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 "It was going to be a repeat of Ottawa the previous year, where a knot developed just above my right knee and wouldn’t let up no matter what I did for it." |
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Cheryl Malton, Toronto Marathon October 2007
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Paul & I had the usual early-morning start, with Craig as our official race-day chauffeur and Sherpa extraordinaire making our arrival near the race start a stress-free event. As usual, I mixed and ate my instant oatmeal with dried cranberries in the car as we headed toward Nathan Philips Square, and the spot we had told the Flying Fartleks training team to gather for some pre-race camaraderie and any last-minute support they needed. There wasn’t a lot of chatting in the car – our focus had settled in and I was starting to feel the race jitters. The combination of nerves and anticipation always makes that final pre-race hour a bit of a blur. We parked the car in a free public parking lot, and started to unload our stuff from the trunk. As I pulled the “Flying Fartleks Pickering Crew 2007” sign out of the trunk, who should spoil the surprise but Mark & Helena, who had just parked their car in a spot a few spaces away from ours. We exchanged hugs and shared our nervousness with each other as we walked from the lot to the North York City Centre building. The half- marathon was starting an hour before the full marathon, so there were many half-marathoners around, looking nervous and excited. I imagine we had similar expressions on our own faces! We ran into a few other Pickering-based runners inside the City Centre building, and everyone was very supportive and gracious in wishing us well for our run. As our clinic members gathered one by one, we heard the call to the Start for the half-marathon, then the countdown. In the mirrors inside the building, I would see the runners going past the back of the building on the outside, and I could simultaneously watch the faster runners going past the front of the building – quite an interesting way to watch a race! With the halfers off and running, the City Centre space became much quieter. The level of intensity of the marathoners who remained was much higher than I had observed with the halfers. There was not a lot of laughing or chatting going on. Even among our clinic members, who are normally very chatty & funny, the mood was more reserved than normal. We found a spot to sit on the floor, and for Paul & me to try to not panic about the fact that Jim, Mitch, Tanya & Craig Cox had not yet arrived, despite having planned their car-pool meeting with more than enough time to be there on time. My cell phone rang, and it was Tanya, asking where the heck we were. Their little group was also at the City Centre but they couldn’t find us. They must have been in the adjacent building, as once I explained where to find us, they arrived within a few minutes. With the group all assembled and mostly sitting on the floor gathering their focus or pacing a bit nervously, Paul & I headed out the back door of the building for a warm-up run. At a nice easy pace, we made our way slowly around the building, seeing many other runners doing the same thing on this slightly chilly morning. Surprisingly, the port-a-potties were quite busy, despite there being lots of indoor bathrooms available inside the 2 North York buildings right at the Start line. During our warm-up, we chatted a little bit, but I used that time to draw my focus inward, to start to talk myself into being ready to run. I knew that Paul was feeling some nerves about our clinic members and their successes, but for some reason, I was not feeling that same kind of anxiety. I was absolutely confident they would have a great run, whether or not they each achieved their time goal. As for myself – I knew that I was ready in every way to hit our goal of 4:00:00 for this race. We went back to join the group for a few minutes inside the building. Last minute trips to the bathroom were taken care of, everyone did a gear check to make sure they had everything, and we walked toward the starting corral as a group. On our way to the start line, I ran into Cindy Tay, a new colleague whose husband was running. We shared a hug, and she introduced me to her husband. We wished each other a good race, and I hurried to catch up with the Fartleks. Once we were among the crowd, we stuck together –no way was anyone going to break ranks at this point and go off by themselves! There was lots of high-fiving, hugs and well wishes to and from each other. Starting on my right-hand side, I stood in front of each clinic member, took them by the hands, looked them in the eyes, and said “You’re ready. Have a great run.” When the announcer said we only had a couple more minutes before the gun, I stood in front of Paul and told him the same thing. We shared a big hug, wished