Scotia Bank 1/2 Marathon

The cheese&chocolate diet was not one of my best ideas in preparation for the Scotia 1/2. Also, how do you prepare for a Mennonite festival, which went late into the night before the race, at the depot market across from my apartment - chants and proclamations bouncing against the building wall, pedestrians chanting in mimicry against the chants...The alarm went at 3:30am; I had a french press, toast with pb & banana; Alyson, a friend and teammate of BDP picked me up after spending the night previous at a wedding. Either we are still youthful, we can still ride changes to schedule, or together, our energy magnifies, because we were watchers of the sun rise, the fog against the fields, not slumped & heavy-lidded. We were the only ones at the border crossing. Took a nice little tour of the race course in my attempt to navigate - two of very few out and awake. We were directed to the elite tent 100 m. from the start line. "How far is 100 meters? I feel like it should be like right there?" "It's the length of a football field, didn't you know that?" "Ohmygod." At the elite tent, the director handed out our bibs (thank god for race day packet pickup), offered to take our bags in a personal van to the finish, pointed us to a private porto, a table lined with shirts, goos, energy bars, bottled water. Kip Kangogo was stretching himself out in the grass, a variety of feminine race kits in bright colors huddled beneath the tent, did strides back & forth on the pavement.

I went for a short warmup along UBC, on a path lined in sprinklers which streamed and misted already warm flesh at 7:15am. The weather was perfect. The elite women all seemed to know each other, part of a race circuit positioned to compete at various Canadian races to accrue points in a payout pyramid of sorts. Our bibs also, seemed to indicate our placement, the elite A-standard females wearing F-bibs. It was a bunch of funky women: bleached blonde hair, experimental braids, crimps, some inefficient looking materials. I liked it. It didn't seem high profile, intense, elite by way of blatant sponsorship, it seemed more individual. Whether this is true or not is questionable, but I felt good about where I was.

The director went up to each of us individually, asking if we were ready to line up. It was as if I could say No, and he would have accommodated. (I know there are fundamental differences between this race & the St. Pats 1/2 in Tacoma, but man...the respect and accommodation of the Scotia 1/2 is a world's difference.)

There weren't so many of us that I felt congested. The start, like the weather, like the feeling, was just right. I looked around at the other women's legs, thinking, What constitutes strength? What kinds of things has she done? How serious is she? I didn't feel intimidated, afraid. I felt ready, conscious of the fact that I haven't stopped going since, probably, I started training for Boston, and that this race would be a last hurrah on my bod. So, I guess I knew exactly what I had to offer & felt safe in that. The only thing I wished for (outside of myself - leaving room for magic) was to live out the dream Ber had of me nights before, clocking a 1:17:57. I kept that red-numbered time in my head the entire race. Even when I didn't think it was feasible, it remained lit.

The gun sounded. Two girls went out under 5:30's, and stayed 1-2 the whole race. It was pretty set from the start. I had that incredible first 10k where ego cloaks sanity, maintaining the first several miles at 5:40's with a group of the F-er's. This was a very informative experience. Coming from a track background, I haven't fully grasped the concept of pace miles, or, that if I take it out too fast, there's a lot more "hanging on" mileage to endure. At least I'm being honest about it, so my teammates can hold me accountable for running like an A-hole.

The other informative part was that the funky group of bright women were kind of not the good kind of A-holes. Given, another opportunity might enlighten a more sound judgment, I'm just going off of my minute-observance. When we started they were chatting, and I enjoyed listening. It's not often I get to run in a group, always finding myself in the middle of everything, alone. I'm really good at finding holes. There were a couple guys with us, one of which asked, "You guys shooting for 1:20?" The women gave each other eyes, scoffed, said, "I sure hope so," with obviousness. He didn't pick up on their standoffishness. "Well good, I'm going to stay with your group then!" A few minutes later, "So, how do you guys know each other?" Their response: Laughed at him, ignored him until someone finally said, "Dude, we don't want to talk." Then to each other, "We're really going to regret this waste of breath in a few miles." The guy was a touch new, but seeing how these women interacted with their community made me lose a little respect, that respect I had immediately offered over the casual air beneath the elite tent. I think I laughed out loud, at their handling. This is just a small moment in time, but it spoke big picture to me. The F-er's went on to maintain their 5:40 pace, and I tried to consciously ease back into the determined 5:56's I needed to get my red numbered dream.

Every time I looked at my gps, I was hovering between 5:42's and 5:59's. I wondered if I had put enough fast miles in the bank, that I could get away with slowing on the hills, but I didn't have much choice once I hit them. Noexcusesplaylikeachampion, but I was nervous about a calf cramp I'd gotten in my sleep a few nights before that hung around like a dead animal. There was no power in it on the hills, it felt like a peg leg noexcusesplaylikeachampion.

I'd call the course peek-a-boo-beautiful. You could look into the park, out against the water, but you were always weaving away from. I very much loved the downs, and would have liked the ups had I known them more intimately. For me, since the race started with 3k downhill, I felt like the hills were punishment. I would have rather earned my downs. Coming off of S2S, all I wanted was to build on what I had.



There were a few points when I thought, I can stop. I don't like it. Alyson will find me somehow. You just have to tune out, ignore how much is left, and ride the parts of the course that allow you your strengths. I got through it, finishing in 1:19:04. The elite director congratulated me at the finish line, directed me to where my things would be, to a tent set up for us to relax under (so kind). Alyson had a big smile on her face, walked hurriedly alongside the fencing to greet me with a hug. We stocked a bag full in tent freebies. Walked through Stanley Park for a while to get some of the acid out of my peg leg, and jumped into the car to head to the water for a mimosa, coffee, donuts. Back in the 'ham we met Ber for beers and USA futbol at Uisces in celebration.

Alyson had just come off a 7-minute 1/2 pr the weekend previous, and after celebrating at the wedding the night before, driving me to the race and back home, I am blown away by the magnitude of such a friendship. That's what is so exciting about life - in a moment you can have everything you could possibly ever need, and the best people can come into your life and all you did was maybe cry all of last summer and watch a lot of E! Network, and somehow you have this person in your life who means so much to you.


Scotia Bank 1/2 Marathon & 5k
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(Stats - 7/1882 Women, 1/374 25-29 Age Group, 29/3333 Overall)