September 17, 2016
By 2016, I had been bitten pretty hard by the marathon bug, so much that running my one local event every year was no longer enough. I had made up my mind to run two during this particular year, starting with the Fredericton Marathon in May.
Wanting to have enough time for what I considered to be a full training program (16-18 weeks), the next Maritime marathon I felt I could be ready for that year was Maritime Race Weekend in September. So I registered, determined to improve upon my performance in Freddy, where I had managed a PB of 3:26, but had failed to achieve the large gain I was searching for.
My knowledge of Maritime Race Weekend at that time was pretty limited. I knew that it was in the Eastern Passage area, that it always seemed to sell out quickly every year, and that there were… pirates and stuff. That was pretty much it.
I also knew that the 5K races – Friday evening and Saturday morning – were quite popular. But I had not heard anything about the full marathon there, and didn’t know anyone who had run it. That air of mystery made it somehow more appealing to me.
I did attempt a little research on the race, however, and informed myself as best as I could. Knowing the HRM area is fairly hilly, I wasn’t expecting a flat and fast route like the one I had run in Fredericton. Knowing also that much of it was along the coast, I also expected there would be some wind. I knew an improved performance would depend on better fitness and conditioning on my part.
After Fredericton, I felt my training had grown very stale. Running the same old workouts on the same routes was starting to affect my motivation. I clearly was in need of a shakeup.
I explained this to a more experienced runner friend, and he sympathized. He graciously offered me a more intense training program that he had used. It was a program for a sub-three hour marathon, a big step up from any previous training I had done.
I was under no illusion that I was ready to run a marathon in under three hours. But I thought, if I did the workouts, that I would see results and make some big improvements.
I embarked on the 16-week program, running some pretty tough workouts and as much as 120K per week.
Along the way, I once again took part in a few other races. At the end of May, I ran Leg 2 at the Cabot Trail Relay Race, a fun but relatively easy leg by Cabot Trail standards. In June, I ran the 10K at the Johnny Miles, and followed that up with a half marathon at the Age of Sail in August. All went pretty well.
As I got deeper into the training program, however, I started to feel like my body was not responding the way it should. While I felt and looked lean and fit, I was exhausted all the time. I was not recovering between runs. Looking back, I can see it was too much for me.
The alarm bells really started to ring during our family vacation in August, only a month or less before the race. We were camping in Pictou County, and I set out on a 30K long run, feeling dead tired before I even started. I remember struggling, and making it to about the 20K mark before I had to text Marlene, and get her to come and pick me up. I was done, defeated.
That drive home in the passenger seat of the truck… I was humiliated, ashamed, and afraid of what was to come on race day. Not exactly the air of confidence I was hoping to carry into the taper.
One thing that had excited me about this particular race was that my friend Kelly MacKinnon had decided to run it with me. A stubborn competitor who liked to log lots of mileage, Kelly was my kind of crazy runner.
But our plans to run together went off the rails when she suffered a stress fracture in her foot during training. She ended up transferring her registration to her husband Todd, who switched to the half marathon distance, with Kelly on hand as a spectator in an orthopedic boot.
My family and I camped at Shubie Park in Dartmouth on the Friday night, and Todd and Kelly picked me up there in the morning. It was a beautiful September day, and the atmosphere at the Fisherman’s Cove start/finish area was electric.
The pirate theme is pretty fun, with many volunteers and participants dressed in costumes, and plenty of Stan Rogers, Great Big Sea and Rankins tunes blasting from the sound system. I remember MC Mark Stein memorably announcing that “running with swords” was not allowed.
Having now taken part in this event a couple times, I can say the best part is in the beginning. I love the mass start, where participants in all distances head out at the same time, to the sound of thousands of feet hitting the pavement, and the salty air along the coast filling your lungs. Those first few kilometres along Shore Road are really beautiful.
By the time you reach Caldwell Road, the pack has spread out nicely, and widens even more as you turn left up the hill there.
