also don’t like to have unnecessary confrontations. I don’t feel a need to change the world or preach about the evils of shoes. I just want to be happy, running barefoot in nature. And outside.
Shelly Robillard asked:
What is your relationship like with your dad today?
Non-existent. That has been a rough relationship throughout my life, but I always still felt affection towards my dad. Until this year.
When my baby sister started experiencing emotional and mental issues, she really needed her dad. I begged my dad to help her. All I asked was that he spend some time with her and maybe hug her or something. He promised he would move closer to help her out.
He did move. But he moved further away. And that’s what it finally dawned on me after all these years – he really doesn’t give a shit about any of us. My sister got progressively worse and became suicidal. She was admitted into hospital wards for treatment and counseling, but when she’d get released my dad would stalk her out at school and scare the shit out of her.
He had his own innovative ideas of how to “fix” her, which involved a combination of beatings and moving her to El Salvador. My sister was scared and so was I. I tried to get a restraining order against him, but I couldn’t because I wasn’t my sister’s legal guardian.
Some people felt I was overreacting in my desperation to keep my sister away from my dad, but he had done this before. When my other sister was the same age, he took her to El Salvador where she was malnourished and abused. She lost a tremendous amount of weight and it wasn’t until all her hair started falling out that he dumped her back in Canada, all alone.
I fought my dad off with everything I had while at the same time scrambling to find help for my sister. We did eventually find her a place where she could get help, but my dad wouldn’t consent to admit her there. So she lost her spot, and overdosed around the same time. It was that final action to deny her help that made me write him off.
My sister never did get help, but instead moved out to live with her friends. She’s at least still in school. I taught her not to not be afraid of my dad, and I think that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever done for her because he gets his power from instilling terror. Today my dad considers me an enemy that came between him and his daughters.
I consider my dad a cancer. He spreads and infects poison into any life he comes in contact with. I feel my only hope at a fulfilling future is to cut him off completely. I don’t feel hate towards him, but I feel a strong need to stay away from him. He’s sick and he makes everything he touches sick.
Peter King asked:
I would love to hear your story. I started following you on Twitter pretty recently and would love to catch up on what brought you to this point.
It’s a long story! I’ve compiled a point form version for you here:
- Born in El Salvador
- Parents immigrated to Canada illegally when I was 3
- Lived happily until my mom died of leukemia when I was 9
- Dad stopped caring and we grew up in neglect
- My uncle sexually abuses me
- Dad found “God” and become extremely protective, controlling, abusive
- Spend my teenaged years in isolation, wasn’t allowed to have friends or participate in social activities
- Sometimes I was locked in the closet, but one day I came home from school to find my dad kicking my baby sister in the stomach
- Became a Canadian citizen
- Married at age 20 to escape my dad and left the country
- New husband was abusive and I returned to Canada alone
- Divorced my husband and disowned by the church – my only social connection in life
- Worked odd jobs and lived in crack house rooms to put myself through University to study something I loved – Journalism
- Refrained from making friends in University because I was embarrassed by my poverty
- I was constantly hungry. Ate pizza crust leftovers from the tables at my University cafeteria
- Started dating my best friend at the time. He was married
- Best friend left wife and we moved in together. Disowned by both our families
- Best friend & partner suffered a deadly brain trauma in a work accident (fell on his head from 20 feet).
- Partner was in a coma, nobody knew if he’d live or die
- He lives, but I’m not allowed to see him (not permitted by his family)
- Everyone tells me his accident is my fault because God is punishing him for being with someone completely and purely evil – me
- Dropped out of school to work full time to pay his bills
- He recovered and his parents take him home in a wheelchair. I’m not allowed to see him
- He finds a way out and we move in together. I go back to school
- Partner goes through full process of rehab/recovery. Takes years and he cannot work
- Back to multiple odd jobs and poverty
- I start running
- I graduate with a Journalism degree
- I study towards an additional Certificate in Magazine Publishing, and graduate
- I get a job in my field
- The recession hits and one year later I am laid off
- I can’t find a job in my field. I go to nutrition school
- I start this blog
- I run 5ks, 10ks, halfs, and my first marathon.
- My baby sister is hospitalized for multiple suicide attempts and one drug overdose
- I run barefoot
- My dad refuses to consent to get help for my sister. She moves out at 16
- I complete my first ultra marathon
- I graduate as a Registered Holistic Nutritionist
- I land my first sponsorship to race an ultra in San Diego
- I move to San Diego permanently
That was last month, so it pretty much brings us up to date. I’ll be training in California this summer, and I have some exciting prospects around that as well but it’s too early to post details.
I know you like spiritual stuff Pete, so here are some posts I think you’ll enjoy:
http://vanessaruns.com/2010/04/06/post34/
http://vanessaruns.com/2010/11/09/post158/
I noticed that you run ultras, what’s it like?
