Some words about running.
2020 was a weird year. Everything that we knew to be true, changed. Hidden under the frustration and disappointment lays a silver lining. A silver lining that may have been exactly what I needed, even if I wanted something else. I wanted to race. I wanted to PB. I wanted to train hard and go after big goals. What I got was something totally unexpected, yet something totally great.
My feet were raw and tender as they pounded the hot pavement, surely blistering and likely bleeding inside my new Nike VaporFly’s. My singlet and shorts were drenched in a combination of sweat and water, heavy and sticking to my skin. I wiped away a pool of sweat from my brow and glanced down at my Garmin which read 178 in large bold font, taking up the entire watch face. This was my heart rate, a number that had gotten too high too early, once again a byproduct of the inopportune race day sun and heat. This was mile 24 of the Boston Marathon.
Well folks, I did it. I finally did it. On Saturday morning I ran the Cornwall Marathon in a personal best time of 2:56:39, nearly 3 minutes faster than what I’d run almost four years ago in Toronto. I finished 3rd overall and 1st in my category, but best of all, this race qualified me for the 2019 Boston Marathon.
I can't believe how fast this has come. All of a sudden I am wrapping up my peak week of training and am only 3 weeks out from the Cornwall Marathon. Between a few races, some horrible Ottawa winter weather, lots of travel, and a bit of an injury scare, this training cycle has really flown by. Now seems like a good time to take a step back and reflect on hows my training has gone since I ran the Hypothermic Half Marathon 5 weeks ago.
One foot in front of the other. Keep them moving. Strong form. Smooth motion. Continuous turnover. These were the things I was telling myself as I heard my feet pounding the hot pavement along with the shouts and cheers from thousands of encouraging onlookers. I'd been at this for over two hours at this point, and it wasn't getting any easier. I gave my head a quick shake and I exhaled with purpose in an attempt to snap myself out of the the delirious state of mind that had overcome me. Like an over-tired driver trying to wake himself up after continuously nodding off on a long road trip, I was convinced this would work. I winced in pain as I wiped salty sweat from my eyes and took a swig of the bottle of water that I had collected at some point from a well-wishing spectator. As I made the right hand turn onto Wentworth Avenue I gritted my teeth, dug a bit deeper and finally crossed the long-awaited 35 kilometre mat. I glanced at my watch expecting the worst.
