Marathon #10 - My island adventure

October 14, 2018

It’s about a half-hour bus ride from downtown Charlottetown to Brackley Beach, and, on the morning of Oct. 14, 2018, that’s exactly where I found myself with the rest of the marathoners (and Leg 1 team relay runners) for the annual Prince Edward Island Marathon.

For the trip out, I sat with a guy named Adam. He was friendly enough, but definitely preoccupied. It was his first marathon, and I could tell he was pretty nervous. I tried to offer him some encouragement while offering small talk as a distraction, with the hope of being a calming influence.

I remembered all too well the mixture of fear and excitement that comes with running your first marathon. Who am I kidding? I still get that same feeling every time, and it was back for this one, my 10th full. But I think I’ve learned to control that nervous energy to some degree, and try to put it to work when I can. I never saw Adam again, but I hope he did the same.

I had been wanting to run the P.E.I. Marathon for quite awhile, and was happy to finally be there. I ran the 10K at the same event in 2014, and had a good race, enjoying the route and the finish. But I knew that, to really experience this one, I had to run the full.

Starting in the sand dunes at the Brackley Beach complex in Prince Edward Island National Park, and winding along the shoreline, through residential neighbourhoods, past farms, and through Confederation Trail before heading into Charlottetown for the finish, this marathon offers a unique point-to-point experience that has a little bit of everything of what one might expect on the island. The only thing missing is Anne of Green Gables handing out Cow’s ice cream at the water stops.

My plan was to soak all of this up, and hopefully have a good race in the process.

After my previous marathon in Yarmouth in June, I took a week off for recovery and then immediately started training for P.E.I., once again with the help of my coach, Greg Wieczorek.

Although my Yarmouth result had been a bit of a disappointment, I never really did figure out why I was slower than expected there. One of the first things I did when I started training for P.E.I., however, was to unload all of those questions and second-guessing, and focus myself on the task ahead. Once a race is run, you try and learn from it and move on. But you can’t do it over again.

Greg tweaked my training a little for this race, switching from six days of running per week to five days of running and one day of cross-training. The idea was to put more emphasis on endurance and recovery.

I don’t have any gym equipment, and the only local swimming opportunities are in the frigid Fundy waters of the Minas Channel. The type of water that hurts your ankles as soon as you step in it. For me, cross-training would be a bicycle ride.

I enjoyed my weekly bike adventures, choosing side roads like North Greville and Seal Brook. I soon realized I was faster on two feet than I was on two wheels, but the bike was a nice diversion from my other workouts.

Overall, my training went well. Now finished at my newspaper job after 23 years, I had a lot more flexibility with my training opportunities, and had no more days where I had to limit my running to the confines of a one-hour lunch break at the office.

I only missed one workout through my entire 18-week training plan (a 7K Saturday recovery run in September during the annual reunion weekend with my high school buddies). I worked hard, while trying to give my body a chance to recover and strengthen, and was happy with how everything went.

I didn’t do much racing during the lead-up to P.E.I. My only real tester race was the half marathon at Maritime Race Weekend in September. I wasn’t fast there, but the course is a bit challenging. I was satisfied with my effort. The only other race I did was Leg 2 at the Rum Runners Relay at the end of that month. A fun race at a fun event. Like at Cabot Trail, I’m all smiles for Rum Runners.

So I crossed Confederation Bridge on the Saturday before the marathon feeling strong and confident. Marlene and Neale made the trip with me, and we lodged at the Comfort Inn. I’m always so late booking a room, that I assume the “host” hotel will be filled up, so I never even tried to get in there. I received plenty messages of encouragement from family, friends, teammates and other runners, pumping me up even more for the race.

I had a decent night’s rest, and I had just enough time in the morning for a quick bite before Marlene drove me downtown to catch the bus that was shuttling runners to the start line at Brackley. P.E.I. is the only point-to-point marathon in the Maritimes, and the bus trip adds another layer of excitement to the unique experience.

“I’ll take you out there, but you’ll have to find your own way back!” joked the bus driver, as he pulled away from the curb. That got a lot of nervous chuckles.

The drive gave me just enough time to think about the race ahead and go over my game plan. Greg had checked the weather forecast, and told me to expect a strong headwind for the first few kilometres along the beach. Knowing we would be arriving there at around 7:30, I wondered how I would keep warm for that half hour before the start at 8.

I hoped the bus would stay on-site and that we could remain on board as late as possible, but that was dashed as soon as we pulled in and the driver swung the door open. The runners piled out and I headed straight for the washroom. This is always my instinct when I arrive at a race, usually to get ahead of lineups, but on this day I was thinking more about shelter, as the wind was indeed blowing cold and hard at the beach.

When I walked into the bathroom there was only one other guy in there, and it was none other than Stan Chaisson, defending champ and one of the best marathoners in the Maritimes. It was great to have a chance to chat with Stan and wish him the best, as I knew it would likely be the last I would see of him that day. He was the winner of the race again, with an amazing time of 2:34:40.

