15K Tempo Run + Fartlek Ladders

What the hell are Fartlek Ladders? I'm glad you asked!

"Fartlek Ladders" is just a fancy term for Speed Intervals. It goes like this: 1 Minute sprinting, 1 minute jogging/walking, 1 minute sprinting, 1 minute jogging/walking. You can do it on a treadmill, or you can set a watch to beep at 1 minute intervals.

I awoke to some pretty steady rain and mild-to-cold temperatures this morning. Yep, I'm back in Saint John. Actually, this weather reminds me of Vancouver! In the winter. With no desire to get soaked by fluids other than my sweat today, I decide to hop on a bus Uptown. That's right, they call Uptown Downtown here. I hit up the Canada Games Aquatic Centre for a change of scenery. I assume they have treadmills here.

My assumption correct, I sign up for a treadmill and take a minute to stretch - I have the advantage of not being in a rush today. I start off at my marathon pace - 9 Miles Per Hour - no messing around today. I need to kick my own ass for all the missed runs over the past few weeks. If I had a coach, he'd undoubtedly be displeased. With a good, fast pace like this, I watch the miles tick away. 20 Minutes, 3 Miles (5K), 20 Minutes, 3 Miles, 20 minutes, 3 Miles. An hour in, and I'm starting to make 3 wishes to the invisible Gym Genie. 1) I wish I had a water bottle 2) I wish I ate a better lunch 3) I wish I had my MP3 player. Treadmills is boring, yo! I need to shake things up a bit here.

At the hour mark, I've got a couple of choices. I could continue at race pace and push to see how far my legs hold out (I'm hoping 26 Miles!) or I could get creative. I must have been getting dizzy from the Air Conditioning, because I decided to deliver a punishing blow to my legs - the dreaded Fartlek Ladders.

Normally, I'd be doing these on a track, or better yet on the Stanley Park Seawall in Vancouver, with a borrowed watch or customized MP3 with a beep every 60 seconds. On solid ground, I control the tempo and how hard my sprints are. On a treadmill, all I can do is max out the machine at 10 MPH for my sprints, and jam my finger onto the "Slow" button to bring it down to 6.5 MPH for my recovery. I picked out 20 minutes for my time for some reason, and away we go!

The problem with a treadmill is that everything is artificial; the speed, the incline, even the running. Still, the rain keeps falling outside, and I'm only soaked to the skin in my own precipitation, or perspiration actually. Eau De Nathan. They should bottle it and market is as female repellent. Actually, I think I recognize the young lady working the Personal Trainer Desk from high school. I wouldn't say I know her, and I imagine she probably gets a dozen knuckleheads a week approaching her with the ol' "Don't I know you from somewhere?" routine. I better leave well enough alone and get back to the running. I'm terrible with names anyway.

Sprinting feels really good! I missed it! Cranking the treadmill up to 10, I feel right at home, and I wish it went up to 11 (that's 1 faster, Mr Tufnel). After 10 minutes, I'm still feeling good, but the recovery minute is flying by faster and faster. I slow down my next recovery lap to 5MPH, which is barely a job, then back up to 10, down to 4, up to 10, down to 3, 10 and done! This happens every time, but you know what, recovery is exactly that, recovery!

After a little cooldown walk, I used a weird-looking ab machine and stretched everything out. A little trip to the sauna and hot tub, and now we're cooking! Literally! My stomach feels a little queazy, but I think that's just its emptiness. With my ass-kicking workout complete, it's time for lunch!

Long Run Monday = 36K in the Salt Marsh

My friends live in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. It's a quaint neighborhood, pretty quiet and seemingly safe. Looking online for running routes is as easy as checking out the Trans Canada Trail website (tctrail.ca). I see there's a really nice trail system in Cole Harbor Heritage Park, 13K from their house, and you can basically run for 50K in this system. I borrowed my friend's bike, and the plan is to bike to the Park, lock up/stash the bike in the woods and then run as far as my legs will carry me, before coasting home on fumes.

Riding a bike should be as easy as well, riding a bike. I pumped up the tires, tested the gears and set off down the hill. Then I noticed something was wrong. The crank arm, the little shaft that has the pedal on it, on the left side was extremely loose, and almost falling off! This happened to my old bike, and it took nothing more than a good tightening with a socket set. I turned around, hopped off the bike and jogged along with it, back to the house. Looking around, I couldn't locate the tool kit, so I decided to just run it. I filled my water bottle, grabbed 2 Powerbar Gels and set off. Here's my route:

13K from Dartmouth to Coal Harbor
10K Heritage Trail/Salt Marsh Trail
13K back to Dartmouth

It's perfect running weather today; a little cloud, a little cool-ish and not too humid. The run to the park felt pretty good, save for some construction work that diverted me to a back street. It's the scenic route, right? There was a good hill up, a good hill down, and then another good hill down, down, down to Cole Harbor Heritage Park. After navigating through a section of the Heritage Trail, I hung a left and the trail opened up into a huge Saltwater Marsh, with all kinds of sandpiper and heron. This reminds me of the wetlands back in Saint John at the Irving Nature Park, except the air smells way fresher, with a little salty hint.

