2020 was a weird year.
That may be the understatement of the century, but I can’t think of any other way to put it.
Everything that we knew to be true, changed. The way we work, shop, socialize, and live our day to day got flipped upside down in what seemed like an instant. 2020 certainly wasn’t what I expected, especially from a running perspective. But as I look back, it’s not necessarily a bad thing. 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.
January
On January 1st 2020, I went for a nice long run along The Beaches in Toronto. The cool, crisp January air helped break down my lingering hangover from the previous night’s celebrations and I let my mind wander. As the sun slowly set over the 4PM Lake Ontario sky, I made my resolutions. I set my goals. It went something like this:
A 2:35 marathon. That’s no small feat, but I knew I had it in me. I was coming off an incredible 2019 in which I had back-to-back near-perfect seasons. In the spring I ran a 2:52 in Boston, after taking a year off of running to travel with Katie. I built on that fitness over the summer and come October I ran a 2:41 is Toronto, an 11 minute PB just 6 months later. So what was stopping me from shaving another 6 minutes off that over the next 6 months? Nothing. Nothing would get in my way.
So in I went, into the depths of marathon training, fuelled by my undying passion and determination and guided by the teachings of my trusted coach, Hugh. Before I knew it, I was into the 100km weeks. Then 110. Then 120. I was run commuting to and from the office. (Remember the office? Remember commuting?) I was crushing workouts like it was my job. I was getting fit - fitter than I’d ever been - and I was feeling great.
I put this early season fitness to the test at the Robbie Burns 8k Road Race, my first of four planned races for the season. Robbie Burns is a classic road race in Burlington, Ontario known as an early season rust buster that attracts some strong local talent, including a few Olympians. I had a great day with friends, meeting Reid Coolsaet and racing alongside Krista Duchene, running a 28:09 for 14th overall. Confidence was high.
February
Now it’s time to really put in the work. After a great offseason post-Waterfront marathon, I got back to work in December, re-building my foundational base and layered on some solid fitness in January. February was going to be a heavy month, but I was ready. High mileage. Gruelling workouts. Endlessly hungry.
I was fortunate enough to start the month off with a visit to Los Angeles for a well-timed, mid-winter work trip. I ran my brains out in LA, exploring the diverse city streets and hitting some absolutely epic trails. I loved every second of it.
Upon my return to Toronto, I entered into a planned recovery week which entailed lower mileage, no workouts, and only easy running. It was on one of the easy runs that I first noticed a dull pain in my lower back. I chalked it up to heavy training and my 30-something year old body, but it didn’t go away. After a few days of this persistent pain, I took a few days off. It still didn’t go away, so I visited my physiotherapist only to learn that I had strained my glute med and min, which was causing the discomfort in my back. What I thought was a minor tweak ended up being and nagging injury that would keep me from running for four full weeks. A month. I was frustrated beyond belief. I was making such great progress and was finally reaching that next level. I tried to stay positive, but wasn’t always good at it. I dedicated all of my frustration and energy into recovery, which included plenty of strength work to repair this ailing glute and hours upon hours on the bike in an attempt to maintain my fitness.
March
Still injured. Still frustrated. Still determined to recover. My heart broke a little bit as I was forced to defer my entry into the Chilly Half Marathon in early March, a race that I was really looking forward to. It broke even more when I did the same for Around The Bay, a legendary 30km race that was to take place at the end of the month. But I stayed positive, patient, and calm. I did my physio exercises and rode the bike.
My hopes for a 2:35 marathon in early May began to dwindle. I had to remind myself to trust the process. 2:35 was my 2020 goal, not my spring goal. Sure, it was still possible for the spring, but don’t get caught up in that. Stay present, stay focused.
By the second week or March, I’d finally been cleared to run again after a full month off. I slowly eased my way back in, running 8km, 10km, then 12km! I was cautiously optimistic. Things were finally returning to normal.
And then COVID happened.
