On your Marks, Get set...
Anyone who knows me well knows that it's been my goal to run a marathon. I've grown up as a runner, watching my Father go out almost every day of his adult life to run. I'm not sure what age I was when I started joining him. Maybe I was 12 or 13, because that's around the time I started at High School, and I used to participate in the city's cross country running meets on Mount Royal. I was never an exceptional runner, I just enjoyed the rush of it. I was blessed to grow up in Montreal, a great running city, with Mount Royal in the center for hill training . One hour and eight minutes to the top and down. In the mid-nineties it was a Summer weekend ritual for my father and I.
My friend Brahm, who used to run with me back in High School became my running partner when I moved to Toronto. Brahm and I went from 5k to 10k, eventually moving up to tackle our first half marathon, the Toronto Half, back in October 2004. I had a good day, coming in just under 2 hours, my goal time. I was eager to top that achievement.
At the end of May 2005, Brahm and I took on the half-marathon in Ottawa. I took off immediately, trying to prove I could top my Toronto record. But there was a crucial difference. Toronto was in October, and cold. Ottawa was in May, it was hot and I wasn't hydrating. At Dow's lake, about 4km from the finish line, a fog cut through my brain, my legs turned to rubber, and my body used its last energy to get me to the side of the road, where a race volunteer found me. My body had lost 3 litres of water that day. I was taken by ambulance to a hospital(I don't remember which one) where they pumped me with electrolytes to get my body working again. I will never forget the desperation I felt as I lay on a gurney, unable to move, uncertain of the damage I had done to my body. I spent 12 hours in that hospital waiting for tests that would thankfully tell me I hadn't sustained permanent heart damage (The prospect was on the table for several hours). What was supposed to be a great day turned into a nightmare.
I think I made the decision this past January that I would make a genuine run at the Ottawa Marathon. This was my way to step up to the Marathon level and erase the memory of the previous year's collapse. So I joined the running room's Hazelton lanes Marathon clinic. I did all of the practice runs, and all of my solo runs. I embraced interval training (That's walking 1 minute for every 10 minutes running), took the program seriously. The day after I managed a 33km run in 3:20 was the day I registered. The Hazelton Lanes Marathon clinic sent 6 runners to Ottawa, including myself. Having a group to run with re-assured me.
On the morning of the race, I declined to meet up with them at the Marriott (Too far to walk), and I promised I'd find them at the start line. I was lined up for the porta-potties until about three minutes before the start of the race, and I think it was only about a minute before gun time that I spotted Lorne, easiest to identify (Tall white guy with dreads, weren't too many of those there that day). It was a thrill to see everyone else, giddy and coasting on that high, ready to run. I don't think there was any "good luck" type pleasantries exchanged. We were all looking forward to a fun race.
The airhorn sounds. The race has begun!
To be continued...
My friend Brahm, who used to run with me back in High School became my running partner when I moved to Toronto. Brahm and I went from 5k to 10k, eventually moving up to tackle our first half marathon, the Toronto Half, back in October 2004. I had a good day, coming in just under 2 hours, my goal time. I was eager to top that achievement.
At the end of May 2005, Brahm and I took on the half-marathon in Ottawa. I took off immediately, trying to prove I could top my Toronto record. But there was a crucial difference. Toronto was in October, and cold. Ottawa was in May, it was hot and I wasn't hydrating. At Dow's lake, about 4km from the finish line, a fog cut through my brain, my legs turned to rubber, and my body used its last energy to get me to the side of the road, where a race volunteer found me. My body had lost 3 litres of water that day. I was taken by ambulance to a hospital(I don't remember which one) where they pumped me with electrolytes to get my body working again. I will never forget the desperation I felt as I lay on a gurney, unable to move, uncertain of the damage I had done to my body. I spent 12 hours in that hospital waiting for tests that would thankfully tell me I hadn't sustained permanent heart damage (The prospect was on the table for several hours). What was supposed to be a great day turned into a nightmare.
I think I made the decision this past January that I would make a genuine run at the Ottawa Marathon. This was my way to step up to the Marathon level and erase the memory of the previous year's collapse. So I joined the running room's Hazelton lanes Marathon clinic. I did all of the practice runs, and all of my solo runs. I embraced interval training (That's walking 1 minute for every 10 minutes running), took the program seriously. The day after I managed a 33km run in 3:20 was the day I registered. The Hazelton Lanes Marathon clinic sent 6 runners to Ottawa, including myself. Having a group to run with re-assured me.
On the morning of the race, I declined to meet up with them at the Marriott (Too far to walk), and I promised I'd find them at the start line. I was lined up for the porta-potties until about three minutes before the start of the race, and I think it was only about a minute before gun time that I spotted Lorne, easiest to identify (Tall white guy with dreads, weren't too many of those there that day). It was a thrill to see everyone else, giddy and coasting on that high, ready to run. I don't think there was any "good luck" type pleasantries exchanged. We were all looking forward to a fun race.
The airhorn sounds. The race has begun!
To be continued...
posted by Steven at 8:01 PM
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