All I had to do to get a personal best (PB) in the full marathon was get across the finish line. That's because it was - of course - the first full marathon I would have ever done.
Sure, I'd done a
trail race a few years ago that took me about 4.5 hours (and everyone who had done marathons previously said that they were within 15 minutes of their marathon time), but I'd never ticked that bucket list goal of completing a MARATHON. The race that everyone knows about and compares to, but few people attempt. I say everyone compares to, because how many people have used the expression, "I had a marathon study session yesterday", or "I had a marathon workout" to indicate something that took a long time.
Well, I can tell you that "marathon" is so much more than a long day of hard work. "Marathon" is months of planning, and preparing, and sacrificing that leads up to the day itself. "Marathon" is running in the heat, rain,
snow,
ice, and even
freezing cold. It's running when you're
sick and running through exhaustion and pain. It's persevering when you are filled with
doubt, and running even after you think you can't take another step. It's running, pure and simple. Even when putting on your shoes and getting out the door is the hardest thing you do that day.
After all that, the day itself is really just another race. But
what a race to run!
Marathon Day.
The race was thankfully not cancelled. The week before Edmonton had been choking in smoke from all the horrific B.C. wildfires, but the winds changed on Saturday to clear away most of it - just in time! I had been watching the weather forecast for race day change almost daily: from lots of rain, to a little rain, to very hot, to - in the end - a high of 21C. Perfect conditions to run in, in my opinion!
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Picking up my race package the day before. Thanks to a timely change in wind directions that cleared the smoke, we didn't have to run in that. (See below).
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I woke up at 5am to give myself enough time to digest breakfast, and make sure I'd used the toilet so I didn't need to pee during the run. Russell and I got to the start line about 6.30am, which gave me half an hour to prepare. Russell said it was cold outside at 7C, but my nerves kept me toasty warm as I lined up in the starters corral. I met up with my pace bunnies and two of my Running Room friends (and fellow first time marathoners!).
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| At the start line:St Albert Running Room represent! |
I don't think I could quite bring myself to terms with the journey I was about to embark on. I could only think of it as another half marathon race...with a second half marathon tacked onto it. At 7am, the gun sounded, and we were off.
The Edmonton Marathon is in 2 "
loops" that are more like two out-and-backs. You start on the east loop that goes out and back 21.1k, and then a west loop that goes out 21.1k. The half marathoners would only do the west loop, and start an hour after us (8am). The 10k group would do some of the west loop, and start 3.5 hours after us (10.30am). I honestly didn't care what the 5k group was doing since they were not starting until 11.30 which is around when I wanted to be finished.
At first, I stuck right with the pace bunnies. There was a large group with us! Maybe 30 runners. I knew that by the end of the race, there would be a much smaller group, and I just hoped I was one of them. Briefly, I thought about joining the 4.45 pace group instead, as I wasn't sure I could pull off a 4.30. But a race plan is a race plan, and I was not about to renege on the plan at this stage of the game!
A few of my favourite signs I saw along the way from people who came out to cheer us on:
Good luck, random stranger!
That is a lot of work for a free banana!
Where is everyone going? Is there a SALE?!
There is no app for this! Keep going!
Best marathon I've seen all day!
You think your legs are tired? My arms are killing me; I've been holding this sign all day!
Run like someone called you a "jogger".
Stop and give me a burpee!*
Touch here to power up! (with a picture of a target)
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| A few of the AWESOME people who volunteered their time to come out and support the racers |
By 5k, one of my water bottles had fallen out of my race belt twice. In all the months of training, this had never happened. And now it happened twice in the first 5k. The first time I didn't even notice it until another runner in the group ran up to me and offered it. The second time I felt it drop and turned around - and again another kind racer picked it up for me. At that point I decided enough was enough. I would carry the stupid thing! But the good news is that there is often something that goes wrong on race day. Normally I get a horrific stitch in my side from the stress, but a malfunctioning water bottle was no biggie. I would carry it until the halfway mark (when I would cross paths with my support crew) and then drop it off.
After about 10km I realized it was easier to be "near" the group than "with" the group. First, when you're running right behind someone it is harder to watch for hazards like speed bumps or rocks/cracks in the road. Second, there were times were I felt stronger and could go a bit faster, and times where I was more tired and felt the need to slow down.
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| Two of my wonderful support crew! My friend Steph made the sign and drove up all the way from Calgary, and my incredible husband Russell went Above and Beyond husbandly duties to help me out the entire weekend. Not pictured: Russell's awesome parents, who gave up their morning to stand outside for hours and cheer me on as I ran past! |
I was feeling strong and capable as we got to the 21k marker. Knowing that my wonderful support crew of cheerers was hanging out at the 22k mark, I surged ahead to look for them. They didn't disappoint! I had thought about walking with them for a bit, but I decided I didn't want to stop. I had enough time to give my husband a quick awkward kiss and drop off the water bottle. He offered me some fresh ones, but I was stopping for water at all the aid stations and my other two bottles were full. I decided I didn't need it so declined. One of my friends came up all the way from Calgary to support me, and she ran with me for the next km or so. I was tired when she joined me, and not in the mood for much talking, so asked her to talk to me. Talk about putting someone on the spot! But she obliged and offered encouragement. She waved me on shortly after, and we moved forward.
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Wo-oah! We're over halfway there! Oh-oh! Living on a prayer!
Give me a kiss, we'll make it I swear. Oh-oh! Living on a prayer!