I stop to choke down a Gel and read a plaque, which tells me this was once a Native fishing ground, but European settlers came in and built a railroad, connecting one part of Nova Scotia to the other, presumably before the highway was built. This abandoned railbed, including several bridges, is now the home of a nice running/walking trail. There are a few other people out today with their dogs and families, and a couple of fisherman putting around in boats. I'm not sure what they're pulling out of the water, because I don't see any fish. Maybe clams? I reach the other side of the Salt Marsh and turn back, re-tracing my steps back up, up, up to Cole Harbor Road.

My water bottle is empty, so I start eyeing restaurants and businesses along the side of the road where I can fill up. I step inside a gas station, dripping with sweat and breathing heavily. I ask the counter attendant if I can use the bathroom, and the frightened look on her face tells me that she was probably expecting me to utter the magic words, "Empty the register" or "Put all the money in a paper bag!" I just want some tap water fer chrisakes!

After filling up, I caught my reflection in the mirror, and that's when I noticed the huge white lines running down my face, remnants of the salt left behind from all the sweat escaping my pores. Combined with my bloodshot eyes from the sweat burning my pupils, I was quite a sight. I got the hell out of that gas station with a fresh bottle of water and another horrified look from the cashier.

The final stretch is all uphill. I turn up a street called Irish Town or something or other, and I'm really pounding it out, laying it on the line. This is another Triple Threat Hill, complete with blind crests and a never-ending incline. I get back to my friends' place and look at the kitchen clock. 36K in 3 hours is way off my race pace, but I have to factor in the climb, the gas station break, stopping to read the plaque, and taking my time to avoid getting lost in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Still, I'm pretty happy with my ability to climb a full-out hill at the end of 36K, which bodes well for my next run. I was making up for lost time with this long run, but there's no sense of desperation. With 6 weeks left before the Victoria Marathon, there's lots of time to improve. I'm so hungry I could eat a whole cow, which is exactly what my buddy serves up for dinner. A 10-ounce steak, sweet potatoes and grilled vegetables has never tasted better!

Rolled Ankle = Weekend Off

Somehow on Thursday night, while having a couple of pints with a good friend, I rolled my ankle. The details are beer-soaked and foggy. It was either falling upstairs at the pub, or running home in the fog. Either way, I messed it up. Not smart, Nathan. You're supposed to be in training.

It's Friday, and the ankle is not feeling good. I'll take the day off.

Saturday comes around and the ankle is still hurting. No running today.

On Sunday, I hopped in a car with some good friends and we drove to Nova Scotia. As much as I want to spend time with my family, I need a little "me time" and a chance to clear my head. My ankle still feels stiff, but the pain has pretty much subsided. A good night's sleep tonight, and I'll be ready to make it up with a long run tomorrow.

Speedwork Wednesday becomes Junk Mile Thursday

I asked around to see if anybody knew where there was a running track in Saint John. It turns out there's one at the University of New Brunswick. It's not a gravel track like I'm used to; it's 1,000 meters instead of 400, but it's exactly what I need. Rather than take a bus or bum a ride, I use the 10K from my Mom's house to the track as a slow warm-up. I run down Douglas Avenue, past some gorgeous character homes that make Vancouver's Heritage Houses look like condos, and through the troubled North End Community to the University.

Upon Arrival, I see tradesmen sitting around, doing what they do best, and a huge fence around the running track. Shit. A huge sign on the fence confirms my fear: the track is closed for construction. I see a few workers snickering at me from the other side of the fence, laughing at the runner who didn't get the memo. Rather than sit around and sulk, I turn and set out for home. It ain't speedwork, but any running is better than no running at all.

My first 10K was intended to be a warmup, so I wasn't exactly burning up the streets. Now, with no track workout, I can rock a fast 10K home and still make decent time overall. I was just jogging at first, so it took me roughly an hour to get to the university. Let's see if I can break 40 minutes on the way back. It'll be close.

