Tag Archive for: Ambassador

By Karen McCullough, series ambassador

How do you prepare for a 12k?

How do you prepare for a 12k race when you’ve never run one before? This was me going into the Cedar 12k. A 10k race, sure I know what to expect, even a half marathon. But a 12k? What was I going to do about pacing? I decided I wouldn’t worry about it and just go with “This is a 10k, but just a little longer.” Having just done a 19k long run in my training for the Comox Valley RV Half Marathon coming up on March 24, 12k should be a breeze, I told myself.

I knew it was a rolling, out-and-back course, and the hills weren’t going to be too bad. Now, I live near Mount Tzouhalem, so I KNOW hills! Doing some quick math on my way, I figured I’d try to stick with my 10k time from the Cobble Hill 10k. The second race of the series just two weeks earlier. And the plan was to just stick it out another 2k. My B goal would be sub-1:10 and my A goal would be sub-1:08. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Karen McCullough at the finish at 2024 Cedar 12K. Photo credit: Christopher Kelsall

My husband and I arrived good and early and had plenty of time to get his bib and get a 2k warmup in. We lucked out with the weather. By race time, the rain had eased up and I decided to go without my rain jacket and just the long-sleeved shirt. We all gathered at the start and, I guess I was too far back, but I didn’t hear a start horn or anything and everyone just started running. It’s a small enough race that this wasn’t a huge deal. It’s chipped-timed so it doesn’t matter when you cross the start line anyway, right?

Heading out, I kept it kind of conservative but still within my 10k pace. I saw a young woman pass me from behind and she reminded me of a friend in Vancouver, so I decided I’d stick with her and keep her in sight as long as possible. The course was so enjoyable. With a couple of turns in the first three kilometres and then gentle rollers to the 6k turnaround. I took note of my time at the turnaround and did some mental math to see what my finish time might be. By then, I knew what to expect going back and decided to kick it up a notch. I started passing people and it felt good. At some point between 8 and 9k, I even managed to pass “my friend.”

So at 10k, how am I doing?

At 10k, I was just a few seconds slower than my time at the Cobble Hill 10k. But I had enough steam in me to really give’er in the final 2k. With 1k to go, I saw my husband on the other side of the road running towards me. He had already finished his own race, and he ran me in with lots of encouraging words. When we turned that final corner, I could see the finish, I really let it rip and hoofed it to the finish to leave everything on the course.

I could see the clock as I got closer to the finish and knew I was not only going to beat my B goal of sub-1:10, but I also beat my A goal of sub-1:08. With a chip time of 1:06:48. This turned out to be good enough for 8th in my age category of F55-59. I received a beautiful red ribbon to commemorate that.

One thing I’ve really loved about the series is the absence of participation medals, but medals and ribbons for up to 10th place in each age category. Who needs another participation medal? Not me. This, I’m sure, helps to keep the races at such an affordable price. I wish other races would adopt this measure!

Even though my husband and I have only lived on the Island for five and a half months, we’ve already met so many amazing people in the Vancouver Island running scene through our local run groups and especially through the Vancouver Island Race Series. During the race, when I started seeing the runners who’d already turned around at 6k, I couldn’t believe how many runners I knew and could cheer on by yelling their names.

With a chip time of 56:46 at the Cobble Hill 10k being nowhere near my PB of 50:52, I’m still really proud of myself. I am proud of my race at the Cedar 12k. I’m in my late 50s now, and 5 years older than when I ran a 50-minute 10k and not every race is going to be a PB, and that’s ok! The important thing is this: did I have fun? You bet I did! Will I do this race again?

Abso-f’ing-lutely

I am having a good time with the Island Race Series this year. I have done four and will hopefully do two more. Or that is the plan.

I am racing, in the sense that I have a bib, and I am getting to the start line, but I have this knee thing I have to be careful of these days, and a thing called aging, so I have had to trade speed and volume for strength training in order to stay fit. It is a good trade. I am simply enjoying being around other folks who also like to race. It doesn’t really matter how fast you are, there is something about us all out there trying hard, about putting it all on the line and testing ourselves. I understand the contenders and the winners, and now I am happy in the pack. There is something that binds us all together.

