Being on the other side

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 27^th.

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.