You know what slowed me down? Crosswalks. I'm the kind of guy that usually sees an opening and takes it, but I don't know what the jaywalking fines are like in Saint John these days, so I'd better just take my time and wait for the little man that tells me I can "Walk". Through the North End, I'm sweating like a hooker on pay day, and my water is almost gone. It's pretty hot out today, and in true Nathan Stafford style, I'm wearing all black clothing. Like Hendrix's muse in Crosstown Traffic, I "Don't Mind a little pain." I fly down Douglas Avenue, past the ancient homes and across the famed Reversing Falls Bridge (a popular suicide spot in Saint John). Up a hill, left on Lancaster Avenue, and I'm on the home stretch. The clock read 2:30 when I left the University Track, so I wonder if I'll be home before 3:10? Only the kitchen clock will tell. I desperately need a watch.

I enter the kitchen, look at the wall clock, and to my dismay it's 3:15. I don't know if this clock is fast, the University clock is slow, or a combination of both, but let's just blame it on the crosswalks. Yeah, that'll work.

Tip of the day: Get a watch, you dummy!


My view from the other side of the fence.

Improvised Speedwork - No track, No problem

I'm limited on time today. It's an important day, and running unfortunately has to take a back seat. Today is my Dad's funeral. Let's see if I can pack a high-intensity workout into about 20 minutes, and get a good sweat going. There's no track in my Mom's neighborhood, but a city block should do just fine. I eyeball it, and figure it's slightly longer than the 400 meter gravel track I'm used to at Brockton Oval, so let's call it 500. Sprint 500, jog 500, sprint 500, jog 500, and so forth. My goal is 4 sprint laps, and I'm not one to let my goal slip away. I pick the most level block I can find, and I'm off to the races!

Leave it to some jerk to park their SUV right at the front of their driveway, blocking the sidewalk and forcing me to run out into the road. I'd rather not do that, since who knows what kind of idiot might come speeding around the corner and clip me, or worse. But hey, nothing's gonna stand in my way! By the way, I shouldn't have had that 2nd beer last night, but I did.

Lap #1 was a little labored. It's cold outside, and being short on time, I didn't exactly warm up properly. The first lap is my warm-up, so be it. The first rest lap couldn't come soon enough, and I'm chugging along like a steam train. Actually, the cold air burns my lungs more like coal. Sprint #2 rolls around, and I'm feeling a little better. As I finish the lap, I think I see a little set of eyes peeping through some curtains at me, but I can't be sure. Maybe it's a kid.

I grind out my 3rd Sprint and let out a big grunt at the end. My water bottle is still in the same bush where I left it, so I scoop it up and take a big swig, careful not to drink too much so I don't cramp up or feel that slooshy-feeling in my guts. Boy, I feel like crap today! Maybe it's sprinting on pavement (don't usually do that), maybe it's the poor night's sleep last night, maybe it's the 2 beers, and maybe, just maybe it's the 4-hour time difference.

I usually do my speedwork in a group, with someone almost as fast as me. Today it's all about personal best, and I can tell I'm not running as fast as I can. With nothing to lose, I come around that final turn and just give it everything I have! Why not? As I cross the imaginary finish line, legs exploding, lungs burning, I notice that little set of eyes from earlier. I inch a little closer and expect to see a small child. "Woof!" My spectator is a Jack Russell Terrier! Maybe next time, Jackie boy will time me, because I have no idea how close I was to a minute. I need a track and a clock. I consider today's speed workout a failure, or at least a warmup.

Long Run Sun(day) 27K

More of the same. Much more.

Today was my scheduled Long-Slow Run of the week. When I say slow, it's not like I'm plodding along like an old lady in an antique shop, but a little less intense than my Wacky Hill Climb on Friday. Seeing as how I didn't really know any other routes off-hand, I guess I'll head to the Nature Park again. This time though, I'll add an extra lap around the park to to tag on another 7K.

Heading out, I take a slightly different route to avoid the wrath of Lancaster and Duke Streets, heading further West to take Dufferin Row and Lancaster Avenue. Fundy Heights wasn't a problem, and the hill down to the park was well, downhill. Getting into the park, I notice there aren't many cars parked in the lot, as it's still relatively early and I guess most folk around here are the church-goin/Sunday relaxin-type. I see a few squirrels bouncing around like acorn-crackheads, but other than that, it's a quiet morning at the park.

Lap #1 around the park was easy-peasy. I've done this before. Without a watch, I have no idea how fast I'm going, but my trusty MP3 player keeps my legs moving at a steady groove. Today it's all about Chromeo. Awww yeah! A friend of mine made me a mix of all different songs, sped up, or slowed down to one tempo, keeping the kick drum going steady the whole time for 90 minutes. Strangely, the track ended as I finished finished the second lap. That's 20K in 90 minutes. A little faster than Wednesday, but factor in Extreme Hill aka Sand Cove Road, and it's a rough stretch home.