each other well, and in our usual signal of solidarity, tapped each other on the fist. The music wound down, the announcer said they were not doing a traditional countdown, and then we were off! The group stayed together as we approached the mat at the start line. Partly out of sheer habit, and partly to inject some humour into an otherwise tense scenario, I yelled out the same old “3-2-1-HIT IT!” that I yelled out at the beginning of every single training run, to make sure everyone’s Garmins were synchronized for our 10-and-1 intervals. The familiar phrase ringing out made strangers nearby look at me a bit oddly, but it also seemed to make the Flying Fartleks laugh, smile and relax a bit. As we left the starting corral, there was a small crowd on hand to cheer us on. We waved to Craig and the camera as we left the start line and made a right-hand turn onto Yonge Street southbound. There were already pieces of discarded clothing of all types lining the route, as runners either got warmed up or realized that their choice of outwear was too heavy for the day. The sun peeked through the cloud cover every so often, but thankfully the sky would remain overcast for the vast majority of our mileage today! At this point, our little merry band of runners had spread out a bit, but was still mostly within shouting distance. Paul & I were with Mitch, Jim and Helena, while a small knot of folks had pulled away and were hitting their faster pace very early one. Great to see them looking so strong! I felt terrific at this point, knowing I was ready to overcome the Hogg’s Hollow Hill that causes so many runners angst going into the Toronto half- and full-marathon routes. It is 700 metres long, and a bit on the steep side. With it coming at approximately 3km into the route, we all knew we had to take it a bit easy on the way up in order to save our legs for later. As we made our way up the hill, cursing & swearing quietly but continuing to trust our training, we passed a gentleman wearing a placard of sorts which seemed to proclaim that he was planning to run 300 marathons. I didn’t get a chance to read it properly, but I heard other runners later, along the route, discussing this same fellow. On the Hogg’s Hollow Hill, there was also a gentleman in a white marathon shirt from a German race, who was hopping in and out of the flow of runners in order to take photos both up and down the hill, capturing the faces and backsides of the thousands who were toiling up the incline. The water station volunteers at the top of the hill were loud & enthusiastic, making sure we knew that we had conquered the steepest uphill portion of the run! We were still with Jim at this point, who had started to sing the PeeWee Herman song “La la la….Connect the dots!” which elicited a mixture of chuckles and groans from those around us. Paul turned to me and commented on how annoying it would be, to have to listen to that for the remainder of the race! Then Jim was gone – back to see if Helena was ok, as she was walking. Shortly after cresting Hogg’s Hollow and turning right onto Chaplin Crescent, Jim caught up with us again and explained that apparently in the mayhem of the Hill, we had missed a walk break, and that was the reason Helena was walking. While grateful that she was not injured, I was surprised with myself having missed the break! I was enjoying the view as we ran through some very nice neighbourhoods, past large homes with lush lawns & gardens. I heard a woman behind me talking about how she had met Kathrine Switzer at the race expo on Friday night, and about how thrilled she was to have received an invitation to a conference & retreat Kathrine is hosting in South Dakota next August. I turned my head and yelled out “Are you talking about South Dakota?”. When she replied that yes, she was, I said “I’ll see you there!”. I once again commented to Paul what an amazing “celebrity encounter” we had had with Kathrine on Friday afternoon at the expo, and about how much I was looking forward to speaking with her again on Monday night at the Whitby Running Room, where she was scheduled to speak. I was very grateful for the next scheduled walk-break, as it came at the end of the uninterrupted 20 minute running interval we had created for ourselves in error. I dug my Fig Newton out of my fuel belt and took a sip of my E-Load. It was comforting at this point to be into the fuelling & running rhythm, and away from the chaos of the first couple of kilometres. As we made our way past Casa Loma and down a long, steep hill, I commented to Paul about how much this particular stretch of road reminded me of the way out of the Rockcliffe neighbourhood during the Ottawa Marathon 2006. I could only hope that the pressure of running the downhill under control would not have the same devastating effect on my quads as it did in Ottawa. Jim was sprinting down the hill, yelling out “Cheap speed, baby, cheap speed!”, once again