2014 Manitoba Marathon Recap

The trip to Winnipeg was one of the best trips and most memorable marathons so far, and I reluctantly left on Sunday afternoon after the French won their World Cup match in a rather dramatic fashion. I didn’t arrive in Winnipeg until Saturday afternoon, and after checking into my hostel, the UWHostel, I promptly set about figuring out how I could watch the World Cup Matches since the rooms (UW dorms didn’t have TVs or wifi). Luckily I found a lounge with a flat screen tv and other soccer fans, where I spent a majority of the rest of the day with my legs stretched out.

Aside from a break to visit the Winnipeg Art Gallery, that’s where I spent the rest of the day. It was pouring rain for a majority of the day (foretelling the deluge I’d be under the next day), but as I had a marathon the next morning, this was exactly what I needed to stay off my feet, relax and avoid thinking about the race the next day.

Just outside my hostel

I woke up race morning in my usual and completely irrational unhurried fashion. I guess since this was my eighth marathon (in a little over two years), and it wasn’t a race but an expensive training run and bucket list check-off, I wasn’t too worried about getting to the race on time.

After a pre-race selfie (of course) and a breakfast of oatmeal and peanut butter, I drove to the University of Manitoba with no clue about where I would park, despite being warned about no parking being available on-campus (which I later learned was a blatant falsehood). I parked about a mile and a half from the start and found a couple who were racing and helped me find the start. Because the hostel didn’t have drinking fountains, I was very dehydrated, and set off to find water. After about a mile or two of walking and asking, I finally found some water, and made my to the start.

At this point, the weather was just a rather pleasant drizzle, and I was completely overdressed. At the start, I quickly overheated, and took off my long sleeved shirt and unwrapped my running rain jacket so it was partially zipped and tied around my waist (in a style that I’m sure will be fashionable across the nation next year). The rain cooled me down, and in just a tank, it was perfect for the next nine miles, which flew by. Literally.

Over those miles and through the beautiful parks in Winnipeg, the rain had been constantly increasing, and around mile 8, with water literally occluding my vision, I started to shiver and had to put my rain jacket back on. I question the brilliance of this move, as I put a wet rain jacket over my wet body, but after passing several runners who were struggling with the cold later in the race, I think it was the right choice. As the rain increased, and shoes became completely soaked through, I started to struggle as the course turned into a brutal uphill climb that looked endless and was directly into the rain.

At mile 9.

For the first time ever in a marathon this early in the race, I wasn’t sure if I would finish.

And I started to slog. Or quickly hike. Whatever.

This was way too early in the race to be struggling like this, and I anticipated the next 17 miles would be long, if not impossible.

The dreaded and much lauded marathon “wall” normally hits around mile 20, and is often related to fueling or the fact that I just ran 20 miles.

I’d eaten a healthy and substantial breakfast before the race, and started fueling around mile six, so I have no idea what happened that made mile 9 so mentally hard.  Because as I think back to that time, I was physically strong.  I may have been a bit demoralized by the buckets of water pouring down my face, and the giant sloping incline, and then the wind, which was the bane of my existence at END-Sure, but nothing that would explain this complete breakdown.

I slowed to a slog, which is really a quick march and I did that for about a half a mile.

And then, just as inexplicably as it began, the wall ended, and I started running again. In fact, starting around mile 9.5, I had some of my fastest splits (estimated as I was sans watch and phone), but I was suddenly feeling amazing. And strong.

The marathon, and long-distance running in general, is a mysterious beast.

But the next ten miles literally flew by.  In fact, and I rather regret this, I don’t even remember much of the course during this time.  I thought about about what I really wanted out of life, and where I wanted to be in a year, five years, and how I’d get there.  I’ve called this “active meditation” in the past, and I don’t have any other explanation for it other than that.  The course was hard and water was literally coursing down my face, but it was, at the same time, easy.  I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Started at mile 13, the course was decidedly, although only slightly, uphill.  At times there was a brief respite from the slope, but I spent most of the second half of the course running uphill, into the wind, and became progressively more and more soaking wet.  After the glory of the middle ten miles, the race started to get tough again around mile 19, and I again slowed my pace as I felt I seriously couldn’t be expected to run any more. I am, apparently, extremely dramatic whilst running.  Again, mile 19 was hard, but not as hard as 9, because I figured that if I could push through at mile 9, I could do it again.  And I did, but I never reached the cerebral nature of miles 9 through 19.  Instead, I found the motivation to push through, and started to feel strong.

In fact, I started to embrace how tough this course was, and, as we’ve said before, “embrace the suck.”  My legs were tired, my shoes were sloshing water with each step.  I could feel the blisters forming, and the course continued to deliberately mock me by just being enough of an incline for the indeterminable future to make it seem endless.  Since this wasn’t a “race” and I wasn’t here to prove anything to anyone, I knew I could have simply walked the rest of the course.  And while I battled with myself every mile, the realization that if I walked, it’d extend my time on the course by thirty minutes to an hour, I kept running.  One mile at a time.

Even as I ran, I felt like this race was somehow different than previous marathons.  I had no idea where I was in terms of time, but I suspected that I was faster than I’d planned to be (around a 10-minute mile).  Quite simply, I just kept going.  And while it was not a PR (my marathon PR is 3:49), it ended up being much faster than I intended, and coming from heavy training (around four hours).  To be completely honest, I don’t really care about times and speed – that’s not why I run, but this race showed me that I was improving as a runner, both physically and mentally.

The last mile of the course was an even steeper uphill climb (note to course directors everywhere: Please stop doing that.  It really sucks).  As I finished, I had to walk through what felt like a mile to even get to the water (another note to race directors), but I realized that I could have run more.

And unfortunately, as I tried to find the right bus to take me to my car, it looked like I might have to.  As I spoke to a member of the race staff and explained where my car was (which was right next to a shuttle stop) he couldn’t tell me which bus to take.  Frustrated and hungry, I realized I’d have to walk, and set off in the direction I thought my car was.  Luckily for me (and maybe unluckily for them), I saw a car just pulling out of a parking lot, and desperate, I ran to them (the rain is still pouring, remember, and I was soaked through) and I knocked on their window and asked for a ride.  I’m still shocked I did this.  But I was desperate and freezing.  Their car was already full, but they graciously let me into the backseat and helped me find my car.  Final proof that Winnipeg is simply amazing.

Shivering, I made it to my car and back to the hostel, completely soaking my front seat.  I made it back to the hostel and after a 30-minute hot shower, made it back to the lounge to watch my World Cup favorite, France, trounce Honduras.

The race, like the trip, was quite simply, one of the best of my life.