Loamy Fall Runs

Adam Campbell is a trail and mountain runner, focusing on ultra-marathons. He moved to Victoria as a triathlete and fell in love with trail running. He mostly leaves the racing bike and speedo at home these days, prefering to travel with just a pair of running shoes. 

Adam is a recent UVic law school grad and in his non-running moments he is an articling student. You can (try) to keep up with him at his blog

 or on Twitter (@campbelladam79).

We are pleased that Adam has agreed to be a regular contributor to our blog. Thanks, Adam.

Fall has always been my favourite time of year for running. I started my running addiction at high school cross-country meets and extended those experiences to university. I continue to run daily; more often than not I head out twice a day, building on the foundation of those early fall runs.

I remember my first group workouts, which could better be described as “hammerfests”, where pacing got tossed out the window and beating your teammates into the ground was the sole objective. This same strategy extended to our races, where we would go out at a suicidal pace and try to hang on for as long as possible. Success came down to those who slowed down least.

I started running wearing baggy soccer shorts, tennis, or basketball shoes and cotton t-shirts, however over the course of that first season, my shorts became shorter, my t-shirts turned to singlets and I started the long process of callousing my feet with blisters earned from wearing spikes that were two sizes too big.

Although the workouts and races were fun, I always enjoyed our long group runs the most. We would meet up after class, on Thursday afternoon, jump on a bus and drive out to a Provincial park about 20 minutes away. It always felt like we were heading off on an adventure. Our runs only lasted 45 or 60 minutes, but I remember finishing them feeling exhausted and satisfied. It’s hard work building a base, but even then we understood that running rewards hard work and the more we did, the better we would become. Inevitably, we would run too hard. We would also joke around during the runs, playing pranks on each other, which mostly involved trying to “pants” each other (pull each other's shorts down), which to a 14 year old boy is probably the funniest thing you can do, or trying to plan ambushes to catch the girls group off-guard, which is the second funniest thing to do.

On top of the camaraderie and physical effort of those outings, I also remember the crisp, clear, cold fall air, the rich tapestry of colours of the leaves carpeting the trail and the dappled light that would pierce through the thinning  foliage. What I remember most though is how soft the ground was underfoot. The rich, organic, loamy surface felt bouncy, cushioning our stride, allowing us to run harder and longer. It smelled like nature should. I liked the strength required to run up and over hills, the unpredictability of the footfall on the rocky, rooty surface and being able to splash through the odd puddle that would pool on the trail’s surface.

Last Sunday, as I did a mountain run up at Whistler, I couldn’t help but think how little has changed. My gear has gotten more technical, my runs are longer and I no longer try to pants and ambush my running partners as often, but the essence of what I love about fall running is the same. I love being outside as the seasons transition, running along a soft surface, smelling the peaty air, feeling the crisp air coating my lungs and chatting with a group of like minded friends. We share a lot of intimate and inane details with the trail, but mostly we enjoy the simple act of running. I don’t think that will ever change.

Marilyn Arsenault - On Becoming Mindful.

Marilyn Arsenault is an opera singer, a Saucony-sponsored athlete, the women's-record holder in the Goodlife Fitness Victoria Half Marathon (1:15:39), and founder and instructor of the wildly-popular Mindful Strides running clinics. 

Marilyn lives and trains in Victoria and she was gracious enough to be our inaugural guest-blogger. 

You can learn more about Marilyn and Mindful Strides at her website.

Photo credit: Jim Finlayson.

Most people who know me know that I began running competitively at the age of 35, the age when most competitive runners are thinking of retiring. Up to that point, all my focus and training was devoted to singing and having a career as an opera singer/concert performer.  It wasn’t until I met a running coach in Montreal by the name of Malcolm Balk that an interest in running was sparked. Malcolm is trained in the Pose Running Method and has written books on running and strength training using the Alexander Method; a method of teaching people proper physical use through posture. 

When I met Malcolm back in 2001, my running form was pretty weak.  I sat back, I landed on my heels and I was an over strider. As a result, I could only run for about four months before getting injured. Malcolm saw I needed help and offered to work with me to try and replace my old, sloppy running style with a new and efficient form. He also claimed that if I learned to run smoother, I would be able to be consistent and I would run a lot faster. Well, sign me up!! 

