Karen Allen
ING National Capital Marathon,
Ottawa, 
May 2004

A Day in the Life of an Amateur Athlete:
Karen’s 2004 Ottawa Marathon Story
May 30, 2004

I run for several reasons. To exercise. To tone and look my best. To overcome obstacles (including myself). To relieve stress and focus my mind. To raise money for cancer research (my first husband died of cancer seven years ago and my manager is currently battling cancer).

But I’m not a particularly good runner. In fact, I’m rather slow. I’ve been running for seven years now and though I am gradually getting better, I doubt I’ll ever be competing with the Kenyans. This, then, is my story and may well be your story too – a day in the life of an amateur athlete attempting her first marathon (the ING National Capital Marathon in Ottawa, Ontario on May 30, 2004).

4:30 am
– Alarm goes off (didn’t sleep all night, so feeling pretty groggy)

4:35 am
– Second alarm goes off to ensure I get my lazy butt out of bed
– Get dressed and apply Vaseline to areas I won’t mention here

5:10 am
– Eat breakfast and drink lots of water
– Review race course (which winds past key historic attractions in Ottawa and along scenic Rideau Canal) and target times

5:30 am
– Already running late – doh!! Enlist hubbie’s help to fill water bottles

5:35 am
– Struggle to put race bib on tank top; proceed to rip race bib

5:45 am
– Slather on sunscreen; enlist hubbie’s help again
(by this point, hubbie is getting tired of taking orders)

5:55 am
– Leave house 25 minutes late

6:05 am
– Hubbie realizes I forgot my asthma inhaler, so we return home

6:10 am
– Back on the road again
– Put timing chip on shoe while hubbie drives

6:30 am
– Arrive downtown in a record 20 minutes

6:35 am
– Meet running group by fountain in Confederation Park
– Weather is beautiful...cool (11°C) and sunny
– Pee break, stretching and pictures

6:55 am
– Line up at start line
– 4,300 people are all crushed like sardines in a 1 km area
 
7:00 am
– Gun goes off
– Start walking, then jogging, and cross start line 2 minutes later
– Realize the exhilarated feeling won’t last, so try to slow down pace

7:30 am
– Wow!! 5 km already done. Hope the rest of the race is this easy!
– Worried that pace is too fast; but the rest of the group feels strong
– Pass many musical groups along the route; very uplifting

8:00 am
– 10 km done...pace is exactly on target for a 4:15 finish
– Already wondering if I can do the full 42 km at this pace

8:30 am
– 15 km done...I love those puffy white arches that mark every 5 km
– Breathing is a bit laboured – hoping to find hubbie at halfway mark

9:00 am
– Luckily find hubbie at 21 km and get inhaler
– Crowd is amazing with tons of cheering
– Pass belly dancers and a group singing “Happy Marathon to You”

9:10 am
– Lose my group as they pick up their pace
– Hear on other side of canal that marathon winner has finished in 2:11
– Think to myself, “Holy #*!!,” I still have half the race to go!
– Briefly consider swimming across canal to the finish
– Pass a nine-year-old who is also running and think, “Suck it up!”

9:30 am
– Go through puffy white arch at 25 km
– Neck and back are beginning to get really sore; legs are like lead
– Starting to get pricklies (sign of heat exhaustion), so begin dousing myself at water stations with water (temp is 18°C but sun is blazing)
– This stretch of the race is very long with few spectators

10:00 am
– Finally reach 30 km mark; still on target for 4:15 finish
– In pretty severe pain by now; starting to stop more often
– Run by a guy who says “Having fun?”; fight the urge to punch him and instead smile
– Start playing mind games with myself, saying “You just have to go another 2 km; then you can rest”

10:13 am
– Pass 32 km mark...10 km left – can I really run for another hour?
– Starting to fall behind time goal

10:26 am
– 34 km... kilometer markings seem to be getting farther apart – who the hell keeps moving the markers?
– Lower back, neck, and legs feel like they’re between vice grips
– Feel nauseous, but force myself to keep taking gels for fuel
– Look longingly at a man with an empty baby stroller and wish I could climb in

10:33 am
– 35 km...only 7 left to go
– Stopping every km now to rest and stretch legs that are seizing

10:47 am
– At Dow’s Lake; 5 km left
– Bad voice in head says, “Why don’t you jump in a paddle boat?”
– Good voice says, “Why don’t you jump in the lake?”
– Start feeling like I’m losing my mental battle