In a flash, everything changed. Our offices closed without warning, “temporarily” at first. Cities went into lockdown. Grocery stores had massive lines and struggled to keep essentials in stock. Don’t shake hands. No hugging. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. No one really knew what to make of what was going on.
I kept myself occupied with work and running. I prayed that we wouldn’t go into full lockdown like some countries in Europe had because I didn’t know what I would do without my daily run. It kept me sane. I focused back in on my training and continuing to strive towards that goal of 2:35 in May.
April
What we thought would last a week or two was starting to look a little bit more permanent. As lockdowns continued, we were notified by work that we would not be returning to the office until at least the end of June. The end of June. People were blown away at this, myself included. Little did we know that we would never return and that remote work was now our new normal.
And then my spring marathon was officially postponed. Shit. Despite it all, I continued to grind away with training. I was back to the 100-110km weeks and was thrilled to see that I had in fact not lost any fitness during my hiatus. But what was I working towards? Not having a goal or race on the calendar to work towards is a tricky thing. As I tried to figure it all out, my old friends at the Ottawa City Running Club announced the Team Solo Series, a virtual race series where teams of five would complete three virtual races in three weeks — a 5k, a 10k and a mile. The team with the lowest cumulative time would be declared the winner.
This was exactly what I needed. With my half marathon, Around the Bay, and my spring marathon all cancelled or postponed, this was my chance to put my fitness to the test. I teamed up with my pals Scotty, Mayo, and the Langleys (Hugh and Mere) to form our team. I’d never run a 5k or a mile race, and my 10k PB was very outdated and easily bettered in this event.
5k
First up was the 5k. I was pretty excited about it and wasn’t too worried. I was a long distance guy. “5k isn’t that far” I thought. I can manage the pain. Oh boy, I was not ready for how much this one was going to hurt. I went in trying to go sub 17:00, and just slid under that mark in a 16:48. Mad respect to 5k racers, that is a tough distance.
10k
Next up was the 10k. After my experience with the 5k, I knew I was in for no cakewalk this time around. My pervious personal best was a 37:54 at the Richmond Road Race a few years earlier, but I knew I was in sub 35:00 shape. I asked Katie to come pace me on the bike, which was an excellent decision. Trying to manage sub 3:30 pace was really tough, but she dragged me through it and I finished in a 34:36. Thrilled.
Mile
The mile terrified me the most. I like running long and I like running fast. But there’s a huge different between marathon pace and mile pace. Whenever I try to run really fast, like I would have to in the mile, I always feel so disjointed and uncontrolled. I don’t feel strong or smooth. I asked Katie o join me again on this one. I wanted to go sub 5 minutes, which would mean maintaining about 3:00 pace flat for the full 1600m. My strategy was to go out hard for the first kilometre at 3:00/km, hang on for the next 500m, then hammer as hard as I could for the final 100m. I finished the mile in 4:50, breaking the 5 minute mark, and promptly collapsed on the side of the road to catch my breath and recover. Holy crap, that was insanely hard.
I loved the OCRC Team Solo Series experience. It allowed me to put my fitness to the test, set some new PBs at some distances that I don’t often get to run, and to have some virtual fun with a bunch of my old pals. And, through it all, we raised over $3,000 for the Ottawa Food Bank. Not a bad April, all things considered.
May
By now, I’d accepted the fact that my spring race was cancelled and that I likely wouldn’t be racing again until the fall. But as May 3rd approached (the date of my marathon), I couldn’t help but feel a bit down in the dumps. I planned out a long 35km workout with some time at marathon pace, which Katie joined me for again. It was a nice way to spend what was supposed to be marathon morning, but it left me wanting more. Even though I had the chance to virtually race a 10k, 5k and mile, I still had an itch that needed scratching. I missed the long stuff.