eliciting both groans and chuckles from fellow runners. We hit Rosedale Valley Road feeling pretty good at around the 15 km mark. We were near the 4 hour pace bunny, and our fuelling seemed to be going well, so we felt like we had positioned ourselves well thus far in the race. The quiet focus, though, that came to us on this beautiful stretch of road was a definite warning sign of what was to come. Even Jim noticed, and commented upon the fact that both Paul & I had become very quiet – we were not responding either positively or negatively to his banter, singing or teasing. Nor were we chatting with each other, which happens under rare circumstances. We could occasionally see Mitch’s dark curls bobbing ahead of us, and this gave us a measure of comfort. Rosedale Valley Road is an absolutely stunning stretch of road to run, framed my huge old trees which arch over the roadway, filtering the light. On a fall day, to have the light flickering through and between leaves that were turning to bright shades or yellow, orange and red was truly a treat. Our walk breaks seemed to get further and further apart, as it became more and more difficult to summon the mental strength to continue to power through the kilometres. The slight rolling hilliness of the bottom stretch of Bayview Ave, where we began heading into downtown, was torture for me. I knew at that point, that although I was only at kilometre 18 of the total 42.2 kilometre distance, that the downhill stretch from the start line all the way to this point had, as I feared, had a significant negative impact on my quads. It was going to be a repeat of Ottawa the previous year, where a knot developed just above my right knee and wouldn’t let up no matter what I did for it. Running across Wellington towards the halfway point, I asked Paul how he was doing. The response I got was something along the lines of “I hurt. This sucks.”, with which I completely agreed! We were exactly on time at the halfway mark to hit our time goal, which felt like the only good thing going on at that point. The portion of the run that went through downtown was less than scenic, and running on roads which also include streetcar tracks can be a bit dicey, but we emerged from the office towers to make the left-hand turn down York St toward the lake. Being very familiar with the roads and views in this part of downtown, there were few distractions to take my focus off the knot that was forming in my right thigh. There were also very few spectators along this stretch to keep us motivated. We still weren’t talking much, but as we entered the Martin Goodman Trail, I knew I was going to be in trouble. I told Paul that I could feel that knot forming, which added to my stress level about whether or not I would finish, never mind be able to maintain our pace. The inevitable struck at around 20km – the muscle seized and I had to stop & stretch it out at the side of the trail. As it did in Ottawa, the stretching helped loosen that spot so that I could continue to run. I was able to hold it together and continue to run pretty well, with the occasional stop to stretch along the way. As we approached the 25km marker, I started to watch for Craig, who was waiting for our team members with a cooler filled with cold water, personalized sport drink, extra fuel etc that our students had dropped of at our house the day before. He also had that Flying Fartleks sign displayed proudly, next to the cooler. As we ran up to him, he took some photos then readied our replacement bottles for us. After a quick transfer and a “Thanks!”, Paul and I were back on the trail. By this time, other runners were also obviously suffering. We saw many many injured and exhausted marathoners doing their utmost to complete the race. At one point, I stopped at a tree to stretch my badly-cramped thing, and Paul ran back a few metres to offer a salt packet to a runner who had obviously developed a horrible cramp. I could hear Paul saying “Take a mouthful of water, dump the salt in your mouth, and then swallow. It will help!”. It made me extremely proud to be his running partner – he took time out of his own tough run to help another runner in need. That same pattern of running as far I could and then stopping to stretch went on and on. The more I hurt, the more compelled I felt to be encouraging to other folks who were suffering, so there were lots of exchanges of “You can do it.”, and “Hey do you need Advil or salt?”