The challenge of running a marathon in October in the Maritimes is that you’re rolling the dice when it comes to weather. You could get a hot, muggy day like I had experienced at Valley Harvest the year before, or you could get wind chill and snowflakes. It makes it hard to guess at what to wear, and the answer seems to be to bring along disposable layers. I had just the answer.

When I ran the 10K at Valley Harvest in 2015, instead of getting the standard running shirt with my race kit, I received a yellow jacket, with the Valley Harvest logo on it. I’m about the farthest thing from a fashion critic you’ll ever find, but this thing was ugly. I couldn’t imagine I would ever have an occasion to wear it, but I took the jacket home and hung it in my closet.

That’s exactly where it stayed until October of 2018, when I decided I needed a throwaway jacket for the early part of my race. Fashion be damned, I was glad I had that thing on when I stepped into that wind on race morning. Waiting for the start, I parked myself behind a building away from the wind, and tried to keep moving and keep the blood flowing. No one wants to start a marathon with stiff joints and muscles. Race director Myrtle Jenkins-Smith was handing out free gloves to runners, and I happily snatched a pair.

As we headed out to the start line, I was happy to discover that Greg’s weather forecast was a bit off. The strong wind was there, but it would be at our backs for those first few kms along the beach, not in our faces. What a welcome treat that was! A nice psychological boost for sure.

At the start line I met up with MVR teammate Danielle Carter, who asked me if I was nervous.

“I’m too cold to be nervous,” I said. “Let’s get this thing going.”

It was only a few days before the race that Danielle and I discovered we were both running it. Several teammates quickly let me know that she would hand me my behind in this race. I didn’t doubt it, and she proved them right.

Through the sand dunes at Brackley / Janet Norman-Bain photo

Off we went, and I felt good. That tailwind was especially nice, but I let myself get tricked by it. The one lingering memory I had from Yarmouth was how I felt I didn’t take advantage of a tailwind early in that race, so this time I allowed myself to go out a little faster than I had planned. I averaged around a 4:45 pace for the first few kms. In hindsight, maybe I should have eased back on the throttle, but my body was telling me I was good to go.

The jacket served its purpose and I ditched it at the second water stop, around the 5K mark. Thank you, ugly Valley Harvest jacket. I hope one of the volunteers picked you up and gave you a nice home.

From there it was my white MVR singlet, and I never felt cold the rest of the way.

At around 5-6K I found myself with two others who were running at about a 4:45 pace, which was my goal for a 3:20 finish. I ran comfortably with them until the halfway mark, and didn't feel I was overdoing it. I was feeling incredible for the entire first half of the race. It was great to have people to run with.

As we turned onto the trail section at around the halfway point, we split up. One guy had just run Chicago the weekend before, and was starting to suffer, so he dropped back. The other guy picked up the pace a bit and opened a gap on me. It left me alone on the trail for the next 12K.

I love the P.E.I route, but if there’s any complaint I have about it, it’s that the trail section seems awfully long. And it comes at a point in the race where it’s crucial to stay focused. So, I found myself running solo at an inconvenient time.

I worked really hard on maintaining pace but it was difficult, because the footing was uneven and the gravel loose in some parts of the trail, and all I was seeing was trees. Still, I was doing well. Just by maintaining pace, I passed by several other runners.

Because I was feeling so good, however, I think I let my confidence get the better of me. I was starting to think I was going to easily have my best marathon ever. BQ thoughts were even entering my mind.

All of a sudden, at around 30K, things started to feel different. I felt myself slowing, and I thought "Oh no, here I go again." I convinced myself that I just needed to get through the trail, and then I would be fine.

As advertised, Danielle skipped by me at 33K, and I couldn't believe I was fading. I was rattled, but battling hard to stay focused on my race.

Giving another runner the stink-eye in the final stretch.

The trail finally ended at 34K, but I was a much different runner than the one that headed into the woods at 21K. My pace had slowed to around 5:00, and I was doing everything I had in me to get back on track. The final 8K were a miserable march to the finish, as I got passed by other marathoners, and struggled to push through the pain.

Thanks David Enman('s sister) for the photo

I crossed the finish line at 3:31:02. I know that time is nothing to be ashamed of, and it's not the time so much that disappointed me. It was knowing that I was having a really great race until that crucial final stage, and knowing what could have been.

On the plus side, it was a much better result than my spring marathon in Yarmouth (3:42:08) and previous fall marathon at Valley Harvest in 2017 (3:43:51).

I think my downfall for this race was that I ignored key areas of preparation. Although my run training went really well - I felt strong and fast throughout - I totally got away from the core strength training and better nutrition I had worked on in the spring. Every time I sneezed or coughed in the days following the race, I was reminded that my core was not strong enough for the race.

All self-criticism aside, I loved the P.E.I. race, and am satisfied with my result. But it’s one I’d love to have another shot at someday, because I know I could do it better.

With Danielle Carter at the finish line