Wanderer of the night

I’m sitting on the couch, watching TV with my laptop beside me. There’s a bottle of Mill St. Organic beer sitting on the coffee table in front of me. I can’t help but focus on how my quads are still a bit sore. And why wouldn’t they be sore? I really put in a crazy amount of effort into last night’s race. Overall, I’m quite proud. I was expecting to just go slowly and treat it like another Sunday training run, but somewhere along the way I decided to take things a bit seriously and go for it. This is my race report. More after the jump.

At the beginning, a whole group of us from the same Running Room clinic were gathered at the back of the pack of people waiting for the gun to go off. Before you knew it, the gun went off and we were moving. I decided to run with one of them from the beginning. She and I made an agreement to keep things slow at the beginning because everyone has a tendency to go blasting out of the gate, and especially for a distance like 30 kilometres that’s just asking for issues. It was fascinating for those first few kilometres. Everyone pulled up far ahead leaving me and my friend running at a steady pace right at the back. Yes, there was absolutely no one behind us. We knew though that in a short while we’d just start climbing and passing people. We looked at out watches and noticed that it wasn’t even like we were running absurdly slow at all. We were moving at about 6:45/km which is manageable. At one point a police car pulled up behind us. I guess he was just there to escort the back of the runners. What a strange feeling! One of our walk breaks came up, and I admit to being self-conscious at walking while a likely impatient officer was being forced to trail us. I got over it quickly though. Hell, that was part of his job. I wasn’t going to make him force me to go off schedule. Eventually the route took us off that road and the police quit following us.

Things went steadily, and eventually we started catching up to a few people. After a while I would spot people and like some odd video game I imagined a sound reminiscent of some scope locking onto a target. One by one we reeled them in. For a few of them I muttered to my friend that we should hold our position for a moment or two. We pulled up behind small groups and stayed there for a few moments. After everyone felt comfortable the two of us slowly pulled ahead. That strategy worked for a good while. Eventually, we came across people that we couldn’t pass, so at best we kept our pace.

The route took us through the Leslie St. Spit/Tommy Thompson Park. At the start of that section my friend had to use the restroom so I just went ahead. That area is just beautiful. The skies were overcast, and just off to the left I spied the rough waves of the lake. The roar of the rushing waters were leaving a strong impression. Now, the people running the 15K race started 1.5 hours later than we did. Their route took them through a lot of the same areas that we were running. So along that stretch, the speedy 15K racers caught up. It was such an odd feeling having a whole load of people zooming by, especially since I was at the back right at the beginning. At around the 15K mark, I actually screamed out “HALFWAY!” No one seemed to react, which kind of made me sad. Even though there was still a fair amount of light at that point I turned on my headlights. It caught the eye of a lot of people passing by. I made sure to keep a big smile on my face since I was getting extra attention.

Coming out of the Spit, I crossed the 21K mark. It’s crazy. At that point I would have finished a half marathon, and I actually had a fair bit of energy left over. Amazing. At around 23K dusk was setting in, and things were starting to get dark. Another Running Room marathon clinic member caught up to me around there. We decided to just run together from that point onward. I was starting to feel the fatigue then, so I felt fortunate to have someone I knew to help encourage me to push harder. I do know our pace went slower as we went through Ashbridge’s Bay Park, but even though it was slower it felt like I was still putting in the same amount of effort. I had to tell myself to pick up the pace even just to go at the same speed I was moving at just an hour before. Full darkness fell as we wound through the park. There were plenty of volunteers along the way with glow sticks to point out where to go, but man, that stretch felt like it went forever. Our headlights definitely helped, but it still was tough seeing where everything was. With my body aching and my head starting to fade, the darkness made me feel like I was just losing my mind. I had to tell myself “don’t panic!”

The self-assuring messages continued from that point on. At 27K I was starting to give myself the “there is no pain, just movement” message. On the last 2 kilometres, despite telling myself not to panic I was starting to freak out ever so slightly. My legs were aching so much that I felt like I would have to walk it in. Each time I just took a deep breath and pushed onward. The two of us caught up to another clinic member who was planning on walking it in. We encouraged her to run with us, so the three of us stuck together.

As we got closer to the end, there were more and more people around. Many of them already had medals hanging around their neck, but they were keen on cheering us on just as well. I was keen on cheering just as loudly as a sign of my appreciation. I was really throwing “WHOOOOO” around like it was going out of style. Along that last stretch there were a lot of people walking it out. Just as I did in Mississauga, I started cheering people were who walking with the slightest look of desperation. I still had a lot of positivity within me and was keen on sharing it with people who probably needed it.

“We are awesome!”
“The body is an amazing thing! Let’s do it!”
“Stay strong!”

I had stopped looking at my watch at that point. As we rounded the final corner, I cheered loudly. I could feel the crowd reciprocating. In the last 300 metres, the three of us agreed that we should run in together. We all joined hands and ran in together. As we did, I cheered loudly. Oh, God, I was beaming. That was an amazing race! It took a long while for me to ease up, but after getting my medal, I finally recollected my thoughts. Just look at how heavy this big and heavy this sucker is. Please don’t mind the fatigue on my face.

In the end, I crossed the line with a time of 3:28:28.9. I think that’s amazing for myself because I was expecting a time closer to four hours. I really went for it! This race is a huge confidence boost. It’s making the thought of doing a full marathon a little bit more palatable. I can do this! Yes!

Possibly related posts:

1. The first clinic night
2. Showman’s night
3. Coding on a Friday night