I am a mother of two very active children (now adults). I raced professionally for about 30 years. I don’t think I could have chosen two less physically demanding of careers: motherhood and sport, doubling up on both for 14 of those years.

I have had my share of exhausting days, and sleepless nights, and still got up to train. I have gutted out repeat after repeat of leg burning, lung searing 400’s at the track and ridden so hard up hills for no other reason than to see how fast I could go.

Lucy Smith at 2024 Hatley Castle 8K. Photo credit: Christopher Kelsall

One day, a few summers back, my kids were at summer camp, and I was training at the local track. I was running 1k repeats off a hard bike workout.  Half way through the penultimate interval, finding my stride at 700m in, I had one of those moments, where you look at yourself from the outside. As I ran though the fatigue and discomfort, willing myself to quicken my pace, run even a little harder as the discomfort increased, I realized I was completely enjoying myself. There I was running my guts out at the track, when I could have been relaxing with a coffee and a book or even getting my nails done. I wasn’t even training for an Olympics, or a world championships, or anything remotely glorious as all that. I wasn’t suffering for the sake of hitting a pace time or besting an opponent or anything so tangible. I was 45 and out there running fast for the sake of it. I know I am not alone.

​I always loved the feeling of working hard. When I am at the track, or in the trails, or on the road working mindfully and gracefully through discomfort and intensity, I am so totally in my element that I am completely happy. It’s what I know and it’s who I am. It’s like being intensely uncomfortable in my comfort zone, if such a thing exists.

When I run fast now, although I am so much slower than I was at 30, I feel just as youthful, empowered, and strong. I now have a freedom and a sense of peace with running that I couldn’t even imagine at 30. The irony is that I couldn’t have the freedom to be what I am now if I hadn’t been there first. This has nothing to do with age though. It has everything to do with accepting what I love and not fighting it.

​That’s why I love these races at the Island Series. Here we all are, loving the hard work we put in, loving the training and meeting up every couple of weeks at a new venue, to toe a new start line. I love that these races exist, that people come out to test and challenge themselves, I love the nervous joking on the start line and I love the relaxed laughter after it’s all said and done.

There is no substitute for the experience of  training hard and racing, and that’s the truth.

Run For Joy – Lucy Smith

For us runners, this time of year is often a time when we reflect on the races we want to do and times that we dream of running. It’s a time of open possibility and optimism, a time to explore our potential and really get after it. 

The fire burns bright and the passion runs deep when we are healthy, when we are seeing progress, when everything is going well. But what about when things inevitably don’t go as we expected them to? When your new job is stressing you out, your kid is keeping you up at night, or you’ve picked up yet another injury or illness? What happens to the fiery flame of passion then? 

While I have all the “freudenfreude” in the world for those who are crushing it in their running right now. My hope is that this article can reach those who’ve struggled with their running, those whose New Years resolutions are waning, or who are just going through a hard time right now. Know that you are not alone, and struggle is all part of sustainable progress in this sport we love.

Jonathan Walker. Photo credit: Jim Finlayson (Esprit RC)

Having just worked through 12 weeks of injury, here are some ways I’ve managed to keep the spark alive enough to cross train and build my way back:

1. Community. As individual of a sport running is, some of the best memories and experiences are shared with teammates and other members of the Island Race Series community. Finding ways to stay connected to the sport by cheering your teammates and being part of the community can help, even for a moment, snap out of self-focused negative rumination, and help you remember why you love this sport. 

2. Temperance. As frustrating as it is to be injured, sick or have life get in the way, we can’t rush the process and force a comeback. Things take time, often much more time than we realize. Embracing the discomfort of that truth, and accepting where we are to get where we want to go, is a key skill to practice.

3. Rest. Crushing your workouts and races is awesome; but it must be replicated over and over again for long term success. Rest is the key ingredient here. Give yourself permission to ease back slowly, to take a day off if you’re really exhausted, to take that nap. Think of rest as a skill. How good can you get at resting? Can you perfect sleep hygiene? Can you embrace rest guilt-free, and let go of the need to train too soon because you may be anxious? 

As we navigate injury, illness and stress, there is no magic solution. Sometimes things just suck, and that’s okay. But trust the process, reflect and learn what works for you. And if you’re at a loss, give community, temperance and rest a try. These lessons are the overlooked blessings that our running journeys can reveal!