A Passion for Running

Preparations
Things could not have gone better. I got 10 hours of super quality sleep for each of the two nights prior to the marathon. I ate well, hydrated well and was feeling absolutely fantastic marathon morning. In other words, I was in perfect condition for the race.

Conditions
Overcast and 12C/54F with no wind and no rain. Absolutely perfect running conditions.

What Happened
HILLS are what happened!!

In Edmonton, we have some pretty astounding hills. Most of the big hills I climb during a training run dwarfed the majority of hills in the Victoria Marathon. That’s because in training, we run predominantly in the river valley.

However, in the Edmonton marathon, the course is run down into our river valley and then up again - we usually do this a couple of times so you end up with about 4 really good climbs. The rest of the course is largely flat because it is run above the valley.

In Kelowna, you get several very small hills and a nice downhill and the rest of the course is pretty much flat. They claim Kelowna’s is the flattest course in Canada.

In Victoria, you get kilometer after kilometer after kilometer of low grade climing. I’d say 30 out of 42 kilometers involve some sort of low grade climbing. So, to be clear, these are usually not very steep - they are long, and gradual climbs anywhere from a few hundred meters to a kilometer. Plus, there are about 3 pretty big hills as well.

At 8k, I felt like I’d done 7k of climbing. At that point, I was only a minute off pace but I could tell already it was going to be a very long day and the hills had only just begun. On each climb I lost some ground. The cumulative effect was pretty disheartening. I’d try to speed up on the downhills but they just weren’t enough to counter all the climbing I was doing.

By the half way point, I was 7 minutes off-pace. Ouch. That really hurt. I knew I didn’t have a hope in hell for a 3:30, and was pretty sure 3:45 was gone.

I got to 23km and I started dry-heaving. If you read my blog regularly, you know that for me, dry-heaves mean my heart rate is around 90%. NOT GOOD. I walked about 2 minutes and shook it off. I kept going. That was my wall. Can you believe my wall was at 23k? 23 to 27 were just awful. I struggled every step and started doing the math. I need to pick up the pace or I wouldn’t come in under 4 hours. I battled. I thought about running the race for Aaron. Would he give up? No, NO WAY. I thought about “Sister” Corinne’s tenacity going up hills. Would she give up? NO WAY.

I kept going.

I thought about all you folk in the RBF and told myself that there was no way I was going to tell a story of giving up to all of you!

I kept going.

Then, at the 25th km marker, I passed a lady I had passed at 19km. I did the math in my head. She was one of the early starters and had been on the course since 6:00 a.m. I thought, “wow, what courage” and…

I kept going.

All the while, the hills just kept coming and coming until the 40th kilometer. I dug deep thinking if I busted my ass, I might just make 4 hours. That’s when some dolt of a lady and her dog tried crossing the course in front of me. I almost went down as I tripped over the dog. I didn’t have to say anything though - the crowd took care of that.

A few hundred meters further and a horse trailer tried to cross the road in front of me! The race marshalls were yelling and screaming at him to stop and he was going to keep going until they ran in front of him! I started to think I might be roadkill before the end of the race (I certainly felt like it at that point).

One mile to go: I’m thinking I need to run an 8:00 minute mile to come in under 4 hours and all I can muster is a 9:00. I dig deep and run strong but it just isn’t enough.

I cross the finish line. I’ve finished but not anywhere near my goal.

They take my timing chip off and I get my medal and a plastic blanket wrap. No less than four people tell me how great I did. It doesn’t feel that way.

My brother sees me, gives me a “high five” and tells me “great job”. I’m close to tears but the dissapointment is so intense they don’t seem worth it.

Lori arrives and gives me a big hug and kiss. Ok, that feels nice. Not all in the world is bad.

We sit down at the fountain in front of the legislature building. I think about what I’d just done and take stock. I have the following thoughts…

I just ran a brutally tough 26 miles.
I took a chance on a very hilly course.
It didn’t pan out and that was ok. I’d taken a shot. I feel better about having taken the chance than if I would have played it safe.
Because of the gamble, I paid probably more severely from the half way point on than most people did that day and I still managed to tough it out.
That was the loneliest run I’ve ever had. I tried filling my mind with visions of friends (both real and cyber) but 26.2 miles all by your lonesome on such a difficult day is a tough way to spend four hours.

Aftermath
I’m damn proud of that run. Someday, I will get my 3:30. I will get my 3:30 but it most likely will not be in Victoria. It will be in Edmonton or in Kelowna or on another MUCH flatter course! Having run that course twice now, I honestly think I’d have to train like the Kenyans to do well on it. Meaning: I’d probably need to run on a treadmill and run an increasing grade for several miles at least once a week at race pace.

Future Plans
Funny, but I don’t have any at the moment. First time in four years I don’t have a marathon in the works. Aaron and I have already spoken about working on shorter distance speed for a while before doing another marathon. That sounds good right now. A mental break from the marathon.

Don’t worry. I’m not done. I’ll be back. It’s time to enjoy running for the sake of running for a while. To just embrace my passion for running and enjoy some “shorter” runs for a while!

Thanks everyone! You’ve all been an inspiration.