I have to confess that I’ve only run one ultra so far. I will be running my second one in September. But I still define myself as an ultra runner because I can’t imagine loving any other distance. The longer the better for me, and I’d love to work my way up to a few 100 milers.
What’s it like? For me, it almost feels like living an entire lifetime in the span of one day. You go through good times, bad times, happy times, sad times. It’s truly a journey and every race changes you.
It also makes me feel invincible. Like I can do anything. It’s an accomplishment that nobody can take away from you. Often when I go through hard experiences in life, I think back to my ultra. And I reason that if I can do THAT… I can overcome anything.
I know I’ve probably done harder things in life than run an ultra. But for me the ultra puts everything into perspective. I can use it as a measure of pain and effort and reward and fulfillment. I can weight every life experience against that one scale.
I only just now read Born to Run.
I have known for a long time that this was the runner’s Bible, particularly barefoot runners. I knew what a big deal it was. I knew how many people it had inspired. And I knew that all my friends had read it. Yet I still hung back.
I got Born to Run when it first came out and everyone was reading it. I watched the hype and all the book tours. But I let it sit on my shelf. For weeks. Months. Until the hype was mostly over. Until people stopped talking about it. And everyone assumed that I had read it.
I have an interesting relationship with books. Books were my best friends all through childhood and adolescence. They’re what got me through life.
My dad used to always refer to his books as real people, and it was always clear to me that he loved his books more than he loved me. I wasn’t to ever harm any of his books. If a spine was bent, or if a cover was creased, I would have to face his consequences.
My dad’s approach to reading was extreme, but it did engrave in me a profound respect for books. I approach a book now with near-reverence.
I can read fast, but at the same time I read slow because I stop a lot. I read until I get a thought and then I stop to really think about it. Then I act on it. And I don’t come back to continue reading until I’ve done what I need to do. Until I’ve applied what I’ve learned.
I knew that Born to Run would take me a long time to read. I knew, deep inside, that it would somehow change my life. And I wasn’t ready for change when I bought it. So I let it sit.
I knew that I would love this book, because I love running. But I wanted to love running on my own terms. I wanted to tackle my first ultra before cracking the cover. I wanted to explore barefoot and minimalist running before turning any pages.
So much of my knowledge is book knowledge. But running is one of the few things that I can truly experience. I didn’t want to read about it. I just wanted to run.
I also didn’t want to be carried away by a fad. A quick barefoot run, and then back to normal life. I didn’t want anyone to say that I came to love ultras because of Born to Run. Or that I tried barefoot running because of this book. I wanted to love ultras on my own terms. And run barefoot for the sheer joy of it.
So I did.
I ran my first ultra and fell in love with the 50k+ distance all on my own. I took off my shoes and never put them on again, all by myself. I didn’t want to know the stats or the proof or the studies. I just wanted to know that it was right for me because it FELT right. I wanted to know, based on feel, that I could never run any other way.
Last month I finally picked up Born to Run. The time was right. And last night I finally finished it.
It was like watching the first movie of a series, when that movie was the last to come out. You already knew the ending. But you didn’t know the beginning. And suddenly everything makes sense.
Born to Run was exactly like that for me. I already knew that I loved ultras and I always would. I knew that running barefoot would always work for me. But I didn’t know why.
I’m not a better runner because of Born to Run. It’s not going to make me any faster or make me push any further. But I do feel wiser. I feel like I’m on the right track. And I feel that just because people don’t get what I do, doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.
I think this book strengthened my resolve to fully embrace who I am and what I love. I recently confided to a friend: “I can’t shake the feeling that my whole life is supposed to be about running. It’s the only thing that consumes me.”
I used to try to explain myself to others. I felt that I had to justify my passions. Why do I run barefoot? Why do I run so much? Why do I make running a priority?
But I’m done with that.
This book showed me the why behind a lot of these questions, but it also showed me something more important: That I don’t need to explain it. I can just know it. And I can just run.
To me, Born to Run will always conjure up the image of Caballo Blanco cutting through dips and turns and crevices too dangerous to speak of. A mere shadow slipping through spaces so narrow with drops so steep that it’s senseless. Life and death all hanging on a long run. And I want that. I have for a long time.
These aren’t risks that anyone can explain. According to the voices of reason, this is not what I’m supposed to want. Who wants to get lost? Who wants to get exhausted? Who wants to fall down?
I’m supposed to want to stay where it’s safe. To compromise my dreams of wilderness and wanderings, and while I’m at it – to put on some god damn shoes.
Except that I can’t. And I fear that the day I loosen the grip on my passions is the day someone pries them from my cold dead fingers.
They should look for me at the bottom of a canyon.
