Sunday, Oct. 11 – Race Day 

I rose Sunday morning feeling calm, ready and excited for the race. I shook off my nerves the night before and thanks to the 8:45 a.m. start time, I got a good night of sleep, which is unusual for me the night before a race.

At 6:30 I ate my breakfast of toast with almond butter and jam and a banana and got dressed, packing my pockets full of Stingers and gels.

The weather was perfect. It was cloudy, 12 degrees and for the first time in two days, it wasn’t raining. I thanked the weather Gods for not having to worry about a jacket or gloves or any of that nonsense.

I met the team near the start line and after a quick warm-up and several trips to the port-o-potties (just in case!), it was time to find our pace bunny in the chute. The UofC Marathon Training crew gathered together a little bit behind the 4:30 pace bunny even though some of us would be slower, and some of us faster than that. After training with these people all season I couldn’t imagine starting the race without them.

The starting chute was buzzing with nervous energy and I could feel the excitement and anticipation building up in my chest. We were all messing around and laughing but at the

same time kept looking at each other and saying, “Are we really about to do this?”. Finally, the race officials started to count down. As the pack moved closer and closer to the start line all I could think was, “Omg, this is happening, we are going to run a marathon.”

The race started and slowly we picked up speed, hitting a run just as we crossed over the start line.

Here is a breakdown of how my race went:

1 to 5km: Running’s a breeze

Fuelled by adrenaline, the main challenge was to keep our pace slow and not tire ourselves out in the first 10k. The race began at Menzies and Kingston beside the British Columbia Legislature building. After circling the legislature, the route took us into the heart of downtown Victoria along Wharf Street. Downtown there was plenty to look at and no shortage of enthusiastic spectators to cheer us on, including the especially excited Lululemon staff in front of their store. Those guys always have the best signs.

5 to 8km: New Friends

The next three kilometres consisted of two large loops through Beacon Hill Park which was quiet, cool and beautiful. Here we met a few runners from Calgary who were both multiple marathoners and who come back to run Victoria year-after-year. We visited for a while after they heard it was my first marathon. Having that camaraderie on the trail made the miles fly by. It was somewhere in the rolling hills of Beacon Hill I realized although I was trying to take it slow that my pace was faster than I was planning for it to be. I had told my family I would be running between 6:45 and 7 minutes per kilometre but my running partner MC and I were holding closer to 6:30 per kilometre at that point. MC pointed out that it’s OK to run a little faster during the race than in training so we continued on. I caught a glimpse of Chad and Catherine on my way out of the park as I headed towards the coast.

11 to 17 km: Instant Inspiration

At around 11km we headed inland and for the next 6km we ran through the tree-lined residential streets of Oak Bay. It was somewhere along this stretch that I met Greg Tonge, a 65-year-old runner who was completing his 50th marathon. That would be a huge accomplishment in and of itself, but Greg is also visually impaired. He runs with a guide who leads him along the course in a bright yellow shirt telling him where the potholes are, when turns and hills are coming up and when they are nearing an aid station. Greg has run marathons all over the world and talking to him gave me an insightful look at just what a person can do when they put their mind to it. It was then I found out one of the great things about running a marathon, that when the road is getting tough and you need a little inspiration to keep going, all you have to do is look around.

17 to 23km: The cheering squad

At 17km we were back on the coast and heading north on a winding trail towards the turnaround point. Things started to get real as we neared the half-way marker, I was feeling strong and motivated but at the same time knew I was feeling a little more sore than I wanted to be at that point. At around kilometre 22 I was surprised to see my family and friends cheering as we passed. I wasn’t sure if they would be able to drive that far out with the road closures but they made it. The best part was since it was an out and back route I knew I would see them again.

23.5km: The turnaround point

I think it is pretty normal that reaching the turnaround point in race gives you energy but man, did it ever feel good. Knowing that from that point forward you were heading towards the finish line is absolutely motivating.

25 km: Highway to Hell

For some reason during this race almost every time we passed the entertainers they were playing some slow quiet song accompanied by a piano or acoustic guitar. While I am sure they were all very talented, it wasn’t exactly pump-up music. Luckily the rock cover band at 25km was blasting some AC/DC, putting an extra little spring in my step.

27km: My first real walk

I had been walking some of the aid stations but at 27km I made the decision to give myself an extra minute or so. MC and I separated for the last time around 28km. Our plan had been to run together until one of us needed to go ahead or back off. That time had come so for the rest of the race I was on my own.

29km: Less than helpful advice

“If you run backwards you use different muscles and it doesn’t hurt as much,” said an overly chippy boyfriend trying help his more than unimpressed girlfriend he was running the race with. As I passed the happy couple I overheard this piece of advice as he jogged backwards ahead of us and I could feel her death stare even as I was coming up behind her. I tried really hard not to laugh because the look on her face said only, “I am in pain and I want to kill you.” I was much closer to feeling how she felt than how he felt so I didn’t blame her. I hope their relationship survived that race.

30km: The bargaining begins

As we headed away from the coast and back into the residential area I no longer had a view of the ocean to keep me going. The streets all started to look the same and I started thinking to myself, “If I get to 32km, then I will only have 10km left!” At 32km I thought, “If I get to 34km then that will be the furthest I have ever ran!” Sometimes, those are the thoughts that keep you running.

35km: Cheers!

By now I had ditched my water bottle, I was tired of running through the sloped Victoria streets and the way back through the residential area seemed like it was taking SO much longer than it had on the way out. The runners had thinned out to the point where most of the time I was running with at most one or two people within sight of me. I had no idea where the next aid station was so when I passed the party house that had been handing out dixie cups of beer all morning, what do you think I did? I drank it, of course. We had been warned about the unofficial aid stations and been told that partaking was up to us but hey, I was thirsty! And it was GOOD.

36km: Pain > scenery

Refreshed by the magical cup of brew, I picked my pace back up and was rewarded by ending up back along the coast. I was approaching probably the most beautiful part of the route but unfortunately it’s hard to appreciate the scenery when you can feel every single muscle in your legs searing in pain.

37/38km: The dumbest thing I have ever done

This was the part of the race where I started walking and was actually not sure if I would get started running again. The waves crashing up against the rocks and the picturesque houses along Dallas Rd. all disappeared because all I could think of as I struggled my way up the last hill of the race was, “This is the dumbest thing I have ever done. I have never been in so much pain in my life.” My hips were tight, knees sore and every muscle in my legs felt like it was going to tear.

38.5 to 40km: Memory lapse

According to my Garmin I managed to run this bit, but to be honest my memory of this part of the race is a little (lot) fuzzy.

40 to 42.2: Finish strong

When I hit the 40k marker I realized I was almost done and it was a race to the finish.  All of a sudden the spectators reappeared and you could hear them pushing us through that last stretch. For the last two KM I knew I needed to give it all I had, there needed to be nothing left in the tank. Partly motivated by my strong desire to be done the damn race, I ran faster and faster until I could see the finish line. The fact that I could no longer feel my legs was probably a blessing. I remember passing my teammates and my family but don’t think I had the energy to cheer or even smile. With the end in sight I pushed hard to pass the last few people ahead of me.

Before the race I had envisioned jumping across the finish line fist-pumping, cheering and celebrating. That was my plan. But in those last few seconds as the finish came within reach I forgot all of that and the only thing I could think was, “Finish. Finish strong, and hold nothing back.” I ran across the line at 4:53:18. On the outside I only had the energy for the weakest smile. Inside however, I was more excited and more proud than I’ve ever been.