The last time I was in Saint John, I tried to do a similar run, but I couldn't make it home and had to walk up that hill, taking breaks along the way. Not today, friendo. I dig in, lift my knees and make that hill a thing of the past. The long, steady climb didn't hurt at all, and I can tell I've come a long way physically since last summer. Fundy Heights levels out and I'm able to slow my breathing down a bit. Nothing feels better than a rest period after a big climb (well maybe one or two things), but I know I still have a downhill to burn. Here we go! It feels pretty good to sprint at the end of a long run, and I almost feel like I could run another 10K or so. That's good to know, because in just a few short weeks, I'll be running a marathon in Victoria! 27K was a breeze today, and took me just under 2 hours. That's not race pace, but it's not bad.

Black Friday - Hill Speed

7K Down, 7K around, 7K Up and Back.

Saint John, New Brunswick has its share of hills.

Even on the other side of the country, I still have to get my run in. Today just so happens to mark the death of my father, but the kind of guy he was, he wouldn't want a little thing like death to distract me from doing what I'm supposed to do. If anything, his memory provides me with motivation.

My Dad was one of the most feared rugby players in Atlantic Canada at one time, and I heard an account from one of his former opponents that he would just drop the ball/turn it over, rather than be tackled by the beast that was Don. He always played clean from what I gather. He was a big guy, but in a game of sustained intensity like rugby, it's about more than just size. You've got to be able to run. For this reason, I'll pour everything I have into this run today. For you, Dad.

I'm crashing at my sister's house for the time being, and it's right in the inner-city, a neighborhood lovingly dubbed "Lower West". The are is ripe with tough hills, rugged shoreline and pothole-ridden roads. This is just the challenge I need, but a little nature would be nice.

Enter the Irving Nature Park, 7Km from my sister's house, which offers everything a runner needs as twisting trails and hellish hills. I think I'll make this my destination. I set out with a small bottle of water and a Powerbar Gel just in case things get hairy.

The run from Lower West takes me up 2 devastating hills called Lancaster Street and Duke Street; it's a good way to warm up. As I hit the neighborhood of Fundy Heights, things level out and I make my way to Sand Cove Road, a big, long stretch that ends at the Nature Park. Sand Cove is actually a major downslope, ending in a nice steep hill. That was a breeze! But hey, everybody knows that what goes down must come up...

As I enter the park, I pause for a decond to look at the trail map. I could spend all day in these trails, but like the ant of "The Ant & The Grasshopper" fame, I know there's a long winter ahead. This winter includes a Kilometer-long Extreme Hill, followed by about 3K's of steady climbing. I think I'll take the main road, which is only another 7K. I find solace in the fact that I'm finally off the pavement. Loose gravel isn't exactly a down-filled comforter, but my knees can feel the difference right away.

Rounding every corner, climbing every hill, I'm afforded some pretty amazing views of moist wetlands full of marine birds like Heron, Sandpiper, and my favourite marine bird, Crow. On the other side of the park is the majestic Bay of Fundy, where seals come to play. I'm tempted to take it all in, but this is running, not gawking. With a little turn of the head, I can take in the view while still keeping pace, just seeing everything in high-speed view. It's still pretty awesome. It saddens me that I took this place for granted all those years I called Saint John home.

As the main trail nears its end (I can tell by the excellent trail markers every 0.5 Km), I swig water and choke down my Gel. I estimate I've been running for about an hour now, or 14 K, whichever comes first. Looking ahead, I see the behemoth that awaits, Sand Cove Road.

There are at least 3 ways to build leg muscle in my books: Track workouts, Hill Repeats, and Weightlifting. I'll take Door #2, Bob. Hills! With 14K behind me, I'm not exactly fresh, but this is where my mental toughness kicks in. That hill is nothing compared to what I can do. With my head up high, I grind it out and get through the extreme elevation. Now it's a steady climb up, and the nice, level Fundy Heights. I'm almost home! Let's see if I can gather some speed down Duke Street. Yup! I can!

Since I'm without a watch, I rely on the kitchen clock at my sister's house. Walliam Clockington tells me I just ran 20K in 1 Hour and 40 minutes. Not great, but not bad when you factor in those hills. What did I learn today? Climbing your way to the top is achievable if you want it and are willing to work. I hope the drenched t-shirt and aching calves are enough evidence of my struggle, and I hope Dad was watching from above. If I ever play rugby again, my opponents are going to feel the power and the strength that Dad gave me, and the hill repeats just proved. Love ya big guy!



Don Stafford - March 4th 1941 to Aug 13th 2010