11:02 am
– 39 km...only 3 km left, but not sure I can make it
– Think of my boss who’s fighting cancer and decide to press on

11:10 am
– Glorious white puffy arch announces 40 km mark
– Crowd starts to thicken, but I’m in so much pain I barely notice
– Run by a girl who’s having an asthma attack (and is still running), and think, “If she can do it, so can I!”              
– Legs are seizing; focus on putting one foot in front of the other

11:15 am
– Only 1 km left...huge crowd is cheering wildly to bring us home
– At this point, the mental battle is won, but my body won’t move
– Have to stop with only 500 meters left: can’t move legs
– Stretch legs one last time and press on
– Finally see white arch in sight and start to sprint
– Get closer to arch and discover it says “120 meters to go” and think “#*!!” I can’t go 120 meters more!”
– Spot husband and best friend in crowd and give one last burst
– See “smile for the camera” sign and manage to grimace

11:22 am
– Cross finish line and immediately bend over to catch breath
– Tell medic I’m OK and go to get chip removed and pick up medal and Mylar blanket (to warm exhausted body)
– See a guy pass out and am very thankful it’s not me
– Find hubbie and running group (hubbie gives me a dozen roses)

12:30 pm
– Change into dry clothes and head home.

Of course, the day didn’t end there. I went home, had lunch, had an Epsom salts bath, went for a walk, and tried to stretch. My legs started seizing up, and I discovered that climbing up (and especially down) stairs is almost impossible with stiff legs. I also discovered that sitting down on a toilet requires you to engage your quadriceps (found this out when I fell off the toilet because my legs buckled). Sore back, leg spasms, nausea – you name it, I had it.

The interesting thing is, despite the pain and the fact that I told myself during the race I’d never do it again, I’m already planning my next marathon. I’ve discovered that the mental and spiritual exhilaration of completing a goal, overcoming obstacles, helping others, and letting others help you far outweighs the physical discomfort you have to endure. So for anyone who feels intimidated by my story, please don’t – it was worth it.

Karen Allen, Kanata, Ontario, November 14, 2004

Karen Allen
ING National Capital Marathon,
Ottawa, 
May 2004

A Day in the Life of an Amateur Athlete:
Karen’s 2004 Ottawa Marathon Story
May 30, 2004

I run for several reasons. To exercise. To tone and look my best. To overcome obstacles (including myself). To relieve stress and focus my mind. To raise money for cancer research (my first husband died of cancer seven years ago and my manager is currently battling cancer).

But I’m not a particularly good runner. In fact, I’m rather slow. I’ve been running for seven years now and though I am gradually getting better, I doubt I’ll ever be competing with the Kenyans. This, then, is my story and may well be your story too – a day in the life of an amateur athlete attempting her first marathon (the ING National Capital Marathon in Ottawa, Ontario on May 30, 2004).

4:30 am
– Alarm goes off (didn’t sleep all night, so feeling pretty groggy)

4:35 am
– Second alarm goes off to ensure I get my lazy butt out of bed
– Get dressed and apply Vaseline to areas I won’t mention here

5:10 am
– Eat breakfast and drink lots of water
– Review race course (which winds past key historic attractions in Ottawa and along scenic Rideau Canal) and target times

5:30 am
– Already running late – doh!! Enlist hubbie’s help to fill water bottles

5:35 am
– Struggle to put race bib on tank top; proceed to rip race bib

5:45 am
– Slather on sunscreen; enlist hubbie’s help again
(by this point, hubbie is getting tired of taking orders)

5:55 am
– Leave house 25 minutes late

6:05 am
– Hubbie realizes I forgot my asthma inhaler, so we return home

6:10 am
– Back on the road again
– Put timing chip on shoe while hubbie drives

6:30 am
– Arrive downtown in a record 20 minutes

6:35 am
– Meet running group by fountain in Confederation Park
– Weather is beautiful...cool (11°C) and sunny
– Pee break, stretching and pictures

6:55 am
– Line up at start line
– 4,300 people are all crushed like sardines in a 1 km area
 
7:00 am
– Gun goes off
– Start walking, then jogging, and cross start line 2 minutes later
– Realize the exhilarated feeling won’t last, so try to slow down pace

