JW Run Blog 13: Canada Coda

Two numbers drove me to do one more marathon: 19 and 60. I've read articles about the effects that numbers have on people, and I am definitely not immune. I had done 19 marathons, a strange number to end on. And my 60th birthday was approaching. The combination of these two factors, plus a little "jump on the bandwagon" momentum from members of GNRC, pushed me to sign up for one more. My last marathon! (Until I do another one.)

The GNRC "destination race" each fall is decided by votes. The choice for 2025 was the Fall Colours Marathon in Ottawa, Canada. I perused the race website. A decent looking course. Good reviews. Consistently cool temps. A half-marathon option, so if I ended up getting injured during training, I could always downgrade to the half. The stars were aligned, so I pulled the trigger and signed up. One negative about the course: The marathon involved doing the half marathon course twice. And that course was an out-and-back (as opposed to a loop). So I'd be running the same roads four times (out-back-out-back). Downside: boring; upside: predictable. 

I designed my own training plan. I decided to drop all swimming from my regimen and focus on running plus a little biking. And weights. My typical week had me doing one long run, three easy runs, one speed workout, a couple of hour-long bikes, and three weight sessions. Was it the best of training plans? As it turns out, no, because I had too many oddities thrown in. Oddities like . . . Ragnar Trail Vermont, Ragnar Reach the Beach, a 4-day bike trip, and a foot injury. Plus, I didn't do enough long runs. I was trying to balance rigorous training vs. the risk of injury, and I erred on the side of "don't get injured." So I went into the race a bit under-trained. 

Every Wednesday I gave myself a doozy of a workout: 45 minutes of weights, 45 minutes of spin class, then 3 miles of fast running. This weird workout stemmed from my triathlon training days. It was originally swim, bike, run, but it morphed into lift, bike, run. The biking felt like hell after doing weights--especially the first 15 minutes or so. But then I had surprising pep in my step when it came to the run. It helped that my friends Robie and Ariel were doing the workout with me. She's faster than me so it pushed me to work harder on the runs. I remember one of these workouts in particular where I managed to push the run pace below 8:00 per mile. That felt amazing (afterwards, of course).  

This was actually the first time in my life I had done three weight training sessions in a week. By the end of my training I was lifting more than I ever had in the past. I remember thinking, "This is the strongest you'll ever be." Maybe. My goal with the weights was to stave off running-based injuries. Back injuries in particular had plagued me before I started with weights. The weight training worked its magic.

I struggled with the notion of how to pace the race. What should I attempt? Along came another number to mess with my head . . . 3:50. The Boston Athletic Association, which sets the qualifying times for the Boston Marathon, had recently adjusted the qualifying times for the race. And while they shaved time off of most age groups, making it harder to qualify, they let the qualifying time for the 60-64 year old group remain at 3:50. (For context, the qualifying time for 55-59 moved to 3:30.) This was clearly a sign from the heavens that I should consider a BQ. To get a 3:50, I'd have to run a pace of 8:47 per mile. On one of my last long runs before the marathon, club member Mimi encouraged me to go for the BQ, and that became my goal. 

As race date approached, the number of runners from the club who would be participating dwindled to three: me, Robie, and PJ. I was running the full, PJ the half, and Robie the 10K. We decided to drive up (7 or so hours) in a rental car. A Stephen King audiobook made the miles melt away. Before checking into the hotel, we drove the course to get a sense for how hilly it was. I'm glad we did, because it allowed me to plan for what was to come. There was one uphill section in particular that would be a challenge, and I'd be hitting it at mile 2 and again at mile 15. After checking into the hotel, we did some sight-seeing in Ottawa. (Very cool city!) We did lots of walking (not the best for the day prior to a marathon), but who goes to a new city and holes up in a hotel? 

I remember going to bed that night thinking, "What is the story of this race going to be?" It's a strange sensation knowing you're going to put yourself through hell in the near future. But for now, get some sleep.  

On marathon morning, we piled into the rental and drove out to the start, which was outside of the city. As we got closer to the venue, we hit stop-and-go traffic on the two-lane road. The rental car (a Malibu) turned the engine off every time we came to a stop. At about a mile from the parking lot entrance, it stopped and refused to re-start. A brick. What to do? PJ put it in neutral, we pushed it to the side of the road, unloaded all of our race gear, and started hoofing it to the start. This was one of those times where having run a bunch of races came in handy from a mental standpoint. We didn't let this setback get into our heads. "Just run your race, and we'll deal with the car afterwards."

My first mile clocked in at 8:45, and I settled into my pace. The weather was mid-50's and sunny. Before I got to the half-way point, however, I knew I wouldn't be able to hold that pace. Why had I decided to be so ambitious in my pacing? Had I learned nothing from my previous experience with marathons? At the half-marathon turnaround, I started envisioning a story for this marathon that paralleled my first marathon. In that race, I was under-trained, went out too fast, and crashed to the point of walking quite a bit of the last 6 miles. My time was an ugly 4:45, followed by the med tent. Would the story here be the same crash-and-burn? 

My pace slackened on the second loop--not helped by the hill at mile 15. By the turnaround point of loop 2, I was feeling pretty gassed, and shortly after that, I gave myself permission to walk after a water stop. Usually that's the kiss of death for me. But this time it didn't have that effect. I caught my breath, got my heart rate down a bit, and started running again. And to my surprise, my body recovered. I kept going. Until mile 24, at which point calf cramps started in. They forced me to walk a bit here and there to let them abate. By mile 26, the cramps came more regularly and affected both calves. It felt like someone whacking me, and I would list to one side with every whack. As I pulled into the finish area, the cramps came at a whack-whack rate. The race photographer captured one of those whacks (and a meme was born). 

Robie spotted me and yelled encouragement. I wobbled across the finish at 4:13 and keeled over. Canadians sprouted up around me offering help in their endearing lilt. They pulled me onto my feet and I wobbled into the shade and planted my ass on the ground again. Robie got me chips (salty!) and drinks. I was yanked to my feet again and wobbled out of the finish area. I hadn't purchased a race shirt, and in my bleary state of mind I decided that I needed a race shirt. A purchase was made. 

PJ, bless his heart, had finished the half and tasked himself with the car situation. That involved a tow truck, the car actually starting (damn thing), a ride into Ottawa Airport, negotiations at the rental desk, and an exchange for a Nissan. Meanwhile Robie and I caught an Uber back to the hotel. Later came beers, over-eating, and rehashing. The rehashing is where the race takes shape. I was happy with my race. I had put in a good effort. Could I have done better if I had started at a slower pace? Who knows. But running to the point of cramping, then powering through the cramps? Yeah, good effort. Have another drink.