My strategy for that race was to start out at a 4:50 pace for the first few kilometres, and then lock into a 4:40 pace for as long as I could hold it. While I was weary heading into the race, especially after a restless night of trying to sleep in the camper, the good vibes at the start line and the big crowd had injected me with a lot of energy, and I was feeling great for the first half.
In most marathons, I try to find at least one other runner who is running at a similar pace as me, and use them as sort of a moving marker for me during the race. It becomes a way to measure my progress, assuming they are maintaining a good, steady effort.
During this race I found myself behind a bald guy, who I assumed to be a Newfoundlander, because he had a place in Newfoundland listed on the back of his shirt. I zeroed in on this guy, and kept him within reach for pretty much the entire first half.
For fuel this time, I ditched the Shot Bloks and went with Honey Stingers, taking a couple waffles and a few packs of chews. I found these products much easier on the belly, and they were packed with helpful calories. Late in the race, it was still a fight to get the digestive system to cooperate though.
At around the halfway mark, the course switched to a fairly lengthy trail section, and I felt Newfie starting to slow down a bit, so I passed him. Although nice and flat, I found this section quite lonely, with no other runners or spectators around. I started to lose focus.
I do recall one of the bike volunteers telling me around this point that I was in third place, which was surprisingly good news.
By the time I exited the trail, however, I was finding times pretty tough. Just then, as I approached a water stop, I heard familiar voices cheering my name. I looked up, and there was my Aunt Nita and Uncle Wayne, and cousin Brittany holding signs and shouting their support for me. What a nice boost! And just when I really needed one.
Seeing my supporters, and getting back on the road, helped renew my focus for the tough final 10K of the race. But there are a few tough uphills to contend with late in the race that really gave me problems. My strength was waning.
I caught up to second place marathoner Daniel Mitton, and he seemed to be having similar troubles. We ran together for a little while, sharing our pain, until he said, “I might regret this,” and powered on. I wished him well. I was in survival mode.
Just when I thought there were nothing but uphills on this route, I found myself coming back down the hill on Caldwell Road, and I started to taste the finish. I knew I had fallen well off pace, but not by how much. Kelly was texting me and asking how I was. With voice-to-text, I could have easily responded, but I just didn’t have the energy.
At the bottom of the hill, where Caldwell Road meets Shore Road, I was ready to turn right and head for the finish, and was surprised when the course volunteer told me to turn left instead. In order to meet the necessary 42.2K distance, the route requires runners to go about 100m in that direction to a turnaround. I probably read about this in my pre-race research, but turning away from the finish line at that point, when you feel you’re on your last legs, seems like cruel and unusual punishment.
At around this time, top female finisher Leanne Vessey passed me by. Getting passed late in a race really sucks. It reminds you of every mistake you made along the way. But there was nothing I could do.
On I went, for the painfully slow last few kilometres to Fisherman’s Cove, where I had Marlene and the kids waiting for me, as well as Todd and Kelly, and my cheering section of Aunt Nita, Uncle Wayne and Brittany.
The atmosphere at the finish line for marathoners is much more subdued than the high-energy morning start. All the 5Kers, 10Kers, and most of the half marathoners have finished and gone home, and the volunteers are starting to look uncomfortable in their costumes.
I crossed the finish line at 3:32:50, not a time to be ashamed of, but well short of my goal. I was hoping for a PB, and had even thought about approaching a 3:15 BQ.
This ended up being my first marathon where I didn’t run a PB, as I was actually six minutes slower than my previous effort in Fredericton.
On the bright side, I ended up finishing in fourth place out of 90 marathoners, which was not too shabby. The winner was Dave Nevitt, the same guy who won my first marathon at the Age of Sail back in 2012.
Maritime Race Weekend is not really a PB marathon course, and I probably shouldn’t have expected to be faster there than I was in Fredericton. But, considering I was not as fast in Fredericton as I felt I could have been, and that I had trained so much harder for this one, I felt a big race was definitely in the cards. I was glad for the experience, but a bit disappointed in my result, having worked so hard to prepare.
It would be time to go back to the drawing board in 2017.
Commentaires