It has now been four days since I ran the Waterloo Marathon, and I think I’d better write down some thoughts before the entire thing fades from my memory.
Before the run, I was feeling confident and a bit scared. Scared because I had never run this distance before. Confident because I had put in the time and the miles and I knew that I was ready. I was actually less nervous for this one than I was for the 30K in Hamilton at the end of March.
The weather forecast looked good. Yes, cloudy, but light wind and 10C, with 0% chance of rain. So I dodged a bullet there (more on this later). With that in mind, I decided to wear shorts and go sleeveless.
Denise and I drove over to Bechtel Park about 20 minutes before the start. Since we live five minutes from the park, we pretty much waited until the last minute. At the start line, I began to have doubts about my clothing, but I knew I would warm up.
As the race began, I tried to keep to my 6:00/km pace, but I was feeling good, and I ran faster. I felt comfortable at 5:30/km, and I didn’t have any soreness. Basically, I figured that my taper did its job and I had recovered nicely. I also knew that 5:30 was my theoretical race pace, which was enough mental ammunition to make me keep it up. As we went into the country, everything was feeling great.
The marathon course splits from the half marathon between Bloomingdale and Conestogo, about 9 km into the run. On that road, there are lots of trees and not much traffic. The terrain beside the roads looked pretty marshy. As we got to about 13 km, I felt a couple of drops of rain. Uh-oh. So much for 0% chance of precipitation. Also, I was starting to think I should have stopped at the portable toilet at 10 km. My pace was still comfortable at around 5:30/km.
At 16 km, we turned onto Maryhill Road. There was also a toilet at the turn, which I was happy about. It was even available when I got there! After a pit stop, I picked up my pace to catch up with the pack I had been running with. My peak pace was 3:56/km, and this was the fastest I moved in the entire race. Once I caught up, I slowed down to my 5:30 pace again.
Things went pretty well from there. The road turned from asphalt to gravel, which was actually kind of nice. The impact from the gravel is nicer on my joints. The rain wasn’t really coming down yet, and the wind was light. The temperature was pleasantly cool. I was a bit disappointed when we came to the end of the road; I thought we were going to make a left turn towards the city, but we went right instead. I remember this water station; I was heating up enough that I poured about half the cup over my head. It wasn’t raining yet.
I remember when we reached the next turn, one of the cyclists that was tracking the course was, I think, trying to motivate us by saying “Run”. I responded with something like “That sounds like a good idea.” Duh. We went down to Rivers Edge Drive, and finally made the left turn I was waiting for. We passed some nice old houses and came to the West Montrose bridge. This is one of the few covered bridges around, and it is the landmark for this race. Mileage check: about 25 km. I think this is about when it started raining for real. We ran through West Montrose and up to Road 86, and across to Northfield Drive.
The last 14 km were hilly, rainy, and windy. And my pace slowed to match. At this point, I was starting to realize just how long the race was. I had already been running for 28 km and I still had 14 km to go. I tried to break the race down into pieces. I knew that I had 6 km to Conestogo, then about 3 km till I was back in the city, and 5 km from there to the finish. I just had to keep motivated. I also thought a lot about having a bath and lying down on the couch when I got home. At this point, another cyclist came up behind me and I think I jumped two feet into the air. Yes, I had tunnel vision at this point.
It was raining pretty steadily by the time we reached Conestogo. I can remember making some kind of remark about how it was nice that we weren’t supposed to have rain or something. My pace had dropped to about 5:45/km by this point.
The rain got worse and worse and the wind got harder as we went up and down the rolling hills towards Waterloo. I knew if I could make it to University Avenue that I would make it to the end. But there were still 5 km to go! By then, my pace had dropped to about 6:15/km, and I was getting slower with each step. I just had to keep one foot in front of the other. A woman who turned the corner with me said she didn’t think she could feel her legs. I guess it was too cold for her. Personally, I wished I couldn’t feel my legs. My right leg was especially sore, from the blister on my foot all the way up to my hip. But I persevered.
I can remember climbing the last hill and knowing that I was going to make it. I remember turning the corner at Bridge Street in a bit of a daze, and I was confused enough that I needed to ask the police officer which side of the street I was supposed to run on. As I crossed Bridge Street, I took a hard step off the curb which didn’t feel really great, but I kept going. Right before the finish, my family was cheering me on, and I felt strong. I got a high five from a kid along the side, and ran through the finish line with a smile on my face.
It was a long walk back to the car, but it didn’t matter, because I had done it. I was sore, I was tired, I was confused, and I was very emotional, but I had reached the end. I was really happy that my family was there for the journey, and especially at the finish line.
