30k A-Okay

Don't worry, I'm fine. I made it.

Sorry for the delay in posting. It's been a busy weekend and I haven't had a chance to sit down and post about my race.

On Saturday, I ran a 30 kilometre race. I have learned that in order to prepare for the full marathon, runners need to be able to run 32 k two weeks before the big day. I decided that in order to motivate myself, I would plan to run a 30k race this weekend.

I left for my father's farm at 5:30 on Friday. I hopped on the GO Train and met my sister at the Ajax station. Then we headed east on the 401, and arrived at my Dad's farm at 10:00. The first job was to repair bridge that I destroyed on my last visit. I got some gravel and some boards and got it organized. I headed to bed just before midnight.

I was out of bed and on the tractor by 7:45 the next morning and managed to pick up all the remaining bales of hay from the fields. I finished at 1:35 and jumped into the shower. My sister was angry with me because the plan had been to leave at 1:00 and then take the GO Train back into the city. She didn't want to drive downtown and the chances of us making it back in time to catch the train in time for my race were all but gone.

After a little mini-fit, she decided that I should take my father's pick-up truck. I did, and arrived in Toronto at 6:15. After packing and farting around for a few minutes, I decided to head out to the race. I caught the streetcar and made it there with 20 minutes before the race which was just about perfect since I don't stretch or warm up at all before running.

I was really nervous on the start line and considered walking away. What in the world was I getting myself into? On start line of a 30 kilometre race was the last place that I wanted to be at that moment. I'm looking around to see hundreds of people with fancy digital pace watches and half a dozen water bottles clipped to their belts. I'm standing there with nothing.

The race started off well. I was cooking along nicely and just going about my business. At one point someone came up to me and I asked him how long we'd been at it. He said about 38 minutes. He asked, "What is your pace goal?" "Pace goal?" I thought. I told him, "I have no idea. I'm just running my natural pace and will go for as long as I can." He said, "Well, you're fast."

I was surprised that he would think that, and I continued on. Mileage markers ended at the 15 k mark and I was very confused about the route. There were people on the course, but there were large gaps in between, and for much of the time I wasn't sure that I was going in the right direction. Because of this, a lot of people cheated and cut corners. When the route doubled back people would just turn around rather that running the complete course. I found it rather frustrating, and then I decided that the only important part was my time and running my own race.

The mileage markers resumed at 25 k and I was much more comfortable knowing that I was going the right direction. There were a few problems at the water stations as the volunteers were more concerned about giving water to the 15k walkers than to the 30k runners. I was absolutely drenched in sweat, and needed fluids badly, but I missed a couple of water stations because of their inattention. Actually, it really ticked me off and at one point I stopped at a table and got my own water. They were volunteers and I couldn't stay angry at them. I was thankful that the effort was there.

At the end of the race I was knackered. When I stopped, I was given a bottle of water which I finished in three steps. I grabbed two more and downed them. My knee hurt like crazy, and I could hardly stand. I managed to get to the food table, and ate a bagel, an energy bar and a banana. I stripped off my shirt and was able to ring out the sweat. I towelled off and put on a dry shirt. I walked to the portolet and got out of my soaked shorts and into dry underwear and jeans. By then the food and water hit me and I began to feel like myself again.

I continued eating and drinking and put all my running stuff away and got into my civies. My knee had stopped hurting and other than being tired, I felt fine. I went into the bar and ordered a pint of Becks. That might have been the best tasting beer of my whole life. I sat outside at a picnic table with friends as people continued to eek across the finish line.

I finished in 8th place out of 215 people with a time of 2:12:49 with a pace of 4:26 per kilometre. I didn't expect to be under 2.5 hours, and thought that if I could break the 2:30 barrier I would be very happy. I was so happy with my result, and have started to wonder if maybe this running thing is something that I'm actually good at. I'm certaintly not going to win any races, but I am really happy about finishing in the top ten.

When I started running on March 27th, my goal was to get into better shape and stop feeling like crap all the time. I ran 2 kilometres on my first day. After training for a few weeks, I decided that I needed a loftier goal and thought that finishing a half marathon would be reasonable. After running a half marathon in training a full two months before the race, I decided to just go for the full. I wanted to simply finish, but eventually qualify for the Boston Marathon. With this result and another 5 weeks of training, I really think that I can accomplish both. I can't really imagine having a time that would qualify me for anything but maybe it is possible.

So that's that.

I also got a call on Friday afternoon at 4:53 advising me that I did not get the teaching job. Looks like I'm back at square one. I'm not that upset about it. It irks me a little that this is the third time that I've narrowly missed a great opportunity, but something great is just around the corner, and I hardly have anything to complain about.