The weather on Sunday was perfect, sunny skies and slightly cool temperatures, which brought about the scattered decision-making on what to wear - for almost 4 months, all my weekend long runs have been run in either rain, sleet or snow...to wake to a sunny morning, with the promise of running without gloves, hat, neck warmer, double pair of tights, or warmer jacket was a small victory in itself.
To have communicated with our running group in advance - having chosen a location at Copps Coliseum where we would meet, collect our thoughts, voice our last minute needs and apprehensions, and slowly make our way out to the corrals, was another gift -- there is nothing like spending the last few minutes easing your way to the Starting Line, knowing all your running friends are there with you, feeling the same things you are. The same friends who have shared those long runs with you, who have run up and down Gordon Street hill with you - who unknowingly share their energy and daily determination.
Waiting for the gun to go off, shoulder to shoulder with Laurie, Lisa and Melinda...and 7,000 other runners, was a great feeling! It was both calming and exciting to have my friends with me. How could anything go wrong when you spend 3 hours with people whose company you enjoy - who's running pace matches yours, who know your weakness and can give you that extra boost if they sense you faltering....and vice versa. It was a "I've got your back," without ever having to say it out loud.
Mel and I managed to (what felt like) zip through the first 10k without much issue -- a run which, months ago, would have had me psyching up for days before-hand. In fact, up to 17k and the dreaded life-bridge - generally, not the worst thing a runner can come up against, but for those of us who are not keen on walking over 'see-through' areas, such as man holes on the street, or say, a lift bridge in the middle of a long run, the experience was less than enjoyable.
Around 23k, I started feeling the effects of running far...during an event...with more adrenalin pumping than usual. Achy lower/inner left calf, sore right second toe, and a vague naggy-feeling that it was a little more challenging keeping my breathing up to pace. Mel is a beast when it comes to keeping pace -- she doesn't let down, not even a little (for which I will thank her for later)!
At 25.5k or so, you zip well downwards on the course, finally savouring a moment of gravity...a short jaunt over a little bridge then brings you to the "Heartbreak Hill" of Hamilton. While it admittedly doesn't look like much in a photograph, the 1.5k of continuous upward running (with no sight of the top of the hill due to it's continuous bends), it is a force to be reckoned with when you're so close, yet so tired. I cannot lie, I did walk approximately half of hill, in run/walk combinations. I would have thought with all the training on Gordon Street hill...
At the top of Heartbreak Hill, you heart literally can break. You can see the 27k marker about 300m away, and remember as you drove by it that morning while heading towards a parking spot, that you thought "okay, the hill, then **just** 3km more..." Right. 3k which never seems to move you closer to the finish line, even though you can, from there, see Copps Coliseum waiting for you. With a goal of finishing under 3:30, I knew I had a few minutes 'to spare,' but didn't want to 'relax' too much. As you catch your breath, and steel yourself for the last leg of the race, you also have to contend with this guy, affectionately known as the Grim Reaper.
The fans along the way are great -- from those in robes and Tim Horton's coffee cups in hand during the first 5k of the race, to those banging pots and pans at the lift bridge/16k, and those in the neighbourhoods along North Shore Boulevard in Burlington, DJ'ing, dancing, cheering, holding up signs, and rhythmically banging drums on a lonely corner at 23k. They are there, they are cheering, they are truly in awe of what we are doing...and why we are doing it.
Coming into Copps Coliseum is a great way to finish -- you run from the outdoors, and finish inside:
You can hear the crowds in stands - friends, family, all the runners who finished earlier in the race -- yelling, cheering, ringing bells...and the announcer, and your blinding view of the timing board you've been waiting to see all morning.
And if you're like me, the relief of finishing a run of such distance (to your previous longest race of 21.1k), you have tears in your eyes. Your breath catches as you come across that line, surely giving you the worst 'finish photo' in history. You're chocked up, your legs are tired, your heart is full - something's going to give.
Not only are you excited to see the Finish Line, but, you can also watch yourself finish on the big screen above the timing mats.
As you are guided to the corrals for nutrition and, more importantly, medals, you can see you family and friends cheering for you up in the stands -- per chance even garner a kiss from your wonderful, supportive spouse who waited patiently, the hour after his finish to watch you come in. I was happy and tired, soaked in my own tears, salty from ear to ear, and grinning like an idiot.
I'm going to get my medal. I earned it.
