Tuesday, November 14, 2017

New York, New York, United States of America

In this post, I'm going to share journey from my last update to this picture. 


After months of anticipation, I found myself in New York the night before the race. I had been stressed about getting to the finish line, and slowly I was getting past all the hurdles that could keep me from getting there. I needed to get healthy. I needed to get through work. I needed to get to New York. I needed to get my race package. All accomplished. All I needed now was a good night's rest and then I'd be off in the morning. 


This is a picture of the roof of the bathroom of the apartment where we stayed. It was taken at 4:17am. I had been awake for over an hour at this point. After realizing I wasn't going to go back to sleep, I decided to lay down on the floor so as not to disturb everyone else. It was the only place left in the apartment where no one else was sleeping. As I expected, and as is the norm before a big race, I hadn't slept enough. But I was excited. 

I left the apartment at 4:30 (as planned) and started the long journey to the starting village. Logistics seemingly being the only thing that could stop me now. Three hours later, after a subway ride, a ferry ride, a bus ride, some walking and numerous safety checks, I was in the start village. I couldn't believe it. 


Just getting there in itself was an emotional experience. I was fighting back tears as I realized there was nothing else in my way. I was there. I was going to get to run this race. My logistical worries could now subside. Luckily for me, it just so happened that a photographer was there when I realized this and took this picture. I kinda wanted to celebrate and raise my arms over my head because I had arrived, but I decided to play it cool and rest them on top of my Gatorade bottle. But I couldn't hide the relief. It's painted on my face. 


The only downside to this mini-emotional high was that the race start for me was still almost 3 hours away. But as painful as it was to wait for the time to pass, it did, and before I knew it I was in the starting corral with a few other thousand people. The nerves were really starting to build at this point, but I knew more was to come. 


After a 10 minutes walk through the start village, the Verrazano Bridge emerged into sight along with the start line. It was just moments away now. The anticipation was building, overflowing and converting into emotion. I was trying my best to contain it, knowing that I was about to experience hours of emotions and I needed to keep everything together. But I couldn't. I spent the 10 minutes at the starting line fighting back tears. I was so damn excited. 




BANG! Off the went the cannons and away we went. 


The first stretch of the race was on the Verrazano Bridge. Within the first mile on this bridge I learned one thing and was deceived by another. I realized very quickly that there were so many people in this race that whatever notions I had of a finishing time were pointless. I would finish when the pack finished. Pushing was only going to result in me burning out too early. The bridge also tricked me into thinking that the race wouldn't have big crowds on the course. 

After cresting the bridge and rolling downhill into Brooklyn, my race changed. Immediately after the bridge, we were met by the first fans along the course. And wow, there were a lot. People of all ages were cheering loudly, many with signs, most making noise, and everyone having a great time. It was a massive party that just kept going. Knowing my race was going to be slow was disappointing, but it was almost immediately erased by the crowds. 


The energy from the fans brought a massive smile to my face. For the first half of the race, I soaked it all in. I ran on the side of the course and high-fived as many people as I could. I figured that the crowd would eventually calm down and dissipate. But it never did. Mile after mile, thousands of people were there. I lost track of how many times the scene I was seeing was so ridiculous that I wanted to laugh and to cry at the same time. I was overwhelming in the best way possible. I went into this race expecting to see a lot of spectators. Millions of spectators. And somehow, the day of the race exceeded my expectations.

Better than that, I was loving the diversity of the city. As we went from neighbourhood to neighbourhood, the faces changed, the buildings changed and the backgrounds changed. It became very clear that New York was a beautiful mosaic of the world. To see so many communities come out and support runners from around the world made the race even more special. 


For the first half of the race, I was floating. This was mostly because of the crowds, but also because it was the first half of a marathon. That's how it goes for me. I knew it would feel good for a while, and then it wouldn't. As the course went into Queens, my muscles were tightening, the strides were getting harder. The second half had arrived and now it was going to be hard. 

Before the race, I read about how hard the Queensboro Bridge would be. It was 25km into the race. It was the biggest hill on the course and again another place where spectators weren't allowed. I wasn't going to get a boost from them. In reality, the hill was very gradual and I made it up without any problem. I passed so many people going up the hill. That was my replacement boost. And the feeling just keep getting better. As we approached the end of the bridge, you could start to hear the roars. The exit of the bridge had a loop. When it came into view, I could see that every inch of the sidewalk was covered in people. It was the biggest crowd we'd seen so far. This race just kept getting better. 

After getting settled in Manhattan, the course turned north up 1st Avenue. This road was when my race officially got challenging. The crowds were still there and still magical, but errors in preparation started to bubble up. The biggest problem was that I hadn't eaten enough food in the two days leading up to the race. The effect of that was that I ran out of carbs in my system around 27km. With that my heart rate spiked as my body started inefficiently burning fat. 

What laid ahead of me at this point was around 14km, a desperate need for food, and a road that seemingly never ended (it was dead straight). Thankfully I'd been through this before so I didn't panic. I knew I needed to eat, and soon. I finished off the food I was carrying and picked up some more. And I slowed down to manage my heart rate. Thankfully this approach worked. After 4-5km my heart rate went back down. I had overcome the wall, but the damage was done. My pace wouldn't recover for the rest of the race.  