I considered running a virtual marathon, but it didn’t really speak to me at the time. Then I thought “what if I ran an ultra?” I’d always been fascinated by the ultramarathon. Having run eight marathons, I wondered what it would be like to go longer. I began mapping out some routes for fun when I discovered that the route around the lake at the cottage was almost exactly 50km.
One morning over coffee I worked up the nerve to tell Katie my crazy idea. “I kinda want to run 50km around the lake” I said, with a touch a trepidation. “Yeah, that’d be cool” she responded without missing a beat. “Maybe I can pace you on the bike” she offered. Yes. Yes. This would be awesome. Let the planning begin.
June
June was 50k month. My first ultra marathon. I’d been clipping off 100-110km weeks consistently for the last 3 months. I added in more long runs and hills in my training. Katie and I planned out the route and fuelling plan. She’d be by my side the entire time, accompanying me on my great adventure on the bike. She called herself my “Fuel Sherpa”, loaded up with bottles of Maurten, Gatorade, extra water, and plenty of gels. But we both know that she would be much more than that.
I’d spent hours over the years running these hilly, undulating cottage roads. I knew them well. What would 50km on them feel like? How would I deal with the summer heat, which was slowly creeping its way in throughout June. How would I fuel this great endeavour? I love racing, but I equally love the process and planning that goes into training and race day. I live for this shit.
At 5:27 AM on June 21st, I set off on my grand adventure, swatting away the army of mosquitos that surrounded us. As we made our way out of the woods to the main highway, the sun slowly rose over the beautiful Kawartha terrain. It was so peaceful. Just me and my best friend, taking on another adventure together. We chatted and laughed, and sang along to The Tragically Hip which was playing on the portable speaker attached to Katie’s pack. We admired the early morning wildlife sightings; deer, rabbits, hawks, turkeys, geese, turtles and skunks.
We cruised through the half marathon mark in an hour and thirty five minutes and soon made our way into the town of Apsley, which was officially the half-way mark of the 50k, where we were met by a small but mighty group of supporters - Katies family, who never miss a chance to cheer me on, and some of the volunteers from the North Kawartha Food Bank, for whom we’d managed to raise over $2,000 in a few short week.
I was feeling good through 30k, and then 35. Katie’s family met more frequently in the back half, encouraging us along and to help restock the sherpa. By 40k I was feeling it a bit. This particular section of the route was the toughest terrain, with several rolling, steep hills that would seemingly stop you in your tracks. The sun was getting higher and warmer, forcing me to the farthest side of the road to get whatever inch of shade I could find. I crossed the marathon mark in 3 hours and 12 minutes, looked over at Katie and said “into the unknown now”.
I rode the high of that 3:12 marathon until about 44k where things started to get really hard. I was back out on the main highway and the morning sun hid risen high above the tree lines and was beating straight down on us. I quickly realized that every kilometre, every minute, every step from here on out would be more challenging than the last. This would be the longest 6km of my life.
The sherpa had done all she could do from a fuelling perspective. I couldn’t take another gel, let alone more Maurten or Gatorade. All I could stomach was little sips of water, but most of it ended up on my face and down my back to keep me cool. Now I needed her to mentally take me home. Her parents were now meeting me every kilometre, passing me a freshly soaked mega sponge to keep me cool. Those were godsends. My pace slowed from 4:30 to 4:40, then 4:50. Just hang in there. You’re not racing this thing. It was never about speed or time or splits. This was about achieving something new. Going into that unknown and coming out the other side. This was about the experience.
Katie kept up the positive motivational talk, but I was no longer talking in sentences. All I could muster between breaths was “fucking struggle street”. Damn right, I was on struggle street, but that was the only way to get to where I wanted to go.
The final 3k stretch to the finish was a familiar one, down the windy dirt cottage roads that lead to the finish. It was one that I’d done hundreds of times on training runs. But this time it was different. I finally came over the final hill and shuffled along until my watch finally beeped 50.
3 hours 48 minutes and 42 seconds.