. To that second question, we got a surprising number if emphatic “Yes!” responses, so we dispensed a few of our Advil tablets & salt packets to folks along the way, hoping it would make their marathons a bit better and hoping someone would do the same for us sometime in the future! We got to the turnaround, which was at about 30km, and had to run 2 steps up a sharp incline, about 8 steps across a concrete pad, and then down the matching decline at the other side. I think was maybe the absolute worst little stretch of whole run. It’s amazing how short, steep step-ups in the middle of a marathon can be so incredibly painful! I think I probably apologized to Paul for the millionth time right then, and got only grunt in return. Not a good sign! The grunt was followed by a short discussion about how if we didn’t have each other there, each of us would sit down and wait for a cab to arrive. Thankfully, we had each other and did not have to call a cab. On we went, still talking sporadically, and going through our lists of inspirational people to whom we dedicate kilometres when the going gets tough. Some of the usual folks were on my list – my family, my closest friends, my trainer – but this time I also had our clinic team, the Flying Fartleks listed on my paceband. They got me through a couple of tough kilometres, thinking about how hard they’ve all worked, how some of them were about to achieve something they didn’t believe they could achieve……I couldn’t think of better motivation than that for myself. We got to 35 kilometres and the water station manned by Philly’s Running Roosters, a group of Durham Region-based runners. We know some of them from the Pickering Running Room, and boy were we happy to see familiar faces by that point! I took a cup of water and pulled up short, just on the far side of the water stop. I was trying to get my fingers to hold onto an Advil when all of a sudden Ian was on my left saying encouraging things, and Patrick was on my right, giving me a hug & a kiss on the cheek. Perfect timing guys! At some point I said to Ian, “It F***ING hurts!”. He put his hand on the back of my head, and said “Only up here?”. It made me smile, even as I said, “No actually, down here too!”, as I grabbed my cramped muscle. Perhaps the best thing I heard all day was Patrick saying to our backs, “You’re looking pretty good and you’ve only got 7km left….you can do it!” At about 37km, we saw Mitch walking just ahead of us and he seemed to be in some pain. As we caught up to him, we asked how he was doing. He sort of grimaced and smiled all in one, and said that he thought both his arches had fallen and he was in terrible pain. We wished each other well, and continued on our separate ways. We were at a similar pace to a group of about 5 women, who were still chatting & laughing about various things. One of them said “Less than 5km to go!”, and suddenly I realized we were almost there. I said to Paul that her statement was the best damned thing I’d heard all day, and that we were going to make it! At the bottom of York St, we turned left and headed up towards Queen’s Park, past a huge line-up of cars with very angry looking drivers. We yelled at them to try to get them to support us, but it just wasn’t going to happen today. And then suddenly, there it was, in the distance……..Old City Hall. And behind Old City Hall, I knew, was the Finish line! We passed a friend of Paul’s from the Ottawa Running Room on the way up University and exchanged encouraging words. Despite my best efforts and the knowledge that I was almost there, I simply couldn’t do those final 3km without stretching that right quad. So, instead of being frustrated or embarrassed, I reveled in the cheers from the crowd, and I could actually believe the people who said “You’re almost there!”. As we rounded the first bit of Queen’s Park, we saw Wendy’s friendly, cheering face urging us on, so on we went! Then on the left-hand side, we came upon Paul’s parents, whom we were not expecting. The look of joy & pride on their faces, and the raw emotion on Paul’s face, were almost enough to bring me to tears. Only 400 metres to go. The final 400 metres of this race are deceptive, because the route goes all the way around the roundabout. I kept thinking about the advice we received before we did the Toronto Half Marathon a couple of years ago: ”When you think you’re finished, you’re not. Just keep running!”. It’s so true! As we came around to a spot where we could see the finish line, we could also see Craig cheering wildly for us, and some other Pickering runners as well. We had a funny exchange with those runners – as we ran up they were yelling “Go Pickering go…we don’t know your names, but you’re almost there!”. To which we replied, “Our names are written on our arms!”. Then they cheered for us by name. We ran up those final 100 metres or so with our hands up and wearing smiles, despite the fact that we missed our time goal by a significant margin. Hearing John Stanton announce us across the line was very special, particularly because he had been to Pickering a few weeks prior to speak with the Run Club at our invitation. We hugged, cried a little, and let the volunteers cut the chips off our shoes quite happily, secure in the knowledge that we had achieved a new Personal Best time for the marathon distance and that we will do it again in the very near future
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