I never thought I'd be so excited to see the Bronx, but I was so tired of the relative monotony of going straight on 1st Avenue. Even better was the quick visit ending and going back into Manhattan. I was passed the wall, I had crossed the last bridge. All I had to do was keep it steady and I was going to realize my goal. 


After the challenge of the never-ending 1st Avenue stretch, I wasn't looking forward to a similar run down 5th Avenue. It wasn't as bad though. My mental strength from past races came in handy. I stayed within my capabilities at the time and fed off the crowds as much as I could. Before I knew it, we turned off of 5th Avenue and we were in Central Park. Almost there. 

This was the only part of the course that I was familiar with. I had actually run the loop in the park several times before. I knew what to expect for once. What I didn't remember from my previous visits was how rolling the road was. This was totally fine until I hit a decent downhill stretch. Being close to the finish line, my adrenaline was building so I felt better than I actually was. I decided to let my weight roll me down the hill faster than the pace I had been running. When I got to the bottom I was overtaken by fear when both my hamstrings and both my quads seized up. 

Over the last few miles, I saw numerous people lying on the side of the course, or hobble off, and receiving assistance. Their dreams in taters. All of a sudden, I was in the same place. 

I wanted to panic. I didn't. I tried my first stretch that I'd used before. It made it worse. I got up and tried to walk. I couldn't. I tried another stretch. Still nothing. I was seized up. 

It wasn't going to end like this. I was less than 2km from the end. 40km in. I had to go. I did my best to ignore the pain. It was the only way. The first ten steps were the hardest of the race. The next ten were easier. As I got closer to the end, I managed to work through the cramps while running (don't try this at home). 


The crowd pulled me home. From the entrance to the park to the finish line, it just kept growing and growing. The energy was building. I was going to make, I just had to ride the wave. 

59th Street went by. So did Columbus Circle. I was on West Drive. Then all of a sudden I saw it. The finish line. I was there. I was going to do it. I thought for sure an emotional deluge would follow. When I saw the finish line I started to hyperventilate. I was so damn excited to accomplish my goal after everything that had come before. I forced myself to overcome the breathing problems and to calm down. I focused very hard on my breathing right to the end. Relief finally came over me. 


It worked so well that when I got to the finish, I just calmly turned off my watch and stopped running. 4 hours and 8 minutes after I started. 


I really thought I was going to cry. It may have been my fear of cramping back up, or the roller coaster I'd been on for hours, or the focused breathing. But I was okay. All I could think about was getting back to my family. I wanted to be with them. I was shocked how quickly moved on mentally from wanting to complete a marathon to getting  hug from Christina and Sloane. 

In retrospect, I should've used that motivation in the race because I was weaving through the crowds to get out of the secure area faster than anyone else. All the other participants were suffering the effects of 42km. So was I. It wasn't going to stop me though. 

20 minutes of walking later, I found them. Sloane was in her stroller, covered in crumbled-up muffin, mostly overwhelmed by the city in general, but moreso from the crowds. Christina was stressed from having to try to get uptown with a toddler in a stroller, her mother and being 7 months pregnant. She was probably as relived as I was it was over too. 

We wandered out of the crowd and I gave them hugs and kisses. The only thing left to do was get back to the apartment. We located the nearest taxi and hopped in. That takes us back to this picture. 


This picture made everything worth it. All of the training, all of the pain, the uncertainty, the lack of sleep. This was my first marathon I got to share with my daughter. I got to show her what I had earned that day. I love this picture because it so perfectly captured many things: 
  • How much of a disaster I was. Smelly, sweaty, frozen and also worried about keeping my daughter entertained. 
  • How amazing it was to see her interested in the medal. She immediately tried to put it on herself. I think a lot about the example I set for her. 
  • How lucky I was that it all worked out. So many things went wrong along the way, but so many more went right. 
And really, that's been the story of my life. I hope it keeps up. I hope I get to do so many more things like this with my family. I want to be able to share in our accomplishments together. I hope I'm lucky enough that fate makes that possible. For now, I have this photo.

If you've made it this far. Thanks for reading. And thanks for all of the support I received before, during and after the race. It really made a big difference. 

Friday, November 3, 2017

Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

With our growing family, my travel now mostly is related to running events. It should be no surprise that this post is about running. The reason I am writing this is because in a few days, I'm going to be running the biggest marathon in the world: New York City Marathon. This is the story of how I got to race week.

First marathon. Regina, 2013
This all started a few years ago when I started running marathons. After completing a few, I thought it'd be fun someday to try to get into New York. I had looked into the options for entry in 2015 and concluded that the secured entry was too expensive and I'd already missed the lottery process. When the lottery opened late in 2016, I was ready. I talked to Christina and we thought it would be a fun trip to make as a family. I was coming off my best year of running. I had set PBs in 5k, 10k, Half and Full distances. The odds of getting picked were low, but we figured it would be worth a shot. If I did get picked, I was probably going to be in decent shape if I could keep up my training.