I didn’t celebrate. There was no fist pump, “woo-hoo’s”, or epic finish line photo opp. As my watch clicked over from 49.99 to 50.00, I simply let go of whatever was holding me together and came to a slow wobbling stop on the side of the dirt road, doubling over and grabbing my thighs to keep myself from falling over. Soaking wet. Bloody nipples. Burning quads. Aching feet. Full heart. It was anti-climatic. But it was everything I wanted. I had gone into the unknown and seen what it was like. I opened a window into a whole other world that, deep down, I knew I would be exploring more of later on. I was an ultra-marathoner.
July
The post 50K recovery was real. I was pretty beat up for a few weeks, and kinda had the “post-race” blues. I tried a few short runs in the following weeks, but they sucked. The only thing that didn’t suck was the bike, so I started taking my old Raleigh on some longer rides, exploring the city. I went west past High Park. I went north of the 401. I went east all the way past Oshawa one day and had to take the train home when I realized there was no way I could ride all the way back. 50km rides, 70km rides, 90km rides. Something clicked inside me on those rides. The endurance, the distance, the exploration. It was striking a chord with me.
I’d had every intention of taking some time off running post ultra and then getting right back into the throes of marathon training for a fall race. But as time passed, it became increasingly clear that there would be no fall races. I made the decision to take the summer off running to let the body recover and to get deeper into cycling.
Katie and I invested in new bikes, getting the Trek Checkpoint gravel bikes, a huge step up from my 1980’s Raleigh. Shopify gave us every Friday off for the summer, so that became my long ride day.
I was still running here and there, but not much at all. My total mileage for all of July was 75km, far less than I’d be doing in a single week the month prior. But it was a good thing.
August
As a runner, I was mostly a lone wolf. I enjoy a good group run or easy effort with a friend, but for the most part I run and train alone. However on the bike, I enjoyed the company.
Katie and I spent a ton of time riding over the summer. We’d go out into Tommy Thompson post dinner to watch the sunset, out to Port Credit to grab a coffee, eastward to Whitby to visit the chip truck, or adventuring along the hilly cottage roads. We even did a few 100km rides, once from the cottage to Bancroft and back, and another epic ride to and from Stoufville from our front door. We loved riding together - it reminded me a lot of our time hiking and trekking a few years prior.
With Fridays off, I’d make plans for a weekly long ride with my cycling pals. Sometimes we went out as a crew, but sometimes I went out with just a pal. My friend Jon and I went up to Stoufville one day, his first 100k ride, a mark that felt like a right of passage in the cycling world. Another buddy Jeff worked shifts, so he was often off Friday mornings, which meant we spent plenty of time together on the roads. I enjoyed the camaraderie of riding with friends, but more than anything I enjoyed trying to get good at something new.
September
Back to work on Fridays, I could feel the summer fleeting us. The days were getting increasingly shorter and the mornings cooler. As my cycling mileage began to scale back, I started up with running again, bit by bit. I was doing 45km a week, then 50 and 55. I knew that I wanted to marathon train over the winter again. I had really enjoyed the time off and loved getting into cycling. I knew that there was a strong chance that there would still be no races in the spring, but I missed it. I missed running. I missed the daily routine. I missed the structure and discipline of training. I missed getting stronger, fitter and faster with every passing week. I had this feeling that the winter would be a long one. With working from home, probably COVID-related lockdowns, and dark days, I knew I would need something to keep me sane and get me outside every day.
October
80km a week, then 90 and 100. I was ramping back up and feeling great. I started going out every weekday morning for usual 60-70 minutes easy. I’d missed the trails, paths and ravines in the east end. I’d missed getting lost in a good album or enthralled in a podcast on the run. I’d missed the breathtaking sunrises along that Great Lake. Running came back relatively easy. The rest had certainly done me some good and I had even gained some serious fitness on the bike. Along with our Checkpoints, we’d also invested in a Peloton over the summer which we were loving and would certainly be essential over the cold winter months.
