It’s over….now what?!

Race day debrief. In one word, “awesome.” In many words….read on!

I spent Saturday drinking as much water as possible, staying off my feet, and eating specific meals; I had my race gear laid out and my bib pinned on my shirt before lunch time. In bed by 10pm. Oh, and a short run in the a.m. just to loosen up and stretch.

I woke up on Sunday morning shortly after 6am, and turned on the stove to get my oatmeal cooking. I wasn’t nervous – the kind of nervous where my stomach sickeningly flip-flops and my legs feel weak; I was simply excited. The weather was overcast and cool – perfect running weather!

My running buddy picked me up and we drove to the race site; Mark was going to meet up with us on his bike. I was glad to have my buddy’s company, and could share our excitement. We checked our bags at the Bag Check, did some warm up stretches, and then made our way to the starting area. The start area was packed, but we found our respective corral area – I was in the 1:45 finish-time corral.

Ten minutes until start time. A few final stretches. Check my laces one last time. Tighten my water belt again. One minute until start time. We move up to the start line. The elite athletes are at the front. The gun goes off. About 9,000 runners cheer and clap. Off I go!

I got a nasty side-stitch right off the bat, which lasted for about 5 kilometers, but thankfully it eventually disappeared. I spotted Mark near the War Museum, and he got a couple of photos. I stayed by the edge of the road and he cycled beside me for a little ways; that was fun. The Quebec portion of the route was uphill and downhill, and passed in a blur.

Approaching the 10 kilometer marker. Hundreds of running shoes smacking the pavement around me; the sound is wonderful. Passing the Museum of Civilization; approaching the Alexandria Bridge. I spot Mark again and he captures a few photos. On the Alexandria Bridge, I vaguely note the Peace Tower clock reads 9:15am; I have been running for 45 minutes. I am tired already, and remind myself to keep drinking my gel.

Keep going, almost half way, drink! Keep going, almost half way, drink!

The more the fatigue sets in, the more fluids I drink. My water bottles are emptied sooner than I expected; I was so anxious about not hitting the wall that my anxiety spurred me on to keep drinking. In training, I always forgot to drink. Luckily I still have my large water bottle filled with water with me, rubbing against my back and, as I later learned, leaving a raw sore spot.

Around the half way mark, I began to slow down at the water stations for about 40 seconds for a short recovery. As the race wore on, I began to anticipate the water stations with a growing sense of urgency! That was a lesson worth nothing – following the concept of the RR’s 10 and 1s (run 10 min, walk 1 min), I did an active recovery jog for 40 seconds (I couldn’t stand to slow down for a full minute), which allowed me enough of a break to maintain my pace. Going slowly through the water station put me at risk of being hit with a tossed cup of water or Gatorade by a fellow runner, and which actually did happen at one point. Luckily the light rain kept me from getting too sticky from the Gatorade.

As more rain fell, the drops mixed with my salty sweat and stung my eyes. I missed the sponge station, so had no sponge to wash the salt away.

Nearing the 14 kilometer marker. A discomfort in my right ankle begins to niggle at me. The crowds thicken along the canal. Someone I know shouts my name and I look back and wave. Bands play music, lift my spirits and help to put a spring back in my tired stride. One more hill and then the homeward stretch. Exhaustion pulls at my muscles, but I still maintain my pace. The rain continues to fall and I feel a chill.

I finally reach the 20km marker – only 1 km to go! I try to pick up my pace, and manage to do so for about 400m before realizing that I might not have enough zip to carry me all the way. Suddenly I spot the sign telling me I’m 400m from the finish. I barely pick up my pace; I feel like I’m going to vomit for all the gel in my system. 300m….200m – I’m dying, c’mon where’s the finish!!...100m….As I cross the finish line, I pump my fist in the air and come to a gasping, stumbling stop.

As soon as I stop, my legs feel like they might collapse; there is nothing left! I am wrapped in a silver thermal ‘blanket’, and pick up my medal. I slip it over my neck and relish the moment as much as I can in my foggy, exhausted state of mind. I grab a bagel, banana, yogurt and water, and find a quiet spot to stretch. I ran into another RR buddy and we exchanged our finishing times and congratulations.

I left the clogged recovery area to find Mark, and we headed home. I could barely stand to walk or stand up because of the ache in my legs! Three hours after the race, I did a cold-hot session in the bath tub, and it felt great and helped to ease the stiffness I will feel on Monday. I celebrated my race with one of the best meals I’ve had at our favorite Indian restaurant. Maybe it was the taste of sweet success!

Now today, Monday, I’m on a bit of a high; my enthusiasm and excitement from yesterday’s race are spilling over into today. I hope I don’t crash later in the week – whether from exhaustion or from depression. The race seemingly passed in a blur and I can’t believe I did it. It’s over!

What’s next? I’m already looking forward to doing another half marathon sometime. Maybe in the fall.