I worked weekly with Malcolm for about 4-6 months. I was a keener to the point of being a geek, I’ll admit it. I was determined that I wanted to learn to at least look like a runner. I felt self-conscious when I ran and would often run at night so I was less likely to be seen. I knew I was plodding along but I didn’t know how to change. Malcolm started me off with short, repetitive drills, much like the scales I would sing in my voice lessons. We did this for what seemed like an endless number of weeks. Running was limited to 50m strides at a time at first, so we could engrain better habits and perfect the movements using short running bouts.  I was learning how to be aware of what I was doing wrong (there was a long list) and replacing those poor-use movements with proper technique and alignment.  

Most musicians know that you can have all the talent and the best coaching and advice in the world, but without a solid foundation of good technique you will not be able to perform at the level you need to sustain a long career.  Youth, mixed in with talent, will only take you so far; inevitably youth runs out, talent starts to fade and then you have to actually know what you are doing. Careers often end prematurely this way.  So mentally, training technically as a runner made sense to me. Still, I can remember feeling frustrated in the first few weeks because I was not being allowed to run much. Where was all this going? The principles Malcolm was teaching me made sense, but when was I going to finally be allowed to actually run? 

Slowly, with Malcolm’s guidance, the strides started to smooth out and feel less clumsy. As I got used to running differently, my sloppy, heavy stride became more compact and light. I started catching glimpses of the ease we were aiming for, however these short moments would come only to go within a few steps with Malcolm calling out after me to stop.  “You lost it,” he’d say bluntly. “I did??” Ack! What happened?? I had it!! Malcolm would assure me not to panic, I would get it again; I had to trust that if I stuck with doing the drills daily with awareness and precision, my legs would finally find and hold the new muscle pattern. 

Eventually, the glimpses of freedom and ease evolved into minutes at a time. I began running longer without having to stop and Malcolm had to work harder to keep up with me in order to watch me! My usual three-month cut-off point due to shin splints or hip pain came and went. Even the general muscle soreness disappeared. I was able to run more because it was taking me less time to recover. I was getting fitter and faster which boosted my confidence. I now felt comfortable running out in daylight! Running became fun!  I shadowed Malcolm on his workshops, trying to absorb as much as I could. My analytical mind loved the technical approach that Malcolm used in his teaching. I asked questions, listened, and observed how he was able to pick out even the most subtle mistakes. 

I began seriously training and racing two years later, after we moved to Victoria from Montreal. In less than a year, I ran my first sub-40-minute 10km.  Not long after, I was running at a very decent National level. I made a couple of National teams and ran in international races, travelling to parts of the world I never thought I’d see. 

I was extremely lucky to have had great coaching over the years but I firmly believe that had I continued to run with my old running form, I would not be running today. I would have been frustrated by injuries and would have given up the sport altogether before I ever got a chance to try. That would have been a shame, yet I suspect this happens often. This is why I started Mindful Strides.

A year ago, just a week before my marathon debut, I became extremely ill. I had contracted a serious staph infection that seeded in my pubis symphysis joint in my pelvis. The infection left me bed-ridden for weeks as my pelvis was too unstable to weight-bear. Running was out of the question and I faced a long road to recovery. I decided that if I was to avoid getting depressed, I needed to be involved with running somehow. I felt this was a good time to put on some clinics and help runners learn to run better in the manner that Malcolm had helped me. 

I conducted a few weekend workshops the previous summer but wasn’t satisfied with one-off lessons; I knew participants needed more time and weekly lessons in order to develop properly and improve. I began the first clinic series in January 2011 and I was surprised at how quickly the classes filled up. It seemed that runners were ready and excited to learn technique, but the challenge for me as a teacher was that they wanted to see results almost immediately.  Safely changing muscle patterns has to be done gradually and the adjustments are often subtle. 

I do a lot to help participants sense new patterns in the class but I also expect everyone to go home and practice on their own. I even give weekly homework! The first-level clinics progress through a six-week period, giving runners a real sense of how technique and awareness can really change the way they feel while running. The second level is also six weeks long, but the groups are smaller, allowing me to do more one-on-one work and refining the skills learned in the first clinic. I also introduce resistance cords to build the hip strength most runners lack. After twelve weeks, there are very noticeable changes in the participants’ running form. 

At first I was apprehensive that people would find the process too slow, but instead the response has been extremely positive simply because they feel the results; running becomes easier and more enjoyable. Still, I am always impressed and inspired at how willing people are to spend the time it takes to learn proper technique; in my opinion a worthwhile investment for a lifetime of running.