-Adapted from Bon Jovi
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At 24k I started to get into trouble. My heart said
go and my legs said
NO! Every few steps my quad muscles - mostly in my right leg - would seize and give out on me, forcing me to stagger a little so I didn't fall. I tried shortening my stride, and this worked for a while. But then my stride would lengthen back to it's normal reach and again my quad would give out on me and I would stagger. Through sheer grit I kept up despite this. My next support crew was the water station at about 33k, and I had told them I would be with the 4.30 bunnies and to look for me. I had to keep up with them at least to that point!
But at 30k, I finally had to concede and let the pace bunnies go ahead of me. A well intentioned half marathoner saw me dropping back and told me, "don't fall off the pace now! Just stay with them!" I knew his heart was in the right place, but honestly I wanted to smack him. I was working my absolute hardest and my heart was sinking as I watched the pace bunnies get ahead, and someone tells me to
run faster? Don't you think I would if I could?
But I knew that wasn't fair; it was the fatigue getting to me, and he was just trying to be encouraging.
I ignored him and kept going. My new goal: keep the pace bunnies in sight.
Unfortunately, with the nature of the second loop, this quickly became impossible due to all the twists and turns. By 31k I had lost them completely. And it was here that I entered a dark place. Demons whispered to give up now, because I already could envision what would happen: first the 4.45 pace bunny would pass me. And I would try to keep up with them, and fail. Then the 5 hour pace bunny would pass me and it would be the same story. And what was the point, really? I might as well walk it home from here. I didn't just hurt, I
hurt. The only sensible thing to do would be walk it in. If I power walked, I could probably finish the whole stupid thing in under 6 hours. And that's all that mattered, right? Just to finish?
But somehow I found the determination to keep going. My new race plan: keep with the pattern of doing the 10:1 run:walk ratio, and walk through the aid stations to drink water.
I had forgotten that the next aid station I saw would be filled with friends. I didn't even notice them until I was upon them. With bright smiles, they either didn't notice or didn't care the black attitude I had, and offered me cheers and encouragement, telling me that I wasn't far behind the 4.30 pacers. It lifted me up a little, even if I didn't believe them. Surely the 4.45 bunny was breathing down my neck by now. But by golly I was going to make it difficult for her to catch up!
One foot in front of the other.
I came upon one of my running friends on the course around that point who was also struggling, but I couldn't find the energy to get myself out of my black place to say hello or ask how she was doing. She was a better person than I and offered me a hello, and I think I grunted an appropriate response. We didn't stick together too long as I don't think either of us had any desire to do anything than run our own race and finish the awful thing.
Every minute of running felt like 3 minutes of running. I kept checking my watch every few seconds and chanting to myself "7 minutes to go; 7 minutes to go; 7 minutes to go" and did this for every minute until I could take that walk break. Without being able to break 4.30, I knew I just wanted to be able to say that I kept to my 10:1 the whole way through (excepting to chug water at the aid stations), even if my running was really slow.
And then I hit 38k. For whatever reason, whenever I have 4k left in a race that's when it hits me that
I'm close. I mean, except for a 5k race, of course. But for every half marathon I've ever run, the last 4k is when it finally feels like the end is in sight. And the last 3k
really feels like the end!
As I crossed the 38k marker, I started to pull myself out of my black place. I realized that a) I was almost finished, and b)
I was still under the 4.45 pace! At the rate I was going, I might even make it closer to 4.40! This cheered me considerably, and I forced myself to go a bit faster.
I took my last walk break at 4 hours 24 minutes and geared myself up for the finish.
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You can see the happy anticipation on my
face as I approach the finish line!
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At 40k I looked at my watch and knew that if I kept my pace I would finish
under 4.40. Adrenaline surged through me and I picked up the pace even more - not too much, as my silly quads kept wanting to collapse on me if I went too fast. But adrenaline does funny things. Like lessen the pain of your legs. And I couldn't stop smiling at the thought that I would finish under 4.40. I waved cheerfully to my support crew, high fived some of the random strangers who had volunteered to come out and cheer us on, and pumped my fists in the air. I couldn't see the finish line, but I could hear the announcers voice come through the speakers as I made my way into the thicker crowds.
A quick glance through the running corrals had me dip to the right to enter the marathon chute. I crossed the finish line in a respectable 4.38.25min. And I knew that I could not have gone a single step faster. I had run - for me - a near perfect race. I had kept running even when the sensible part of me wanted to give up. I had picked a perfect race plan, because if I had chosen to run with the 4.45 pacer, there is no way I would have picked up my pace that much at the end to finish so quickly. And if I had run the whole thing on my own, it would have taken a lot more mental discipline and planning than "stick with the pacer" and then "try to keep up with the pacer" and then, "run your 10:1 as fast as you can manage".
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This is my favourite picture because it captures
the emotion both my husband and I felt at the end.
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Pictured: hydrating post-run!
Not pictured: the fact that I struggled greatly
to step on and off a curb.
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Split Times - the number in the bracket is my pace between the two split time markers, not the overall split time from the start.
10k: 1.04.33min (6.27min/km)
21.1k: 2.15.16 (6.22min/km)
30k: 3.09.06 (6.02min/km)
35k: 3.46.41 (7.31min/km)
42.2k: 4.38.25 (7.10min/km)
Total time: 4.38.25
Total distance: 42.3km (hmmm, does that make me an
ultra marathoner if I ran over 42.2km? 😜)
Average pace: 6.35min/km
*this sign was from a crew of volunteers representing a gym. I don't know if anyone outside of the crew themselves actually did the burpees, as this was the final water station 3k before the finish. I was tempted to do one just to be silly, but I was worried I wouldn't get back up afterwards.
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Race completed. A journey that was worth doing.
Once.
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