My Reason to Run

 Millarville Half Marathon

I showed up at my friend Carol’s door with my sneakers in hand and my face puffy and red from tears and snot. Carol opening her door to a half deflated, and at times, sobbing Kirstin, became such a regular occurrence over the summer of 2012 that I’m not sure she batted an eye at my messy appearance. She was my closest friend from High School and we would spend our evenings running throughout our hometown and then following Richard Simmon’s The Stomach Formula on my huge tube TV in my Grade 12 year. Between then and University in Calgary, I seemed to had forgotten my love of running and traded it in, amongst other things, for a relationship; my 26 year old self had given away so much of myself so eagerly to appease the love I thought I needed, it’s hard to comprehend now at 33.

Carol and I signed up for the 10K Underwear Affair – A run for researching cancers’ down there. It was the first formal running training plan I’ve ever used and we used our iPod’s to track steps and that were loosely converted into the mileage ran. I remember Carol cursing her iPod on the day of the event when the automated woman congratulated us on our run: our distance was in fact a mere 8 and not 10KM. I still laugh thinking about it. Shortly afterwards I talked Carol into running my first Half Marathon with me. I remember tidbits about the run itself: how I felt better than I thought it ever would, since having to hobble downstairs after one of our especially long training days. I remember her laughing that another runner who started putting on lip gloss, puffing her pony and primping herself right before the finish line. I can remember hugging my mom and seeing Hugo at the finish line, my mom baffled that we would run such a distance. Mostly, I remember how we’d meet up for our long runs and after celebrating by making some kind of dessert (I’ve learned that creampuffs are baked and not fried, which I eat unforgivingly when I find them in a bakery). Somewhere along the way, training my body for 13.1 Miles of running, I healed my heartache and found myself again.

Quesnel Women’s Half Marathon

How could I not sign up for an all Women’s Run a mere three hours away from my new home in Northern BC? I trained religiously on the Bearhead Road – a dirt road that had sharp ups and downs and unforgiving valleys – or so they felt like on my feet. I lived and loved on this road for on it was the first house that felt like home during the 18 month stint that I lived on a quarter section in a log house, x-country skiing and hottubing. A house I borrowed from Don and Celia who became family and loved my dog. My two first frienships in the ‘hoof were made on this road, as two women lived above and below me. I would inhale the crisp morning air and begin each run on a Saturday with a slight headache and a pounding memory of craft beer and good food from the night before, spent with my Bushbabes, as we so cleverly coined ourselves.

The Bearhead prepared me well for the Half, as one of runners mentioned that there was an 18 percent gradient in hill climbing. It was a cold run, and I remember at one of the fueling stations asking what Kilometer I was on, because I didn’t bring any type of GPS – faulty or not. I was happy to find I was at 17KM. I would think this was a time in my life I felt incredibly grounded in my footing, my work, travel and friends.

Baldy Half Marathon

I grew up skiing on Baldy Mountain in Southern BC, so it felt only natural to sign up for the Baldy Half in the Okanogan the Wine Capital of BC.

The training for this run is vertically nonexistent in my memory, probably, what made the run such a challenge, but the run itself was glorious, and the after race, even better. We ran on a gravel path the majority of the way, following alongside a river. As the miles went on the orchards changed from apples to grapes and more. The early morning sun greeted us and the fog lifted, making the view breathtaking. I stopped at one point to take a photo. I believe this was the first and only Baldy organized Run, and the turnout was little. I paced myself with another woman I didn’t know, I think I said less than five words to her. My goal was to complete at under two hours, and I think she got me at 2:06. At the finish line, my Mom, Aunt and Uncle met me. My Aunt was ecstatic at my time, which was a reward all on its own, as she was incredibly active. We celebrated at the wine tasting event that took place at the finish line. I sipped local wine, proud but exhausted and slept in my mom's car for the two hour commute it took to get to my own.

Victoria Half Marathon

Without questions, this was the hardest run I have ever done. Physically I was all trained up, but mentally it was 13.1 Miles of grieving. I put all of my emotions into that run, which means I waited at the start line flustered, believing that I underdressed on an unexpectedly (for me) rainy day in Victoria. The music blared intending to pump us up, but it only set my nerves on fire. I started the race too quickly and within miles my hip flexor – an injury that I constantly fight with, faired up early on.

It was the largest race I’ve ever entered, and I shouldered my grief and my emotions alone. For 13 miles I recounted the tragedy of a friend unexpectedly losing her husband in a hunting accident and having to watch Mike’s cousin battle, without success, terminal cancer. These two tragic events forced me to not only question my own invincibility, but Mikes as well. My emotions came out in redundant fights and repetitive arguments regarding everything from life insurance and wills to character flaws and life choices. What should have been calmly and earnestly discussed sitting on the couched, was challenged through raised voices and at one point a flipped glass coffee table. It was 13.1 miles of questioning everything. It took miles of further running to start working on fixing myself and I reached out for professional help seeking a counselor to start working on my messy self.

Montreal Half Marathon

Kayla and I met each other through our jobs, but got to know each other from running. After jumping from a vigorous 3 miles to 8 miles, I talked Kayla into running the Montreal Half Marathon in April; this would be the first time I ran throughout the winter. Typically I switch to snowboarding and cross country skiing and transitioned into running in the spring; it was incredibly daunted by running in the ice and snow; the coldest we ran was at -18.

As our mileage increased, our conversations deepened and I realized I found my person. During one particular long run, her soon-to-be husband carried water and our coats while patiently bike-riding behind us. He was shocked we didn’t run out of things to talk about during our multi mile jaunt.

Sadly, due to COVID, an ongoing theme in our lives, the run was cancelled. Determined, Mike dropped off water bottles tied in green flagging tape for 20+ kilometers and we strategized our longest run. One freak rainstorm and many miles later, on a spree, we decided to run the remaining distance and complete our Half Marathon a week before we intended. The idea of running a half marathon in Montreal appealed to me because one of my very close friends moved there, I never asked Kayla why she agreed to run it with me, but I couldn’t imagine training in such extreme weather conditions and running such a bizarre half with anyone else.

Banff Marathon

If running has taught me anything, it's that I'm incredibly goal orientated. I’ve been mentally creating an Adventure List (a post to follow in the future) of goals to strive for and items I want to acquire if we were to settle down and make Mike and my lives together more permanent  (because a house isn't enough). I have lists of short term things I’d like to do each new season, from certain hikes (Shass Mountain Trail in Fort St. James) to other adventures (White Water Rafting the Beaver River). I have long terms goals that must be met also like hiking Mount Kilimanjaro in the next five years. 

This time last year, Mike and I had nicely laid out our two year itinerary that went something along the lines of Recruiting at a Mine followed by fucking off to Australia for a year (half work, half travel), spending a season snowboarding in Smithers and then coming back home and perhaps making a few life changing decisions that will make work-contracts and long travel destinations, tricky, but still possible.  However, like everyone, COVID has thrown a wrench in our plans. Although still incredibly important to both of us, we’ve postponed Australia (and shortened it and altered it), and ended up in Smithers for a season, but as time isn’t standing still, I’m feeling the pressure to accomplish the other life goals; I’m 33 after all.

I have one other major goal I want to reach before we settle and before we commit to permenent career goals, long term mailing addresses and perhaps a tiny human. I've always known that a bullet on my Adventure List including running a marathon, and quite naturally, I've asked Kayla to join.

Kindly,

Kirstin

Either you run the day or the day runs you.