My husband was determined to run a half marathon when he
was still 40, so with a few days to spare, he opted for the Ottawa half marathon on May 27th.
He had trained for it, running fairly regularly and with
good mileage over the past few months, but not enough to make me comfortable,
but he was determined. And good thing too, because events were conspiring
against us. Early Saturday afternoon, we realized
that we hadn’t planned on anyone taking care of our dog while we were out
overnight. Thankfully, our favorite dog-sitter came through and was even on our
way from Montreal to Ottawa. Just as we had packed up the car, I asked where
the race-kit pick up was so that we could swing by on our way into Ottawa and
to the hotel. The website said to pick them up at the Convention Center, before
4pm. It was already 3:30 and we were still in Montreal. And we couldn’t find “late
pick up” or “day of” pick up anywhere on the site. So, with a harried email to
the volunteer coordinator (the only email address we could find) we jumped into
the car and headed West. I was trying to convince myself that perhaps a night
in a hotel in Gatineau by the strip malls would be enough of a getaway to
appease us if he couldn’t register. I wasn’t succeeding. When we got to Ottawa,
we saw that there was a race already going on along the canal and we both
deflated at the thought that we had missed the race altogether, let alone the
kit pick up. I let him off at the Convention Center in hopes of tracking
someone down who could help – and I circled with the boys. “Circle” is
optimistic. With all the roads being either one way or closed due to the
on-going or upcoming race I had to drive by scent to get back to where I let
him off. It turns out that there is kit pick up before the race from 6:15 – 9
the morning of the race. Yay!
Off we drove to find our hotel in Gatineau,
check-in and occupy the boys for a few hours. We decided to go for ice cream to
calm our nerves but when we pulled up to the one and only Dairy Queen, the line
up was way too long and moving way too slowly for us – so we convinced the kids
that there was something better, right around the corner. But we really had no
idea. Thankfully, there was a MacDonald's, with a Playland a few blocks away. So
we ate our Blizzards while the kids played. We had never been to a Playland
with the kids. What a great idea! I need to tuck this away for future ice cream
emergencies.
Back to the room and off to bed. Me and the two kids in
one bed, with Mr Race-guy by himself in the other. My boys don’t do well in
hotels. One gets really cranky because all he wants to do is sleep and the
younger one thinks this is such a novel concept that he can’t contain his
excitement. To avoid him rolling out of bed like last time, we pushed the high
back chairs along one side of the beds, which is where I ended up sleeping,
scrunched up against the chairs, with the younger one chasing me to the edge of
the bed all night long. But Mr. Race-guy slept great.
After a quick breakfast, we got the nervous runner to the
site and had no problem getting his race kit. I guess they don’t advertise the
fact that late pick up is possible, just so that the masses don’t show up 20
minutes before the race. We wandered around a bit as more and more runners
appeared. And even more, and even more after that. I hadn’t expected so many
runners. So after a few more nervous bathroom breaks, he got into his corral
and waited for the race to start. We walked alongside him until he was able to
start running at the actual start line. And then they were gone. All of them.
So now I had two or so hours to kill with the kids and
didn’t think of bringing the stroller for the 2 year old. So now we could
either walk really slowly or I could carry him. I opted for the former, at
least to start. We walked to the locks to watch the ducks and then over to
Starbucks for a much-needed latte on my part. Without knowing what the race
route looked like, we lucked out and found that the race was going to be right
in front of us. So we found some good spots and watched the runners go by. Then
we saw the first pace bunny-1:45. I thought it a bit optimistic, but figured at
least we hadn’t missed him. All manner of runners ran by, with only a few of
them walking. Fast runners, flagging runners, triumphant runners, hurting
runners, sweat pouring off them runners, limping runners, prancing runners,
slow runner, team runners, solitaire runners, proud runners, so many runners.
It was a steady uninterrupted stream of runners and pace bunnies for as far as
the eye could see. My eldest sat down on the pavement, bored, and started
playing with a ribbon he had found. I didn’t want to put the younger one down,
since he has recently discovered the novelty of bolting. I had visions of him
running into the street and either getting trampled by the herd of runners, or
creating such chaos that he would make the late news. So I held him until I
could no longer and then put him down on my feet so that I could feel the
slightest shift from him and hopefully preempt whatever idea he might get into
his 2 year old head. He needed to chase that ribbon – I was on it. He needed to
point at all the buses down the street – I was on it. He needed to shove the
label from the new race shirt down the sewer – I was on it. But thankfully he
didn’t bolt. Then sometime after the 2:00 pace bunny, I saw my husband! There
he was! Running! And running well! I was jumping up and down, the kids were
yelling “Go Papa!”. He looked great – not tired or hurting, but happy to be
there. Wow! Then he was gone, blending into the masses of marathoners joining
the half marathoners for the last few kilometers. Since we were close to the
finish line, we knew we only had a short time to get back before him to meet
up. So we played Frogger trying to cross the street and ran as fast as my carrying-a-two-year-old,
and my four year olds legs could take us. As we approached, it slowly started
dawning on me that there was no way we could get to our designated meeting
spot. “Within 50 meters of the finish”. And of course, he didn’t have his iPhone
on him – it was in my bag. There were thousands
and thousands of people either finishing the race or wanting to meet up with
their racers too. We managed to get close enough to the course exit so that we
had a view of everyone leaving. We waited and waited, with the kids getting
increasingly bored, and me trying to keep an eye out for both kids and my
husband. After a good long while, as I looked around, my heart sank as I
noticed there was another exit 100m away, with just as many runners streaming
out of it. With no sign of my husband, I decided that we should be on the move
– also to give the kids something to do. So we walked. Up to the bridge
overlooking the finish line – no husband. Over to the hill overlooking both
exits – no husband. Trying to think of what logic my half- marathon running husband
could have – would he have stayed within 50m of the finish? Or 50m of the
exits? Or back to the car? Or is he in the medical tent? Or standing on a big
rock, like he joked? Then my phone vibrated with a text message from an unknown
number – with his location. He borrowed someone phone to tell me where he was.
How smart! So we went over to find him – standing on a big rock with a huge,
exhausted grin on his face.
His official time was 2:07 – an amazing accomplishment for
a first timer. He was relieved, proud, famished and exhausted all in one. After
being the racer in the family for so many years, it was eye opening to be on
the other side – supporting, cheering on, challenging, feeding, coaching,
clearing all obstacles, dealing with pre race jitters, not to mention pre race
bathroom breaks, worrying, logistics. But I can’t wait to be on the other side
again – it’s so inspiring to see all those people achieving their running goals
– they all trained so hard and had their own reasons for running – and the
smiles on their exhausted, sweaty faces said it all.
