It was at kilometer 27 of this year's Victoria Marathon that I knew something was different.
Exactly one year earlier, I was in the Okanagan trying to qualify for Boston at the Kelowna Marathon. The day was perfect, the weather just so. The course was flat, and I was injury free and ready to run. I needed to run it in 3 hours and 20 minutes. My previous best was 3:37...I needed 17 minutes off my PB. We weren't talking shaved seconds here. I had my work cut out. But I was ready.
Until I hit kilometer 27. This isn't the traditional "wall" we all hear about, but this is the spot where you'll start to notice the wall is soon approaching. And so yeah, on this flat, perfect course, I got smacked on the 27k mark and knew I had a major chore ahead. From there it just got uglier, and uglier...and uglier.
2 kilometers later (that's right...just 2 kilometers that felt like 10 miles) I knew Boston was off the table. Now I was bargaining with myself for a personal best. And I was feeling sick. My head pounding, my legs slogging through molasses. I peered far off for every kilometer marking praying I'd made a mistake and it was actually kilometer 42 coming up.
My poor girlfriend was waiting at the finish watching all the Boston qualifiers trot their way across the line. My confidence was obscenely large so she, naturally, was convinced I was rounding the corner within seconds. As the clock rolled onto 3:19, AC/DC began to blast through the speakers drawing all runners within earshot: "Thunder! Thunder!"
Back at kilometer 33, I shuffled a feverish pace haggling with myself. 'Okay, walk to that lamp post and then start running.' 'Yes, sounds good.' 'Hey, you were supposed to start running!' 'No, no, I thought you meant the next lamp post'.... and on it went for another 9 kilometers.
In the end, I dragged my sorry ass over the line in 3:41. No personal best. And definitely no thunder.
And now, here I was a year later at kilometer 27 again. But something was different. I felt good. I mean I felt really good. In fact, kilometer 27 was sitting on a big hill I'd been warned about and here I was striding up it and maintaining my pace.
Now I didn't want to get too ahead of myself. 27 isn't the wall. And there's still another 10km after the wall. This race was far from over. I'd tuck my thoughts away and save them for when needed...at that 20 mile mark: the wall.
Kilometer 27 turned into 28 and 29. This section of the run floated by like a dream. When thinking back on the entire race, I still linger over this section. It was all magic. The crowds, the trees.Without a doubt, Victoria is the most beautiful marathon I've run. It was my fourth, so I'm hardly an expert on the runs of the world, but this one stands out for its beautiful route.
In all the races I've run, and from what I've heard of others, the routes invariably travel through some section of town that serves one purpose...tally up those 26.2 miles. It's usually some long stretch of a whole lot of nothing that you run through, turn around then run back. Spectators tend to avoid these areas so you're usually navigating the tedium on your own.
Even Vancouver, one of the most beautiful cities in the world (and yes, I've been to a number of cities around the world) manages to drag itself through one section of town worth skipping.
Not Victoria. Every turn a new neighbourhood, every hilltop lined with cheering spectators. It feels as though you're traveling through 26 distinct neighbourhoods. Likely because you are. It's the movie version of what the perfect marathon would be. It's happy. It's enthusiastic. It's desperate to see you do it. Just because you deserve it.
Was it just me thinking this? I don't know, but I was definitely feeling the love as I cruised through mile 20. Before I could register it, I was breezing past the dreaded wall. I'd maintained my pace up to this point and was consistently striding past runners clearly wrestling with their own demons.
And now, as I passed mile 20 I knew this race would be mine. I knew Boston would be mine. I could feel it. No need to be cautious with my thoughts. I let myself take it in. I'm going to qualify for Boston. I'm going to finish strong. I'm never going to stop once through the whole race.
In every marathon up to this point, I've had a terrible finish after the wall. It's been an ugly meltdown I've battled every single time. Walk half a mile, run a mile, walk, run straight to the finish. It's a mental battle of epic proportions. It's during these last 10 kilometers of a marathon that you really feel the power of your mind. You want to go on and it's throwing up every alarm telling you to stop. 'Don't take another step. You CANNOT do it. Stop right now.' It's humbling just how powerful your own thoughts can be against yourself. No matter what I tried, I was never able to overcome.
I was starting to question my own mettle. Maybe it just wasn't in me. Maybe I just didn't have the fortitude to push myself beyond my limits. Clearly, I could never be a secret agent. I'd spill every state secret at the mere suggestion of Chinese water torture.
For Victoria, I spent my final week of training preparing for the mental challenge. I visualized the race. I visualized mile 20. I created catchy mantras to repeat to myself as I ran through this dark corridor of the race. Whatever it took, I was going to run the entire race without stopping once.
But here was mile 20 and I had no battle awaiting me. No mantras I was clinging to. Checking my watch, I realized I'd easily arrive at the finish in 3 hours, 18 minutes. 2 minutes under my Boston qualifying time. That single thought gave me a boost to my already charged body.
I was really going to do it.
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