7:30 am
– Wow!! 5 km already done. Hope the rest of the race is this easy!
– Worried that pace is too fast; but the rest of the group feels strong
– Pass many musical groups along the route; very uplifting

8:00 am
– 10 km done...pace is exactly on target for a 4:15 finish
– Already wondering if I can do the full 42 km at this pace

8:30 am
– 15 km done...I love those puffy white arches that mark every 5 km
– Breathing is a bit laboured – hoping to find hubbie at halfway mark

9:00 am
– Luckily find hubbie at 21 km and get inhaler
– Crowd is amazing with tons of cheering
– Pass belly dancers and a group singing “Happy Marathon to You”

9:10 am
– Lose my group as they pick up their pace
– Hear on other side of canal that marathon winner has finished in 2:11
– Think to myself, “Holy #*!!,” I still have half the race to go!
– Briefly consider swimming across canal to the finish
– Pass a nine-year-old who is also running and think, “Suck it up!”

9:30 am
– Go through puffy white arch at 25 km
– Neck and back are beginning to get really sore; legs are like lead
– Starting to get pricklies (sign of heat exhaustion), so begin dousing myself at water stations with water (temp is 18°C but sun is blazing)
– This stretch of the race is very long with few spectators

10:00 am
– Finally reach 30 km mark; still on target for 4:15 finish
– In pretty severe pain by now; starting to stop more often
– Run by a guy who says “Having fun?”; fight the urge to punch him and instead smile
– Start playing mind games with myself, saying “You just have to go another 2 km; then you can rest”

10:13 am
– Pass 32 km mark...10 km left – can I really run for another hour?
– Starting to fall behind time goal

10:26 am
– 34 km... kilometer markings seem to be getting farther apart – who the hell keeps moving the markers?
– Lower back, neck, and legs feel like they’re between vice grips
– Feel nauseous, but force myself to keep taking gels for fuel
– Look longingly at a man with an empty baby stroller and wish I could climb in

10:33 am
– 35 km...only 7 left to go
– Stopping every km now to rest and stretch legs that are seizing

10:47 am
– At Dow’s Lake; 5 km left
– Bad voice in head says, “Why don’t you jump in a paddle boat?”
– Good voice says, “Why don’t you jump in the lake?”
– Start feeling like I’m losing my mental battle

11:02 am
– 39 km...only 3 km left, but not sure I can make it
– Think of my boss who’s fighting cancer and decide to press on

11:10 am
– Glorious white puffy arch announces 40 km mark
– Crowd starts to thicken, but I’m in so much pain I barely notice
– Run by a girl who’s having an asthma attack (and is still running), and think, “If she can do it, so can I!”              
– Legs are seizing; focus on putting one foot in front of the other

11:15 am
– Only 1 km left...huge crowd is cheering wildly to bring us home
– At this point, the mental battle is won, but my body won’t move
– Have to stop with only 500 meters left: can’t move legs
– Stretch legs one last time and press on
– Finally see white arch in sight and start to sprint
– Get closer to arch and discover it says “120 meters to go” and think “#*!!” I can’t go 120 meters more!”
– Spot husband and best friend in crowd and give one last burst
– See “smile for the camera” sign and manage to grimace

11:22 am
– Cross finish line and immediately bend over to catch breath
– Tell medic I’m OK and go to get chip removed and pick up medal and Mylar blanket (to warm exhausted body)
– See a guy pass out and am very thankful it’s not me
– Find hubbie and running group (hubbie gives me a dozen roses)

12:30 pm
– Change into dry clothes and head home.

Of course, the day didn’t end there. I went home, had lunch, had an Epsom salts bath, went for a walk, and tried to stretch. My legs started seizing up, and I discovered that climbing up (and especially down) stairs is almost impossible with stiff legs. I also discovered that sitting down on a toilet requires you to engage your quadriceps (found this out when I fell off the toilet because my legs buckled). Sore back, leg spasms, nausea – you name it, I had it.

The interesting thing is, despite the pain and the fact that I told myself during the race I’d never do it again, I’m already planning my next marathon. I’ve discovered that the mental and spiritual exhilaration of completing a goal, overcoming obstacles, helping others, and letting others help you far outweighs the physical discomfort you have to endure. So for anyone who feels intimidated by my story, please don’t – it was worth it.

Karen Allen, Kanata, Ontario, November 14, 2004