This past Sunday, I completed my first half-marathon race. It was an overwhelming success by my standards: good weather, good friends, good running. I have been training for this run since May of this year and I'm pleased with how it all went down. I decided to write a log as I trained. I kept going strong, logging entries after runs, all the way up to September. I'll include the entirety of the log, some 5000 words below the race-day recap.

The Race

For me, the race began the night before when nine of us got together to have dinner. Several of my friends had joined a running club back in the spring and had encouraged me to join the runs (and eventually, to sign up for the half-marathon). I wouldn't have signed up without this encouragement (and partially the jealousy of missing out). Anyway, I've never been one for throwing parties, but having these friends over for dinner to celebrate our training (and to eat a lot of carbs) was such an obvious delight for me that we set to preparing the meal and making room for 9 people with glee.

For dinner we had: vegan pasta, spaghetti, a kale salad (with hunks of baguette croutons), 4 homemade pizzas, a homemade focaccia, and a bread cake. We ate, and we ate, and we ate.

Jeff, my oldest friend (and newest running mentor) stayed the night, visiting from out of town. We cleaned up after dinner and made our plan for the morning. Up at 5, out the door at 6:30. We both slept well enough, and got moving. I'm still getting used to how dark it is at this time of year. We made oats and then went for a walk in hopes of getting our stomachs moving. It was dark as the middle of the night as our footsteps echoed around the block.

We got back and got on our bikes and made our way down to Queen and University. It was fairly empty at 6:45 in the morning, compared to the absolute swarms of people who would show up in the next hour. We dropped off our bags and went looking for the washrooms. The line up for the main washrooms was unbelievably long, so we set off jogging to try to find an alternative. Just around the corner on Armoury st. we found what we were looking for. We stretched and warmed up.

Jeff and I set off to find our corrals. Jeff would be in the very first—aiming to be his personal best of 1:23:58(!). We hugged and wished each other good luck; I knew the race would be emotional for me at times, including in that moment—knowing the ambitions we had for ourselves. For me, Jeff had donated his time and advice generously, helping me prepare the way for first-time training for anything, and my first actual race.

I found my way to my corral, wandering through hordes of people, unsure of where I was supposed to be. Eventually I found the blue corral, got in and waited. It was at least 30 minutes between Jeff starting and my corral starting. I listened to music and tried to keep warm.

The race started off slow for me. I was trying a new feature on my Garmin running watch Jeff had shown me — a feature called Pace Pro that provides kilometer-by-kilometer pacing strategies. Unfortunately, using this new-to-me feature meant that my watch seemed computationally overloaded—it couldn't play music at the same time as offering pacing instructions (which, writing this down now, feels absolutely absurd to me that a watch can do any of this stuff).

So, I ran without music for the first 12 km. The first half of the half was great. It felt insignificant to what would come next. I ambled along between 5:30 and 6:00 per kilometre. I took in the signs of the cheering spectators and didn't feel like I was pushing myself particularly hard. By the time I hit about 8 or 9km I started to feel a bit fatigued—but to my surprise, still fine. The only thing: I had to pee (of course). But I refused to stop and continued on, still taking water/electrolyte-drinks passed out by volunteers at every opportunity. At this point, I didn't feel the impact of the cheers, but I did appreciate the brass band on Bathurst!

Eventually, I hit Lakeshore. The sun was bright and on me. I felt some fatigue, but largely fine. I used an energy packet called a "Gu" at 12k. I didn't much feel like eating it, but knew it would probably be for the best. I started to wonder when I'd arrive at the turn-around point to come back along Lakeshore—I watched impressive runners already coming back at high speed. Along Lakeshore were many bushes and trees, but I resisted the temptation.

Before long, I was at 14km. Here something strange happened to me. I think it was the music, which I tried to get working several times, and had finally stuck. I became possessed by a sleeping energy. I sped up. I really sped up. I was jumping up onto the curb to pass people in large swathes. My average pace went from 5:23 at 14km, to 5:07, to 5:00, to 4:54, to 4:32.

At several points during the race, I felt emotional. I couldn't quite cry though, whether for focus, or my brain just going haywire. But I was running high at this point. A few tears leaked out, but I was probably also grinning like an idiot. Suddenly, the cheers from the spectators meant a lot more. I remember locking eyes with a woman giving out high fives. She pointed fiercely at me, her eyes determined as if to say you! you're giving me a high five!, I returned the look, and ran by, fulfilling the contract, and speeding up for it.

The crowds of spectators and the sound of cheering got louder and louder as I approached the finish line. I saw my partner and Jeff cheering me on in the very last stretch. I was shocked out of my running reverie. Their cheers meant the world to me. I stopped and gave them both a hug, despite their cries to keep going, keep going!. What's 5 seconds to give a hug to your people — I already knew I was well ahead of my goal—sub 2:00—thanks to my new pal Pace Pro. Everything was just gravy at this point.

The last kilometer got hard, though. Really hard. All of a sudden I felt like stopping. I had to stop—I had not walked yet, but suddenly it seemed like the safest thing to do. If I saw myself, I'd probably have looked paler than usual (if possible?). I was scared I was going to collapse. I had pushed too hard. My burst of speed had lasted up to the last 200 metres or so of the race—there was no keeping it up. As soon as my feet stopped to walk, I looked up—the finish line was right in front of me.

So, I trotted through to the end.

Perhaps stopping for the hug was part of it - my body came down in that moment, and trying to get it going again was a hard argument to make. Passing through the finish, I took several slow breaths, looking around somewhat frantically for water. I couldn't believe how anxious I felt. I had been on top of the world for the last 20 minutes, but it just hadn't lasted right to the end. This being my first race, I had no idea what kind of state I was putting myself into—I was just going along for the ride.

I ended up fine, in all respects. I found water, I found my friends, and I found some food. I could feel the emotions rising as I approached my partner and Jeff. I hugged them both, and cried a little. Jeff hit a new PB (1:20:31!), and came 98th out of 13,000 or so runners. I had finished sub 2:00. It was a good day. We waited in the sun for the rest of our group. The race was over. We got on our bikes and went home.