November
I started to plan for 2021. I had set out to run 2:35 in the marathon in 2020, which didn’t happen for obvious reasons, so that became my defacto 2021 goal. The goal, like everything else, had been deferred. I wrote down a few time goals for the mile, 5k, 10k, half and full marathons on a small post it which I stuck to the wall above my desk. I look at it every day. When I told Hugh I was ready to start thinking about training for a spring marathon again, I shared the post it note with him. “Yeah man!” he exclaimed with his undying optimism. “Let’s do it! But just one thing...” he added. “Scratch that 2:35 out and replace it with 2:29. You’re running 2:29 in 2021!”
Okay then. I guess I have work to do.
I know it sounds audacious and maybe a little crazy, but his thoughts on the matter resonated with me. 2020 wasn’t all for naught. I had put in some serious training over the past year. Even though I didn’t get to run the races I wanted to run, or shave time off that marathon PB, didn’t mean that I’d made no progress. In fact, I had made a ton of progress. On paper, it might have looked like a bust. But in reality, it was one of the most productive and successful years of training that I ever had. After all, running (or any endurance sport, or anything in life for that matter) isn’t about a single effort or performance. No single run, workout, or race will define you. It is all about hard work and consistency. Ask any elite athlete and they will tell you that success in the sport is about consistency over time and it certainly is not a linear path. 2020 is just part of that undulating path for me.
“And remember” he told me “2:29 is your 2021 goal. Maybe that happens in the spring, maybe it happens in the fall. Take it one run at a time.”
December
We are now officially into marathon training. Structured workouts, prescribed long runs, weekly mileage. This is the stuff I live for. This is what makes me tick. I love every single part of it.
If 2:29 is going to happen this spring, two things will need to happen. I will need to train hard and I’ll need to stay healthy. That first part I can almost guarantee. I know how to train hard. That second part is the wildcard. Staying healthy is the asterisk next to every marathoners’ goals. It’s something that we can control, but often fail ourselves at. Marathon training is all about pushing yourself as hard as possible, riding that fine line, without breaking. Hugh is extraordinarily good at doing this for his athletes. He knows how to challenge me and push me to the edge of my physical and mental fitness, without nudging me over that edge.
Yes, marathon training is about hard work - high mileage, punishing workouts, long runs, faster paces. But it’s equally about rest and recovery. This is where most runners get it wrong. They just go all out all of the time. Marathoning is truly about consistency and patience. Run often and run hard when you need to. But you also need to know when to hold back, when to rest, and how to recover. You need to discipline and the confidence to run easy. You need to understand the importance of strength work and mobility. You need to eat well and sleep well. Marathon training isn’t just about the time on your feet. It’s about your entire lifestyle. Find out where that fine line is and ride it all the way to race day.
As I look back on 2020, I am proud of what I have accomplished. While the end result wasn’t what I expected, I did achieve the unexpected. I never expected to race a mile, 5k or 10k, let alone achieve personal bests in all three distances. I never expected to run an ultramarathon. I never expected to take so much time off running over the summer. I never expected to get so deep into cycling. The unexpected, as it turn out, can be a good thing, no matter how terrifying it might be.
I am heading into 2021 with a keen sense of optimism, something that is hard to find these days. It’s easy to get caught in the doom and gloom of the state of the world, dragged into doom scrolling Twitter at 11PM, stressing over things out of your control. Yes, things are crazy right now, but I’m trying to focus on controlling what I can control.
So here it goes. In 2021, I will run a 2:29 marathon. Maybe it will be at a real race (fingers crossed). Maybe a small Marathon Project-esque event will pop up. Or maybe I will be time trialing this thing solo with my one and only fuel sherpa at my side. We’ll see what this next year has in store for me. If 2020 has taught me anything it’s that anything can happen.
Be good to each other, and be good to yourself.
Let’s go.