Before the lottery draw was made, I was already a little ways into a ridiculous training season. Early on, I  was focused entirely on my first ultra marathon June. That meant trail runs, strength training and hills. So many hills. My run commutes always included a hill repeat or two.

2017 runs
Next thing I knew I was awaiting the new from the lottery. Somehow, with a 17% chance of success, my name was drawn on my first attempt. I was in. We were going to New York. My race calendar for the year now had a significant anchor point and suddenly I needed to book flights and accommodation.

I quickly ironed out the details and immediately went back into training mode, squeezing in runs between my family and work life. This in itself is an incredible challenge, but I was able to make it work. I was racking up kilometers like I never had before. Month after month went by where I broke my record for kilometers and I found myself average nearly 250km/month through the first four (winter) months of the year.

Before this year, I had only exceeded 200km in a month twice (once followed by injury). I was a bit nervous as I was training nearly twice as much as I was used to. Even though there was potential for stress injuries, I listened to my body and kept going when I felt good.

First ultra 2017
Soon came summer and race season. I was still racking up crazy distances and even crazier climbing numbers. My first ultramarathon came and went and somehow it didn't wreck me. I was even back running within a couple of days. Later in the summer, I did the hardest leg of Sinister 7 and beat my expected finishing time by 30 minutes. I was feeling ultra confident. I even was doing crazy runs on my vacation, just for fun. All of these things were in the category of "not possible" even 12 months before.

Around this time of peak fitness for me, I was also now facing an ongoing health issue head-on. In 2015, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. I was initially impacted for a few months before my symptoms receded. Without any issues since, I consider myself lucky. But how MS progresses is largely unknown and unpredictable. We didn't know if it would go away forever, or debilitate me in a week. With that uncertainty hanging over me, I needed to start treatment. The treatment I had chosen was a fairly benign oral pill that I would take daily. It had potential side-affects, but they are typically minor and wasn't supposed to impact my training.

In July, I started my treatment. I was thrilled to find out that I had no side-affects at all. I was still running like I normally would and everything seemed perfect. This lasted until September when one week I started to get random fever'ish symptoms. Thinking that I'd just come down with something, I wasn't too concerned. I knew my treatment was intended to compromise my immune system, so this was probably a good sign.

Where it all went sideways
But after a week, it hadn't gone away. I was now struggling to complete physical tasks that had become normal. Running was a challenge. By the end of week two, it was clear that I was being impacted by side-affects. My running was limited. On good days, I could get a decent distance in, but I was now starting to miss critical long runs leading up to NYC.

By week three of these problems, I didn't care about the race anymore. I had one particularly bad morning where I decided to stay home from work because I knew I wouldn't have been able to get my daughter to daycare by myself. Definitely not biking, and not even riding the bus. I was completely exhausted.

After crashing on the couch while everyone else in the house woke up, I needed to get up to go to the washroom. I remember thinking that, but then it got fuzzy. Next thing I know, I'm crouched down at the top of the stairs, incredibly dizzy. My house looked backwards. I ended up trying to go lay down in bed and had to stop and crouch again before I got to the bedroom door. From there, I pulled myself up (with difficulty and hanging onto things) so I could lay down in bed. When I got there, my whole body immediately started sweating profusely. It was a surreal few moments. I was struggling with everything. I couldn't eat. Sleep was interrupted. Physical activity, even walking, wasn't possible.

Aerobic walking. Not good
After some consultation with my neurologist, he suggested that if this ever happens again, I should be in the ER not staying home from work. This spooked me pretty good. This was something more serious than I'd feared.

We made the decision to stop my treatment to confirm it was indeed the cause. Thankfully, I started to improve almost immediately. Over the course of the next 4 days, I was able to sleep again, eat again and eventually run again. I had lost around 10 lbs through this time and my muscle mass was already starting to wane.

At this point, race day was in a month and my threshold for distance was around 10km. And even with that, I was noticing my heart rate was spiking well beyond normal ranges. So well I was feeling better, it was clear that there were other longer-lasting impacts from the treatment.

At 4 weeks from race day, I felt confident that I was at least improving and that I could probably make it better by training appropriately. Knowing that my previously training program had been obliterated, I started from scratch. That's right, I came up with a 4 week marathon training program.
Training in the dark
Week 1 consisted of a new long run of 14km, then another of 24km. Week 2 had strength training, speed work and the tradition long run (34km). Somehow through  these two weeks, I was able to build up some strength and get my heart rate close to normal again. After that, it was time to taper. I mean, it had been two weeks of tough training. :)

Now race day is on Sunday. It'll be here in no time, and I'm pumped. I think I'm ready and four weeks ago, I didn't think I'd even get close.

Now, my expectations have changed. I don't think my original pace goals are realistic anymore, but I'm going to get to run in the biggest race in the world this week. Something that I'll never forget. My family will be there and I can't even imagine what a potential finish would feel like. I'm happy I get to try.